I have no idea

"Then when?" he pressed. "’Cause I know if we go back down there without sayin' a word, we never will."

"And how can you be so sure?"

Joel scoffed, shaking his head. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that reminded you of the man he was fifteen years ago.

"Jen must be downstairs wondering where you are," you pointed out.

Letting go of his shirt buttons with a tired sigh, he closed the distance between you in three short strides.

Joel reached up, his hand cupping your chin. You didn’t pull away.

"I ain't regrettin' this," he said. "And I’d do it a hundred times over."

You huffed. "This makes us cheaters. It can't be right."

"It’s us."

"So?"

"I'd do it a hundred times over."

"Joel," you said, bringing your hand up to rest against his wrist, "you have a girlfriend, and I have a boyfriend. We're terrible people."

Your eyes stung at the thought of Dean. Somewhere back in Austin, he had an image of you that had absolutely nothing to do with who you were after tonight. He didn't deserve this.

"Jen and me, it’s all pretty new," he shook his head. "I ain't even sure she’s only seein' me."

You frowned. "Right, sure." You pulled out of his grip. "You men always have those kinds of excuses ready for situations like this."

"It’s the truth," he insisted. "We met two months ago, and we’ve barely been a thing for three or four weeks. She’s a client's sister," he scowled, "please, you gotta believe me."

"Someone's little sister, then?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes, looking away.

"It doesn't matter," you continued, taking a step toward the door. "We can't talk now. We better head back down before someone notices both of us are missing."

"Alright," he gestured with both arms in defeat. "You're right."

"I know."

You watched him walk over to where you stood. He stopped right in front of the door while your hand rested on the knob, just looking down at you in silence.

He tilted his chin up slightly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, alright?"

You nodded. "Tomorrow."

After Joel left, you stayed in your hotel room for at least fifteen minutes, reflecting on what the hell had just happened.

Not only had you become a cheater, but you had enjoyed it so much. Like a guilty pleasure, like tasting water after months of thirst; being with Joel had ignited something inside you that you hadn’t felt since the last time you saw him.

It was unfair. This didn't make you any less guilty, nor did it ease the fact that you had cheated on your boyfriend, who just happened to be a sweet, good man who had never treated you badly. But it had brought you back to life, making you realize that this whole idea of having moved on and loving Joel less was a complete fucking lie.

You didn't love him any less. It didn't matter how much you had tried to convince yourself that you were on the right track to moving on with your life. You loved Joel. You loved him the exact same way you had two years ago, five years ago, ten or fifteen years ago. What you felt for him hadn't faded one bit.

Maybe lately, while being with Dean, your emotions had been quieted, buried under the pretext of moving forward. But it had only taken two days of barely any contact for all of that to go out the window.

Unfair. Of course it was. That’s why, when you went back down to the party and noticed everyone was a bit too drunk to spot anything unusual, you headed straight to the bar and ordered a strong drink.

"Make it a double, please," you said, leaning an elbow against the wooden bar.

Out on the dance floor, Jo and Cillian were dancing, completely lost in their own happiness and tropical drinks.

You didn't see Joel (or Jen) for the rest of the night.

People usually say that a morning hangover has to be one of the worst things that can happen to you when you're over thirty.

Well, they’re wrong. Because imagine having a hangover and the very first thing you feel as you start to wake up is a bright, aggressive beam of sunlight hitting you straight in the eyes, because apparently last night you forgot to close the curtains properly. And not only that, but your whole body aches; hips, knees, legs, even a spot on your ribs, and above all, you just know you messed up somehow.

Guilt-ridden, you sat up in bed feeling exhausted and like an absolute wreck. You didn’t even have the energy to get up and take a shower, so you clung to the excuse of your aching body to stay tangled in the sheets with your eyes shut and the blanket pulled over your head. Just for a little while longer.

A little while longer might mean fifteen minutes, half an hour, or an hour for some. For you, it meant three hours, and the only reason you were forced out of bed was because of a persistent knock rattling the wood of the door over and over again.

You had no choice but to groan and get up in the worst possible mood. You walked toward the door, but stopped dead in your tracks two steps before reaching it.

"Who is it?"

"Kat! Open up!"

You winced at the muffled shout through the door and turned the handle.

"Don't yell," you complained.

Kat stepped into the room and frowned.

"Oh, first things firs, hello. Just came to see if you were okay since I didn't see you at breakfast," she tilted her head, "but now I know why. Did you drink too much?"

You looked down at the floor and closed the door. "No."

"Alright. I have Advil in my bag."

You smiled softly. "Yes. Thanks. That’s exactly what I need."

With a small hop, you threw yourself onto the bed, landing flat on your back.

Shit. You shouldn’t have done that; your brain slammed against your skull, hurting like hell.

You pressed both hands over your eyes and let out a groan.

"Okay, what is up with you?" Kat asked, and you felt the mattress sink right beside you with her weight.

You let out a heavy sigh. "I don’t wanna tell you."

"Why? What happened?"

A heavy aching groan escaped you while you kept your eyes covered.

You knew that if you said it out loud, if you confessed it to Kat of all people, it would carry a whole different weight. It wouldn’t just be about spending a night with Joel—which hadn't even been a night, it had been what? Twenty, thirty minutes? It wouldn’t just be that; it would be going back to something that had cost you so much to walk away from. You were weak.

You pulled your hands away from your eyes and stared up at the blank perfect white ceiling.

Just spit it.

Spit it out.

"I slept with Joel."

You could practically hear how loud her silence was.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at her. Kat was staring at you in silence, her mouth slightly open, blinking in disbelief.

"Kat."

She raised her eyebrows slightly. "You're kidding."

Oh.

"No."

She opened her eyes even more. "When? How?"

"Last night. I went down to the beach and ran into him on the way. We just… kissed."

"Just kissed? Yeah, right, and then?"

"And then I told him to meet me here in ten minutes," you sat all the way up. "And he did. I came up here and waited for him. He came, and we did it. Then we went back down to the party and I guess nobody noticed."

"Well, I certainly didn't," she shook her head with a resigned sigh. "And Jen?"

"I dunno," you covered your face again. "Neither she nor he were downstairs when I got back, but I didn't hear them come into their room either. I’m a terrible person."

"Don't say that, you're not," she placed a hand on your leg.

"Of course I am. I have a boyfriend. A really good, sweet boyfriend, and I just cheated on him. And you know what the worst part is?"

Kat pressed her lips together. Tears started to well up in your eyes.

"It felt so good," you confessed. "Being with him again. It was like no time had passed at all, like we were the exact same people as before. But different, y'know?"

She nodded.

"I thought I was over him."

"Hey," she gave your leg a gentle squeeze, "breathe, alright? This was… this was something that maybe, I dunno, maybe it was bound to happen. The alcohol, the warmth, the wedding, it’s all too romantic and perfect for this kind of stuff to happen. A lot of people hook up at weddings. For instance, last night I hooked up with Cillian’s cousin and we’re going out for a walk later." She winked.

You smiled faintly. "Well, good for you. I get your point. But it’s not the same. I should’ve known better," you shook your head. "It’s just… god, Kat, you should’ve seen him. After the rehearsal dinner, we had this argument on the beach and he said all kinds of things that no matter how hard I try to push them out of my head, I just can’t!"

"Like what?"

"Everything! That he wanted to try again, that he loved me, that he didn't understand what we were doing, that he was sorry for everything, that he was scared… and so many things about our last year of marriage. All of it. That he didn't care about anyone else, that he thought of me when making decisions like buying a damn house. That he has all this money now and he doesn't care about it because it makes no sense if we aren't together anyway, so what does it matter, right?"

"Oh God."

"What did he expect me to say to that?"

"What did you say?"

You shrugged. "That we couldn't. Too many things happened, and besides, I’m with Dean. Oh God, Dean…" You covered your face again.

"Break up with him."

Your eyes locked onto her face in shock. "Kat."

"What? Are you listening to what you’re telling me?"

"You really think it makes sense to ignore everything else? Things with Joel were intense, but it also ended for a reason."

"Neither of you wanted that divorce and you know it. And you know I’ll always support whatever you want, but I think you can’t just ignore your feelings because it’s not the right thing to do right now. Dean is great, and he’s a good guy, but is he really what you want?"

"What guarantees that Joel and I will work out now? It could be a disaster."

"Or it might not be."

You stared at her in silence, caught off guard by what she was telling you. Kat had never said anything like this before. She had quietly supported you through the divorce and had been genuinely happy when you told her about Dean.

"And where is all this coming from?" you asked.

Kat sighed, looking down at her feet.

"You know I love you, right?" she said.

"Yeah."

"Well," she looked up at you, "then just keep in mind that everything I’m about to say comes from a place of love for you, appreciation for him, and complete honesty. I’m not planning to be subjective, okay?"

You nodded.

"I don't think you two should be apart," she stated flatly. "I’ve known both of you for a very long time, and I think I can safely say I’ve secretly been waiting for something to happen between you. You’re the most in-love couple I’ve ever known, and when you got divorced, it was a shock to everyone. I know it happened for a reason, and I know you drifted apart and stopped understanding each other, but I also know you were going through something incredibly painful, and that was hard for so many reasons. You lost each other, but I don’t think you stopped loving each other for a single second since."

"Kat," you groaned her name like a complaint, blaming her for making you cry as you felt a tear slip down your cheek.

"I’m your friend, and I love you, and if he were a jerk, I’d tell you and want you nowhere near him. But he isn't a jerk. Is he an idiot for showing up here with a twenty five year old girlfriend? Yeah, he is."

"Why did he bring her? He says it’s new and nothing serious, but why? What was he trying to prove?"

"He wanted to prove he’s doing fine, that he has someone. You have Dean, and he couldn't just show up alone. He probably thought you'd bring him along."

"He didn't know about Dean."

"Of course he knew," she shrugged.

You frowned. "How? I'm sure none of the guys told him anything."

"Not the guys—my brother," she raised her eyebrows.

"Ari?"

"Yeah. They see each other every week."

"And why did he tell him about Dean?"

"Because he asked. Joel always asks Ari about you," she confessed, "and a few months ago, he asked him if trying to reach out was crazy or not. Ari told him you had a boyfriend."

You frowned. "What? And you're telling me now?"

"What did you want me to say? I couldn't just go running to tell you that if you were finally at peace with Dean."

"What else did he say to Ari?"

She sighed. "Questions. If you were doing well, how your life was going, stuff like that. And then he told him he wanted to talk to you again, if maybe it was crazy to ask you out to dinner or something—"

"Really?" you asked, incredulous. "After everything that happened over the last three years?"

Kat shrugged. "I'm just telling you what I know. Ari told him it wasn't a good idea because you were seeing someone, and that was that."

"When was this?"

"About three months ago?"

You nodded, feeling your throat tighten as you suddenly realized how every single word Joel had told you over these last two nights was starting to click. Did it actually make sense?

"I’ll always support you," Kat said, sliding her hand over yours, "no matter what you do. If you want to stay with Dean, I’ll support you. But if you want something else, even if that something else is Joel, I’ll be there too. I just want you to be true to what you feel, because I’ve known you for a long time and I know there’s probably a moral chaos inside that head of yours right now. And morals don't matter all that much when it comes to who you love."

You smiled bitterly. "My moral side is telling me right now that I’m a terrible person."

Kat laughed. "You didn't commit a crime, be gentle with yourself. Cheating is wrong but it’s not the worst thing you could do to someone."

You pursed your lips. You knew Kat was right about a lot of what she was saying, but you also knew that betrayal hurt people deeply. The fact that there were worse things didn't take away the weight of what you had just done. You had never understood people who constantly cheated on their partners without a shred of guilt; you certainly couldn't do it. It would show on your face, in your every gesture, every time you opened your mouth.

Right now, sitting on the bed looking like a total wreck, you looked guiltier than ever. And you knew that the moment you got back to Austin, Dean would notice immediately. And then what?

You would simply have to face it.

Dean called you. Downstairs, right as you were stepping out of the lobby. And you ignored his call like a coward. You knew the guilt would leak through the cracks in your voice, and he would ask, "What happened? Is everything okay?"

You had always been somewhat neurotic. It wasn't your prettiest trait, nor was it the easiest to live with, so you knew you had to relax; distract your mind a bit and just stop overanalyzing everything.

The beach was waiting for you, gorgeous and ready, all to yourself. The walk down there was peaceful and soothing. Beneath your bare feet, the stone path felt cool and delicious, and a few minutes later, the warm sand slipped between your toes as you looked for a place to rest.

Near the bar, a short row of chairs rested under the palm trees. It was the ideal spot if you wanted to unwind and relax; the sun wouldn't hit you directly in the face, you could get your drinks without any trouble (or let them serve you, which you rarely did), and the shoreline was only a few feet away.

This place was paradise. It was time you actually enjoyed it like one. You had bumped into a couple of Jo and Cillian’s friends in the lobby, and they’d told you they just got back from snorkeling, and Kat had vanished somewhere nearby with Luke—Cillian’s cousin whom she’d met last night and, apparently, it had been love at first sight. You had missed out on all that gossip because you’d been too drunk to face it; it was post-Joel.

And speaking of him, you hadn't seen him anywhere. Not when leaving your room, not when going downstairs, and not on the walk between the hotel and where you were now. You hadn't heard any voices through the thin wall of your room either, nor any slamming doors, or anything that could give you a sign of what might be happening between him and Jen.

You had a lot to think about. Because Kat was right: what did you want?

You wanted Joel. You loved Joel. You craved Joel. But maybe all these intense emotions were just a product of your surroundings; the romantic beach, the wedding last night stirring up old memories, seeing him after all this time…

You needed to think, to think rationally. To know how to tell the difference between an impulsive choice and a well thought out one.

Your love for him wasn't questionable. Nothing either of you felt for each other was. But this was about going beyond that, because sometimes love isn't enough. Would he and you have what it takes to go through something like what you’d lived through all over again?

Once back in Austin, would this feel just as fragile as it did now?

But that didn't matter right now. Don't think about it. The only thing that mattered to you right now was your iced tea and the book in your lap.

You slid your sunglasses off, pushing them up onto your head, and opened to the first page.

July 14

I don't know why I'm writing this.

That's not true. Maybe I do know and just don't want to admit it to myself. I don't even know how to call it—this thing I'm writing. It feels a little pretentious to call it a diary—

"Hey."

Your eyes snapped up.

"Hey," you echoed, feeling your heart give a sudden sharp thud from the mild jump scare.

Joel was looking down at you from his full height, wearing dark sunglasses, his hair looking a bit messy. He was wearing a red T-shirt with the Coca-Cola logo across the middle (which you recognized instantly) and dark blue shorts.

Without asking for permission, he sat down in the chair next to yours and let out a tired sigh.

His mere presence made your stomach do a flip.

"I’ve been lookin' for you," he said.

"Yeah?" You ran your thumb along the page of your book, mentally re-reading the same line two or three times.

"Yeah. You didn't show for breakfast."

"I was hungover. I raided the bar last night," using your fingers, you nudged your sunglasses back down to the bridge of your nose.

"Uh. You always did have a good tolerance."

You turned to look at him. Joel tilted his head back, closing his eyes beneath the dark lenses.

"Not so much anymore."

He smiled. "Yeah, we're gettin' older. It’s funny what the passage of time does to a person."

You nodded in silence and brought your attention back to your book.

It feels a little pretentious to call it a diary. It's not like I have anything to say. Anne Frank kept a diary—not someone like me. Calling it a "journal" sounds too academic, somehow. As if I should write in it every day, and I don't want to—if it becomes a chore, I'll never keep it up—

Joel said your name.

You looked at him again.

"You alright?" he asked.

You bit your tongue. "Yeah. You?"

"I’m good."

You nodded and shifted your gaze back to the page.

"I ended things with Jen," he confessed then. "This morning."

You froze completely for a second. Entirely too still.

A sigh escaped you.

"What did you tell her?" You looked back at him.

"About us? Nothin'. I just told her the truth," his chest rose with a sigh as he looked back out at the beach.

"And what’s the truth?"

"The truth is, we ain't compatible."

You smiled, enjoying it just a little. "That's quite a revelation."

He groaned, shaking his head gently. "I know."

"Twenty five," you pointed out, watching him cringe at the reminder. "You remember what we were like at twenty five?"

"Course I do," a small smile traced his lips.

"Are you one of those men now? You remember? When we used to go to bars and those older guys would come up to offer me drinks. You used to say they were creeps. And they were probably at least forty."

Joel’s cheeks flushed as he shook his head.

"Don't remember, or you're not one of those men? One of those is a lie."

"Course I remember," he frowned. "But I ain't one of those men."

"Sure you are," you said, turning the page of your book, even though you hadn't finished the previous one. It just felt right to do it. "A guy in his forties who dates a much younger girl and brings her to his friends' wedding—friends who are also older."

That seemed to irritate him. "It’s over, anyway."

"How is she? Is she still here?"

"Yeah," he rubbed his stomach. "She was understanding about it. In fact, I don't even think she cared all that much. She told me I was a jerk, but she understood and that she was gonna enjoy her time here anyway, and then she went off to do I don't know what before I could even tell her I’d move to a different room."

"Mhm."

"But you know that ain't the only reason I had to break it off," he looked at you, his posture turning more serious, more still. "You know that, don't you?"

You closed your book. "There's a lot to think about."

"Then let's think."

"Joel."

"What? What is there to think about? Tell me," he slid his sunglasses up, nesting them in his hair. "We’re sober now, we're calm, and I feel the exact same way I did yesterday and the day before."

You closed your eyes and rested your head against the chair.

He shifted forward in his seat, turning toward you. He was closer now.

"I love you. I always have, and I ain't ever gonna stop. Lettin' you go was the worst mistake of my life. Please, just let me make it right."

Without looking at him, you sat up and got out of the chair.

Leaving your closed book behind on the seat, you simply walked away from him.

Joel called your name immediately, but your heart was beating too hard for you to stop. You needed to get away, to run, and yet at the same time, you wanted to hear him out.

Choosing a bit of both, you walked all the way to the shoreline, where your feet were washed by the waves dying on the sand. You stared out at the deep, vast ocean, waiting for him to catch up to you.

"Please, don't run from me," you heard him say, right on cue, stopping just behind you with a tired edge to his voice.

You turned around to face him, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

The sun hit his face hard and warm, illuminating the brown strands of his hair and turning the darkness of his gaze into a warm caramel.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for not bein' there. I know there ain't a valid excuse for it. I was scared, and I didn't see that I was doin' the exact opposite of what I should've been doin'. But you gotta know that at no point did I feel any less for you. Never. Not once did I question what we were. I still don't. Even when you asked for a divorce, I—I never questioned us."

"Then why did you give it to me?"

"Because it was what you wanted. If you didn't want to be married to me anymore, I couldn't force you to stay."

An angry fire flared up in your chest.

"Joel, I thought you didn't care about me anymore," you spat out. "Beyond your absence, you accepted everything so easily. The separation, the divorce; you never fought back against any of it. You never resisted."

He shook his head. "I thought you didn't want to be with me anymore. If every time I tried to get close to you, you pushed me away, what did you expect me to do when you asked to separate? What did you expect me to do when you asked for the divorce? I knew things were hard on you, and I thought if I refused or asked to try harder, it would just make it worse. Is that my fault then?"

You swallowed hard.

A beat.

"No," you let out. "Not entirely."

He took a step toward you. His face looked broken.

"I know you’ve moved on with your life and that you’re with someone else. But I know what happened last night wasn't just nothin', and I ain't gonna make the same mistake I already made," he gestured with his hand. "You're the love of my life, you're the only woman I want to be with. I don't care about anyone else. Just you. That’s how it was fifteen years ago and that’s how it is now, and it’ll be the same in ten, twenty, thirty more years."

Before you could even realize it, tears were streaming down your flushed, warm cheeks.

"How can you be so sure about that?"

Joel huffed a humorless laugh. "How could I not be?"

Your eyes dropped to the wet sand beneath him as you struggled to swallow your doubts and fears.

"What if we mess it up again?" you asked, shifting your gaze back to him.

Joel sighed. "We won't."

"Joel, be realistic."

"I am," he took another step toward you, closing the distance between you even more. "I ain't makin' the same mistake as before, and if we see things gettin' hard in any way, we’ll fix it together."

"That’s easy to say."

"I know," he reached up to your face, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your damp cheek. "But if you give me another chance, I’ll prove it to you."

Your vision blurred as you looked at his strained face; his shiny, wet eyelashes, and that deep, sorrowful gaze that pierced right into your soul.

You nodded, knowing there wasn't much else you could do against what you were feeling.

You wanted him back, more than anything in the world.

"I need to process this," you said, and you noticed how your words caught him off guard.

Joel's eyes flickered, searching your face rapidly.

"I love you, Joel," you assured him, "and I always have. But I need time to think about what to do right now. This… this is not easy—"

"Hey, it's alright. I understand," he nodded.

Your eyes searched every micro-expression on his face, uncertain. "You do?"

"I do. Baby, after everything we went through, how could I not understand you?"

Your eyes filled with even more tears.

"I'll wait for you," he nodded gently, "until you're ready, you just tell me. But please, just tell me you're gonna think about it."

You smiled faintly, brushing away a strand of hair that the wind had blown across your face.

"I will."

Smiling faintly, Joel took a step toward you, cupped your cheek, and kissed it sweetly.

During the final dinner in Maui, things were different.

Joel and you sat at opposite ends of the table just like that first day. But this time you didn't avoid his gaze; maybe you even sought it out.

Between bites of food and sips of wine, you would find his eyes locked on yours, watching you in silence. They were brief glances, but comfortable enough to feel intentional. Around you, nobody noticed anything unusual except for Kat, who knew everything and used her not-so-subtle looks to speak volumes to you.

After dinner, she just straight up asked.

"So, is it official? Are you two back together?"

You were walking toward the elevator when she asked, and without a shred of subtlety, you spun around to check that nobody else had overheard her.

"Kat, watch it."

"Sorry," she smiled. "Well?"

You pressed the elevator button.

"No. I told him I needed time."

"And what did he say?"

"That he understood. And then he walked me to get my book and let me be alone on the chairs by the bar."

"How understanding," she nodded.

"Yeah," you rolled your eyes, smiling. "And then I stayed out there for two hours. Ask me if I read a single page of that damn book."

Kat laughed. "Did you?"

"No. I couldn't focus because the only thing I could think about was everything he told me."

The elevator doors slid open, and luckily for you, it was empty.

Kat and you stepped inside immediately, and she hit the button before anyone else could show up.

"And? What did he say?" She raised her eyebrows. "Please don't make me drag it out of you! You gotta tell me!"

Laughing, you looked up at the elevator ceiling; the massive light fixture illuminating you both had a strange shape.

"He asked for another chance. He said I was the love of his life, and that he loved me just like he did fifteen years ago, and just like he would in ten, twenty, or thirty more years."

Kat made a weird choking sound. "Oh my God, are you kidding me?"

"No!"

"That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard in my life," she turned entirely toward you. "I had no idea Joel could say things like that."

You smiled shyly. "Yeah. He was always good with his words."

"Damn. What do you even have to think about? If I were you, I’d be with him right now."

You crossed your arms. "Well, I dunno if you've noticed, but I have to talk to Dean. He’s picking me up from the airport tomorrow and I don't even know how the hell I'm gonna hide it."

"Are you gonna tell him about what happened last night?"

You winced, twisting your mouth. "I should."

"Should you, though? It’s not like it’s gonna change anything. I mean, you’re breaking up with him, aren't you?"

A heavy sigh rippled through you. "Yeah."

"Then don't do it. You’re just gonna hurt him for no reason. Break up with him and spare him the grief. Whether you tell him or not, what's it gonna change?"

"I don't know. I’d like to be honest with him, y'know?"

"I get it, but I don't see how it changes the outcome. If you're gonna leave him, at least save him the pain of knowing what happened."

The guilt swelled, turning into a massive, looming ball of negative thoughts.

Apparently, you had become that kind of person; the kind who cheats and lies, right? Or could you defend yourself by saying he was your ex-husband whom you loved, and therefore it was a little more justifiable?

When you got back to your room, you took a shower and crawled into bed. You looked for something entertaining to watch and ended up picking a random episode of Modern Family.

Next door, there was nothing but silence.

Jen wasn't at dinner for obvious reasons, and later you found out that it hadn't been Joel who had switched rooms, but her. It made sense. Joel paid for another room for her in the hotel and that was that; what did it matter anyway? They would be heading back to Austin the following morning.

That meant Joel was right next door; not causing any trouble, as quiet as a kid who'd been grounded. And you thought he would stay that way for the rest of the night, and through the morning too. But right then, just as your eyes were about to close completely, your phone vibrated on your nightstand.

Reaching out your hand to grab it, you read an unregistered number on the screen, and in the message bubble:

goodnight, sleep well x

Joel - you didn't block me

The next morning, the Maui airport was crowded but you barely noticed.

Sitting across from the boarding gate with a lukewarm coffee between your hands, you watched people pass by, dragging suitcases, carrying sleeping children, or talking about their plans for when they got home. Everything seemed strangely distant, as if you were watching other people's lives through a pane of glass.

You had tried reading for a bit. Then you tried to distract yourself by looking around the airport shops. Neither worked. Every time your mind was left free for more than a few seconds, it drifted back to Joel.

To the conversation on the beach, to the way he had looked at you when you told him you needed time, to the sensation of having him buried inside of you. You had been thinking entirely too much about that over the last few hours.

When they finally announced boarding, you felt a wave of relief. At least for a few hours, you’d have an excuse not to think too much.

It didn't work. During the flight, you slept little and poorly. Every time you closed your eyes, you ended up remembering something different. A comment during the wedding, a smile, an argument. The sound of his voice. At one point you tried to watch a movie, but when you checked the time, forty minutes had passed and you had no idea what it was even about.

Was it even worth trying?

When the plane began its descent over Austin, you rested your forehead against the window.

The sky was gray.

After the bright colors of Maui, the city seemed dull. Heavy clouds blanketed the horizon, and the damp asphalt reflected a flat light that made you feel even more exhausted. There was no harsh sun and warm sand here, at least not in the landscape outside your window; the impending rain was about to fall.

You picked up your luggage and followed the stream of passengers toward the exit. The moment you walked through the arrivals doors, you saw Dean waiting for you.

He smiled as soon as he spotted you.

"There you are."

Before you could answer, he wrapped you in a hug. You hugged him back.

"I missed you. Look at you," he smiled, looking at your face, "you're tan."

You felt a sharp stab of guilt.

"I missed you too."

Dean took your suitcase and started walking toward the parking lot while telling you something about his trip to the airport. You only half listened, responding when appropriate, trying your best to seem normal. He seemed happy to see you. Relaxed. As if everything were exactly the same as before you left. As if you were the exact same person as before, but of course, how could he possibly know?

On the drive back to your place, he talked about work, a movie he wanted to see with you, and a new restaurant that had opened near his apartment.

"We could try it sometime," he said as he made a turn.

"Yeah, sure."

"Everythin' alright?"

You looked up.

"What?"

"You look tired."

The question caught you off guard, but you quickly realized that was the only thing he had noticed.

"I’m just exhausted. I didn't sleep well last night."

Dean let out a short laugh.

"Yeah, I guess crossing half an ocean has that effect."

You nodded and looked back out the window. The sky had broken open a few minutes ago, and the rain was falling dense and heavy onto the slick asphalt and damp grass. Tiny droplets clung to the car windows, racing each other down the glass.

When you arrived at your house, you felt a strange sense of relief stepping inside. You walked in with wet shoes, the fabric of your jacket a shade darker around your shoulders.

Dean set your suitcase down by the couch.

"So, what are the plans for the lady?"

"Sleep for about twelve hours straight, maybe? I really need it."

He smiled.

"Well, after you wake up, we could go out for dinner."

The proposal made something tighten in your chest.

"Tonight?"

"Yeah. If that works for you. I can pick you up at seven. I have some good news to share."

You forced a smile.

"Really?"

"Yeah. But don't ask now, I ain't sayin' a word."

You huffed. "You know I can't handle the suspense. You can't just tell me things like that."

Dean laughed. "Tonight. At seven, alright?"

You gave a faint smile. "Yeah. Okay."

"Perfect."

Dean stepped closer, placing a hand on your waist before leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was soft and comfortable. You knew him so well you could have replayed it from memory.

When he pulled away, he was still smiling.

"Get some rest."

You smiled back. "I'll try."

"See you later, yeah?"

Nodding, you watched him walk toward the door and waited until you heard it click shut behind him.

Then silence filled the house. You stood completely still for a few seconds, staring at the spot where he had just been standing.

You had no earthly idea what you were going to do.

With a sigh, you pulled your phone from your pocket and unlocked the screen.

The text message had been sitting there for the last eight hours and a half.

[J]: Boarding my flight. Let me know when you get home. Joel x

You stared at the words for several seconds.

Then you rested your thumb over the keyboard, and wrote nothing.

The following weeks passed with an almost absurd sense of normalcy.

Three and a half weeks had gone by since your return from Maui, and life seemed determined to carry on as if nothing had happened.

You got up early, opened the workshop before eight, and spent most of the day surrounded by the scent you loved so much; cut wood and varnish. Some days you had breakfast with Nora, your business partner, at a café near downtown, though lately the smoked salmon they made was making you nauseous, which was a shame because you used to love that dish. Other times she’d show up unannounced at the workshop with two coffees and some new gossip she insisted on telling you while you both worked. On weekends, you visited the local market, caught up on backorders, or stayed home watching shows you barely paid attention to.

You kept yourself busy, in short, because it was easier that way.

Dean was still in Norway. Yes. Fucking Norway. Because as it turned out, that was his big news, and that’s why he had reserved a table at that new restaurant he’d mentioned.

Of course he had it all planned out, because that’s just how Dean was; a man who made plans and followed through on them.

He’d been promoted. You remembered perfectly the excitement in his voice as he explained that the company was sending him to oversee a project in Oslo for a few weeks. And obviously, you had been genuinely happy for him, because you knew he was a hardworking man who deserved every bit of recognition he was getting. And you certainly couldn't bring yourself to ruin his night with bad news.

The truth was, you had been trying to end the relationship for weeks.

You had been determined to do it the moment you got back from Hawaii. Then you thought it would be better to wait until dinner. Then the trip came up. And then one week turned into two, and two into three. And there was no way you were going to do it over the phone. After everything you two had shared, you owed him better than that. So you kept putting it off, promising yourself that you’d talk when he got back to Austin.

So, three and a half weeks later, you were finishing up a walnut dining table ordered by a young couple who had just bought a house on the outskirts of the city. You had been focused on the details of the finish for nearly an hour when your phone vibrated against the workbench.

You didn't even have to look at the screen to know who it was. Even so, you smiled when you saw his name.

[J]: Tommy just tried to convince me that a wrench works as a hammer too

A laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it.

[You]: And does it?

The reply came almost immediately.

[J]: According to Tommy, yeah

[You]: And according to you?

[J]: According to me, I’m two minutes away from drivin' him to the ER

You shook your head as you set the phone aside.

Five minutes later, it vibrated again.

[J]: In case you were wonderin', he just hit his thumb

This time, you laughed out loud.

At first, it had been sporadic messages. An occasional question, a comment about the trip back. A random picture sent here and there. Then you started writing to each other every few days. Then every day.

Now, it was rare for more than a few hours to pass without talking.

Sometimes the first text would arrive in the morning, a simple "good morning" that opened up a casual conversation lasting the whole day, or a picture of the coffee mug he’d just brewed, until a "goodnight" closed it out.

Daily updates; things you’d seen or done, even complaints about the traffic. You would reply while opening up the workshop or waiting for the coffee maker to heat up, making excuses to go to the bathroom or the kitchen or whatever. At no point, however, did an offer to meet up ever show up. Joel didn't suggest it, and you certainly didn't either. The physical distance that texting provided felt much safer than seeing each other in person.

In the afternoon, some absurd story involving a friend or sometimes Tommy would pop up, a photo of something that had caught his eye, or a completely random question.

What was the name of that Mexican restaurant we used to like?

You think forty is too old to start playin' the piano?

There’s a dog outside my office that personally hates my guts

And at night, the conversations grew longer.

Nothing major. Nothing that should have meant anything. You just ended up talking about how each other's day had gone. About unbearable clients, about movies. About memories that resurfaced uninvited. About anything at all.

Yet, you were starting to notice certain things: the way your hand shot toward your phone the moment you heard a vibration, the irrational disappointment when you discovered the message was from someone else, the ease with which you ended up telling him details of your day that you didn't share with anyone else; not even Dean, obviously.

Now, the phone lit up again as you stood admiring the finished table.

[J]: You done with that project yet or still fightin' it?

You snapped a photo of the completed work.

[You]: I won

The reply arrived seconds later.

[J]: 😏

[J]: you always do

And for some reason, that simple phrase managed to keep you smiling for the rest of the afternoon.

Dean was coming back in four days. The thought had been occupying a corner of your mind ever since he called you three nights ago to let you know.

You had been sanding a bookshelf when the phone rang, and at first, you thought it would be Nora or a client, or even Joel, but it was him, calling from Norway with a ridiculous time difference and a voice so cheerful it made you feel guilty before you even answered.

He was coming back in a week. That was all the time you had to figure out what the hell you were going to say to him. A week, nothing more.

And then three days flew by, and now there were only four days left. Four days to tell him it was all over, four days to find the right words and tie your tongue so the raw, pure truth wouldn't slip out.

Because the reality was that you didn't want to be with him anymore. Not since Maui. Maybe even before then. Maybe you had known it for weeks, but every time you tried to gather your thoughts, you ended up feeling like the worst person in the world. Because Dean was good; he was wonderful. But being completely honest, what was the real reason you had felt so comfortable with him?

Your relationship with Dean was peaceful, without exaggerated passions or overwhelming feelings. You cared for him, sure, but you weren't head over heels in love with him. With him it was easy because the relationship felt diluted; it didn't burn your heart the way it used to in other cases. Ahem.

He had been good to you from the start and didn't deserve a phone call from the other side of the world. He didn't deserve a rushed excuse or a convenient lie; he deserved the truth, but your main problem was that the truth was horrible.

You couldn't stop imagining the conversation. Sitting in your kitchen, him asking you what was wrong, you trying to explain that you had made a mistake, that you had seen Joel, that you were still in love with Joel. But in reality, it wasn't a mistake, and you didn't regret it. And good god, that made it different.

The mere thought made your stomach turn. The stress was eating you alive; you had been feeling strange in every aspect for several days, unable to shake off the heartburn, occasional dizziness, and headaches. Your shoulders were tight and knotted, and your lower back ached; a persistent exhaustion that seemed to follow you even after sleeping eight hours.

This secret was corroding you from the inside, and if you put this off for one more week, you were going to lose your mind.

What else could it be?

You had a relationship that needed to end, an ex-husband who had installed himself back into your life, and a workshop full of backorders. Anyone would be exhausted.

Your phone vibrated against the workbench and you grabbed it before you even realized what you were doing.

[J]: Last night I watched the worst movie in history

The reply came on its own.

[You]: You say that all the time

[J]: No

[J]: I’m serious this time

[You]: Was it really that bad?

The three dots appeared.

[J]: A giant shark fights a giant octopus

[J]: Worse than Sharknado

You stared at the screen.

[You]: That sounds amazing

[J]: I thought so for the first ten minutes

[J]: Then a French scientist with an Australian accent showed up

The laugh escaped before you could contain it.

[You]: I’m starting to think you watched it voluntarily

[J]: Greg picked it

[You]: And who chose to stay until the end?

A few seconds passed.

[J]: ...I ain't answerin that question

You shook your head, smiling, as you tucked the phone into your pocket.

"Joel?" Nora asked.

You looked up. She was walking through the door, holding a brown paper bag and two coffees.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "You're smilin' at a screen."

"People do that."

"People in love do that."

"Nora."

"Just sayin'."

You snatched one of the cups from her.

"Thanks for the coffee."

"You're welcome."

Nora smiled with pure satisfaction. She was the only other person you had told about Maui, making it just her and Kat. There was no way you could have hidden it from her anyway, since she watched you texting him and acting strange every single day. She guessed it wasn’t Dean within two days, because you had never been like that with him. And luckily for you, she didn't judge.

Fortunately, work gave you something more interesting to talk about.

The massive oak table taking up half the workshop needed to be assembled before today's delivery. Between the two of you, you managed to lift the tabletop and place it onto the supports.

"I swear, if Mr. Harrison makes me carry another piece of furniture this size, I’m gonna murder him," Nora muttered.

"You're not gonna murder him."

"You know how many times he called me this week?"

"I think seven."

"An elevation to nine."

"Nine is concerning."

"Nine times to ask me things that were already answered in the emails."

You smiled. "Maybe he’s just really excited about his table."

"Maybe he’s sixty five and thinks he still knows how to flirt."

The laugh caught you off guard. Mr. Harrison was a client who had ordered two oak tables and twelve chairs. One for his dining room, and the other for his newlywed daughter's. He was an older, charming man, and particularly weak to your business partner's charm.

"Come on, admit it. You had a little fun," you said.

"I did not have fun."

"Nora."

"I didn't have fun."

"You winked at him."

She laughed. "Because he offered me a discount at a golf club!"

"And that warranted a wink?"

"It was an involuntary reaction, alright?"

You shook your head. "Sure."

"Besides, he’s nice."

"Uh-huh."

"And pretty elegant."

"Uh-huh."

"And he has a huge house."

"Nora!"

She burst out laughing. "Okay, okay."

"It’s funny that you—that… uh…" You tried to reply, but suddenly the workshop seemed to tilt.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Three... six times.

The sensation vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

"Hey, hey, careful," Nora held the table with more force so the weight wouldn't fall on you. "You alright?"

"Yeah."

She frowned. "What happened?"

"I just got a little dizzy."

"Again?"

"Yeah."

"That’s the third time this week."

"I know. I’m tired, that’s all."

Nora sighed. "You're stressed."

"Exactly."

"And that doesn't mean you should ignore it, by the way."

"I’m fine. It's happened to me before, don't worry," you narrowed your eyes. "A few months ago the same thing happened, and I'm fine, aren't I?"

Nora hummed, completely unconvinced.

You both went back to work. Or at least, you tried to.

For the next twenty minutes, you managed to focus on the details of the finish, but the discomfort crept back bit by bit. A buzzing behind your eyes, an uncomfortable pressure in your temples, and when you both started moving the table to leave it by the workshop door, you felt another wave of dizziness. Stronger this time.

The room spun, you heard Nora say your name, and you tried to answer. And the next memory was the impact; the cold floor beneath your back, the sharp pain in your shoulder, Nora's terrified expression leaning over you.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

"I’m fine," you stammered.

"You are not fine."

"I just got dizzy."

"You fainted."

"I didn't faint."

She frowned. "I just watched you drop to the floor, what are you talking about?"

You tried to prop yourself up, but the pain in your shoulder made you grit your teeth.

"Shit."

Nora forced you to stay seated and patted your shoulder.

"Yeah, shit, exactly," she said. "We're going to the hospital."

"Nora, seriously, it's not necessary. I didn't eat very well today, my blood sugar must have dropped."

"Of course it's necessary."

"Nora..."

"I am not arguing about this with you. Let's go."

By the time Nora managed to park in front of the hospital, you had already convinced yourself that the whole thing was an exaggeration.

Your shoulder hurt, that much was true. You also had a pretty nasty scrape on your elbow and likely a sizeable bruise forming on your hip. But you were still convinced you could have gone right back to the workshop after sitting down for ten minutes and having a coffee.

Nora did not share that opinion.

"Stop making that face," she scolded you, looking over as she gripped the steering wheel.

"I’m not making a face."

"You’re making the exact face you make when you think you’re right."

"Because I am right."

"You fainted."

"I didn't faint."

Nora turned off the engine and faced you.

"I watched you hit the floor."

"I got dizzy."

"And then you fell."

"Details."

She let out a sigh so exaggerated it almost made you laugh.

"If it turns out nothing is wrong with you, dinner is on me," she proposed, full of confidence.

You raised your eyebrows. "And if something is wrong?"

"Then dinner is still on me."

"Well, that doesn't sound like a fair bet."

"Because it isn't," she huffed. "If something's wrong, I’ll be right, and I don't know how good that would be at a time like this, you know?"

You shook your head.

Two minutes later, you were following her toward the main entrance when a new wave of dizziness forced you to check your pace. It wasn't as strong as the last one, but it was enough for Nora to notice.

This time, she didn't say a word, which was much worse.

A nurse greeted you at admissions and started asking basic questions; name, date of birth, medical insurance, reason for the visit.

You felt ridiculous as you answered.

"I fell at work."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

You opened your mouth. "No."

"Yes," Nora answered at the exact same time.

You glared at her. She stared right back without the slightest hint of regret.

"She definitely lost consciousness," she assured the nurse.

"I didn't. I just felt a little weak because my blood sugar dropped, but I didn't faint."

"She did," she said, "put it down right there. She did."

The nurse looked like she had witnessed similar arguments hundreds of times, and, being highly experienced, chose whom to believe without a second thought.

She typed something into the computer, and after pursing her lips, looked at you and said, "I’m going to put down that there was a fainting episode."

Finally, she handed you an ID bracelet and sent you both to the waiting room.

The place was surprisingly packed for a Tuesday afternoon. A child was crying in some corner, a TV mounted to the ceiling was broadcasting a game show with the volume too low to understand what was happening, and across the room, an older man was sleeping with his arms crossed over his chest.

You dropped into a plastic chair.

"I’m wasting a whole afternoon over this. We could have delivered Harrison’s order today, it was finished," you complained. "And my body is just tired, that’s all."

"Your body needs a vacation."

"That too," you smiled.

Nora smiled back.

For a few minutes, neither of you spoke.

You pulled out your phone. There was a new message.

[J]: You finish the table?

Your lips curved up before you could help it.

[You]: Yeah, it turned out beautiful

The reply came right away.

[J]: Did Harrison survive?

[You]: For now. We haven't delivered it to him yet.

[J]: Shame. I was rootin for Nora.

A laugh escaped your throat.

"What?" Nora asked.

You showed her the screen, and she read the message.

She smiled. "I like him."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Definitely yes."

You shook your head. "You are impossible today."

"I wasn't the one who fainted, excuse me. And why shouldn't I like your ex?"

You laughed. "I’m just messing with you."

Before she could answer, a nurse appeared at the door and called your name.

Nora walked with you to the examination room, where they were waiting for you. The doctor was a man in his fifties with rectangular glasses and a tired look, but very well-groomed hair. He reviewed the admissions note while asking you questions.

How did the fall happen? Did you hit your head? Any history of fainting? Are you taking any medication?

As you answered, he examined your shoulder and the movement of your arm.

"It doesn't look like a fracture," he finally said. "It’s likely a contusion."

"Oh."

"I'm going to order an X-ray just to be safe."

You sighed. "Alright."

The doctor began typing something into the computer. "Now, let’s talk about the dizziness."

"Yeah, it’s been happenin'. But the same thing happened to me a while back and they told me it was stress."

The look Nora shot you could have pierced through concrete.

"She’s been havin' dizzy spells for weeks," she said. "And headaches, and exhaustion."

You nodded, looking at the man. "I work long hours."

"And she almost fell asleep sitting up during lunch last week," Nora added.

You snapped your head around. "That didn't happen."

"It happened."

"I was thinking."

"With your eyes closed?"

The doctor hid a smile.

"How long have these symptoms been going on?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. A few weeks."

"Has anything changed in your routine?"

For a split second, you thought of Dean, in Norway. Of Joel, in Maui. Of the conversations you were actively avoiding.

You gave a faint smile. "It’s been a complicated month."

"I understand." The doctor nodded gently. "It’s likely stress, but I’d like to run some basic tests just to rule out other possibilities."

"It really isn't necessary," you shook your head.

"Don't worry, they’re just routine tests."

"But seriously, I'm fine."

"Yeah? Then the results will confirm it."

You couldn't argue with that logic.

Half an hour later, a nurse led you into another room. You watched as she prepared the vials for the blood draw.

"Do you ever get lightheaded with needles?" she asked.

"Only when I'm forced to come to the hospital."

The woman let out a laugh.

The pinch was quick and almost insignificant. In fact, what was far more annoying was the fact that Nora watched the entire procedure with a smug expression.

"You happy now?" you teased.

"Thoroughly."

"I’m gonna fire you."

"We're partners. You can't fire me," she shrugged. "But if you do, at least you'll be healthy when you do it."

You rolled your eyes.

However, as the nurse labeled the vials and placed them on a tray, a strange sensation began to settle deep in your chest.

The wait turned out to be worse than you had imagined.

After the blood draw and the X-ray, a nurse led you both back to the waiting room and assured you it wouldn't take too long. However, forty minutes later you were still sitting in the same plastic chair, checking the wall clock every few minutes.

Your shoulder still ached, though thanks to the medication they had given you, it was now nothing compared to before. It was bearable, almost.

Nora had disappeared in search of coffee ten minutes ago, and she returned with two paper cups that looked capable of melting a table.

"Here," she extended one of them toward you.

You took the cup from her hands. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, honey."

For a few minutes, you remained in silence. The TV kept playing absurd shows while Nora checked her phone. A nurse crossed the hallway pushing a gurney, someone laughed behind a closed door, and life kept moving right along while you remained trapped in this place you hated so much.

You didn't like hospitals. You didn't like the smell, how pale everything was, and how bright the lights were. You had spent a lot of time in hospitals a few years ago, and it had never been a good experience; it was always bad news, always painful situations.

You wanted to leave already.

You unlocked your phone and started typing.

[You]: Mr. Harrison called us three times today to ask if the oak was still oak

A few seconds passed.

[J]: Well, it’s a reasonable question

[J]: I’m on his side

You shook your head.

[You]: Traitor

[J]: Sorry, us confused old guys gotta stick together

You let out a soft laugh that made Nora raise an eyebrow.

"I’m not making a single comment," she said.

"I didn't ask you to."

"Exactly."

You looked back at the screen.

[You]: What did you do today?

The reply took a little longer.

[J]: Meetings

[You]: How exciting

[J]: I know

[J]: My life is a constant adventure

[You]: And after that?

[J]: Had lunch alone

You didn't know why that phrase caused a strange sensation in your chest.

[You]: Why alone?

[J]: Everyone was busy

[You]: That sounds suspicious

[J]: You think they got secret friends?

[You]: I’m considering the possibility

[J]: I’ll have to investigate

A new reply appeared seconds later.

[J]: Now I’m workin' until four

You checked the time. There was still a ways to go before that.

[You]: How sad

[J]: Thanks for the support

[You]: Always

The smile lingered on your lips for a few more seconds, and then you locked the screen.

You tried not to think about the fact that you had grown used to talking to him every single day. You tried not to think about how he was the first person you wanted to text while waiting in the hospital. You tried not to think about a lot of things. It didn't work.

Finally, a nurse appeared at the door and called your name.

"Don't worry," Nora said as she stood up. "Everything's gonna be fine."

You didn't say anything, and you both followed her down the hallway until you were standing in front of a gray door with a small, square window in it.

The doctor was waiting for you in the same examination room as before.

As you walked in, you saw he had an open folder in front of him. He gestured toward the chairs.

"Have a seat."

You did, and Nora sat down too.

The doctor reviewed a few papers before looking up.

"Well. The good news is, officially, there are no fractures."

You exhaled softly. "Alright."

"The shoulder should improve in a few days."

"Good."

"And the rest of the lab results look normal."

You nodded. That made sense. So you were right, just as you’d known from the very beginning. Stress and exhaustion, exactly what you had said.

The doctor lowered his eyes to the results once more. "Except for one thing."

You felt something tighten in your chest, and Nora seemed to straighten up in her chair as well.

"What thing?" you asked.

The doctor raised his eyes.

"Your blood work shows that you're pregnant."

For a split second, you didn't comprehend the words; you just heard them, as if they belonged to another conversation. To another person, to someone else.

"What?"

The doctor maintained a calm expression. "You're pregnant."

You stared at him, waiting for him to smile, waiting for him to correct the mistake, waiting for anything. For him to say that, oh, he had the wrong patient.

It didn't happen.

A nervous laugh escaped your throat. "No."

The doctor frowned slightly.

"No," you shook your head. "That can't be."

Beside you, Nora had gone completely still.

"There's been a mistake," you insisted.

The doctor looked back down at the results. "There doesn't appear to be any mistake."

"No, yeah. There has to be." You felt the words spilling out on their own. "I can't get pregnant."

The doctor rested the folder on the desk.

"Have you been told that specifically?"

"Well... not exactly."

Now you didn't even know how to explain it. Years of trying, of tests with dozens of different doctors. Hopes crushed by painful losses over and over again—how could you even begin to tell him that?

All of that compressed into a single, impossible thought.

It can't be.

"It can't be," the phrase came out softer this time in your voice. More broken.

The doctor spoke calmly. "The tests are quite clear."

You looked at Nora, but she was just sitting there in silence. Jaw dropped, literally jaw dropped.

"Nora."

She looked at you. "I can't believe it."

"Nora."

Her eyes began to fill with tears. "Oh, my God."

"Nora."

She covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh, my God."

You looked back at the doctor. "Are you sure?"

The question sounded ridiculous even to you, but you needed to hear the answer.

"Yes. Take a look," with his index finger, he slid the paper across the desk toward you.

You felt the air vanish from the room.

You took the paper and read through the whole thing, your eyes darting quickly across the lines.

You looked back up at him. "Completely sure?"

"Yes."

"One hundred percent sure?"

A faint smile appeared on his face. "There's no such thing as one hundred percent in medicine. But yes, I’m very sure."

You lowered your gaze to your hands; your fingers were trembling.

Pregnant. The word didn't feel real. It didn't fit; it didn't belong in your life. You had spent so many years convinced you would never hear that news that now you didn't know what to do with it; you didn't know what to feel, you didn't know what to think. And suddenly, another thought crashed in.

Fear. Paralyzing fear. Because the last time this happened, it broke you completely.

You and Joel had been trying for nearly three years, and no matter what you did, the tests were always negative. Different positions, different methods, hormone treatments; you injected yourself with gonadotropins every single night for weeks on end, pinching the skin of your stomach and thighs, leaving behind a pattern of tiny tender bruises. He underwent tests too. His always came back fine; yours, not so much.

But the chances were never zero, so the ordeal stretched on and on until one morning, like so many others, you just had a feeling.

In the bathroom, you kept a small drawer with a few pregnancy tests ready to go. You took one and followed the routine: you urinated into the plastic cup, waited the necessary minutes while pacing the floor as a ball of nerves, feeling everything at once. And when the timer went off, you lifted the stick and stared at two perfectly defined lines in a deep stark pink.

You were pregnant. After so much effort, after so much heartache, you were pregnant.

When Joel came home just after noon, you couldn't wait to tell him. You tried to be mysterious (you had planned to be) but the second you saw his face, you couldn't hold it in.

You jumped into his arms, and he held you against him so tightly you felt like you were fusing with his body. His face was flushed, his eyes brimming with tears, and he kissed every inch of your face, repeating over and over how much he loved you and how happy he was. It was one of the most beautiful days of your life.

At first, everything was normal. A pregnancy like any other, peaceful and healthy. Your house back then was a dream: afternoons on the couch with Joel, watching movies and eating sweets, long mornings in bed when he decided to skip work just to stay with you—things only being your own boss allowed him to do. Nighttime runs for ice cream, walks through the park under the sun. But before you could pass the four-month mark, the trouble started.

You suffered a premature rupture of the membranes, a tiny leak in the amniotic sac caused by a random stray bacteria that had reached the placenta. It was a freak accident, entirely out of your control.

You were confined to strict bed rest to try and seal the leak and keep the baby safe. And you didn't care, you really didn't; you would have stayed in that bed for as long as it took to protect your baby.

Joel worked and took care of absolutely everything, and whenever he could, he spent hours by your side, whispering promises to your belly. But one night, at nearly five months along, while you were trying to sleep, everything shattered.

An abrupt, tearing pain ripped through your lower abdomen, waking you with a gasp. The infection had turned aggressive in an instant, triggering violent contractions. You gasped for air, and Joel was awake in a second, his own face twisted in instant panic. His hands were shaking violently as he tried to help you adjust in bed, trying to find a position that would ease the agony. But his voice completely broke, turning into a trembling, horrified whisper when he pulled back the covers and saw the sheets heavily stained with dark red blood.

You were shivering violently, your teeth chattering as a sudden fever spiked, your body throwing itself into septic shock.

He called for an ambulance, his voice desperate as he screamed at the dispatcher, but when he realized they would take too long, he didn't waste another second. He scooped you up in his arms, holding your trembling body against his chest, and carried you out to his truck.

He drove like a madman, breaking every speed limit through the dark streets toward the nearest hospital. You were losing too much blood, slipping in and out of consciousness, on the very brink of leaving for good.

Joel was an absolute wreck, sobbing open mouthed against the steering wheel, begging you not to leave him, to please stay with him, screaming your name into the quiet cabin of the truck as he watched the life draining out of you.

The frantic rush of the truck tires against the hospital asphalt was the last sound that registered. After that, everything blurred into sterile white noise.

When you arrived, the ER doors flew open, and Joel’s voice echoed through the corridors, demanding help. Medical staff swarmed you immediately. You were rushed into an operating room for an emergency surgery to stop the massive hemorrhage and clear infection before the sepsis could shut down your organs. They gave you blood transfusions, pumped high-dose antibiotics through your veins, and fought for hours just to keep your heart beating.

You didn't wake up until nearly three days later.

When your eyes finally cracked open, the intense heat of the fever was gone, replaced by a hollow freezing numbness. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead felt blinding, but the first thing you anchored onto was Joel. He was slumped in the plastic chair beside your bed, his head resting against your mattress. He looked twenty years older. His clothes were wrinkled, his knuckles white as he held your limp hand against his cheek, snoring softly from pure exhaustion.

When he felt you stir, he bolted upright. His eyes, bloodshot and heavy with unshed tears, searched yours. He didn't even have to say the words. You looked down at your abdomen, entirely flat, and the devastating silence in the room told you everything. The baby was gone.

You choked on a breath that felt like inhaling glass, and Joel immediately crawled onto the narrow hospital bed beside you, wrapping his large frame around yours, holding you as you broke.

The recovery was a long agonizing blur. You spent the next two months confined to your bed at home, too weak from the blood loss and too paralyzed by grief to even move. You were a ghost in your own skin, refusing to eat more than a few bites of whatever Joel brought you. And he never left your side.

He learned how to change your dressings, how to help you sit up to take small sips of water, and how to spoon-feed you broth with a patience that broke your heart. He carried the entire weight of your existence on his shoulders while you stared at the wall, wishing the darkness would just swallow you whole.

By the third month, your body had mostly healed, but your mind was a battlefield. As the numbness faded, an unbearable suffocating tension took its place. Joel returned to work, but the man who came back to you every evening had changed. The trauma of almost losing you had twisted into a fierce obsessive overprotection.

It started with small things. He wouldn't let you carry a single grocery bag, snatching them from your hands the moment you reached for them. If you stumbled slightly over a rug, his hand would instantly clamp onto your elbow like a vice, his chest heaving as if he had just watched you step off a cliff. But then it bled into the un-casual things. He stopped letting you cook, terrified you’d burn yourself or stand for too long. If you mentioned needing to drive down to the local market, he’d find a way to do it for you, or insist on driving you himself. If you sneezed, he was checking your forehead for a fever.

You began to resent him for it. Every time his eyes swept over you, you didn't see love; you saw a man staring at a fragile, cracked vase that he was terrified of shattering completely. You felt asphyxiated, trapped under the weight of his constant vigilance, and a bitter anger began to fester beneath your ribs. Yet, the cruelest part was that you still needed him so desperately. You loathed the cage he was building around you, but you were terrified of what would happen if he ever let go.

To escape the toxic friction building between you, Joel began losing himself in his work. He’d come home late, the heavy thud of his boots in the hallway signaling his arrival past eight, then nine, then ten. When he did walk through the door, he was a ghost. He barely spoke, moving around the house on tiptoe, keeping his distance as if he were afraid his very presence would upset your fragile peace.

One afternoon, while he was out, you walked down the hallway and stopped in front of the door that was supposed to be the nursery. You reached for the brass knob, but it wouldn't turn. It was locked. Joel had quietly cleared out the crib, the small clothes, and the painted toys while you were still bedridden, hiding the evidence of your grief away so you wouldn't have to see it.

When you confronted him about it that night, your voice cracked with frustration.

"I’m fine, Joel. Please. Stop treating me like I’m made of glass. Stop looking at me like I’m about to break."

He had stopped in his tracks, his shoulders rigid, his eyes dark with a desperate buried pain. "I can't do that," he whispered. "I almost watched you die on that mattress. I can't just pretend I didn't."

That was when the real cracks widened. The love between you was still there, vast and consuming, but it had become an instrument of torture.

Seeing him suffer broke you, because no matter what you did, you couldn't fix the hollow space in his chest. You felt like a permanent draining burden on his life, an anchor dragging him down into the dirt.

Eventually, he stopped calling to say he’d be late. The courtesy texts disappeared, replaced by a cold, unspoken routine of empty hours where you sat alone in the quiet house, waiting for the sound of his truck in the driveway.

By the time he finally came home, your grief had hardened into an armored shell of fury. You treated him with a biting razor-sharp distance. Whenever he stepped close, trying to bridge the gap, you rejected every single gesture. You turned your cheek away from his kisses and pulled your shoulders out of his warm embrace, using your anger as a shield to hide the bleeding, unhealed wound underneath.

The erosion happened in increments, small and silent, until the warmth completely drained from the house. You stopped sharing the same bed, sleeping on opposite sides of a vast, freezing distance. You stopped making dinner for two. The silence between you grew heavy, thick with everything you were both too terrified to voice, until the air felt so tight that even breathing became difficult.

The breaking point arrived on a Tuesday evening over something entirely trivial.

He had left his muddy work boots by the kitchen island instead of the back door, leaving a dark trail across the clean tile. It was nothing, just a small carelessness he had done a hundred times before, but under the crushing weight of months of unsaid grief, it felt like an act of war.

"Can you, for once in your life, put your things where they actually belong?" your voice snapped.

Joel paused, his shoulders tense as he stared down at the floor. "I just walked through the door. I was gonna clean it up."

"You always say that, and you never do. You just leave your mess for me to deal with. I’m tired of it, Joel. I’m so tired of everything."

He looked up then, his jaw set, his eyes dark with defensive exhaustion. "It’s a pair of boots. Why are you always lookin' for a reason to be angry at me?"

"I'm not looking for a reason! You're never here anyway, and when you are, you treat me like I’m an invalid or you completely ignore me! I can't live like this!"

"I’m workin' to keep us afloat while you sit in this house and treat me like the enemy!" he yelled back, his deep voice shaking the walls. "I don't know what the hell you want from me anymore."

The argument escalated instantly; a violent eruption of old wounds, bitter recriminations, and months of built-up agony. Every cruel thought you had harbored during those dark months came spilling out, and his defenses went up like a wall of stone. Finally, the words tore from your throat before you could stop them, born from desperate hurt.

"Then maybe we shouldn't be doing this at all! If being in this house is such a chore, if it’s so damn hard for you, maybe we just shouldn't be together!"

You expected him to fight back. You expected him to deny it, to take you by the shoulders and tell you that you were being ridiculous. Instead, Joel just stood there. The anger drained from his face, leaving him looking hollow and utterly defeated.

He let out a ragged breath and looked away. "Yeah. Alright. Maybe you're right. I think the same thing."

The words hit you like a physical blow. Your heart shattered right then and there, the pieces agonizing in your chest. You wanted to scream, to take it back, to beg him to stay, but your pride and your pain locked your jaw tight.

You just swallowed the lump in your throat and whispered, "Okay."

Three nights later, he packed a single duffel bag and left the house. A month after that, you filed for divorce, and he signed the papers immediately, offering no resistance, no arguments over assets, nothing. He just let you go.

Curiously, two months after the final signatures were dried, he came back to the house to pick up a few remaining tools from the garage. Seeing him after all those weeks of separation was jarring, but without the suffocating pressure of marriage and shared grief hanging over your heads, something strange happened.

The defensive walls were gone. You ended up standing in the kitchen, talking normally for the first time in over a year. A small smile here, a soft laugh there, remembering an old inside joke. The familiar ease of us bled back into the room, and before you knew what was happening, his hand was on your jaw, his mouth was on yours, and you ended up on the living room sofa, clinging to each other with a desperate breathless hunger.

That afternoon started a cycle that lasted for nearly a year. A year of casual encounters, late-night arrivals, and secret afternoons spent wrapped in each other's arms, hiding from the reality of your divorce. Until finally, you had to say enough. You had to end it because it was tearing you apart. You loved him too much to just be his secret habit, and every time he walked out the door after holding you, the wound reopened.

It was deeply unfair, you often thought. Your relationship with Joel had always been a dream. From the very first moment you met, through years of marriage, it had been perfect. You had been partners, best friends, lovers. But the tragedy of losing the baby had broken the foundation. It wasn't a lack of love that separated you; it was the raw, unyielding trauma. Both of you were too terrified, too wounded, and utterly incapable of communicating through the fog of your own grief.

Since cutting him off completely, you had been going to therapy every single week, trying to untangle the knots in your mind. You knew he had been doing the same, because he had mentioned his own sessions during one of your brief post-divorce conversations.

Joel had always respected your boundaries. He had given you space, given you the divorce, given you the silence you asked for. Until now.

You knew that you were different now. You were okay, you felt whole, and you were no longer the fragile version of yourself that had broken into pieces all those years ago. And you knew that the man you had just spent time with in Maui was a healthier, more communicative Joel, too. The Joel in Maui had said everything you had desperately needed to hear back then—everything you hadn't heard simply because you hadn't been ready to listen.

Being with him again had felt so effortless, so right, like finally walking through the front door of your own home.

And his name kept echoing through your mind, a relentless loop against the backdrop of the doctor's quiet office, while you stared at the paper and thought that this all had to be some sort of mistake, or a dream.

Pregnant.

A cold spike of fear and absolute terror shot through your chest, but right alongside it, blooming beneath the panic, was a feeling of pure happiness.

Yeah, you knew exactly who the father was. Who else could it be? Dean had a vasectomy five years ago; he’d gotten it because, according to him, he didn't plan on bringing babies into such a broken world. And you knew it was true because he had shown you all the photos his friends took of him when he left the hospital.

No, it wasn't him.

And just like some beautiful, cosmic joke, your phone vibrated in your lap.

[J]: how’s your day goin?

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Eddie pressed his lips together to keep the smirk already tugging at the corners of his mouth from giving him way, settling instead for a quiet tsk of feigned annoyance. He didn’t bother replying as he led his little group of black sheep further down the hall.

Instead, he let the noise of the hallway fill the silence while his mind drifted back to the events of last night. And despite his best efforts, that smirk found its way onto his lips anyway.

Ever the observant one – unlike Gareth, who was operating purely on horny teenage instinct – Jeff noticed it immediately the second he fell into step beside Eddie.

“Yeah,” he breathed out dramatically, jerking his head towards Gareth as he leaned down just enough to look at Eddie properly. “He’s a goner.”

Gareth’s brows shot up as he leaned in for another look at him.

“Jesus,” he snorted. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger, don’t she?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, though the warmth climbing up the tips of his ears betrayed him instantly.

“Fuck off.”

“No, seriously,” Jeff continued, smacking a hand against Eddie’s shoulder while a mischievous grin tugged at his lips. “I’ve never seen you like this. It’s a good look on you, buddy.”

Eddie’s ringed fingers twitched around the handle of his metal lunchbox as he fought the urge to roll his eyes again and throw some snarky comment back at them.

Instead, he let the endless blabbering of his best friends fade into the background noise of the hallway while his eyes wandered over the sea of students around him, his mind drifting elsewhere entirely.

This morning had been a good one.

Birds had chirped softly from the electricity wires high above the trailer park while the quiet dripping of the coffee machine filled the delicate silence inside the trailer. Eddie had spent most of it half-awake, just letting his eyes wander across your face as you slept beside him – taking in the soft breaths leaving your nose and the way every muscle in your face had relaxed completely against his chest.

Not even Wayne nearly ripping the front door off its hinges on his way bay inside had managed to pull a harsh reaction out of him.

It had been a little after six when Eddie finally gently nudged you awake, the sky outside already splitting open with warm streaks of sunshine, and honestly? It almost pained him to do it – which was a realization he still wasn’t entirely comfortable unpacking.

But he’d figured you should probably get home to get ready for school, and besides, he wanted to give you the option of driving your own car instead of being stuck with him again.

Still, the image of your sleepy blinking, eyelashes brushing softly against your cheeks while you tried to wake up, had carved itself a permanent place somewhere inside his brain.

And frankly? That scared the living shit out of him; how easily he could slip into this whole… thing the two of you had going on.

Eddie was brought back to the present when his shoulder accidentally slammed into another student.

“Watch it, freak,” someone muttered while brushing past him.

“Yeah,” Gareth snorted. “Lover boy’s not mentally present right now.”

Somewhere near the end of the hall, Nathalie sucked thoughtfully on her bottom lip while one of her brows slowly arched upward as she stood in front of a corkboard, pretending to read one of the random flyers pinned to it.

Gareth froze for a second before quickly clearing his throat.

Then he muttered something about a blonde babe looking lost under his breath and immediately veered off in her direction.

Eddie barely seemed to notice – but if he did, he wasn’t particularly interested in it.

Beside him, Jeff pursed his lips thoughtfully like he was turning something over in his head before nudging Eddie with his elbow and jerking his head back towards the entrance doors.

“Wanna smoke one more time before we get tortured?” he asked, already patting his pockets for his cigarettes.

He pretended to think about it for a second before finally nodding and turning back towards the entrance, Jeff falling into step beside him.

The hallway had emptied out considerably in the few minutes they’d spent standing there, most students finally dragging themselves to class as the first warning bell echoed faintly through the building.

By the time they stepped back outside, the morning air felt even warmer than before.

The two of them made their way towards the picnic table – far enough from the entrance to avoid attracting the attention of any faculty member wandering around in search of students skipping class.

Jeff tossed his battered pack of Marlboros towards Eddie before hopping up onto the tabletop beside him. He flicked his lighter open and lit the cigarette hanging between his lips, squinting his eyes when he felt the flame a little too close from his face for his liking.

The two of them sat there quietly for a moment, smoke curling lazily into the warm morning air while chirping birds overhead filled the silence between them.

“So, what’re you gonna do about it?”

Eddie furrowed his brows slightly as he pulled a cigarette from the pack. “The hell you talkin’ about?”

Jeff snorted softly around his cigarette before taking another drag.

“C’mon man,” he muttered, smoke still trapped in his lungs. “I’m not stupid.”

That made Eddie still for half a second before he leaned back on his free hand.

The morning air sat warm and still around them while late students trickled through the parking lot in the distance, the faint rumble of car engines drifting across the school grounds.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” he muttered after a while, finally lighting the cigarette between his lips.

Jeff only shrugged one shoulder. “It means, you’ve been weird as Hell lately.”

Eddie just snorted softly around his cigarette, muttering something about Jeff needing to stop analysing his bullshit all the time.

“Nah, man, I’m serious.” His best friend pointed at him with the two fingers holding his cigarette. “You disappeared last night, and this morning you come back looking like you’ve received divine revelation.”

“That’s just my face.”

“You can bullshit me all you want,” Jeff replied, bringing the cigarette back to his lips for a quick drag, “but you can’t bullshit yourself.”

Eddie rolled his eyes automatically, though it lacked most of its usual bite, and tapped ash onto the dry soil beside his sneakers as his jaw tightened slightly.

“She’s just…” he started before trailing off. “Y’know?”

Jeff glanced sideways at him immediately, catching the hesitation and the way Eddie pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“You sound like a fucking thirteen-year-old trying to describe his first crush,” Jeff chuckled.

Eddie lamely flipped him off before busying himself with his cigarette again.

The thing was, he knew his best friend wasn’t wrong – and that was exactly the problem.

Because he’d done this before – the hooking up, the lingering stares during sets, messy almost-somethings that burned out long before they ever even got the chance to matter.

But this?

This felt dangerously close to mattering – and he wasn’t used to that.

His fingers tightened slightly around the cigarette while his eyes drifted out towards the empty football field beyond the parking lot fence.

“She liked you too, y’know,” Jeff muttered before taking one last drag. “Could see it on her face when we played.”

“Yeah,” he muttered back, almost absentmindedly letting the words slips out before he could stop them. “That’s kinda what scares me.”

Eddie still carried the conversation around his head long after he and Jeff had parted ways towards their own classes.

Chairs had already stopped scraping against the tiled floor by the time he stepped into Mr. Sullivan’s classroom, though class hadn’t started just yet.

He let out a quiet sigh as his fingers dragged through his hair while he made his way towards the back of the room where he usually sat.

The bell rang just as Nathalie jokingly shoved you through the doorway, the two of you laughing about something incomprehensible with a grumpy Mr. Sullivan trailing closely behind.

The loud teenage noise filling the classroom didn’t dull immediately when the teacher walked in, but something inside Eddie’s mind did the second he laid his eyes on you.

Whatever words you’d been about to say to Nathalie died on the tip of your tongue when your eyes flicked towards him. Instead, you swallowed softly before offering him a small, shy smile as you slipped into your usual seat.

Your hair shifted over your shoulders when you turned back for one quick glance at him before facing forward again as the scratching sound of chalk against the blackboard filled the room.

You hadn’t brush it, or applied whatever the Hell Eddie thought girls usually used to make it look all neat and perfect. Instead, you’d left it messy – like it had been when you woke up beside him this morning.

And just like that, Jeff’s words came back to haunt him again.

Unfortunately for Eddie, lunchtime only made things worse.

Jeff didn’t even have to look up from his disgusting sandwich to make Eddie feel painfully called out – and neither did Gareth, who seemed far more enthralled with a certain blonde sitting a few feet away than with whatever was sitting on his lunch tray.

Honestly, Dustin and his annoyingly observant eyes were more than enough.

“So, like, are you guys a thing now, or what?” Dustin muttered casually before shoving a handful of cold fries into his mouth.

Jeff finally looked up at that, chewing slowly while his hips twitched around an amused grin.

“What? No,” Eddie coughed out immediately – a little too quickly. “Jesus, Henderson.”

The boys exchanged smug looks instantly, completely ignoring the daggers Eddie shot at them across the table.

He opened his mouth to throw an insult back at them when the sound of loud laughter cut through the cafeteria noise.

His head turned before he could stop himself.

You sat across from Nathalie, absentmindedly picking at your food with the plastic fork in your hand while the blonde dramatically waved her hands around like it was absolutely necessary to do so while she rambled on about whatever story had currently taken over her brain.

The sunlight spilling through the cafeteria windows caught in your hair as you glanced around the room over your shoulder – eyes lazily scanning the neighbouring tables until they landed on him.

And just like that, your entire face softened.

Fuck.

And apparently so did his, judging by the way Jeff’s eyes suddenly glimmered a little more than usual; the insufferable grin spreading across his face certainly didn’t help either.

“Don’t even,” Eddie muttered quickly before swallowing hard.

Jeff only snorted under his breath. “You’re both disgustingly obvious.”

Eddie ignored him completely, though the warmth creeping up the back of his neck betrayed him instantly.

“You too, Loverboy,” Jeff added while nudging Gareth with his elbow after noticing he was still openly staring at the blonde without an ounce of shame.

Meanwhile, two tables down diagonally, Nathalie continued waving her hands around while complaining about the fact that you and Eddie had forced her to take the remaining two thirds of Corroded Coffin.

Well, complaining wasn’t exactly what she was doing – although she clearly liked to think she was. In reality, there was a new glimmer in her eyes you’d never really seen before, accompanied by a small smile she kept unsuccessfully trying to brush away.

Your hand curled around your water bottle while her voice faded in and out in the background, your attention too busy stealing quick glances over your shoulder instead.

“Are you even listening to me?” she sighed dramatically before tossing a cold fry at you.

It hit right beneath your clavicle before dropping soundlessly onto your lap – but it was enough to pull you back into the conversation.

“Of course I am,” you mumbled with a soft furrow between your brows.

“No, you aren’t.”

“You were pretending not to like Gareth’s cologne,” you replied matter-of-factly with an arched brow.

Nathalie froze for half a second, her eyes widening slightly.

“No, I wasn’t,” she answered a little too quickly.

“Yes, you were,” you laughed softly.

Her pale eyes flickered briefly towards your neck before returning to your face again.

“Yeah, well,” she muttered grumpily, clearly displeased that you’d called her out, “I didn’t let a vampire abuse my neck like some people.”

Now it was your turn to freeze in your seat before quickly averting your eyes.

You blinked a few times too many while your brain scattered desperately for some kind of snarky remark to throw back at her.

“No comment,” you mumbled back.

Her eyes flickered back towards the bruises before drifting over to the other table and then back again, her brows pulling into a deep furrow.

She looked back down at her cold fries like they held all the answered to the questions she wasn’t sure she actually wanted to ask you.

“Would it be weird,” she started softly, almost hesitantly, “for, y’know…”

She pushed her tray away with obvious disgust written across her face before her expression softened again.

“For me to be a little worried about you?”

That pulled your eyes back to her face immediately.

“Why would you be worried about me?” you asked nervously. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I can clearly see that,” she absentmindedly pointed towards your neck before rolling her eyes jokingly, like that might somehow soften the weight of her next words.

She leaned back in her chair, rolling her shoulders as she carefully considered what to say next.

“I’m just scared people are gonna treat you differently,” she mumbled quickly under her breath, almost like she was ripping off a bandage in one quick pull. She noticed the way your shoulders tensed immediately – not anxiously, but defensively.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nat.”

“I’m not. Just… listen,” she muttered softly while reaching across the table to intertwine her fingers with yours, her thumb brushing gentle circles against the back of your hand. “Hawkins is cruel to girls.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

“People don’t care what boys do,” she sighed before letting her eyes drift towards the Hellfire table. “But a girl like you? I’m scared they’ll turn you into a story.”

Her thumb continued its slow movements against your skin while she let the weight of her words settle between you for a moment longer.

“But, I can also tell you’re serious about this, about him,” she added quietly, the look in her eyes softening once again. “And I saw the way he looked at you yesterday, too.”

The fluorescent lights overhead were too harsh on her features, but somehow, they still couldn’t harden the gentleness she only seemed to reserve for you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and the silence between you filled itself with the loud teenage noise surrounding your table.

Nathalie’s teeth found her bottom lip when she noticed the quiet, gradual way your expression fell.

And she wasn’t the only one who noticed. Eddie did too – even from where he sat.

He could feel the start of something uncomfortable settling somewhere behind his ribs the second he noticed the quick glance Nathalie sent towards his table.

But then your eyes slowly found him instead, and the soft smile you gave him when your gazes locked again was more than enough to quiet the uneasy buzzing beneath his skin.

Nathalie’s words continued echoing somewhere deep in your mind even after the four classes that followed lunch period – even with the hallways buzzing with teenage chatter, squeaking sneakers against tiled floors, and entirely too much hairspray for a Wednesday afternoon.

You knew her words came not only from concern, but love too, and because of that, they didn’t settle quite as wrong in the pit of your stomach as you’d expected them to. That didn’t make you safe from your nasty habit of overthinking everything, though.

You flinched when you accidentally yanked a little too hard on your locker door, sending a book and far too many loose papers spilling onto the floor. Like the imaginary eyes you’d felt following you around all day weren’t enough, now you had actual fucking people staring while you let out an exasperated sigh and dropped to your knees.

The first thing that came into view were the harsh reflections of the fluorescent lights overhead – honestly, they hurt your eyes – before you tilted your head back and found yourself staring at a familiar mess of dark curls.

“B plus on an algebra test?” Eddie scoffed while reaching down to grab one of the papers that had escaped your locker. “Why isn’t this hanging on your family’s refrigerator?”

You huffed out a quiet laugh while taking the thin stack of papers from his hands.

“Because it’s not a big deal,” you mumbled back while shoving everything carelessly inside your locker again.

“Sweetheart, if I was getting anything above a C,” Eddie started, another soft scoff slipping from his lips, “I’d be buying drinks for everyone at the Hide Out.”

You rolled your eyes at him while putting away the books you didn’t need to bring home, replacing them with the ones you did. Eddie shifted his weight awkwardly as his eyes flickered around the hallway.

“So…”

“So,” you echoed, a soft smile slowly creeping onto your lips.

“Speaking of drinks…” He forced a cough into his fist when he felt his voice slipping somewhere it definitely wasn’t supposed to. “Do you, like…”

You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder before closing your locker and turning back towards him again.

His hand stayed tucked deep inside the front pockets of his jeans while he awkwardly nodded to himself, like the absentminded movement might somehow help him force the words out.

“Do you wanna get something to drink?” he asked quietly under his breath. “Like… I dunno, a milkshake or something?”

Eddie’s eyes flickered nervously from you to the ground and back up again while he bit awkwardly at the inside of his cheek, suddenly realising he’d just asked you out – in quite possibly the lamest way imaginable, too.

“That sounded pathetic, didn’t it?” He visibly cringed at himself, his nose scrunching as he looked somewhere over your shoulder instead of directly at you.

You, on the other hand, nervously bit down on your lower lip while his words continued echoing through your head.

“No, it didn’t,” you answered softly, your gaze dropping away from him when the warmth creeping across the tips of your ears started spreading down your neck. “I’d love to.”

Someone near the end of the hallway suddenly shouted something just as Eddie opened his mouth to answer you, pulling both of your attention away for a brief moment.

Lockers continued slamming in the background, along with the obnoxious squeak of brand-new sneakers against tile, while Eddie let the words die on his tongue instead. He dragged a ringed hand through his hair – a nervous habit he never quite managed to shake, even after all the times his curls had gotten caught around his rings and yanked painfully. Your eyes drifted back towards him just in time to catch the funny face he pulled after accidentally tugging a few strands too hard.

“Ah, fuck,” hissed quietly while scowling at absolutely nothing in particular.

The sight in front of you pulled a small, disbelieving laugh out of you – one that only worsened when you noticed the soft pout forming on his lips while he untangled the strands of hair caught around his rings.

“So,” you murmured once you’d finally gotten your laughter under control, “what time were you thinking?”

Eddie’s eyes widened slightly as his eyebrows shot upwards.

“I, uh…” he trailed off before scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I was kinda thinking… now?

“Now?” you laughed, already gesturing down at your clothes. “You don’t even want me to change into something a little nicer?”

“I couldn’t care less about your outfit, Sweetheart,” he murmured back, a soft grin tugging at his lips.

You hummed softly before raising a brow at him.

“That’s not what you said yesterday.”

He slowly looked away, his teeth catching his bottom lip as warmth into his cheeks at the memory of the previous night. After a second, he let go of it and pursed his lips instead.

“Y’know what?” Eddie scoffed softly while finally looking back at you again. “I got nothing to say to that.”

That pulled another quiet laugh out of you while you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your fingers tightened slightly around the strap of your bag.

“Follow me back home?” you murmured softly, already starting to walk towards the main exit leading out to the parking lot. “Or am I supposed to drive myself home tonight?”

The deep rumble of Eddie’s van died the moment he turned the key before glancing over at you.

“You ready to terrorise the diner?”

Your eyes had already been on him, too busy taking in the way the neon lights bled through the windshield and across his face, painting his pale skin in shades of pink, orange, and bright red. It made you wonder how he’d look on a real stage – one big enough for him to thrive even more than he already did at the Hide Out.

“Never been more ready,” you replied while forcing yourself back into the moment.

The harsh slam of the van’s creaking doors echoed loudly into the open air, starting a few birds from their comfortable spots atop the electrical wires as the two of you made your way towards the diner entrance. The small bell above the door chimed softly when Eddie pulled it open for you, holding it there with a dramatic flourish of his free arm and a low milady slipping from his lips.

The old Wurlitzer tucked against the back wall hummed softly in the background, filling the diner with some cheesy love song from the fifties while the occasional burst of laughter and clatter of plates blended into the warm noise around you.

“You got a favourite seat?” you asked while stepping further inside, immediately getting hit with the thick scent of French fries and the faint underlying smell of industrial cleaning supplies.

“At the back there,” Eddie replied, pointing a ringed finger towards the vinyl booths tucked near the jukebox.

The two of you slid into the booth furthest from the windows, the old leather squeaking softly underneath you movements while a waitress somewhere behind the counter shouted another order into the kitchen. The song currently humming through the diner crackled softly as it came to an end, only for another to slowly drift through the staticky speakers a second later.

Your brows lifted slightly when Eddie’s ringed fingers immediately started tapping against the tabletop in perfect rhythm with the beat – not absentmindedly, either. Knowingly.

“What?” he asked after catching you staring.

“Just didn’t expect you to know this song,” you replied with a quiet laugh.

Eddie scoffed dramatically, pretending you’d just personally offended him. “Of course I know it. It’s the Hollies.”

Your lips parted slightly in surprise before small smile slowly spread across your face.

“That one band I played yesterday?” you laughed softly under your breath. “You actually listen to them?”

“C’mon, Sweetheart,” Eddie tsked while shaking his head jokingly. “Show some respect.”

His fingers kept drumming lazily against the tabletop while he leaned further back into the booth.

“Besides, good music’s good music,” he shrugged simply. “I contain multitudes.”

That pulled another laugh out from you.

“A random – what is it, sixties – love song?” One of your brows lifted playfully. “You’re kinda ruining your whole spooky metalhead reputation right know, y’know.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie started dramatically while placing a hand over his chest, “metalheads are allowed emotional depth too.”

“Is that what this is?” you teased. “Emotional depth?”

“No,” he deadpanned immediately. “This is me being devastatingly cultured, something we unfortunately cannot say about you.”

Your laughter mixed softly with the music drifting through the diner, and for a moment, Eddie found himself growing quiet again. Not awkwardly – just enough to watch the way the warm amber lights overhead reflected in your eyes while you smiled at him from across the table. And somewhere underneath the diner lights, with What Kind of Girl Are You still humming softly through the speakers, Eddie realised this felt dangerously close to the kind of night he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

The waitress finally wandered over with a tired – yet somehow still welcoming – smile and a notepad tucked against her apron.

“What can I getcha?”

Eddie barely glanced at the menu before looking up at her. “Chocolate milkshake.”

“Pictured you as a strawberry guy.” Your brows lifted slightly.

He gasped dramatically. “Pink’s definitely not metal, Sweetheart. C’mon, now.”

“Neither are the Hollies.”

The waitress snorted softly under her breath before scribbling the order down. “One milkshake or two?”

Eddie visibly short-circuited – you could practically see the exact moment his brain stopped functioning behind his eyes.

“Can I get a vanilla shake, please?” you answered softly before he could completely spiral.

“You betcha,” the waitress replied absentmindedly while finishing the order. “Be right back.”

The Hollies had taken it upon themselves to fill the soft silence that settled between the two of you for a little while longer, the playful, teasing melody lingering gently over the table.

Eddie absentmindedly played with his rings – turning one around his finger before pulling it off completely, only to slide it back on again a second later. There wasn’t any pressure lingering between the two of you anymore – no pressure to act a certain way or force conversation into every quiet moment just to fill the space. Just… comfortable silence – the kind where two people simply existed beside each other without needing anything more.

“So, vanilla, huh?” Eddie said after a few seconds, something dangerously close to mischief settling in your eyes.

“If you’re about to call me boring,” you deadpanned while narrowing your eyes at him, “I will kick you.”

“You’re everything but,” he murmured under his breath – just quietly enough that the waitress couldn’t hear it when she returned balancing two tall glasses in her hands.

Eddie nodded faintly in appreciation when the waitress placed both milkshakes down onto the table before disappearing again almost immediately. His dark eyes stayed glued to the perfect milky swirls sitting in front of you.

“What?”

“Oh, y’know,” he started while softly pursing his lips to stop himself from smiling, “just wondering if it tastes as boring as it sounds.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

Before you could kick him, or he could stop myself, Eddie’s fingers curled around the short stem of your milkshake glass and pulled it closer before taking a quick sip from your straw.

He let the taste settle on his tongue for a second before swallowing. And then he froze; not because of the brain freeze, either.

“…I don’t know why I just did that.”

One of your brows lifted slightly while your lips curled into an amused little smirk.

“Well?” you murmured teasingly. “Is it boring?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered after a moment, his eyes still fixed on yours.

Eddie’s fingers drummed lazily against the steering wheel while the radio played quietly in the background. The neon diner lights had long since been replaced by the soft amber glow of the sunset streaks stretching across the windshield while he drove with an unusual kind of calmness settling over him.

He’d noticed the way you’d lazily kicked off your shoes and stretched your legs across the dashboard, your head softly bobbing along to whatever song was currently playing – one he could barely hear properly anymore after the years of playing music without bothering to protect his ears. His gaze kept flickering between the road and you, stealing quick glances while the glowing fifties sign slowly disappeared into the distance behind you.

“Do you, uh… wanna go home yet?” he asked carefully, almost like he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to interrupt the comfortable silence the two of you had fallen into.

You slouched a little further into the vinyl seat before finally dragging your gaze away from the passing window outside.

“Not really, no,” you admitted without even taking a second to think about it.

That pulled a small smile from Eddie while he nodded faintly to a beat only he could hear, his fingers tapping softly against the steering wheel along with it. The windows had been rolled down, letting the early-summer evening air drift through the van. It felt noticeably softer now than it had that morning while Eddie drove the two of you in the opposite direction of your house. His curls blew carelessly in the wind while his free hand briefly stopped tapping against the steering wheel to pull down the visor.

Storefronts and average buildings blurred into grey smudges that slowly gave way to stretches of green the further Eddie drove from downtown, until the loamy scent of wet earth and mineral-laced air drifted in through the open windows before Lovers Lake finally revealed itself ahead.

Gravel crunched softly underneath the tires when Eddie finally pulled the van to a stop near the edge of the lake. He killed the engine and, for a moment, the sudden quiet rang loudly in your ears before the slow croaking of frogs gradually drifted into the foreground instead.

“C’mon,” he murmured after a while, already pushing open his door.

The back doors of the van creaked loudly when he pulled them apart, revealing a wooden crate stuffed with old blankets, a concerning amount of empty soda cans shoved into a grocery bag, and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke and worn leather. He reached for one of the blankets along with his trusted metal lunchbox before tilting his head back slightly, silently coaxing you to follow him while he nudged van doors shut again and started towards the docks.

“So, I was thinking,” he started slowly, turning his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder, “how about I teach you how to roll, hm?”

Eddie stopped a few feet from the edge of the pier before setting his lunchbox down with a soft metallic clank. He unfolded the blanket and spread it across the wooden planks as neatly as he could, despite the occasional breeze trying to fold the corners back over themselves.

The green, damp tang of early-summer lake water felt stronger now, faint hints of fish and algae lingering in the air around you while the vivid trills of crickets rose and fell in soft waves through the trees. Warm streaks of sunset still glimmered from behind the thick trees, though somehow they still managed to find their way across Eddie’s face when he sat down and patted the free space in front of him before reaching for his lunchbox. You sat cross-legged in front of him, your eyes lingering on his face while you took in the way the golden streaks of sundown made him look even softer than the diner lights had.

When Eddie finally flicked his gaze up from the lunchbox beside him, his brows furrowed slightly.

“C’mere, turn around,” he mumbled lazily motioning his ringed finger in a small circle.

“Hm?”

“It’ll be easier to teach you like that.”

So you did just that – clumsily turning around on the blanket until your back faced him instead. One of Eddie’s ringed hands settled carefully against your waist while he shuffled closer behind you until the warmth of his chest pressed softly against your back, each of his legs splayed comfortably on either side of you. You all but melted when the soft warmth of him spread across your back and his chin found its place on your shoulder.

“A’ight, first step,” he mumbled softly while passing you the flimsy rolling paper, “you’re gonna hold it between your thumb, pointer, and middle finger. Like this, see?”

And for the next twenty minutes, his chin barely left your shoulder while his uncontrollable laughter rang in your ear every time your fingers clumsily failed to follow his instructions.

“Oh, God,” he breathed out, his curls brushing against your cheek even after he’d finally managed to get his laughter under control. “It’s like watching Bambi try to roll a joint, but worse.”

Somewhere between shared laughter and exhausted, belly-aching sighs, Eddie had eventually pulled the crinkled rolling paper from your hands with the clear intention of salvaging whatever damage you’d managed to inflict on it. Expert fingers quickly rescued it before he rolled the joint shut and held the sticky edge up towards your lips.

“See?” he murmured softly after sealing it closed. “That’s how you do it.”

He handed the finished joint over to you while patting himself down in search of hi lighter.

“Ah, fuck,” he mumbled quietly to himself. “Think I left the lighter in the van.”

“It’s in the inside pocket of your jacket.”

Eddie stilled for half a second before pulling open the front of his jacket and reaching into the inside pocket with two fingers.

“Huh,” he mumbled quietly once the lighter landed in his palm.

Then his hand found your waist again, gently tugging your back a little closer to his chest before he pressed a quick kiss against your cheek. The joint had been lit in the gentle silence surrounding the two of you, with only the crickets and early-summer cicadas filling the open air.

You took another small, tentative drag before passing it back to Eddie, blowing the smoke upwards as you watched the breeze curl it softly through the air until it disappeared altogether. His arm had long since snaked around your frame to keep you tucked closer against him while neither one of you had bothered moving from your original positions.

Somewhere between the lazy haze settling behind your eyes and the fading reflections trembling across the water, your fingers had found his hand resting against your waist and quietly intertwined with his.

As the sun dipped lower and the world seemed to exhale alongside the two of you, the sky softened into streaks of molten gold and bruised violet. The last remaining rays of sunlight slipping through the thick trees stretched across the still lake water in shimmering ribbons. The shadows along the shoreline deepened while the water slowly darkened into shades of indigo and shifting silver, like the lake itself was holding onto the sunset without any hurry to let it go. The slow, unhurried transformation of the glowing horizon into softened amber spread a gentle calmness through your chest as you instinctively snuggled a little closer into him.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked softly, your eyes already closed while your head lulled heavily against his chest.

“How pretty it looks,” Eddie murmured quietly before taking another drag from the joint.

Your eyes slowly opened again, heavy with warmth and smoke, taking in the view stretched out in front of you without realising Eddie hadn’t been talking about the sunset at all.

Soft streaks of morning sunlight stretched across your room until they landed on the leather jacket tossed carelessly over your bed – like it didn’t hold as much meaning as it actually did – while you actively tried to pretend you weren’t searching your closet for something that looked good with it.

Eddie had draped it over your shoulder the previous night when the glittering stars overhead had given way to a colder breeze rolling off the lake, and he hadn’t asked for it back before you made the short walk from the driveway to your front door.

It was far too early in the morning to be wearing a leather jacket – and far too early for Nathalie’s words to already find their way back into your overthinking mind. So you shoved both thoughts aside and pulled the sleeves over your arms before heading out to school.

The excruciating heat trapped beneath the dark leather wasn’t the only thing making you feel claustrophobic – gossiping eyes and turning heads followed your every move the second you stepped out of the car, only worsening the closer you got to the school entrance. And it wasn’t even about being seen in Eddie’s jacket as much as it was about the judgment already dripping from every lingering stare thrown your way – the confused expressions, the overly critical furrow of brows while people leaned forward their friends to whisper about how you’d been wearing a completely different jacket just two weeks ago.

By the time you reached your locker, your fingers had already curled around the hem of the sleeve twice with the intention of pulling it off – but you stopped yourself both times. The scent of cigarette smoke, worn leather, and cheap cologne still clung faintly to the inside lining, grounding you just enough to keep your hands still.

“Jesus Christ,” Nathalie muttered the second she rounded the corner and spotted you leaning against your locker. “They’re acting like you showed up pregnant.”

Your eyes flickered uncomfortably towards the groups of students lingering further down the hallway before settling back on her again. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well…” she grimaced slightly while adjusting the strap of her bag higher onto her shoulder. “You are wearing Eddie Munson’s jacket like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

“Jesus,” you mumbled under your breath while heat immediately crawled up the back of your neck.

Nathalie’s eyes flickered briefly towards the jacket again before she nudged your shoulder lightly with her own. “For what it’s worth, you look cute.”

Before you could answer, your head instinctively turned towards the loud burst of laughter that suddenly echoed through the hallway.

And so did Eddie’s.

He’d been halfway through saying something to Gareth when his eyes landed on you standing by your locker – or, more specifically, on the oversized black leather jacket hanging from your shoulders.

Jeff immediately noticed the way Eddie’s entire body stilled.

“Holy shit, dude,” he whispered dramatically while grabbing Eddie’s shoulders hard enough to jolt him slightly. “She wore the jacket.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered automatically, though the words came out far weaker than intended.

Because you had worn the jacket. Not just publicly – but at school. Like it had never even been a question.

And suddenly, Eddie felt something uncomfortable settle beneath his ribs when he became painfully aware of every set of eyes flickering between the two of you in the hallway, followed by whispers, blatant stares, and the heavy judgment already threatening to settle over your shoulders right alongside his jacket. But when your nervous eyes finally found his across the crowded hallway, you still reached up and pulled the leather tighter around yourself instead of taking it off – like not even the awful crawling anxiety underneath your skin could convince you to let go of it.

And then you gave him a small smile from where you stood – one that quietly told him you were going to be okay. Eddie’s breathed caught softly in his throat before he slowly smiled back.

The second bell still rang loudly in your ears even minutes after it had stopped echoing through the hallway. You adjusted the strap of your bag higher onto your shoulder while hurrying towards the biology classroom through the empty hall. Besides the sound of your footsteps, the silence around you was only broken by the crinkling hallway slip clutched tightly in your other hand after Mr. Flanagan had kept you behind to talk about an essay you’d written.

A soft creak suddenly echoed through the hallway before an arm shot out from the janitor’s closet and yanked you inside. “What the–”

“Shhh,” Eddie whispered quickly while peeking back out into the hallway to make sure no one had seen the two of you disappear inside. “I’ve been waiting for ages. What took you so long?”

“Mr. Flanagan wanted to talk about an essay I wrote,” you answered breathlessly before confusion pulled at your brows. “Why are we hiding in the janitor’s closet?”

His curls bounced softly when he turned back towards you, his hand immediately finding your hips before gently pulling you flush against his chest.

“Because,” he started while tilting his head slightly backwards, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across his lips, “you kinda short-circuited my brain when you walked into school wearing my jacket.”

Warmth instantly crawled into your cheeks when he leaned down just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss against your cheekbone before his expression softened again afterwards.

“I just…” he hesitated briefly, thumbs brushing absentmindedly against your hips. “I hope people haven’t been assholes to you because of it.”

Eddie’s grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly before his thumbs started tracing soft circles against the denim of your jeans. You blinked at him a few times before a shy, knowing smile slowly tugged at the corners of your lips. Your hand lifted to his cheek, and you couldn’t help the quiet hum that escaped you when he immediately melted further into your touch, his dramatic persona slipping away just as easily as it always seemed to around you.

“It’s okay–”

“No, it’s not,” Eddie cut you off softly, his head still tilted into his palm while his eyes stayed closed. “You don’t deserve any of it.”

“It’s okay, Eddie,” you said a little more firmly while your thumb started brushing softly against his cheek. “They’ll get bored eventually.”

The two of you fell quiet again for a moment, but neither of you made any move to pull away. Your eyes drifted briefly towards the sleeve hanging loosely from your shoulder before a small smile tugged softly at your lips.

“It made it easier, y’know.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed slightly. “What d’you mean?”

“The jacket,” you shrugged one shoulder lightly. “It smells like you.”

That alone was enough to make his fingers tighten ever so slightly against your hips again.

“The cigarettes?” he snorted softly.

“The cigarettes,” you hummed jokingly before your expression softened again. “The leather. Your cologne.”

Your eyes flickered back towards him again.

“It made it easier.”

He went completely still – not dramatically, just enough for you to notice the way his eyes searched your face for a second longer than usual, like he didn’t quite know what to do with the confession you’d just handed him. Something vulnerable flickered underneath his usual teasing expression before he looked down briefly and softly exhaled through his nose.

“You can’t just say stuff like that to me,” he muttered quietly, almost more to himself than to you. A snort escaped you. “Why?” “Because,” Eddie mumbled while his thumbs absentmindedly brushed over your hips again, “you keep making me feel things, Sweetheart. It’s very inconsiderate of you.”

That pulled another snort out of you.

And maybe it was the quietness of the closet, or the lingering warmth of the previous night still stubbornly clinging between the two of you, but your hand instinctively slid from his cheek towards the back of his neck instead. Eddie’s eyes flickered briefly down to your lips before slowly lifting back up again. Your breaths tangled together in the cramped little space while he leaned down carefully, giving you more than enough time to pull away if you wanted to – but you didn’t. Your lips met his softly – careful at first, almost hesitant – before the kiss deepened ever so slightly when your fingers curled gently against the nape of his neck.

But then, the sharp sound of footsteps suddenly echoed right outside the closet door, making the two of you jolt apart immediately.

“You still in there, Munson?” “Shit,” Eddie muttered while nearly knocking over a mop bucket beside him. “Gimme ten more minutes, Jared, and I’ll give you a discount.” “Fuck, kid. Don’t gotta tell me twice,” the older voice replied from the other side of the door before the footsteps slowly faded down the hallway again. You bit down hard on your lip to stop your laughter while Eddie frantically dragged a hand through his curls. “Did you just–” A chuckle escaped you before you could finish. “Did you just bribe the janitor?” “First of all,” he whispered dramatically, pointing an accusing finger at you, “that was not a bribe.” You raised a brow. “You literally offered him a discount.” “That,” Eddie corrected while grabbing the mop bucket before it fully tipped over, “was a mutually beneficial business arrangement.” Your laughter echoed softly through the cramped closet before his grin slowly softened again when he looked back at you. “Now, c’mon,” he murmured while reluctantly stepping closer again just to steal one more quick kiss. “Before he makes me give him a whole ounce for free.”

As the day dragged on and classes came and went, you’d slowly started growing used to the lingering stares and the occasional whispers by the time you stepped into the cafeteria with Nathalie glued firmly to your side.

The dramatically loud overlapping noise of teenagers immediately swallowed the both of you whole – trays clattering against tables, bursts of laughter echoing through the room, chairs screeching loudly against the tiled floor.

And somehow, despite all of it, your eyes still immediately found Eddie’s.

He sat slouched lazily at the Hellfire table with Jeff beside him and Gareth halfway through dramatically retelling something with his hands flying around like his life depended on it. But the second Eddie noticed you standing near the cafeteria entrance, the distracted grin on his face softened almost instantly.

Jeff noticed it too, unfortunately.

“C’mon, bro,” he groaned jokingly and loudly enough for the entire table to hear while leaning back in his chair. “You two are becoming unbearable.”

Dustin immediately twisted around in his seat to follow Jeff’s line of sight.

“No way,” he breathed out while pointing an accusatory greasy finger towards Eddie. “She’s still wearing it.”

“Thank you, Henderson,” Eddie deadpanned while flipping him off without even looking away from you. “None of us would’ve noticed otherwise.”

He rolled his eyes automatically, but the smile tugging stubbornly at the corners of his mouth ruined any attempt to annoyance. Then his gaze flickered briefly back towards the jacket still hanging from your shoulders.

And the rest of the day went on exactly like that – Eddie’s gaze flickering towards you whenever he got the chance, his jacket still hanging from your shoulders while small smiles tugged at his lips even when you weren’t actively looking at him.

His leg had bounced relentlessly through the entirety of last period, anxiously shaking beneath his desk while every word leaving Ms. Sullivan’s mouth completely flew over his head as she explained whatever equation currently covered the blackboard.

He wasn’t even supposed to be sitting through Algebra. And yet he’d still shown up anyway just so his eyes could linger on you a little longer.

The final bell rang, and Eddie all but shot out of his chair with his lunchbox clutched tightly in one hand as he made his way over towards your desk.

Before you could even reach for your bag yourself, his free hand had already curled around the strap and tossed it over his shoulder instead.

“You know I can carry my own bag, right?” you joked while quickly shoving your notebook and pen inside as he held it open for you.

“I’m asserting dominance and all that,” Eddie replied lazily, a crooked grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

You snorted softly while shaking your head before gently tugging him along towards the hallway. As usual, the halls buzzed incessantly with exhausted teenage energy – lockers door slamming, squeaking sneakers echoing against tile, and the occasional dramatic just one more day of hell shouted somewhere in the distance.

“So…” Eddie trailed off while angling his body sideways to avoid accidentally shoulder-checking a freshman.

He briefly licked his lips before turning his face towards yours.

“You got any plans tonight?” he asked softly. “Or d’you maybe wanna hang out?”

Besides his words earlier, there was nothing particularly soft about Eddie now when he pushed you back against the trailer door the second the two of you finally stumbled inside.

His ringed hands found your cheeks almost instantly, and a moment later his lips crashed back onto yours to continue what the two of you had started earlier in the janitor’s closet.

A muffled mmpff! escaped your lips when Eddie deepened the kiss, his body pressing you more firmly against the trailer door.

It took you only a split second to recover from the sudden intensity before your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, one of your hands immediately threading through his curls and tugging softly at the roots just to pull him closer still. Your breath hitched, eyes suddenly shimmering beneath the warm amber light when Eddie finally pulled away just enough to look at you. Heat flooded your face so quickly it almost felt like the sun itself had melted into your skin when his hands pressed just slightly harder against your cheeks.

“Bedroom?” he breathed out shakily.

The small nod you gave him was all the answer he needed.

Eddie’s grip on your face softened almost immediately before one of his hands slid down to intertwine with yours instead, gently tugging you towards the bedroom with a patience that hadn’t existed even seconds earlier when he’d kissed you against the trailer door. The electric warmth of Eddie’s hand wrapped around yours sent a shiver racing up your spin while he pushed open the bedroom door.

Your eyes immediately flickered towards the unmade bed sitting in the corner, heat quickly flooding your cheeks again at the fleeting memory of two nights ago when you realised he still hadn’t changed the sheets.

He still held your hand when he sat down on the edge of the mattress, gently pulling you between his legs before softly guiding you down into his lap.

“This okay?” he asked quietly, like he hadn’t just pushed you against the trailer door and kissed you hard enough to leave both of you breathless seconds earlier.

“Yeah,” you nodded softly while your arms curled around his neck once again.

Eddie felt his heart hammering violently against his ribs as he took in the warm slants of sunlight filtering through the blinds, stretching across your face like threads of gold.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” he whispered almost absentmindedly, like he hadn’t meant for the words to slip out loud in the first place.

Your breath hitched once again as you sank deeper into his touch, warmth spreading across your face so intensely it almost felt like it had seeped into your bones. You tried focusing instead on the way your fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt, your eyes locked briefly onto the faint bruise peeking out from beneath the collar.

His bedroom suddenly felt too small and far too vast all at once, every shift in your breathing echoing loudly in your ears like thunder.

But you didn’t pull away – instead, you buried your face into the crook of his shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, splaying one of his hands on your back. “Where did you go just now?”

“I’m… just not used to that.” You took a second before continuing. “Being called that.”

Eddie’s arms tightened around you almost instinctively at that, like he could physically shield you from the vulnerability creeping into your voice. His nose brushed softly against your temple before he leaned back just enough to look at you properly again, one of his hands still spread carefully against your back while the other stayed warm against your waist.

“Beautiful?” he asked quietly.

You nodded once against his shoulder, eyes still avoiding his.

A soft breath escaped him through his nose – not quite a laugh, not quite disbelief either. More like he couldn’t fully wrap his head around the fact you genuinely didn’t know.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmured gently, thumb brushing slow against your side, “I don’t think I’ve thought about anything else since the moment you walked into the Hide Out.”

Heat immediately rushed back into your face, while your fingers tightened slightly against the fabric of his shirt as a nervous breath, somewhere between a laugh and something far more overwhelmed.

“Hey,” he whispered again, softer this time. “C’mere.”

His arms wrapped more securely around you before he carefully pulled you closer against his chest again, one of his hands sliding up your spine in slow, grounding movements.

“There’s no rush here, okay?” he murmured into your hair. “We can just sit here if you want. I kinda like holding you anyway.”

That finally pulled a tiny smile from you against his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed out without hesitation. “You’ve very holdable.”

A soft, disbelieving chuckle escaped you before you finally pulled away from his shoulder just enough to look at him properly again.

Eddie’s warm eyes melted into yours, and every nerve in your body seemed to light up from the simple act of being this close to him. You pressed your forehead gently against his, breathing in the scent of sun-warmed skin, faint traces of cologne, and something deeper underneath it all that felt uniquely him. Your fingers twitched lightly against the fabric of his shirt before you slowly tilted your head downwards again until your lips brushed softly against his.

The kiss stayed soft and warm, but every movement of Eddie’s lips still sent electric jolts racing down your spine until your fingers suddenly tightened around his shirt like you needed something solid to anchor yourself to.

Eddie pulled away just slightly afterward, taking a quiet moment to study your face like he was trying to commit every detail to memory – the arch of your eyebrows, the softness of your lips, the shy warmth still lingering in your eyes. Then he leaned in again, closing the small distance between you once more. His lips brushed gently against yours at first, feather-light and careful, before the kiss depend when his hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb slowly tracing along your jaw.

For a moment, everything else faded away – the crunch of gravel beneath passing cars outside, the distant chirping birds, the faint rattling of the trailer walls whenever the wind shifted. There was only him – only the warmth of his mouth against yours and the quiet way he poured every ounce of longing he had into the kiss, like somehow you’d understand all the things he still didn’t quite know how to say out loud.

He pulled away again afterwards, resting his forehead gently against yours while his chest rose and fell unevenly between shallow breaths.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered before stealing another quick kiss. “Especially wearing my jacket.”

The hand resting against your back slowly slid lower until it settled against your waist instead, holding you gently while his thumb traced absentminded circles beneath the hem of your shirt.

“Can I…” Eddie trailed off quietly, swallowing hard when his fingers accidentally tightened around your waist for a brief second before loosening again. His eyes flickered carefully between yours. “Can I show you? What you do to me?”

He leaned back just enough to properly look at your face again, like he was trying to read every reaction before he moved any further.

Your breath hitched when you felt him twitch under you.

“Yeah,” you whispered back, your chest rising faster than it had just a few seconds before.

Eddie pushed his mouth gently back onto yours, lips moving softly as he almost hesitantly pushed your lips open to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip in that way that made your stomach tighten, while your hands found his hair.

“Can I take this off?” he whispered against your lips as his hands brushed softly against the rough material of your jeans.

You nodded softly, eyebrows furrowing as your heart hammered into your ribs.

“I need to hear you say it, Sweetheart,” he whispered before he gave you another quick kiss.

“Yeah, t-that’s okay,” you whispered back.

Leaning in, he captured your lips with his, while his hands roam over your jeans-clad thighs.

He tilted his head and kissed softly along your jaw, relishing the soft gasps that escaped you as he nuzzled your neck, and breathed in your scent as his hands tighten their grip on you just slightly.

Eddie’s ringed fingers found themselves undoing the button of your jeans, slowly lowering zipper while his other hand grabbed at your hip, anchoring himself as he gazed up at you. His hand slid inside your jeans until his palm pressed against your clothed heat. He then leaned in again, capturing your lips in a slow kiss, and poured everything he couldn’t say out loud into the slide of his tongue against yours, the nip of his teeth at your bottom lip.

His hands move underneath your ass before he scooped you up, gently lying you down on his bed to carefully slide your jeans over your hips and down your legs. Then, he grabbed at your thighs again, spreading them gently as he settled between them before his fingers moved to carefully remove his jacket off your frame, followed by your shirt.

He drank in the sight of your clothed breasts, desire coiling tight in the pit of his stomach before he forced himself to snap out of it.

“I wanna see you in just my jacket, would that be okay?”

With a shaky breath and a nod, you gulped down before your fingers reached behind you to loosen your bra. Eddie slowly slid it off your shoulders before he reached for the jacket, and helped you put it back on. The heavy jacket against your bare skin fuelled his need as he settled between your legs once more, pressing reverent kisses along your inner thighs while working his way up higher. Meeting your gaze again, he sought affirmation before he took his time pulling your panties down slowly.

“Just tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” He murmured as his thumbs brushed softly against your knees. “Any time.”

“O-okay,” you breathed out.

Eddie’s curls brushed softly against your inner thighs as he leaned in, and pressed a tender kiss right above your pussy before taking you into his mouth. His eyes fell closed the second his tongue delved to taste your essence, a shaky, muffled groan escaping him when his pink lips latched onto your clit.

Moans spilled freely from his lips, muffled against your glistening pussy, when his eyes travelled up your body until they found the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and mouth lulling open. Eddie then doubled his efforts as soon as a broken gasp escaped your lips, swirling his tongue around your swollen clit, and alternating between firm flicks and gentle suckling.

“I- fuck, Eddie.”

Gently, he slipped one of his fingers into you, pumping softly in and out of your dripping core while his lips continued latching onto your clit.

“This is all I could think about today,” he whispered softly against your swollen nub, his own eyebrows furrowed as his eyes travelled down your body until his gaze fell on the way his finger disappeared inside of you. “Eating you out in my bed, wearing only my jacket.”

Another groan escaped his lips when your hand found his curls, tugging harshly at the strands when you felt him gently add another finger into your dripping core.

“Fuck, look at you, Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathily, licking his lips as his gaze travelled up, taking in the way your hard nipples peeked from under your bra, and the way the oversized jacket fell to your sides. “So fucking beautiful, all for me.”

“E-Eddie–”

He could tell you were already getting close by the way your pussy fluttered around his invading digits and the desperate arch of your hips seeking more of his lips. Eddie was desperate to push you over the edge, and sealed his lips around your clit once again and sucked hard, thrusting his fingers in and out of you faster while your slick gushed onto his tongue. He alternated between lock licks and fast flicks, savouring the tangy-sweet taste or your slick coating his tongue, while he curled his two fingers until they rubbed against that special spot.

It didn’t take long for you to clench around his fingers, followed by broken whimpers as you gushed over his chin. Eddie lapped tenderly at your sensitive clit until your thighs twitched around his face, an utterly spent and satisfied hum leaving your lips.

“Jesus,” you mumbled breathlessly. “You… Fuck.”

Something new flickered underneath the adoration in his eyes when he finally pulled himself back from between your legs and shifted over you again, close enough that your noses almost brushed.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he admitted breathlessly, like the words had slipped out before he could stop them. A helpless little smile tugged at the corners of his slick mouth while his hand rose to gently cup your face again.

Your chest rose and fell unevenly while you tried to catch your breath, Eddie’s words still sinking slowly into your bones.

His thumb brushed softly against your cheeks while his gaze lingered on your face, taking in the warmth flooding your skin, the breathless little puffs leaving your lips, and the way you looked back at him like he’d hung the moon himself.

“I’m obsessed with you too,” you whispered quietly before your hand slowly drifted down towards the button of his jeans.

Eddie’s other hand immediately wrapped gently around your wrist, stopping you before your fingers could move any further.

“It’s okay,” he whispered softly while licking his lips nervously. “You don’t have to.”

His chest started rising a little faster above you anyway, your fingers still rested lightly against the button of his jeans.

“But I want to,” you whispered back. “Will you show me?”

Eddie’s cheeks somehow flushed even warmer as his brows pulled together, like your words had physically pained him.

“I…” he trailed off, forcing a dry lump down his throat as he suddenly felt far too aware of himself. “Are you sure?”

Your breath caught softly at the uncertainty suddenly flickering across his face – the same boy who had kissed you breathless against the trailer door, and eaten you out, now looked almost nervous above you, like he was terrified of crossing a line he couldn’t uncross. So you lifted your hand from where he still held your wrist and gently pressed your palm against his cheek instead.

“I’m sure,” you whispered softly.

Eddie’s eyes searched yours for another long moment, like he needed to be absolutely certain before the two of you went anywhere further. Then he slowly nodded once, distracted by the shy little smile that had found its place on your lips.

“Okay,” he breathed out shakily.

His hand loosened around your wrist before his fingers intertwined carefully with yours instead, guiding your hand back down with a patience that made warmth bloom all through your chest.

“C’mere,” he murmured quietly, the tips of his ears still flushed red while a nervous little smile tugged at his lips. He pulled you upright and let himself indulge in another kiss. “I’ll… fuck, I'll show you.”

He slowly unbuttons himself before pulling down the zipper, and pulls at his jeans until they pooled around his ankles. He looks painfully hard when he palms himself over his boxers, pulling the material slowly down his thighs until his cock springs out – flushed and leaking at the tip. Eddie’s wrapped a fist around the base, stroking languidly as he gives you another kiss.

“First thing,” he breathed out shakily as his eyes open to look deeply into yours, “come sit between my legs.”

You gulped nervously as your socked feet touched the floor before you did what he just told you. Kneeling on the carpet felt somewhat grounding, even with the muffled scrape and gentle drag on your skin. Your hands grab at his thighs, brushing your thumbs against his skin as you wait patiently for his next instructions.

Eddie’s eyes glistened when he looked down at you – sitting prettily between his legs, your fingers twitching nervously against his thighs while the leather of his jacket shifted softly with every rapid breath you took. Something overwhelmed flickered across his face for a brief second, like he still couldn’t fully process that you were here with him like this. His free hand came up almost instinctively to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face before his thumb lingered gently against your bottom lip.

“Jesus. You’re gonna kill me one day,” he breathed out softly, more to himself than to you. He then gulped down and licked his lips while he continued lazily stroking his cock. “Can you– can you open you lips for me, Sweetheart?”

He moved his thumb away from your bottom lip, and slowly replaced it with his swollen tip.

“Th– this is gonna sound stupid,” he chuckled breathlessly, slightly shaking his head at himself, “but it’s kinda like… sucking on a lollypop?”

Eddie’s cock twitched when you looked up at him – eyes glimmering, slick lips after you gave him an experimental lick – and hesitantly wrapped your lips around him. His hips jerked ever so slightly as you tentatively moved your tongue. Your mouth felt velvety smooth and slick around his cock as you slowly took more of him.

“T-that’s it, Sweetheart,” he groaned softly, furrowing his brows as he tried to burn the image in front of him into his brain: your soft, pink lips wrapped unsurely around his cock with your hard nipples peeking from under his jacket. “T-take– fuck. Take all the time you need.”

His brown eyes fluttered shut when you gave him a tentative suck before you tried getting more of him into your mouth. His free hand brushed softly against your cheek, then slid to the back of your head before curling his fingers into your hair – he didn’t push himself deeper into you, instead, he just held you softly.

“Jesus, just like that, baby,” he groaned out with furrowed eyebrows as he looked back down at you.

His head fell back when he saw the way your eyes glistened and your eyebrows furrowed as your throat strained around his cock.

“I’m– fuck, Sweetheart,” he whimpered out, soft yet desperate as you continued bobbing your head tentatively. “I’m close.”

You looked up at him, desperate to see his face as you brought him closer to the edge, and quickened up your pace just slightly. Eddie’s cock twitched as he released into your mouth with one last whimper. He groaned when your tongue continued lapping at his slit, despite the sudden and unusual taste of his tangy cum filling you before you swallowed it down.

Your eyebrows furrowed as he gently pulled at your hair when he started to feel overstimulated, and pulled his cock from between your lips. A string of spit and cum hung between your pink lips and his swollen tip. Eddie blinked tiredly at the view before he wiped his thumb against your bottom lip, his chest rising rapidly as he watched it break and drop down your chest.

“Jesus, fuck,” he gulped nervously.

“W-was that… was that okay?” you asked nervously blinking up at him while you slowly brought your twitching hands back into your lap.

Eddie’s brows shot upwards immediately, clearly not expecting that question to leave your mouth – not after the breathless mess you’d just turned him into. He swallowed hard, his chest still struggling to steady itself.

“O-okay?” His eyes widened before a broken, disbelieving laugh escaped him. “Sweetheart, that was fucking amazing.”

Warmth flooded your face instantly.

His hands immediately found your cheeks again, gently pulling you up and closer towards him like he physically couldn’t help himself.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he whispered breathlessly before crashing his lips back onto yours.

Eddie pulled you back into his lap before wrapping both arms tightly around your frame, pressing your chest flush against his again. The heavy leather of his jacket stayed trapped between the two of you while he pulled you into another soft kiss, softer this time and far less desperate than before.

His hair had become a complete mess from the amount of times he’d dragged his hand through it when you had him in your mouth, loose curls brushing and tickling against your face while you melted further into his touch.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered quietly against your lips.

“I really like you too,” you giggled before closing your lips against his once again.

That pulled a soft, breathless laugh out of Eddie before he kissed you again, smiling so hard against your lips it almost made you laugh. He murmured a teasing yeah? between kisses, though the flushes cheeks and warmth in his eyes completely ruined any attempt at sounding smug.

Your fingers curled gently into the back of his shirt while you nodded against him. “Yeah.”

Something unbearably fond flickered across his face then – something so open and unguarded it almost stole the breath from your lungs all over again.

“Fuck,” he whispered quietly while pulling you impossibly closer against his chest, like he still couldn’t fully believe you were real.  “Good. ‘Cause I think I’m in pretty deep here, Sweetheart.”

His hands found their way to your naked hips, tightening his grip on you. “Especially when you look like this.”

You giggled shyly as you hid your face in the crook of his neck, feeling somewhat embarrassed at the way you probably looked – breathless, messy hair, his jacket basically swallowing your naked frame.

“Stop it,” you said flustered, brushing your nose against his neck.

“No way, Sweetheart,” he chuckled before placing a quick kiss against your temple. The warmth in Eddie’s laugh rumbled softly underneath your cheek when you buried yourself further into his neck, clearly far too pleased with how flustered he’d made you. “You’re adorable when you do that,” he murmured teasingly while his fingers continued tracing lazy patterns against your hips underneath the oversized leather swallowing you whole.

A groan immediately escaped you.

“No, seriously,” Eddie snorted softly before tilting his head just enough to brush another kiss against your hairline. “You’re sitting in my lap, wearing my jacket and looking all fucked-out and shy. What exactly do you expect me to do with that?”

Your entire body heated up instantly. “Eddie,” you whined into his neck, horrified laughter muffled against his skin.

That only made him laugh harder, breathing dramatically while tightening his arms around you again. “I’m a weak man.”

He gently pulled you away from the crook of his neck, thumbs brushing softly against your hipbones while his eyes searched lazily for yours again.

“You, uh…” Eddie licked his lips, visibly getting distracted for a second by your flushed face and thoroughly kissed-swollen lips before he managed to gather his thoughts again. “You hungry?”

A soft giggle escaped you before you nodded.

“Alrighty,” he mumbled warmly before suddenly scooping you up into his arms just enough to place you carefully back down onto the mattress.

The springs creaked softly underneath you while Eddie leaned over you again, his ringed fingers gently tugging at the sleeves of his jacket still hanging loosely from your frame.

“There they are,” he murmured teasingly under his breath once he finally pulled it free, clearly far too pleased with himself when he caught sight of your naked breasts and still-hard nipples.

“Eddie,” you groaned softly while hiding your face behind your hands.

His laugh came out low and warm while he leaned down to scatter a trail of soft kisses across your cheek and jaw.

“I’m kidding,” he whispered against your skin before pressing one final kiss beneath your ear. “Mostly.”

Your heard drawers opening somewhere behind you before Eddie reappeared beside the bed again, wearing a clean pair of boxers and holding one of his shirts.

“C’mere,” he murmured gently while helping you out of the jacket and pulling the shirt over your head.

The shirt practically swallowed you whole, sleeves falling far beyond your hands while Eddie stared at you for a second longer than necessary afterwards.

“…Okay, maybe I’m not surviving this actually,” he breathed out dramatically.

A few minutes later, your legs dangled from where you sat on the kitchen counter while you watched Eddie frantically move around the kitchen, trying not to somehow burn the pasta he was cooking for the two of you. Your laughter mixed softly with the record playing in the background while Eddie cursed under his breath somewhere near the stove.

The oversized Motörhead long sleeve hung from your frame shifted when you swung your legs lightly against the cabinet beneath you, watching Eddie with warm amusement while golden evening sunlight stretched through the tiny trailer kitchen.

“What?” he asked suspiciously when he caught you staring.

“Just…” A soft smile tugged at your lips while heat immediately rushed into your cheeks. “How easy this feels.”

Your stomach flipped embarrassingly hard the second the words left your mouth. And apparently Eddie noticed too, because his eyes widened slightly in realisation before a smug grin slowly spread across his face. His soft chuckle filled the tiny trailer kitchen, low and warm and completely unrestrained. Then, without warning, he abandoned the stove entirely and crossed the kitchen towards you instead.

“Hi,” he murmured softly once he settled himself between your legs.

Your hands slowly lowered from your face again. “Hi.”

One of his hands settled against your thigh while the other gently brushed your hair behind your ear.

“You look really pretty in my clothes,” he admitted quietly, like the confession had slipped out before he could stop it.

The softness in his voice immediately stole whatever teasing remark you’d been about to throw back at him.

Somewhere behind him, the pot suddenly boiled over with an aggressive hiss.

“Shit,” Eddie yelped before whipping back towards the stove.

Your laughter immediately echoed through the kitchen and into the living room while Eddie pointed accusingly over his shoulder at you.

“This is your fault, Sweetheart.”

⋆˚꩜｡a/n: eeeep!!! we're almost at the last chapter guys :( ugh i love them sm i think i'll cry of how much i'll miss writing them </3 pls lemme know what you thought about it <3 thank you for reading, love u

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It’s your third meeting with Gracie.

This time at her foster home. Tanya, her foster mom, watches form aside as you and Harry step into the living room. The house is cozy. Smaller than your penthouse, but you see the kids here have everything provided. It soothes your nerves.

„Hi, sweetheart.” You greet the little girl as you sit on a couch. Gracie looks up at you, then at your husband. She lifts her hand and gives you a little wave.

That’s good.

You can’t stop smiling as you watch her playing on a carpet. Now she is focused on some sensory book. She mumbles to herself, completely in her own world.

„We missed you, Gracie.” Harry says and she spares you a glance. Then back again to her book.

Since you met her your lives revolve around her. You wanna know everything, be there for every moment. But you can’t, it’s not that simple. There are many other couples who would like to adopt a two-years-old. Your job is to be the best one from all the candidates.

So far, you are. That’s what your caseworker said.

„Look.” Gracie holds up the book. There are some animals on it, some soft elements to touch for kids. Little girl smiles at this like it was something groundbreaking. For her it is. So, you and Harry instantly coo, admiring it just like she does.

„That’s amazing, Gracie.” Harry says, but then you decide to be brave and you lower yourself from the couch onto the carpet. „Can I see?” You scoot closer and are so happy when she doesn’t run away.

Instead, Grace sits next to you. Now the book resting in your lap and the little girl leans against your side. You might start crying, if you weren’t so terrified she’d pull away. So you just gently run your fingers through her soft, blonde hair. She seems to enjoy being next to you.

„Look, what does the dog say?” You point at the page in the book.

„Woof! Woof!” Gracie sounds excited and you laugh. You glance sideways for a moment to see Harry admiring you. He gives you this moment alone with her, because he knows how anxious you are about Grace not liking you. If you only saw yourself with his eyes… Gracie already loves you. Even if she’s too shy to express it.

You’re giving her the attention she’s lacking in the crowded foster home.

You’re making her feel important.

To you both, she is important.

„It’s soft. Fur.” You bring her little hand to touch the page where the dog is made of a fur-like material. She runs her hand back and forth like she’s petting it. „You like doggies?”

„Yes! Doggies nice and they do Woof!”

„Exactly. Harry, do the Woof.” You look at your husband and he sighs amused. Of course you would set him up like that.

But without any protest he sits in front of you both and leans in to Gracie. With a funny face, he barks once making the girl squeal in pure happiness. She reaches her hand to pat his head like he was a real dog.

Normally, he would never ever do that. He’s too serious for that, right? But where it comes to Gracie and to you? God, he’d do anything. Even if he feels a bit like an idiot acting like a dog… He doesn’t mind that. Because hearing Gracie laugh, so carefree and joyful… It fills him with this unknown before pride. Fatherly pride.

He would make a fool of himself for the rest of his life it means being with his family.

And you see that, too.

Harry changed in a way you never expected few years back. He’s not afraid, he’s not retreating. He’s right here, doing everything to make Gracie happy. His smile is so wide whenever you’re with her… It moves you deeply that he is not afraid anymore of all that love he carries inside.

And now both of you have someone you could shower with this love. You’re sure Gracie will be yours. And when she is? You’re gonna show her how much she means every day. Nothing will stop you for being her parents.

The fate is finally on your side.

***************************

By the time Gracie is officially yours, she turns three.

It’s been a long road. A lot of meetings. Her first visits at your penthouse.

You still remember this stress.

How she tentatively stepped into the large living room. How she was missing her foster mom. How she was terrified of the heights when she looked out the window. She came running to you to hold her. Her cries broke your heart.

That’s how you and Harry discovered her first fear.

Heights.

Which was troubling, giving you live in a damn penthouse.

You tried to get her used to it slowly. Slow steps towards the window. Touching the glass for her to see that it’s safe up where you live. Pointing at the shimmering lights of the city. She liked those.

With every visit… Your penthouse started to feel more like her home.

You decorated her room.

Delicate yellow and pink walls. Cozy, low bed with a lot of pillows and plushies. Her sheets are all in little fawns with pink ribbons. Warm lighting that always gets her eyes sleepy in the evening.

And a whole lot of toys.

Every kind, every color. You just gone crazy when you went shopping with your husband. Both of you made it your goal to spoil your little girl.

Then the court and the legal finalization. It was just a paper, because you already felt like her parents. But when you heard that the adoption was approved… You never were happier in your lives. Harry laughed at loud in the court, but neither of you minded.

All you cared about is that Grace was finally yours. Yours to raise. Yours to hug. Yours to love.

Your daughter.

Gracie Castillo.

Now, you come back home from the court. First time as her official parents.

„I can’t believe it.” Harry breathes, still completely at awe. „I need to see her right now, or I might fucking explode.”

You laugh, leaning against his side. The drive up the elevator seems so unfairly long. You watch the floors change on the little monitor, but it does nothing to ease your anticipation.

„Me too. I want to envelope her in my arms and never let go. I’m not letting her go for the rest of the day.”

„Baby, I don’t think you will ever let go.” He laughs.

„Yeah, true.” You grin and press your lips to his.

The elevator does a little ding and the door slide open.

And you see her.

Gracie toddles, squealing happily when she sees you. She’s wearing a cute little outfit you picked for her today. Dress in dots and blue tights.

„Hi, sweetheart! You missed us?!” You coo.

You kneel with your husband on the floor and she is wrapped in the middle. You attack her with kisses and she laughs. Harry pulls Gracie onto his lap, arms securely holding her to his chest. He presses his lips to the top of her head. Her happy sounds fill the apartment and it’s the best feeling in the world. You try hard not to cry, but when you see her, officially knowing she’s yours… You can’t hold back.

Your daughter.

„We became your parents today, you know?” Harry tickles her side to make her laugh even harder.

„Daddy!”

God, you still can’t used to her calling you that.

Mommy and daddy.

It came so easy to her during her frequent visits here. When you first heard it, you later hid in the bathroom to cry. Now? You feel pure joy and awe whenever she calls you mommy. And there’s no longer any fear that someone would take her away from you. She is yours.

„Were you good for grandma?” You ask.

„Yes. I ate bro-ccoli.” Gracie grins proudly. „You did?” You gasp. „Very nice, baby. I’m proud of you!”

„Our big girl eats her big-girl food.” Harry smiles.

„She certainly does.” Lynette appears from around the corner. She can’t stop admiring the view before her. You and your daughter. Harry being a dad. Her son finally has a family he always dreamt about. It’s the way you walked in here all excited to hold your little girl. She never seen a more beautiful scene.

„Mom.” Your husband hands you Grace and stands up to greet Lynette. A hug, a kiss on a cheek. „I hope she didn’t cause trouble.” He smiles.

„Not at all. Your daughter is an angel.” Your in-law can’t stop admiring her. It’s a big moment for her, too. Her first granddaughter. „So, everything went well in court, yes? You’re her parents?

„Yes, we are. Finally.”

The loving look Harry steals at Gracie is everything you need to see. He’s absolutely in love with her. And with watching you as a mom. Seeing her snuggle close to you, or how you talk sweetly to her… He always knew you’ll be a great mother. And now, no doubt in that. Even you feel more confident.

Because it’s just natural.

Caring for Grace.

„I’m so happy for you guys...” Lynette’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. „Let me take a photo.”

It’s a great idea, so you instantly stand up cradling Gracie in your arms. Harry joins you at your side, resting his hand on your daughter’s arm, enveloping both of you. Lynette grabs her phone and stands just right to get a good angle.

„Smile, kids.”

You do. You can’t stop beaming. Gracie giggles when Harry tickles her side again. Such a dad thing to do, isn’t it?

„There. Oh, how cute you all look! You have to print it and hang it on the wall.”

„We will. Absolutely, we will.” You say.

Later, in the evening, after saying goodbye to Lynette, you and Harry try to convince Gracie that it’s bedtime and she should get into her Paw Patrol pajamas.

„Come on, baby.” Harry holds the top of the pj’s set in front of her.

„No!”

Little girl sits on her bed, arms crossed over her chest. That cute frown forms on her face. You quickly learnt with your husband that you got a stubborn one. But even her reluctance about sleep doesn’t bother you. Not today, when she’s officially yours.

„Gracie, why don’t you want to wear it?” You ask, sitting next to her. „Because I don’t! I want purple!”

Oh.

Paw Patrol pajamas are pink. And your daughter recently has a purple phase. You share a look with Harry.

„Baby, you don’t have any purple pajamas…” he tries, but it only deepens her frown.

„But I want purple!”

You see she’s getting emotional about this and it’s really hard to remember all the classes you took with Harry about children. You see her and all you want is her to be happy. How are you going to achieve that when you don’t have purple pajamas?

You’re certain she won’t go to sleep unless she has something purple. You don’t get it, your adult mind is way too boring for that. But you do realize that for her it means the world. That’s just how children are.

„Okay, how about… We go tomorrow to buy purple pajamas? First thing in the morning, baby. But tonight you wear those and… hug Mr. Berry to sleep? He is purple.” You reach behind you to grab a teddy bear and hand it to her. Something purple.

God, you hope it’ll work.

Gracie sniffles as she looks at the purple plushie. Lately, her favourite. Then she glances at her dad, who still holds the Paw Patrol set.

„Okay.” She mumbles.

„Okay?” Harry smiles.

„Yes.”

You breathe relieved and your husband hands you the top.

„I promise, we’ll buy you the prettiest purple pajamas.” You kiss Gracie’s head. „We solved a problem.”

„Solved.” She repeats.

„Yes, baby. We did.” Harry caresses her hair.

Fortunately, the rest of the night routine goes smoothly. Pajamas, brushing teeth and hair brushing. Harry really grew fond of the last activity. Every night he sits with Gracie and brushes her golden locks. Gently, not to tug. And it’s her favourite part of the routine as well.

Then, you tuck her in. Always both of you, because you don’t want to miss a thing. Especially tonight. Her first night as an official Castillo. She holds her teddy bear close to her heart as you and Harry kiss her goodnight.

„We love you, Gracie.” Harry whispers.

„I love… too.” She says, already sleepy.

„You’re our favourite girl. Sweet dreams.” You press yet another kiss to her head and your husband follows.

You quietly leave her room as she dozes off. You can’t believe how different your penthouse feels whenever she’s up, or asleep. Together, holding hands, you head to the living room.

„She left quite a mess today.” You sigh softly as you see the toys everywhere.

„Mama said she was an angel.”

„She always says that.” You chuckle. „For her Gracie is flawless.”

„Well… she’s not wrong.” Harry smirks and starts to pick up the toys. You join him, grabbing a basket where you always collect all of them. „Yeah, she’s not.”

It takes a while before the living room looks presentable. Kids books in a perfect stack under the tv. Basket in the corner full of Grace’s toys now. Her drawings left on the coffee table, so she could finish them tomorrow.

Pouring yourself some water in the kitchen, you look at the space full of proofs of her existence. Gracie’s here, asleep down the hallway. Your daughter.

You have a daughter.

It feels so surreal after all you went through. All this pain… It was all to meet her at the end.

You remember the times of your fertility treatment, how lonely you felt then. Even if you had Harry… Nothing could ease the shattering thought of never becoming a parent. For a moment then… you thought it’s over. That for the rest of your lives it’ll be just the two of you.

How glad you are that it’s not true. That for the next years, you’ll live, witnessing Gracie slowly becoming a woman, who, you are sure, will accomplish amazing things. And you with Harry will make sure she has everything she needs to achieve her dreams.

„I can hear you thinking.” Your husband murmurs as he appears behind you, his arms sneaking around your waist. You smile softly, felling him nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck. His presence instantly making you melt. „I’m just… taking it all in.” You say.

„What? The silence?” He smirks.

„Motherhood.”

At the word Harry’s expression softens as he turns you to face him. His warm hand comes up to your cheek. He sees the turmoil of emotions, a storm in your eyes. You are happy, he can tell. There is no tension creeping up your body.

It’s just… the nostalgia.

Fulfillment.

And he gets it. Your life finally looks like it was always meant to. It feels strange to have a little human sleeping soundly few rooms away. He thought you’ll never get to experience that. He made peace with it long time ago. So now… the new reality seems abstract. He still can’t get used to the thought of being a dad. He feels like one. But it seems like a fever dream. Like in few seconds Gracie will disappear and he’ll wake up.

„We did it, baby.” He caresses your cheek. „We are parents.”

„I still can’t believe it…”

„Me too. It’ll probably take some time for all of us to adjust, but it is real. As real as it can be.”

You press your forehead to his and he chuckles. It’s the reality of everything that finally settles in your hearts… You made it.

„Ready to go to bed?” He asks.

„Yeah. Just… Can we check on her one more time?”

These hopeful eyes of yours are difficult to say no to. And, well, you don’t even have to ask, because he was about to offer the same exact thing. „Sure, darling.”

You peeked into Gracie’s room, trying to be quiet. She still sometimes has some problems falling asleep, so you don’t want to disturb her peaceful slumber. But the moment you see her in the darkness, just a small pink lamp in the corner, making her face visible… Your heart melts. She is the cutest child in the world, no one could change your mind.

Once Harry and you are sure she is fine, you go to your bedroom. Just the next door from hers. But it still seems quite too far.

You get ready for bed. Your usual skincare, brushing your teeth. You steal Harry’s t-shirt to sleep in it. He just shakes his head with an affectionate smile, already used to that habit after years of marriage. The routine is peaceful. You’re both calm with the thought of your daughter sleeping behind the wall.

Settling under the covers, Harry pulls you into his arms. You don’t oppose, just make yourself comfortable with a tired sigh. This day was exhausting. The stress you felt earlier in the court is still humming beneath your skin. Harry seems to experience the same thing, because he holds you a little bit tighter than usual.

„Goodnight, love.”

„Goodnight.” You press a kiss to his shoulder.

You’re lying with your eyes closed, trying to focus on his breathing and falling asleep. You can finally rest after all the effort it took to be Gracie’s parents.

Then why on Earth your heart can’t seem to calm down?

It’s like you… feel something is missing. And you know what this is. You felt it since you closed the bedroom door.

Separation.

And after a longer while passes, you hear Harry isn’t asleep either. You lean back to look at him in the darkness and he seems to read your mind.

„I’m getting her.” He says, already getting up and you breathe relieved.

You hear him shuffle to the door and leaving to another room. You move to make some space in the middle of your bed. And soon… Harry is back with Gracie, still asleep in his arms. He carries her carefully just to lay her down between you on the mattress. A smile instantly grows on your face.

This is what you’ve been missing.

It just feels right. Neither you, nor Harry, can survive this night without her. It’s your first night as a legal family. You need your little girl right where she belongs. In your arms.

Harry settles next to her with a quiet grunt, pulling the covers over all three of you. Gracie shifts in her sleep, curling up against you. This nice, warm feeling splashes all over your body. The moment your daughter seeks your presence is the best thing to experience. Same knowledge she feels that safe with you… it’s mind-blowing. She is so adorable, so perfect. You gently stroke her hair in the darkness and Harry presses a delicate kiss to her arm.

„She is so precious.” You whisper.

„She is… God, I think I won’t go to sleep, just be watching her.” He grins. „Same.”

You both are just completely, achingly in love with your daughter. You admire everything she does. Even if it’s a hiccup, or some dance she invented. Grace Castillo is the most special girl on the entire planet.

„I love you, girls, so much.” Your husband whispers, reaching out to brush your hip.

„And we love you, too.”

At this moment, your life just reached perfection. You can focus on your daughter, on your family. That is the most important thing right now. Being together. Learning each other. Learning Gracie.

And you have the rest of your lives for that.

***************************

First day at work after adopting Gracie is very hard for Harry. Sitting at his desk, he keeps staring out the window, wondering what you and her are up to back home. He fights the urge to call you every five minutes. He knows you both are alright, but it is stronger than him. This need to be close to his girls.

„You ready, man?” Peter enters the office with a smile. Harry breathes relieved that his brother is already here. „Let’s get it over with.” He smiles.

A lot has changed since their fight. Once the emotions settled, they talked once again. Harry took to his heart what you said to him. Brothers figured out the issue. Peter immediately understood Harry’s need to be close to the family. And he also appreciated the occasion to have a bigger part in mother’s company.

Now? They have the same amount of influence on decisions in the company. That means your husband has less work, more time to be with you and Gracie. Just like he wished to.

And Peter does great on his new position. Harry gave him some lessons and this time the younger brother took them seriously.

Together, they head to an important meeting with a CEO of a company they want to buy. Walking down the hall, sharp suits and this confident demeanor… They feel unstoppable.

„After you, little brother.” Harry opens the conference room door.

The meeting as always is boring and difficult. There are many different conditions the company must provide and it’s frustrating, listening to the other CEO’s raucous voice. Harry tries very hard to not let his mind wander back to you and your daughter. Pete is the more focused one on this case. And it’s good. It feels good not to control everything.

And right when Harry thought his eyelids might close from boredom… The door open and he sees Frances, his secretary. She looks at him apologetically for interrupting.

„Yes, Frances?” He lifts his head. Since the damn car accident you had few years ago, he told her to come with any minor thing, even if he’s in the middle of a meeting.

„Mr. Castillo, your wife is calling. Asking for you.”

He straightens up at that. „I’ll pick up in my office. Pete, you’ve got it here?”

„Yeah, sure.”

With a nod, Harry leaves the conference room. The anxiety grows with every moment he doesn’t hear your voice. Did something happen? Is Gracie okay? Are you?

When he’s in his office, he picks up his phone. „Baby? Everything alright?”

But he already hears loud cries in the background and his heart shatters. He’d recognize them everywhere. Gracie.

„Ugh… I’m sorry, I know you’re in a meeting.” You say, sounding distressed. „But Grace misses you so much. I’ve been trying to calm her for over an hour now and I’m running out of ideas how to do it…”

Harry sighs. That’s the thing. Gracie has some separation issues, you learnt that quickly after meeting her. Moving from house to house at the very young age makes her very attached to people. Even if she was too little to be aware then, her brain remembered the lack of stability. And now, it can’t comprehend yet that Harry is only off to work and will be back in few hours. You try to teach her this, but sometimes it gets hard. Just like now.

„My poor angel…” He says, thinking how to help her.

„Can we switch to FaceTime? Maybe once she sees you she’ll stop crying.”

„Good idea.” Harry instantly finds the right button and soon he is able to see you. Your hair in a loose bun and you’re clearly wearing his sweater. He smiles. „Hi, baby.”

„Hey…” you smile, but it’s obvious you’re on the brink. Dealing with a crying kid can get anyone frustrated. „Okay, where is my princess?” He asks loud enough so maybe she would hear.

„Sweetheart, daddy is here. Look.” You say and bring little Gracie onto your lap. You set the phone before her, so she could see her father smiling at her warmly.

„Daddy!” She sobs. His heart bleeds, seeing her cheeks puffy and red from all those tears.

„Hi, babygirl. I see you miss me.”

„Yes…”

„I’m right here, sweetheart. Just at work. I’ll be back in some time.” He says softly. „I miss you, too, you know?”

„I want you here.” She mumbles and you squeeze her a little tighter, hoping it’ll ground her. „Oh, I know. But Gracie, I’ll be home before you realize. I promise.”

Her sniffles subside with his every word. Harry’s voice clearly works soothingly on her distress. She is just a little girl, missing her dad. It’s new to her to even have a dad. The moment Harry appeared in her life, it changed everything. Now she has a loving home and it’s hard for her to understand.

„You not leaving?”

„No, sweetheart. Daddy didn’t leave us. He is working. And after work he comes back here.” You try to explain once again, because she finally calmed down a little. „Exactly, your mom is right.” He adds.

„And while waiting, we can do something fun. We can bake the cookies you like…” you offer after leaving a kiss on top of her head. She instinctively angles more towards you, seeking the comfort of your arms. There is no hesitation in her movements now. Just pure need for her mommy to hold her. And, oh, how much you love every second of it.

„You’d like cookies?”

„Yes…” she says quietly.

„So bake with mama and when you’re done I’ll be back.” Harry encourages her. Gracie glances at the phone. „I love you so much, Gracie.”

„I love you, daddy.” She sniffles.

„No more tears, baby, okay? Because I’m coming back and then we will cuddle.”

„I like cuddles.”

„We know. And we will cuddle a lot after daddy’s home.” You hug her tighter and she shifts to wrap her little arms around your neck. You start rocking her gently, knowing it always soothes her. Harry now just watches silently, admiring how you manage to deal with Gracie’s tantrums. He’s sure you would probably calm her without his help, but he is glad you called. It’s a little insight in what’s happening in your daughter’s life when he’s gone doing his job.

Looking over her shoulder, you catch Harry’s gaze. He nods, realizing it’s his time to go. „See you soon, sweetheart.” He says and Gracie turns just enough to give him a little wave. „Bye bye.”

After that call, your daughter managed to forget how much she misses Harry. You wiped her tears and kissed her sweet face so many times till it made her giggle. This is the goal. Hearing her laugh.

„So, Gracie? Will you help mama?” You ask, holding her hand as you make your way to the kitchen. „I bet daddy will love some cookies after coming home.”

„Yes! We must bake! With chocholate.”

You chuckle at her mispronunciation. She tends to shift some letters, but it’s normal for three-years-olds. All that you care about is that you finally see some joy on her face. She’s always excited to help you in the kitchen. You even got her a special stool that now has its standard place by the kitchen cabinet.

You help her, first put on her favourite apron (it’s in little unicorns), and then hop onto her stool. You love this small moments when it’s just you and her. You’re still getting used to the fact Gracie is here permanently and you’ll get to have a lot of those moments. You see it clearly in your head. First day at school. First sleepover. First crush. Graduation…

It’s all yours.

Yours to experience.

Yours to help her through every stage go her life.

„Mommy?” Grace draws you out of your thoughts.

„Yes, sweetheart?”

„We bake!” She grins.

***************************

Jingle Bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring

Snowin’ and blowin’ up bushels of fun

Now the jingle hop has begun

The music from the record player fills your penthouse’s living room, that now is richly decorated in Christmas theme. A big tree in the corner, shining with the amount of ornaments. Presents underneath. Candles and gingerbread scent in the air.

It’s Gracie’s first Christmas Eve as your daughter.

So, you and Harry made it your mission to make it special.

You threw a party and invited only the most important people. Actually… Just Harry’s family. His mother, Peter and Charlotte. You cut off contact with your family and are happier ever since. Completely focused on raising your daughter, away from their bad influence.

„Cassie wishes you Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” You say, braiding Grace’s hair in her room. She already messed her beautiful bun you tied up before. You can hear the guests and music flowing through the hallway. But now it’s just you and your little girl. „I wish Cassie was here.” She says looking at the mirror of her little vanity you got her for birthday.

„I know, baby, but Cassie has her own family to spend Christmas with. She said she’ll come by tomorrow.”

„Yay!”

Your friend is another person Gracie grew very fond of. Sometimes when Harry and you want to get out on a date, Cassandra steps in to look after Gracie for few hours. You’re really grateful for all the amazing people you have around you. They make the parenthood even more beautiful.

„You want the red tie with a ribbon?” You ask when the braid is almost finished. „Yes. It will suit the dress.”

„It surely will.” You chuckle. You’re raising a little fashionista.

You bite your lip as you tie the braid together, making sure this time she will not destroy it. „There. How do you like it?”

Gracie observes herself in the mirror, turning her head to different sides. You can’t help the smile on your face. You love how she is, how she sees the world.

„Perfect, mommy.”

„Great, baby. Could you look at your reflection for a moment longer?” You ask and lower your head so it would be on the same level as hers in the mirror. Sneaking your arms around her little waist, you give her a hug from behind. You watch her smile. „You are beautiful, baby. Could you repeat that for me?” You say.

„I am beautiful.” The cute flush grows on her cheeks.

„Good. You’re kind.”

„I’m kind.”

„You are important.”

„I am important.” She repeats quietly and your eyes glisten. This is your goal. Making her feel like that. You try to sneak in those affirmations every day. You want her to grow into a confident, aware of her worth person. You want her to know in every stage of her life that she deserves to be loved. You want to give her something you never got as a kid.

„I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

„And I’m of you, mommy.” She turns to reach for a proper hug. You laugh almost tearfully, but you don’t want to show it in front of her. But God… she has no idea how much her words mean to you. She’s too little to grasp the weight of it. She makes you so happy.

„You are my favourite girl.” You press a kiss to the top of her head. „Ready to join the party?”

„Yes! I want dance!”

„I’m sure daddy will dance with you.”

Together, you head back to the living room where everyone is. Harry and Peter share a drink by the Christmas tree. Their mother and Charlotte chatter on a couch. They all smile when they see you, admiring Gracie’s new hairstyle.

„Oh, look who’s all pretty.” Your husband grins, setting the glass aside only to walk up and lift Gracie in his arms. She giggles, holding onto him. Always trusting he’ll catch her. „It’s me! And mommy.”

„And mommy. Mommy is…” Harry bites his lip when he eyes you up and down in your red, sweater-like dress. You’re matching with Grace. You laugh, leaning against his side to press a sweet kiss to his cheek.

„How about we open some presents? Just one tonight, though. The rest in the morning.” You say and everyone cheers, especially Gracie.

You and Harry bought her a tone of presents this year. It’s her first Christmas with you after all. But you don’t want to let it get into her head. One gift tonight.

Peter, as the proud uncle he is, sits on a couch and starts recording as Gracie opens as first from all of you. She settles on the carpet before the tree, waiting patiently until Harry hands her the present. It is a big box, actually bigger than her. The little girl beams, as well as the rest of you. Your husband sets it on a carpet before her with a quiet grunt.

„Oh, Gracie, what could it be?” Lynette coos delighted. Your daughter can barely sit in place from excitement. But she knows she has to wait. „It’s big!” She lifts her arms.

„It is. Do you need help with that? Santa Claus was very generous this year.”

You told her he stepped by before, when she was in a bath. You want her to believe into magical Christmas for as long as it’s possible. Kids deserve to see the world in colors, believe in something as joyful as Santa Claus.

„Yes, please.” Gracie stands up and starts tearing the wrapping paper with eagerness. Harry rips it from the other side, helping her. You watch excited as a big smile spreads on her face. „Wow!” She gasps, once she sees it’s a box of a doll house. A very big, French-cottage-styled doll house. It has three floors, a whole furniture package and even some sound effects. A star among the doll houses. The finest on the market.

„You love it?” Charlotte asks.

„Yes! Doll house! It’s so pretty! Woah…” your daughter is too mesmerized, now just circling the box around, admiring it from every side. Harry and you share a glance. You’re sure she never saw anything similar. You’re glad it brought her so much joy.

„Let’s get it out of this box, huh, sweetheart?”

„Yes, yes, yes!” She jumps around until she falls into your husband’s arms. They laugh and Harry can’t help himself, he reaches his hand out and tugs you into a hug as well. You hear some aww’s from the family, but now? Now Gracie’s happiness is all that matters. Feeling her in your arms matters. Sharing this moment with her and Harry… It’s all you ever dreamed of.

„I love you, mommy and daddy.” Grace whispers.

Later, once everyone is asleep in the guest rooms and Gracie dozed off in her own bed… You and Harry have a moment to yourselves. You find him in the hallway, where there’s a wall of photos. Your photos from your entire marriage. Some bigger, some smaller. All including important memories of your shared life.

You stop at his side, a wine glass in your hand. Both of you letting your eyes wander around the photos.

Your wedding portrait.

Your first Thanksgiving together.

Holidays, parties… all of it.

A wall of memories.

And now… it slowly turns into family memories. With every day there are more and more pictures of Gracie here. Her reading a book. Her playing in a park. Your first photo as a legal family… You smile.

„We’re slowly running out of space here.” Harry finally breaks the silence. A chuckle leaves your mouth. „Yeah… We better find a new wall somewhere here.”

„We could get rid of that painting you bought…”

That earns him a light elbow in the ribs.

„No. We are not getting rid of my Kirchner.”

„Okay, okay…” Harry smirks. „Was joking.”

You glance at your husband and he steals your glass with that stupid expression on his face. As he sips the wine, a weird sense of peace washes over you.

He is right here… Joking and laughing. Your daughter is asleep, safely in her room. And you? You don’t feel this enormous weight on you anymore. It’s the opposite. You feel light. No doubts, no worries. Just… free.

„What?” His smile softens when he notices your thoughtfulness.

„Nothing, just…” You hesitate, so to ground yourself you gently grasp his hand. „I’m really glad I didn’t divorce you these few years ago. Now, I realize I wouldn’t have all of it. A family like this… I’m so happy and it’s all because of you.”

What you’re saying is true. This is how you feel. Harry is the one. He always was, no matter how hard you sometimes wished it wasn’t real. When years back he was neglecting you… The lack of his attention felt like the end of the world.

But God, how glad you are both of you fighted for your love.

Because with him… Everything came easy. He was your rock when you most needed that and you know that no one else would be that for you. Not the way he is. You were always meant to end up together, despite all the problems on the way. You were always meant to adopt Gracie. It just feels right.

Suddenly all your life makes perfect sense.

And you’re happy you get to live it with Harry.

„Baby…” he sets the wine glass on the floor, moved by your words. He straightens up and cups your cheek lovingly. „The day I realized I fucked up then… I knew I’m gonna be making it up to you for the rest of my life. You’re it for me. It was either you, or no one. All I can say is… That I’m so damn lucky you took me back. And I’m so lucky you were that strong to offer adoption after all you went through… I’ll be forever thankful to you. For you. For this life. And for Gracie.”

Your eyes well up with tears. Harry always knows how to move your soul in the most beautiful way. He stirs those deep feelings you hide in your heart. He envelopes them in his warmth and honesty.

„I love you so much.”

„I love you, too, baby. Forever.” He whispers.

The kiss you share is one of those meaningful kisses. No, with Harry every kiss is meaningful. But this one… contains all this love and experiences from past few years… It’s the kiss that will stay with you for long.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps his around your waist, pulling you flush against him. So you could feel the familiar heat of his body. The familiar strength that will always hold you through every storm in your life. You’re sure it will.

Life is a cruel competition. It tests you on many levels, gives you stuff you think you can’t handle. But there’s always someone who will help you carry the weight, help you through the mountains and hold you on the top.

You and Harry are this for each other.

And this time?

You both won.

There are no losers when the love between two people is as strong as yours.

***************************

A/N: Thank you for reading! For reading all the story. I can’t believe we reached the final chapter. I actually want to cry, these characters mean so much to me and it’s been a joy to see you liked them as well! Let me know if you’d like some drabbles/one shots connected to The Winner Takes It All, it’ll be a pleasure to write them! You can always send me an ask. See you in the next story! Cheers🩷🩷🩷

Leaving Eddie there, alone to rot, felt like a betrayal, and your suffocating guilt convinced you that you were the one who killed him; you were the reason his body was rotting from the inside out.

Every milestone and passing of time was just another reminder that he wasn't coming home, another reminder that he was on his own in the bitter cold in a place you couldn't access. 

The nightmares became so severe that you were too scared to sleep, and eventually, with the constant refusal of rest, the line between your world and reality started to blur. Everyone and everything frightened you; they put you constantly on edge.

"Stop it!" you'd yell, backing into the darkest corner of your room. "I am not leaving this room, I know what you're doing!"

Robin and Steve stood in the opposite corner, pleading with you to come outside and feel the warmth of the sun kissing your face.

"We won't do anything, we swear," Robin said calmly, trying to defend herself with her hands, palms spread and fingers fanned out.

You shook your head violently. "No, no! You lie! I know what's waiting for me out there, you're going to hand me in for killing him!"

Steve's eyes were full of tears at the sight of you.

Your eyes were dull and presented deep, hollow bags, and your clothes that used to fit like a glove were now draping over you, three sizes too big because you were constantly missing meals, feeling too sick to eat.

"You didn't kill him," Steve choked out, his voice cracking. "What happened to Eddie was..."

You flinched, scurrying further back into your room. The sun peeking through your long curtains, burning your eyes only made things worse. 

"Don't say his name! No, no, lalala, I'm not buying it!" You pulled the curtain shut with sudden, frantic force, plunging the room into darkness. You could no longer see Steve or Robin; you didn't want to. "You're both trying to get me locked up, sent away! Get out!! He's dead! I killed him, I killed him!"

Steve and Robin slowly dragged their feet out of your room, their heads bowed in defeat. Outside, they looked up at your terrified parents and shook their heads.

"Nothing," Steve muttered. "She just became angry. Paranoid."

"She's stuck in this state where she believes she's going to be locked up for murder." Robin sighed, trying to avoid eye contact with your parents. 

"Yes," your mother replied, defeated, "Or she's stuck in the moment where he's died, we hear her calling out for him, screaming all night. The same time every night."

Your parents thought your mania would last forever, that your loud and violent outbursts would be the ultimate reason they sent you away for specialised care once they were too old and frail to handle it themselves.

But one day, you stopped eating and drinking completely, unable to open your mouth and talk, or even look away from the centre of your bedroom wall. 

Every part of you that made you you was gone; all that was left behind was a breathing body with no other function but to starve and rot away.

Just like Eddie.

You became glued to the chair in the corner of your room, staring blankly at the wall, often without blinking for long periods of time, causing your eyes to become incredibly dry and bloodshot.

Your mother begged you to do something, like look at her or turn your head, but you never did. She shook you, squeezed your hands, and yelled your name until her throat was sore and hoarse, but nothing changed.

"Please, darling, look at me." She'd beg, a crying mess, "If you can hear me, just blink for me, baby, blink twice for yes and once for no."

You didn't blink. 

Your parents couldn't keep you under their roof with you in such a state, and your refusal to eat and drink would brand them as killers if you were to die from dehydration and starvation. 

The decision wasn't made lightly; it was their last resort, sending you to the psychiatric facility, but in doing so, they allowed themselves to have a sliver of hope that rehabilitation was possible for you. 

"A feeding tube, that would keep her alive, right?" Your father chirped, his eyes the brightest they had been in months. 

"Realistically, your daughter's physical condition would improve. She would put on weight and gain nourishment, but we cannot promise to delay or reverse her severe mental decline."

You would never recover. You were trapped inside your own body, reliving hell over and over without release. Unable to move, unable to speak, unable to live.

The hope they had in the feeding tube was a bust, and rather than put on weight, the feeding tube did nothing but put your already declining body in more discomfort. Your organs were failing slowly at first, but towards the end of your last week, the decline became rapid, and there was nothing left to do but put you on end of life care.

"I've notified her friends," the head nurse murmured, "they'll be on their way."

They placed you in a private room, away from the other patients who would only know a long, hollow life inside the facility, free to roam but never free to explore the edges of the earth. 

You were still sitting in a chair in the corner, and the only thing your mind could see was Eddie's dead body, which had become a permanent freeze-frame, burning itself into the screen of your eyelids.

"How is she?" Nancy asked your mom, her small, sharp face full of worry. "They say she's..." Nancy swallowed hard, "End of life now?"

Your mom nodded with her shoulders slumped under the weight of grief. She wanted you to die so you could be at peace, no longer suffering, but for you to die, her baby, would be the ultimate loss she'd never get over. 

"The feeding tube causes her more distress than it's worth, and her body started rejecting it... She's got no quality of life, Nancy, none."

Nancy reached out and held your cold, pale hand, her thumb gently stroking your knuckles. "H-How long does she have?" 

Tears filled your mother's eyes, and her lips quivered. "Not long, Nancy. She probably doesn't have another week in her."

Nancy hesitated for a moment, sharing a heavy glance with Steve and Robin, who stood hovering near the doorway.

Your mother noticed the sudden shift in the room's energy. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"A miracle... really," Nancy said, lowering her voice, "we can't describe o-or even figure out how this happened, but he isn't dead."

Your mother's eyes widened, and her eyebrows pulled together "What?" 

"Eddie is alive."

Eddie appeared in the doorway, covered in deep bruises and brutal scars. His hair was frazzled and stained with blood and a little longer than the night he 'died'.

"Oh my God," your mother gasped, covering her mouth, "This can't be possible."

"We were all hoping that he could give her a chance to fight through this, to come back." Robin spoke up from the corner of the room. 

Eddie felt exhausted, but the moment his eyes locked onto you, he wished he hadn't made it out at all. He closed in on you slowly and couldn't stop staring at you. You were almost completely unrecognisable. 

"Sweetheart?" Eddie called out, loud enough for you to hear, "It's me." He dropped to his knees beside your chair and he took your tiny hands in his.

Everyone in the room expected you to break out of your spell, confused, in disbelief or even totally relieved. They were hoping you would scream and jump out of your chair and into his arms, unable to control your anger for him taking so long to find his way back to you. 

Instead, you just stared through him, your pupils didn't dilate, your emaciated body didn't move. You couldn't see him right there in front of you, living and breathing. 

All you could see was the same freeze frame of his dead body and the blood. 

"Hey, it's me, Babe. Your man is back," Eddie whispered before reaching up with his dirt-coated hands, lightly trembling, as he cupped your hollow cheeks. "I'm alive. C'mon, princess."

Your parents, Steve, Robin and Nancy all watched with deep regret and building remorse for Eddie. Their hearts were shattering at the inevitable, and all they could do was watch as grief began to destroy another pure and soft soul.

Eddie grabbed your limp and cold hand, squeezing and kissing it before he pushed it against his chest, and holding it right over his heart. His heart was beating wildly against your hand, but you couldn't feel it. You wanted to, but you weren't there. 

"Please," he begged, a strangled sob escaping him, "Can't you feel it, baby?" The tears streamed down his face, washed clean tracks through the dirt and dried blood. 

The darkness had completely consumed you and you were too far gone to be reached. It was as if that night in the upside down, you were the one who died. Not Eddie.

Your mother couldn't take any more, and she quickly fled the room, taking your father with her. Nancy stared at you for a moment before following your parents, hoping to provide them with some sort of comfort or support.

Eddie crawled closer to you and placed a soft and desperate kiss against your forehead, and then against your dry and cracked lips. 

"Come back to me, sweetheart." He whispered, "I've just got back, I can't be here alone."

Steve closed in on Eddie and put a hand on Eddie's shoulder, "Munson," he sighed, "I'm sorry but she's gone, man." 

"But she can't be!" Eddie sobbed louder, pulling your fragile body out of the chair and into his arms, tucking you into his chest like a doll, "She's right here, she's here."

Eddie refused to let go, he refused for anyone to try and intervene and as he rocked back and forth, humming and singing your favourite songs from the floor, the colour in your eyes began to fade and your breathing slowed until it finally came to a stop.

Reblogging is a writers best friend :)

You don’t remember half the drive it took to get from the diner to Harry’s. You know that most of it was spent speeding and barely getting through the intersections before the light turned red.

You were a complete whirlwind of emotions. A storm that was just getting angrier by the minute.

A storm that Harry had no idea was coming.

You untied your apron and violently threw it in the backseat before grabbing the letter that you had sitting in the center console. You slammed your car door shut—harder than you meant to, if you were being honest—but your blood was boiling the more you those customer service reps words echoed in your head:

“Oh, would you look at that! I see that a lump sum payment was made by an H. Cast—wait, I’m so sorry. It says the payee wished to remain anonymous.”

You huffed and puffed as you stormed up the driveway, muttering under your breath, “Anonymous? Why would he want to be anonymous, unless he knew what he was doing was wrong?”

You didn’t waste a moment to take deep breathes or talk sense into yourself before you roughly pressed the doorbell. You took a small step back—fully preparing to have the first word as soon as that door opened.

What you didn't expect was for Harry to open his front door, holding his phone to his ear.

You noticed his tie was slightly loosened and his sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows. Those words you had cocked and ready to shoot at him, instantly halting on the tip of your tongue.

However, for him, it wasn't more than a mere moment before a smile instantly warmed his features—especially realizing it was you. The stress of the day he’d been having, instantly melted away.

"Look, Russell, if you give me an hour, I can have that contract sent to your assistant..." He said to the man on the other end before opening the door wider, moving aside to let you in—not realizing the energy you had seeping off of you as you stood there on his doorstep.

You took a deep breath as you stepped inside, trying to calm yourself.

"...and then you can just tell Eugene that the terms need to be amended by legal. He'll understand the delay with how anal he is." He continued as he shut the door behind you.

Your mind raced with a million different ways of what to say to him, how this might go, what this meant for you two if he did what you think he did.

You were so lost in your thoughts that he slightly startled you when he gently touched the small of your back, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

"Meet me in the kitchen. I'll just be a minute." He whispered to you, moving the phone away for a moment—completely oblivious and distracted by the man on the other end of the phone. He didn't notice how tightly you were gripping the strap of your bag, enough to make your knuckles white.

He certainly didn't notice the letter clenched in your other hand. Because if he did, he would have told Russell he had a bad connection or some bullshit excuse before he hung up and asked what was going on.

For once, he didn't notice anything due to the belief that nothing could go wrong when he had you in his life.

He pecked your cheek once more, his thumb rubbing a few gentle arches onto your back—not waiting for you to nod or say anything more before he walked back down the hall to his office, chuckling at what the gentleman on the other line said.

You stood there, unable to move. You felt like you might crack if you took off your shoes or jacket. You would let it go in the name of not wanting this comfort to end.

But you couldn't ignore this.

You refused to feel like you were yet again some project to fix, or that you and Jace were some charity case.

You didn't know how long it had been since he disappeared into his office, but when he came back out, smiling and humming to himself—he stopped dead in his tracks to see you unmoved.

"Baby? Is everything ok?" Harry asked, his smile slowly disappearing and brows furrowing.

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extras:

speed (1994) clips to accompany the story

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They played in your head like a broken record, over and over, and over again. From the moment you woke up and saw his soft sleepy face, to the moment he kissed you goodnight. It was deafening.

You punished yourself every day in your mind for being such a coward but you didn’t want to put your heart on the line. Even though, whether you said the words to him or not, they were still very much true.

The longer you waited, the more the doubt set in. Because sure, you hadn’t said it, but neither had he. And Steve was a confident guy – surely if he felt it, he would just say it… right?

Another month went by and you pushed the words down so hard that they were starting to push back. Like they had developed a mind of their own and were trying to claw their way out. But now you didn’t even want to say it, not when you felt like you wouldn’t hear those words reflected back at you.

It took every ounce of self control to keep the lid on your feelings, especially in moments when the filter between your heart and your mouth felt more permeable.

In the morning before the weight of the day set in.

At night as you drifted off, the line of reality and dreams becoming blurred.

Or when you had sex.

Because it didn’t feel like just sex – it felt like making love.

He’d get so deep inside you it felt like he was physically pushing the words out all the way from the pit of your stomach, up out your throat. He’d press his forehead against yours, his mouth over your gaping one, like he could breathe in the words if you let him. And the things that Steve would say to you during did not quell your feelings in the slightest.

I love how you feel around me.

That’s it, that’s my girl.

Love those sounds you make, baby.

It was like he was taunting you with words so close to what you wanted – needed – to hear.

In those moments, you only allowed yourself restrained whimpers as you felt Steve invade every crevasse of your physical body and your spiritual soul, worried what might slip out if you fully let yourself go.

“Steve,” you gasped out one time.

Steve’s hips ground into yours, brushing against your aching nub and gummy walls with each thrust.

“What is it, baby?” He asked not to tease you, but with genuine care and curiosity.

Steve always wanted to make you feel good. It made your heart light up in your chest as you felt heat course through you.

“I–ugh–I lo–“

Your orgasm cut you off, making you moan out something completely unintelligible. You narrowly avoided the embarrassment of confessing your love to Steve during sex. But it was getting harder and harder not to say it each time.

You came back down to earth to see Steve laying next to you with the most radiant smile across his lips. For a split second you thought he might say it. Something in the way his eyes traced your face, lingering on each of your features. His lips parted like he was going to say something.

Then he leaned over, pecked your lips and said; “goodnight.”

One afternoon, Steve was making sandwiches for the two of you. Sunlight streamed in the tiny window above the sink as his broad shoulders took up most of the space of his kitchen. You sat at the counter watching as he carefully assembled whatever weird combination of ingredients he had recently discovered.

“You’re gonna love it,” he assured you.

I love you, you thought.

He sat the plate down in front of you, gave you a soft kiss on your temple, before sitting himself on the stool next to you, his knee brushing yours in a way that felt so natural.

He tucked into his sandwich immediately but you just stared at yours.

It was also in these kind of comfortable domestic moments where you felt it even stronger. When it felt like you had known him for eternity and eternity would never be long enough.

“I know it looks kinda gross, but trust me, you–“

“–Steve, I love you.”

It just came out.

Your tone wasn’t romantic or loving, it was matter of fact, like you were telling him the time. You didn’t even look at him, just kept looking at the sandwich.

“What?” Steve said through his mouthful.

Definitely not the reaction you wanted. You almost wondered if you just thought you said it but what came out was actually complete gibberish.

You whined, collapsing your head into your hands. “I love you,” you said again.

This time it was shakier like you were uncertain. Not of how you felt, but of how he would react.

Nothing came out of Steve’s mouth except for chewing noises.

It felt like hours passed before he finally spoke. “Shit.”

Okay that was definitely worse than the first time.

Steve got up from his stool and started pacing as much as he could in the confined space of the kitchen. You slowly lifted your head from your hands, peeking out from under them to look at him but he wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“I’m such an idiot,” he said to himself.

You just looked at him confused and panicked.

“Steve–“

“–Are you being serious?” He finally turned to you.

Your eyes went wide, a choked laugh of disbelief exited your throat before you could stop it.

“What kind of question is that?” You shot back at him, your voice stern but your eyes started welling up.

“You’re in love with me?” Steve said like it was a question. His eyes were glassy also but his brows were drawn together like curtains he was trying to hide behind.

You took a deep breath before you answered. “Yes.”

“Since when?”

You groaned in annoyance, again with the questions. You didn’t want to escalate an already tense situation so you decided to just answer, then maybe he’d stop and at least let you down easy the rest of the way.

“Probably since the first time we kissed.” You felt embarrassed admitting just how long you’d let Steve live in your heart while you were just a guest in his.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered as he ran his palms over his face.

“Okay, look,” you said, sliding off the stool. Its legs scraped along the tiles gratingly. “I’m, uh, I’m just gonna go.” Your eyes never left your feet.

“Hey, no, no, no. Wait!” Steve’s hand reached out to grab your forearm.

Every wrinkle of your brain told you to rip it away from him, but every beat of your heart told you to stay.

Against your better judgement, you listened to your heart and turned back to him. You could hardly see his features through the tears in your eyes.

“I have fucked this up so bad, just–“ he took a deep breath, “give me a second.”

You did, you stood there looking at him, just letting him hold your beating heart in his hands, waiting for him to rip it apart.

Steve placed his hands on your shoulders and gazed deep into your eyes like he was looking for something in them.

“Do you mean it? Everything? That you’ve been in love with me this whole time?”

“Yes.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

“Like, love, love?”

“God damnit, Steve.” You shook his hands off you. “How many times are you going to make me say it! Yes, I love you, okay? But right now I feel like I wanna fucking kill yo–“

Steve lurched forward, his hands enveloped the sides of your face as he pressed his lips to yours. You stumbled back in shock. You couldn’t even kiss back, you were too stunned, confused, and you were still crying.

Steve pulled back after a moment, he wiped a tear that fell from your eye with his thumb and you hated how much you instinctively leaned into his touch.

“I love you too,” he said, his voice soft but certain.

“What?”

Much like Steve’s reaction before, you were slightly caught off guard by his confession.

He leant his forehead against yours. “I am so sorry I freaked out, this is so not how I wanted this to go.”

“Yeah, me neither,” you said as you stepped back from him. “What the hell was that about?”

It was your turn to ask the questions. Not quite ready to move on from the ordeal Steve put you through for the last few minutes.

He sighed, his head hung low towards the floor. “I wanted to be sure you really meant it,” he said quietly.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

“Well I’ve heard those words before and they didn’t mean shit.”

You knew about his past relationships, knew he had been hurt before, but you had no idea he still carried that weight around so heavily. As much as that made your chest tighten, you were hurt that Steve had let it shift on to you.

“Steve, do not take your insecurities out on me.”

Steve looked up when he heard the crack in your voice.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He closed the gap between you again, reaching carefully for your hand in case you pulled away – you didn't. “I didn’t mean to I– I was just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“That you didn’t love me like I love you or that you’d say it and then…” Steve’s voice trailed off, like he was finding it hard to truly articulate the worries swirling around his head.

“Hey…” you reached a soft hand up to his cheek. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

Steve smiled at how you somehow could decipher the mess in his mind, but it quickly dropped into a frown.

“You say that now, but–“

“–Steve,” you interrupted. “The time we’ve had together,” you started, bringing your other hand up to cradle his face and force his eyes to lock to yours. “Has been the most amazing time of my whole life. God, I can’t even remember what it was like before I loved you, and I don’t want to imagine what it would be like after.”

That soft smile was back on Steve’s trembling lips.

“I don’t want there to be an after,” he said.

“There doesn’t have to be.”

You leant into each other like magnets, pressing your foreheads together.

Steve took a few deep breaths to center himself, feeling your presence anchor him. “Can we try this again?”

You giggled, “sure.”

You stepped away from Steve and composed yourself as much as you could, but the smile plastered on your face took over. You took his hand in yours and held it tight to your chest, right over your heart.

You opened your mouth to speak but Steve beat you to it this time.

“My sweet girl,” he tucked your hair behind your ear with his free hand, “I love you, so much.”

The moment made you instantly forget the panic that you felt just a minute ago.

“I love you too.”

As you said it this time, your voice was unwavering. There was no anxiety laced through it, just pure, reciprocated love.

When Steve crashed his lips to yours again, you didn’t miss a beat before kissing him back. His strong hands cradled your face as you ran yours all the way up from his elbows to the hair that fell over the nape of his neck. You were both smiling into the kiss as Steve walked you back to the kitchen counter. As soon as it dug into your back you gasped, opening your mouth, which Steve took as an opportunity to brush his tongue past your lips. His hands fell down to your hips to press you tightly against him.

“I love you,” Steve said between heated kisses, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You giggled agaisnt his lips as he kept up his loving words. “You don’t have to keep saying it.”

Steve broke away to look deep into your eyes. “Yeah I do. I’ve got all these ‘I love you’s built up inside me, I’ve gotta get them out.”

He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter but you were constantly tugging him towards your lips by the hair, he struggled to get you up. Steve’s hands flattened out over your thighs as he stood between your legs. His palms spread warmth over the exposed skin that your shorts didn't reach. You stroked your hands through his hair as the kiss intensified. Deep breaths into each other's mouths, little whines of satisfaction and wanting more. You reluctantly pulled back, Steve’s mouth tried to chase yours but you held his face between your hands.

There was one more question you had to ask. “When did you know?”

Steve was a little frazzled from your kisses and didn't quite pick up what you were saying at first.

So you elaborated, “I told you when I fell in love with you, now you have to tell me.”

Steve’s eyes lit up like he could see the memory replaying in his mind. “Do you remember when I picked you up for our first date?”

“Yeah, I recall,” you said, smiling uncontrollably wide.

“Do you remember tripping on the porch step?”

“Oh my God!” You brought your hands up to cover your face. “I was so embarrassed! I couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole night.”

Steve gently moved your hands out the way and kept them in his as he continued, “it was then.”

You looked at him with slight disbelief but mostly with complete awe.

“I just felt something when you grabbed my arm and I held you to stop you from falling face first into the gravel.” Steve chuckled and you mirrored the infectious sound. “I guess it was really me that fell, ‘cause I fell in love with you right there and then.”

“You mean,” you started speaking but had to pause for a second as you felt your mind, and heart, processing what Steve just said. “We’ve both been totally in love with each other since our first date and neither of us said anything?”

“Looks that way,” Steve shrugged.

“Wow, we are such idiots.”

“I think I prefer the term ‘hopeless romantics’.”

Steve’s hands snaked around your back, rubbing you through the soft fabric of your cotton t-shirt that was actually his.

You wrapped your legs tightly around him as you both pressed hard into each other. Steve leant slowly back in to kiss you, but you spoke before he could get there.

“Wait, you knew you were in love with me when you picked me up, but you waited all the way until you dropped me home to just kiss me?”

“Hey, I’m a gentleman. Isn’t that one of the things you love about me?”

“One of many.”

“Tell me more.”

Steve’s lips connected with yours again in a long, hot press of his supple lips.

“Well, I really love that,” you said.

“What about this…”

Steve gave the same treatment to your neck, just below your jaw. You felt the heat of his mouth radiate through you.

“Oh yeah, love that.”

“And this?”

Steve’s hips circled over yours and you felt the subtle hardness in his jeans press into your core.

Your eyes fluttered shut, a content sigh left your lips.

“Yeah, you love that,” Steve said on your behalf.

You matched his rhythm as you ground your hips against him. The denim of his crotch, rough over the thin material of your shorts.

“God, do you know the amount of times I had to stop myself from screaming ‘I love you’ during sex,” Steve said into your ear, his voice lower than before.

“Fuck, me too.”

You both rubbed agaisnt each other harder at the realisation that you had been holding back, and that you didn’t have to anymore.

“I love you, I’m gonna tell you all the fucking time, baby.”

You whined, whether from his words or the way pressure was building in your core, you didn't know, but it felt so good.

“Ugh, Steve, I love you too. Don’t ever stop saying it.”

Your hands roughly travelled up under Steve’s shirt and he took it as a signal that you wanted it off. You were both still desperately grinding on each other like you couldn’t even wait to get your clothes off to feel each other.

Steve then made quick work of your shirt, throwing it to join his in a pile on the tiled floor.

“I want you,” he murmured agaisnt your mouth before opening it wide over yours, making you do the same.

“Show me how much you love me, Stevie.”

The feeling of his hot hands running up your back to the clasp of your bra sent electricity all the way to your fingers and toes.

You two were so in your own world that you must not have heard the sound of keys jiggling in the lock of the front door to the small apartment.

“Woah!”

You both froze as you heard Robin’s distinctive voice enter the room. The front door opened straight into the living room, the small kitchen in full view. It must have been quite a sight to behold. You and Steve, both shirtless, hands grabbing, hips moving.

“Robin!” Steve yelled, using his bare torso to cover yours.

“You guys know we have bedrooms here, right?” She said, not sounding too fazed by what she walked in on. She had caught the two of you in far more compromising positions.

“Sorry Robin,” you said, although your voice held little remorse. “We got a bit excited.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Robin gestured towards Steve’s very obvious hard on in his jeans.

“Shit,” he muttered turning back to you to try and hide it.

“We just, uh, love each other a lot,” you told her, wanting to share the moment with the person who was witness to yours and Steve’s relationship as it bloomed.

“Wait, he finally said it?” Robin asked with a delighted look on her face.

“Well, she said it and then I was a total dickhead about it–“ Steve responded.

“–Total dickhead,” you added.

“But yeah, we said it.” Steve pecked your lips. “I have been telling Robin how crazy I am about you since that first date,” he said to you, his face close to yours like you were the only two people in the room.

“Really?” You asked him.

“Oh yeah, he’s been completely insufferable,” Robin confirmed, reminding you she was in fact still there.

“Aw,” you cooed at Steve.

You cupped his face and brought his lips to yours again, the rest of the world fading around you as you kissed him hungrily.

“Okay,” Robin clapped her hands together but it didn’t seem to have any effect on the two of you.

She turned around but could unfortunately still very much hear the sound of your lips smacking together.

“As happy as I am for you guys, I really don’t want to be in the building for whatever is about to, or is currently happening. So, why don’t I make myself scarce for, like, half an hour–“

“–An hour.” Steve broke away from you for a split second to correct her.

“Wow, okay, sure, whatever.” Robin walked back to the front door, grabbing her keys and opening it. “Just please, promise me you won’t do it there, that’s where we eat.”

“Promise,” you assured her, Steve’s lips now attacking your neck.

“Later, love birds!”

The door clicked shut and Steve let out a deep moan like he had been holding it in.

“Steve… C’mom, let’s take this to the bedroom.”

“No, here’s good.”

“I promised Robin,“ you whined reluctantly as you pushed his chest slightly away from you.

”I didn’t,” Steve smirked.

“She’s right, we eat here.” You gestured towards the kitchen island you sat atop. Steve’s half eaten sandwich to your left and your untouched one to your right.

A mischievous grin spread across Steve’s face.

“In that case,” he tugged at the waistband of your shorts, you in no way protested as he pulled them down and off your legs. “I better do this.”

Steve lowered himself to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. He placed a soft kiss to one of your knees before planting his large hands on the inside of your thighs and opening you up more.

As Steve’s head closed in on your core, you grabbed his hair, your other hand behind you on the cool worktop, allowing you to tilt your pelvis out for him. Nothing in your body told him you wanted him to stop, even if you were still hesitant with your words.

“Robin could walk back in.”

Steve placed a kiss to the damp patch in your underwear and held his face there as he hummed against you, the subtle vibrations flowing right through you.

“She won’t be back for an hour,” he mumbled, not quite able to move away from the part of you he was so close to tasting. “And I plan on spending that whole hour showing you just how much I love you.”

Steve’s hands moved up to pull your panties from your hips, down your thighs and off to join the pile of clothing that was building up. You were now completely naked in Steve’s kitchen, exposed to him in such a way that if it was anyone else you might feel shy. But Steve moaned just at the sight of you spread out for him. He was quickly back on you with his head between your legs, his hands on your thighs. You with your hands in his hair, pulling him closer against you. His mouth was hot, wet, desperate – just like you.

Something about knowing Steve loved you as he tasted you made it feel so much more euphoric, like you could feel the words on his tongue. It really didn’t take long for Steve to get you close to completely unravelling. Now that you didn’t fear the words escaping, you were much more vocal.

“God, Steve, ugh, that feels so good, you’re so good to me.”

And that seemed to make Steve even more ravenous.

“Want you to say it when you come, baby. I need to hear you say it.”

“I’ve wanted to for so long–ugh, fuck, I’m so close just like that Stevie, yes!

He sucked on your sensitive nub, every so often dropping his tounge to your hole, teasing it and tasting how he was making you feel.

“Steve… ah! I’m gonna come–ugh–I love you so much, so, so much.”

Steve mumbled, “I love you too”, against you as you came. Not that you could really make out what he was saying, but you got the idea.

He kissed your folds, along the inside of your thighs, before getting back up to face you at the same level.

“I do think I’m gonna need the bed for this next part,” he said with his mouth glistening.

“Oh really?”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed as he nuzzled his nose agaisnt yours. “I’m going to make slow, deep, passionate love to you.” He kissed you to share the taste of you. “I just wanna drown in you.”

Any air you had regained in your lungs seemed to leave it at his words.

“Steve.” You spoke his name like it was the only word left in your vocabulary.

He smiled against your lips as he lifted you off the counter and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed him all the way to the bedroom.

When Robin returned, just over an hour later, she peaked throguh the front door hesitantly. She breathed a sigh of relief as she found nothing but the empty living room and kitchen. That was until she saw the pile of clothes on the kitchen tiles, your underwear at the top.

“These freaks,” she whispered to herself as she realised you definitely didn’t keep your promise.

She then heard a loud, ‘fuck’, come from Steve’s room, followed by a down right pornographic moan that was obviously you.

“Nope,” Robin said out loud to the empty room.

Once again, she grabbed her keys and hurried out the door.

“I really need to move out,” she muttered as she clicked the door shut, leaving the chorus of moans and expletives behind.

A/N: as if I got to over 400 followers before I got a chance to thank you guys for 300??? You lot are crazy I love it <3

Taglist: @ribeiroteresa97 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @delightfuldreamer09

“I know what they are, Javi,” you giggle, “I just mean, why are we getting them? They’re not on the list.”

“You and your list,” Javi chuckles fondly, “You nearly burned your hands yesterday night taking the lasagna out of the oven.  Chucho hasn’t baked in 30 years - those oven mitts of his are so old, a piece of paper has better insulation.  You should have let me do it, baby.”

“I’m trying to impress your father, Javi.”

“You don’t need to try, pretty bird.  That man would go to war for you.  All the Peña men would,” the daring DEA agent flashes his famous smile at you - not the same one you fell for long ago back in Columbia, but it’s no less devastating.  The old smile was a little tighter and it strained to reach the pain in his eyes; that smile was a weapon, a mask, elusive and fleeting.  The smile he flashes you these days is no less dangerous, but it comes more naturally and more frequent; its lines have settle easily on this man’s gorgeous face, deep and earned, softening all his features but especially the browns of those same eyes.  Both smiles can and have made you swoon on the spot; you’re grateful you have the bar of the shopping cart to lean on for support.

The two of you grin dopily at one another over your cartful of groceries, oblivious to the other shoppers in this Laredo grocery store.  You may be far from home, but the love you share is the same everywhere, unwavering and soul affirming.  Neither of you count the minutes that pass, it could be one or twenty, before you both snap back to the present, to the ambient muzak playing over the produce section.

“Okay, baby, I think we’ve covered everything on that list of yours, all that’s left is tonight’s dinner.  We got the steaks for grilling - anything else?” Javi rubs his hands together, eager to get back to the ranch and show off his skill on the barbeque.

You giggle and gesture cheekily around you, “Vegetables?”  At Javi’s nose scrunch, you crook your index finger for him to lean forward, planting a quick peck to that kissable pout of his, “If the Peña men are to go to war, they’ll need to eat more vegetables.”

Javi chases your lips, capturing them with a passionate, but still public appropriate smooch, “Okay, okay, can’t ever say no to you, pretty bird.  Peppers.  Some asparagus.  Corn?”  He’s already walking away, headed for a barrel of sweet corn when you shout after him, “Mushrooms!”

“Mushrooms!” comes the confirmation, loud and clear, accompanied by a thumbs up held high.  You hum to yourself, ogling the man’s backside as he starts digging through ears of corn – you hope he never gives up those tight jeans, no matter what the current style is.  There’s little danger of that happening; Javier Peña has never been one to try and blend in, follow trends – he’s one of a kind, this man of yours.

“You’ve sure got that man all trained up, running around fetching the groceries while you stay with the cart.”

You turn to see a pretty woman with dirty blonde hair and a pleasant look about her, she’s around Javi’s age and pushing her own very full shopping cart – unable to determine if her tone is awestruck, joking, or… something else, your reply is a little wary, “Sorry?”

“I never thought I’d see the day when Javier Peña would be seen doing run of the mill, domestic tasks here in Laredo.  Did he move back?”

You know who the woman is now, and while you’re still no closer to figuring out the intention of her comments, she’s no threat, “We’re just visiting from New York, here to spend some time with Chucho before I’m not allowed to fly anymore.”

The woman raises her eyebrows as you push off the shopping cart bar and step back, straightening so that your pregnant belly comes into view.

“Oh!”

“Hi Lorraine,” Javi is back, he’s casual in his movements as he deposits the veggies of his labour into the cart, but deliberate in wrapping a protective arm around your waist, unsure of what was said before his return, “I see you’ve met my wife?”

You introduce yourself and extend your hand towards the other woman for a friendly shake; the lack of any further polite introductions is an indication that no explanations on how everyone knows one another is needed.

“So,” Lorraine smiles brightly, “How far along are you?  Has it been a good pregnancy so far?”

“Yep!” you chirp, your warm expression relaxing your husband’s shoulders, he takes a calming breath and places a proud hand on your round belly, “Just a little over five months!”

“Well, congratulations!  I’m very happy for you both,” the blonde woman is as gracious in her felicitations as you are in accepting them.  Before she turns to go, her curiosity gets the better of her, “Do you mind if I ask, boy or girl?”

“Boy,” you answer, clearly elated.

“Another Peña ready to storm the beaches,” chuckles Javi and the two of you instinctively tilt your heads towards one another, sharing in the private joke.  Lorraine takes your impromptu tête-à-tête as her cue to leave, bidding you and your husband good luck and farewell, leaving you to inspect the produce Javi has selected for tonight's dinner.

“Did I do good?” grins Javi, all thoughts of his ex-fiancé gone as quickly as she had suddenly appeared – his attention fully on the only woman who ever occupies his thoughts.

You pretend to pick through his selections, reserving your praise, “Hmmmmm… Baby Boy Peña doesn’t want any of this sadly.”

“What?” the normally steely head of New York’s DEA field office panics, dismayed at the idea that he’s disappointed his still in utero child, “What does he want?”

“Sushi.”

“The baby wants sushi?”

“Mmmmhhmmm,” you sigh with a dreamy far-off look, “Mercury enriched sashimi.  And an Italian deli meat sandwich from that bodega around the corner back home.  With extra sauce.  And brie!  The baby wants brie, Javi.”

The man chuckles, “Me too, baby.”  You get misty-eyed (damn these hormones!) remembering that in solidarity, Javi has also given up all the foods you can’t eat for the duration of your pregnancy.  Though you had insisted there was no need, it does make you feel incredibly supported and lucky to have such devoted partner; cupping your husband’s handsome face in your hands, you whisper, “Thank you, my love.”

He kisses your eyelids lightly, then with one arm still around your waist, starts pushing the cart towards the checkout, “Thank you, pretty bird.  You’re so strong and beautiful, I owe you everything for carrying our child.  I love you.”

“I love you too, Javi.”

“Please try to remember that when I have to cook your steak medium well tonight,” sheepish, he kisses the corner of your mouth and tries not to chuckle at your frozen look of abject horror, pretending to focus entirely on loading the groceries from the cart onto the checkout conveyor belt.

“You have to eat yours medium well too.”

“What?!!”

You blinked silently, but accepted with an absence of hesitation, the feeling of Steve's fingers flexing slightly from the contact before his hold embraced yours completely. The beginning notes of 'Heaven - Bryan Adams' began to play softly as he guided you toward an unoccupied space.

His large hand splayed over your hip, introducing a comfortable warmth to seep through your dress. It was a grounding touch, as much of an anchor as the way his fingers slid between yours before holding you with confidence. He wasn't in any way a professional, but Steve swayed you both gently in a small circle, his eyes absent-mindedly dropping to his feet to make sure he wouldn't step on you.

For the first time in a long time, you both felt content.

Steve's lips hovered by the shell of your ear, hilarity riding the tone of his voice, the rumbling from his chest close to pressing against your own, "I'm not much of a dancer, just thought I'd warn ya."

"Thought you were good at everything, Harrington?"

Steve laughed and chuckled, and the hand intertwined with yours offered you a slight squeeze. He had to hold himself back from pulling you completely flush against his front. "Yeah, well, fighting off interdimensional monsters really brings things into perspective."

Your bodies moved slowly, a union that harmonised easily with little thought. It allowed you to release a shaky breath, expelling fear as you instead chose to accept the safety of your new friendship with Steve. The hand that you had placed on his shoulder snuck around his neck, closely followed by the other one, until you were hugging him to you. Your cheek pressed carefully to his chest to revel in the steadiness of his heartbeat. The boy dropped his head, nose against your temple, hugging you back.

Your steps had slowed now as you settled into the feeling of Steve's embrace. He didn't want to scare you - to squeeze so hard that you'd crack, or to speak too loudly that the moment you found yourselves within shattered. He had developed a desperation to keep you protected, and right now, it was by holding you against his chest to shield the outside from invading your thoughts.

And it was as if you could sense it, "Thank you, Steve."

He didn't ask what for, but he had an idea. Your lives had now intersected in a cruel twist of fate, and the unknown hung dangerously over your heads every day. Finding people to band together with was crucial - and he had happened to now be your person, and you were his.

Steve's nose buried against your temple, breathing you in as he tried to slow his heart's pace.

"Anytime."

ⅱ. ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ; ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• tainted love - soft cell

The strength of the bass made you flutter as it thumped, musical patterns reverberating up from the floor and settling in your chest. You weren't sure whose house Steve had dragged you to on this summery Friday night, but the place was crowded, and the beer was warm. The perfect concoction for letting loose.

He made sure not to stray too far - focus drawn to you and Robin as if second nature by now, whilst he mildly engaged in conversation with someone from your school days. Steve's head nodded in the right places, and his smile showed interest enough, but he still couldn't look away from you. Both of you. Unable to drop his protector status for even a mere moment.

Robin exuded confidence as she settled comfortably into your surroundings, using her energetic nature to ensure a full plastic solo cup always accompanied your palm. You both lost track of the drinks you had had, but Steve was counting them; not to be controlling, no, but because he has unconventionally learnt to be overly observant, to keep an eye out for danger, triggers, walking and talking caution signs.

You could've sworn the music got louder, or the bass had gotten deeper, feeling each note and tune so viscerally. Bone-deep, as if it were a part of you, etched deeply. Robin's mind was lost within a world of her own, quite like yourself, as her body swayed to a beat far from the song blaring across the living room, but her smile was still wide. Though maybe that was because of Vickie Dunne and her inability to look away from your joyous friend, and the longing looks Robin had been throwing back to her all night.

"You should go talk to her," you attempted to say, needing to repeat yourself as Robin peered at you with curiosity. When you spoke louder against the shell of her ear, you could feel the warmth flush her cheeks.

Robin stammered, "I-i mean, yeah, I.. but what about you?"

Although you'd love to think she was purely being caring, you knew your friend well enough to see the deflection, trying to conjure an excuse. Robin was one of the most assured people you know, but at this moment, she had never seemed shyer.

"I'll be fine, promise. better to try now before that liquid courage dries up." You cooed, eyes gesturing over your friend's shoulder. With a comically deep breath and a shake of her head, Robin hyped herself up before you sent her on her way. You watched as she stumbled briefly into a small console table, only to straighten up immediately, all without breaking eye contact with the redhead - and you stood back, thoroughly impressed, but now bored.

And that's when the thought of Steve popped into your head.

He always did, so easily these days. When you had a nonsensical thought, were unsure what to do next, unable to cure the monotony of your day, he would answer your beck and call. Steve was always the solution, and he never let you down.

You could feel his gaze watching over you across the density of the crowd. The room was thick with drunken bodies, much like the air, an almost suffocating atmosphere that you didn't realise until now. You found it difficult to see where Steve was as you stood tiptoed, examining your surroundings. It was as if he knew, however, already making his way to you. Like a magnet. An indescribable force. A taut invisible string.

The scent of his cologne wafted around you before steady hands were placed on your shoulders, a firm chest pressing to your back, a chuckling voice sounding by your ear, "You lookin' f'me?"

Steve could've sworn he stopped breathing as he watched you turn around and smile so wide at him. The excitement of your night mixed with relief to see him as it tugged between your cheeks, igniting a fire behind his ribs. He could stare at you all night if you kept looking at him like, probably even the rest of his life...

"Dance with me." Your declaration broke his thoughts, and Steve blinked back into reality before looking at your dainty hand held out to him. It brought back a memory from a year ago, where you attended somewhere as friends and left as something more intimate and trustworthy. Oh, how far you've both come since then.

"You know I'm not much of a dancer," he replied, his smirk deepening as he watched you prepare a comeback.

A scoff escaped between your lips, arms crossing over your chest. "Please, I've seen Steve 'the hair' Harrington dance at parties before." Your eyes squinted, nose crinkling in the way he loves. He rolled his eyes, pretending to think about it. Still, a crack formed in his teasing as he noticed you biting your lip, "C'mon Steve, I'm buzzed, and I wanna dance with you."

How could he say no when you were looking at him like that? As if he were the only one that mattered in this crowded, stale room. Steve sighed dramatically as his eyes rolled clockwise, fingers easily interlocking with your own as his palm slid against yours. He would be lying if he said that he didn't wish his hand could hold yours forever.

Nothing could wipe the slanted smirk off Steve's lips as he watched you situate yourselves closer to the music, your lips moving as you mouthed the words to the current song, head moving side-to-side rhythmically. You were completely unaware of how cute you looked, and Steve had to draw a deep breath before looking away so that these new thoughts didn't evolve into something else. Something deeper.

The music took control of your body for the umpteenth time that night, hips now swaying, and Steve's hand that you were still holding now lifted above you both as you tried to entice him to join. He rolled his tongue at the gesture before his head began to bob with an accompanying smile that he couldn't bite back. His fingers tightened around yours before tugging you closer, your frame twirling gently under your arms, until you landed in front of him with a palm pressed to his chest.

Steve's smile didn't falter, not in the slightest, but it did soften.

You let him go so that your hands could slide up to his shoulders, finding their home at the back of his neck. Your lip was bitten again, the spot swelling with pink plumpness from the constant harassment of your teeth - and Steve tried not to stare.

"You can put your hands on me. I won't bite." You said, noticing how they had fallen to his sides. It made you giggle, gentle and sweet, when he realised he was stuck in an entrancement. But you moved before he could, your fingers taking hold of his wrists and bringing them to your waist. They flexed against you, tightening, savouring the feeling of your body under his touch.

Your hips were near flush to his now as they kept their momentum. Being so close to Steve brought a different thickness to the air - one that allowed you to breathe more, but you were merely breathing in him. It was like a bubble made just for the two of you, everybody else fading.

The tempo changed as 'Tainted Love - Soft Cell' sang through the speakers nearby, so you turned around, Steve's grip still tight as you twisted until your back was against his chest. You could feel it thumping, fast, hard. His breath quickening. You're not sure if the drinks you had were finally settling, but your mind felt lighter, and you settled among the carefree.

Your body rocked in cadence, and although you couldn't see Steve, you could tell that his hips were following yours like a lost puppy - desperate and dependent on you. The people around you shifted, and he instinctively pulled you closer after his grip dragged to your hips, guiding your movements, controlling how you grazed him. The pace. The pressure.

You could feel a carnal fervour lulling down your neck as Steve breathed. It forced a jagged inhale to gather in your lungs, hitching abruptly, and you didn't expect the beautiful boy behind you to make you feel so stirred. A sudden heat made your skin pebble, and you retreated forward like his presence had burnt you, his hands dropping from your frame. It was as if your bubble had been popped, and you both remembered where you were and who you were with. What you were doing. How it made you feel.

Steve cleared his throat. You looked to your feet.

ⅲ. ʜᴀʀʀɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ ᴋɪᴛᴄʜᴇɴ; ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• centerfold - the j. geils band

Steve couldn't sleep. More accurately, Steve didn't sleep. He was cursed with unforgettable scenes that haunted his mind whenever he closed his eyes. Which is why he preferred to sit within spaces bathed in light when he was alone; scared that the shadows would prey on him when he couldn't see, that they would sink in their claws and refuse to let go.

Three raps against the chipped-red wood of his front door made Steve jump, his mind broken from an exhausted trance. As one normally would, Steve didn't actually become concerned at a late visitor. In fact, he was used to it. He was used to you - and how you too suffered the inability to settle into a sweet slumber, how you would flinch at loud sounds and the creeping inch of darkness.

You didn't need to ask why he opened the door so quickly at one a.m, his living room bright with every globe aglow, your gaze drifting from the space behind him to the tired lines framing his eyes, "You too, huh?"

"Just the norm." He murmured back, a sympathetic smile shaping his lips and softening his eyes. Steve moved to the side so that you could walk inside, your shoes instantly kicked off by the door. He fell easily in step with you as he guided you both toward the kitchen, the room also lit up with nearly enough wattage to require UV-protected sunglasses. It made you squint, but you knew Steve needed it - the reassurance, the lack of shadows.

Steve's hands found solace around a half-drunken mug of tea, the aroma sweet and warm as it filled the space. It was complementary to the gentle hum of the radio on the island bench, and you could see where your friend had been propped up for most of the night as he leaned next to the askew bar stool with an upside down book nearby and a pair of discarded glasses. You didn't know that Steve had taken up reading, but you were sure it was out of boredom or avoidance that had prompted him to raid his father's forgotten stash.

"You want a mug? Kettle's still warm."

His voice drew your attention toward him, thoughts too loud and imposing to consider what he had said, and the furrowed brows you displayed were an indication enough to Steve. He easily recognised that expression of disorientation: astray from reality, stuck in a purgatory between fact and fiction. And it made his chest tighten.

The tender melody emanating from the speakers to his right filled the silence between you. It sounded comfortable - a tune that dared Steve to put down his mug and hold his hand out toward you. His eyes were tired, but they still managed to sparkle, "Dance with me."

It wasn't a question, yet it was neither a demand. It was more of a silent understanding between you both that always ended the same way - your hand slipping against his, and a large, warm hand splayed against your waist.

Steve guided you so that you were situated in front of him, your matching sock-clad feet opposite each other on the brown tiled floor. He desired your full attention, for you to tell him what was bothering you, because he could see that something was. He could tell easily, like a book he's re-read a hundred times. A movie he knows all the words to. A song that had embedded its melody so deeply in his mind.

After all, you were his person. And he was yours. It only made sense.

"Thought you weren't much of a dancer." You hummed, looking down at your socked feet.

His response was quiet as he spoke, scared to break the moment, "For you I am."

Steve slowly swayed as his fingers flexed around yours, the hand on your hip allowing his thumb to rub reassuring circles through your thin sweater. His eyes bored toward your crumbling facial expressions. "Tell me what's wrong." His voice was delicate, yet stern. Careful.

"I'm just tired, Steve - "

"C'mon. You don't need to bullshit with me. You never do."

You had told him that you had trouble sleeping, but you never properly explained why; the visions that controlled your nightmares were now seeping into the daylight and playing when you were awake, and you had been experiencing sporadic and painful headaches.

He would lose his mind if he knew, but he would lose it even more if he didn't.

You drew a deep breath, "The migraines are back, and they're always hurting."

Steve's steps faltered. He became uneasy too quickly. Knowing you were in pain and what it could mean was enough to turn his blood cold. He swallowed back the lump forming in his throat before absentmindedly pulling you closer, your arms instinctivly tangling around the back of his neck as his cheek pressed to your temple.

"You could've said something." He murmured, feeling you hum in agreement against his clavicle.

The song changed on the radio and the kitchen was soon filled with a soft ballad, a toned-down crescendo that bespoke mosaics bounced between four walls. It carried a melody you knew well, and Steve could feel your shoulders ease as you let it engulf you.

It was fitting for this moment - tender and delicate, like the way Steve was holding you, your bodies still swaying despite the minimal space that separated you both.

"This would be my song." Your words were spoken in a barely audible whisper, the confession licking at Steve's collarbone.

His brow quirked when confusion took over, "What do you mean?" Yet he had an idea, and he instantly wished he hadn't asked.

"If Vecna came for me."

"You know damn well I wouldn't let that happen-"

"But it could, Steve. And if it did, it would be this song." Your nose dragged gently by the base of his throat as you repositioned your head, shifting slightly, "I would think of now. This mere moment of peace. And it would bring me back."

Your admission hung like a safeguard, readiness for the unseeable. It made him think of Max, floating high above him, her mind lost. And how he would rather die than ever see you enter a similar fate.

Your fingers fidgeted with the hairs at the nape of his neck, nervous movements from such a serious revelation. The tension was thick but Steve knew that you trusted him with everything you embodied.

"Centerfold."

You pulled back at his word, only enough to see his face as he peered down at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

"By The J. Geils Band. That'd be mine." Steve confessed, his smile widening as you began to giggle, chest warming at the sight of you happy.

"Homeroom angel, that'd be your pick? Seriously?"

The boy scoffed before pulling your laughing form closer to him again, smooshing your face into his shirt as your jovality grew louder. There was no point in holding back the pleased grin he wore so well around you; pressing the smile against the crown of your head, the swaying movements you were making now became exaggerated, back and forth as he tossed you playfully.

"Not that we're gonna need 'em, okay? I got you, and I always will." Steve started, slowing once more, embracing you tightly, "And when this is all over, there will be time for us. Just you and me, if... ya know, you'd want something like that."

You didn't waste a second, "I would."

ⅳ. ʜᴏᴘᴘᴇʀ-ʙʏᴇʀꜱ ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ; ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• time after time - cyndi lauper

It was odd; standing in a room bathed in pastels and florals, no resemblance to the darkness of any kind, surrounded by the people that you had spent years running toward the light with. Being on high alert for so long still left your bodies trembling at unexpected moments, compelled to always look over your shoulders, to view the world a little differently.

And yet, the party that you eventually built your life around had finally found relative happiness.

They say that some families only come together during weddings or funerals, and thankfully, today was the former. The turnout was small yet familiar and intimate, a perfect setting for the matrimony of Joyce and Hopper. It felt like years in the making; finally expelling into a contented deep breath, an introduction to the rest of everyone's lives, the capability to move forward.

You stood back, listening to the melody of laughter around the room, noting the matching smiles that complemented the serenity. Even after all this time, your gaze still trailed over the kids like a protective caretaker, but you couldn't help the softened grin that pinched up your lips when you saw their eased shoulders and joviality. Finally.

"You're staring." Humour voiced by your ear, the familiar scent of oakmoss and leather notes filling your vicinity. Steve was instant warmth as he settled beside you, his arm now wrapped comfortably around your back as you leaned into his side.

"How can I not? Look at them, our babies are all grown up." You cooed like a reminiscing parent, prompting Steve to chuckle heartily in return. He was the other half of your babysitting madness, earning just as much of a right to gush about those kids as if they were his own. And he often did.

He gently nudged your hand with a cool glass of champagne as he took a sip of his own, eyes dragging back over to you after monitoring the younger party members. Cheeks grew pink when he noticed your bottom lip pinched between your teeth.

"Trying to get me drunk on the first date, Harrington?"

Steve scoffed, completely enamoured, "Maybe I just wanted to make sure my girl was well looked after."

My girl.

The words struck something within you. A chord played just right. It was the first time you heard the sentiment fall from his lips, and you were sure that the warmth travelling up your neck was giving away how taken you were.

The glasses were soon abandoned as guests started to gather around cleared floor space, gentle notes of Cyndi Lauper drifting around Hopper and Joyce as they took their first steps together as a married couple. It was awkward to watch, yet endearing, as Jim Hopper tried to do a bridal waltz before giving up and simply swaying Joyce with all the happiness in the world.

It was then that you felt Steve's hand nudge yours. A touch, a feeling that you could never forget. Calloused and scarred skin mingling with your own. His hold safe, and loving. The floor was declared open, and he wasted no time before standing in front of you, eyebrow cocked, famous smirk shaping his lips.

"Dance with me."

Nothing could ever feel more right in this world than being in Steve Harrington's arms. They fell effortlessly to your lower back before he pulled you close to his chest, your own tangling behind his neck where fingers could lightly play with long brown tufts. Steve's cheek pressed to your temple as you both swayed, the chorus of 'Time After Time' being hummed gently into your hair.

You couldn't help the smile that contorted your facial features - wide lips, a scrunched nose, crinkled eyes. The embodiment of contentedness. A place you never want to leave.

"You know..." Your voice started after a change in song, your nails scratching lightly at Steve's scalp to coax him out of his comfortable trance, "It's pretty ballsy taking a girl to a wedding for a first date."

Steve snorted. As if you weren't already invited. But there was a difference in his tone a few days ago when he brought it to your attention; and asking if you'd go with him, was entirely different to asking if you'd go with him.

"Yeah, well. I've been into taking risks as of late." He sounded in reply, thumbs absently rubbing your hips through your dress. It was then that he pulled back, hazel eyes lidded in what one could only describe as love. His large hands warmed your skin as they slid up your arms, hands capturing your own, and pulling them gently between you both.

Your swaying continued, feet moving around in small steps, before Steve pressed a kiss to each of your knuckles.

"And how is that working out for you?" You asked, eyes remaining on his. Your voice was gentle among the budding crowd, but in the moment, it was just the two of you. No distractions. No intercepts. Just you and Steve.

He had always been a smooth talker, so it took you by surprise when that charm exuded into his movements as Steve suddenly spun you away from him, never once breaking eye contact. A stunned exhale pushed through you after you were pulled back in, your back now pressed to his chest and arms tangled over yours.

He could sense your shock, so he laughed against the shell of your ear before lips trailed down to a spot that he knew would make you sigh, "You wanna know how it's working out?" He whispered into your skin.

You nodded, breathlessly.

Steve placed a kiss. "Unbelievably perfect."

ⅴ. ʟᴏʟʟᴀᴘᴀʟᴏᴏᴢᴀ '92; ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• porch - pearl jam

You thought that Hawkins mid-Summer could be the hottest place on Earth, but nothing prepared you for Cincinnati. Maybe it was the intensity of the sun that cast its warmth ferociously over the festival, or perhaps it was the electrifying energy that surrounded you as you stood within a buzzing swarm of music-lovers.

Either way, it was far from a deterrent for Steve Harrington as he still found every opportunity to place his hands somewhere on your body. Or if his hands had already found refuge, his lips were quick to seek out the next best sliver of skin.

Spirits were high, as were many of the thriving patrons around you. The smile that tugged eagerly between your cheeks was reciprocated easily by your friends as your group stayed close to one another throughout each set. Vickie, at some point, climbed onto Robin's shoulders as their voices boomed with loud joviality to each song, whilst Jonathan captured every moment through his trusty lens, and Nancy moved so freely as she finally let loose.

And then, there was you and Steve. Your voice also carried alongside the crowd, but it began to falter the more you felt Steve's fingers absently fiddle with the shiny band and stone that now graced your left hand. It was an obsession he had - the inability to stop feeling for it, to remind himself of reality, to ground his thoughts and reassure his dreams that he proposed to you and you had said yes.

It had been three months since his knee found the plushy carpet of Enzos. Three months since the speech he had planned for weeks had dispersed because he couldn't stop smiling and crying. Three months since you dropped from your seat, dress crushed as you knelt in front of him, and fell happily into his arms. After all this time, he was still addicted to the thought of you as the future Mrs Harrington.

Hollers and cheers erupted as the large stage ahead sounded a new song; Pearl Jam setting the scene for another track from their new album, before Robin's excitement boomed in your ear when the opening notes of 'Porch' began to play.

The atmosphere was contagious like a fever that couldn't be held down. As one entity, the crowd was moving and singing - a unified moment between thousands of people. It was hard to feel out of place when you were in the middle of such cohesion.

The second you turned to your side, Steve was already looking down at you, the sun reflecting golden flecks from his hazel eyes in a mesmerising moment. It made him appear younger, as if the trouble you had all faced didn't exist within this brief instance of time.

"Dance with me." You said, your smile still worn well and wide.

He snickered, leaning in to peck your sun-kissed cheek before his nose grazed along the warmth. The man hummed in acceptance and smoothly wrapped his arms around your torso, tugging your body back until you felt the hard plane of his chest behind you. You were back in your favourite place, Steve Harrington's embrace, as your hands rubbed over his forearms before your head fell to his shoulder.

Steve guided your bodies from side-to-side. It was a momentum that you knew all too well, ignoring the heat and beading sweat that clung between you both so that you could immerse yourself in all things Steve. His cologne had yet to falter, adhering to his baggy tee and wafting further toward you the more his arms tightened.

You eventually grasped his wrists, wrapping around them with care before pulling them to your sides. It was always so invigorating whenever Steve's large hands splayed against your waist - their size making you feel safe and heated in a conflicted concoction. You craved for him to both protect and tear you apart at the same time. They slipped generously to your hips before his fingers tensed, blunt nails digging into you with calculated strength.

His lips fell next. They found their home below your ear, claiming the expanse of skin down to the base of your throat. Every drag of his tongue professed ownership, only justified by the control he now had as he moved you with his hands - your pace, your position, your pressure.

The festival had become background noise; all that you could focus on was your future husband and the significant devotion of love he had for you.

ⅵ. ʜᴀʀʀɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ; ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• more than words - extreme

It had taken ten years in the making for this moment to happen. Bright flashes of light still trigger something within you, and pure darkness is more than enough to haunt - but standing, hand-in-hand, with what you could call your universe and more in a single person had easily rewritten the cruelty of the past. The suffering still existed; however, Steve Harrington's love made the fight and survival absolutely worthwhile.

You wore matching smiles with twin pinched lips, intertwined with devotion and warmth. They paired harmoniously with the two sets of eyes that were still slightly red-rimmed from the jovial tears that ran rapidly. And then, there were the words that were declared not too long ago that continued to sing sweetly in your mind - Husband and Wife. Steve and You. A pairing that outlived monsters and anguish, that sought each other through the dark with fumbling hands, that created their own light instead of waiting for it to come.

Steve's right hand was stubborn, refusing to let go of you. From the moment you two ventured back down the aisle, and through the audience of loving words delivered in toasts from your loved ones, he held you tight as a reminder that this was real. That you were now a constant in his life - like oxygen, and he was desperate to breathe you in and fill his lungs with this stunning promise of forever.

"I love you." His whispered words felt like a tattoo the more he whispered them against your throat, your pulse jumping and the proud turn of his lips grazed skin so stunningly before they pressed yet another kiss below your ear.

Your hand snaked up the side of his head as fingers carted through his hair, slight pressure forming as you made sure to keep his face in that position against you. Steve chuckled, the gentle huffs of breath tickling your skin. You could feel his glasses nudge the underside of your jaw before you turned slightly to smile at him. "I love you, too."

It was perfect. Even more so, when delicate sounds of music began to emit around the reception space.

'More than Words - Extreme' was a song that Steve picked. It was his only must-have requirement for the Wedding you two found yourselves the centre of. He proclaimed it a story that followed you closely, as if your journey together across all these terrifying and beautiful years had been summarised. As if the song itself were a neon arrow, pointing toward this moment of you both wearing matching rings.

He stood from his seat as if the notes were a trigger, hazel eyes widened with hope when he looked to you. You could read him like a book - the way his smirk cocked, how his gaze softened. He'd already encaptured your hand, but the invitation was still laid out. Steve didn't need to ask you aloud, not this time.

"I would love to dance with you. Always." You spoke gently, attempting to hold down the shake that followed your words and the happy tears that threatened to spill.

Steve guided you both to the dedicated space, family and friends watching on with endearment. He positioned his left hand on your hip, thumb already rubbing delicately into your side. His right still holding onto you, never planning on letting go. Your chests were close, and you cupped his cheek before Steve's lips pressed into your palm.

He took the lead.

It was more than a sway this time, more than intimate touches as two bodies moved clockwise. More than wandering hands that burnt with every drag of skin over skin. It was more than a distraction or a promise of safety, a budding romance from years of dancing around feelings rather than just dancing together.

The way he moved with you, and you with him, was a sentiment that vowed beyond longevity. Steve Harrington was holding you as if you were the most delicate thing he had ever touched, whilst also being the one thing that he craved more than life itself.

It was, simply, forever.

You could see the glassiness coat his eyes, contentedness settling so easily now within him. Carefully, your hand dragged up from his cheek to take hold of his glasses, removing them and placing them in his front jacket pocket before the lenses could fog up. He chuckled under his breath as a tear began to fall.

"You know, I'm still not much of a dancer."

You chuckled back, tears of your own falling once again, yet the smile between your cheeks had grown.

"Thought you were good at everything, Harrington?"

Fingers flexed against your hip before they trailed up your side, taking their time to map each curve. They eventually found solace on your back before splaying comfortably, and then he tipped you backwards.

The joyful laugh that pushed through you was Steve's version of angels singing. And he would do whatever, whenever, for the rest of your lives to always hear that noise. He didn't want to interrupt it, but the desperation to kiss you came first, his lips capturing yours as he swallowed your laughter, smiles pressing to one another.

When he pulled you upright, you laughed again, softer but passionate as your crinkled eyes and scrunched nose looked to him. Steve would never understand how you were both his oxygen and the reason for his breathlessness.

"I'm good at a lot of things..." He began, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. The two of you couldn't hear the cheers from the wedding guests; how they gushed and cooed, the way their applause echoed loudly throughout the room. Instead, you were focused on each other. More specifically, the way Steve's lips grazed yours, and the shudder that shook him,

If anything, he moved with the same steady pace he had before when catching you in the woods - unbothered, unaffected - as if the weight of you and the noise you made were nothing more than background to his thoughts.

Shapes shifted around you as he passed through the settlement - figures pausing in their work, glancing up at the commotion. You caught glimpses of them in fragments.

But no one stepped in.

No one said a word.

They watched.

And then they looked away.

“Joel - Joel, listen -” Your voice cracked hard enough to hurt, the words tumbling over each other in your rush to get them out. You twisted against him as you tried to catch his attention, tried to make him hear you. “I won’t - I won’t do it again, I swear, I’ll behave, I’ll -”

Your breath hitched, then broke.

“Just tell me what you want me to do,” you forced out, desperation bleeding into every syllable. “I’ll do it. Anything. I’ll stay, I’ll work, I won’t try to run again - just -”

His hand tightened where it held you in place.

The rest of your plea dissolved into a choking inhale as he mounted the small set of steps to his cabin, his boot coming up hard against the door. The wood gave with a dull crack, swinging inward before slamming shut again behind you just as fast.

Inside, it suddenly felt too still.

“Told you already,” he said, voice low and even as he crossed the room. “Got a task for you.”

Your stomach dropped.

You knew this place - at least, the parts of it he’d allowed you to see. The front room was bare, almost stripped down to the bones. A worn couch that had seen better years, a rough wooden desk littered with maps and scraps, a stool with peeling paint that flaked under the slightest touch.

You’d been here twice.

Once when they’d brought you in, dirt-streaked and shaking, shoved forward for him to look over like something newly acquired.

And once after that - when you’d carried food in, careful and quiet, pretending your eyes weren’t cataloguing every detail they could reach.

That had felt like control, then.

It felt like a joke now.

You barely had time to register the shift in direction before he pushed into the back room, the door creaking faintly as it opened and shut behind you. The scent of old wood and something worn into the bed that sat against the far wall.

“I don’t -” Your voice broke completely now, the words collapsing under the weight of everything pressing in on you. “Please -”

“As I said,” he cut in, and then his hands were on you - firm at your hips as he pulled you down from his shoulder.

For a fraction of a second, there was weightlessness, then he dropped you. The mattress dipped beneath you with a creak, old springs protesting as you landed awkwardly, breath knocked out of you in a soft, startled sound.

The moment you hit, instinct took over.

You scrambled back - clumsy, unbalanced with your hands still bound - until your spine met the cold metal of the bedframe. As far away from him as you could get without falling off entirely.

Joel just stood there at the foot of the bed, arms crossing over his broad chest as he watched you. That same expression sitting easy on his face - something dark and faintly amused that made your skin crawl.

“Joel,” you tried again, your pulse hammering so hard it blurred the edges of your vision. “You don’t mean - you can’t -”

“Oh, I can,” he said, almost casually. A small nod, like he was agreeing with something simple and obvious. “Can do just about whatever I want.” A slight shrug lifted one shoulder. “Perks of the job.”

Another sob forced its way out of you, your balance slipping as you tried to wipe at your face - only to remember too late that your hands were still tied. You caught yourself awkwardly, breath stuttering.

“Look at you,” he murmured, something almost like a chuckle threading through it as he shifted his weight, leaning back against the door. One boot crossed over the other. “Already fallin’ apart.” His gaze dragged over you. “Haven’t even touched you yet.”

The air in the room tightened.

You felt it in your throat, your chest, the way your lungs refused to take in a full breath no matter how hard you tried.

For a second, you almost did it - almost broke completely, let yourself collapse into it, into the fear and the pleading and the uselessness of it all.

And then - 

You stopped.

Because something in his face told you it wouldn’t matter.

Worse - it might even be to his liking.

So you swallowed it down and forced your breathing to slow, even as it shook. Forced your shoulders back just a fraction, your spine straightening against the frame behind you.

“Joel…” Your voice trembled anyway. You couldn’t stop that. “I’m - I’m sorry.” The words tasted like ash. “I won’t try again.” A beat. “I’ll do what you say.”

Silence stretched for half a second too long.

“I bet you are.” The grin that followed wasn’t kind. “Thing is, you’re only sorry ‘cause I caught you,” he added, pushing off the door at last.

You moved without thinking - one leg sliding down off the bed, your weight shifting like maybe you could - 

“Ah -”

That was all it took. Just that low, warning sound.

You froze.

“Let’s not start that again,” he said, almost gently, as he stepped closer. “Wouldn’t be smart.”

You scrambled back instantly, your movement jerky and uncoordinated as you retreated fully onto the mattress again, making yourself smaller without meaning to.

His hand closed around your wrists before you could react.

The force of it dragged you backward with a sharp jolt, your breath caught as your body followed whether you wanted it to or not. Your shoulder hit his thigh, your head knocking lightly against him as he pulled your arms up higher behind your back.

Pain flared - sharp, stretching too far, too fast - and a broken sound tore from your throat.

And then - 

It stopped.

The restraint was gone.

For a second, your brain didn’t catch up. Didn’t understand why the tension was gone - why your wrists weren’t held tight together anymore. You yanked your hands forward on instinct anyway, staring down at them as you flexed your fingers, rubbing at the reddened skin where the binding had been.

Your gaze snapped up and confusion flickered in your eyes - because he was still right there, still too close.

And then you saw the knife, resting easy in his hand like it belonged there.

Your breath hitched as he reached out, cold metal kissing skin, the blade catching lightly against your jaw and tilting your face up with a touch that was almost - almost - careful.

You went still.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he said quietly. “This is only temporary.”

Swallowing felt like dragging glass down your throat, but you tried anyway, your body betraying you in the way it tensed, the way your pulse jumped beneath the edge of the blade.

“Turn around,” he then added. The knife traced a faint line beneath your chin before pulling away, the pressure gone but the threat lingering heavy in the air.

Do as I tell you or suffer the consequences.

You didn’t argue nor did you hesitate.

You shifted clumsily, moving onto your knees, turning until you faced him properly. Your hands came to rest in your lap - open, empty, visible as a silent surrender.

You hated how it felt. Hated the way it put you beneath him.

Joel stood over you, the knife flipping idly between his fingers now, his gaze slow as it moved over you. Taking you in with an amusement that made you sick to your stomach.

That same dark, quiet satisfaction settling into the lines of his face.

“See?” he murmured, satisfaction threading through the word as he took a step back. “You can listen. Just needed the right… motivation.”

The space he created should have felt like relief. Instead, it left you unsteady. Your lungs dragged in air too fast, too shallow, as if he’d taken all the oxygen with him when he moved.

For a fraction of a second, you thought - hoped - that maybe this was it. That he would stop here. That whatever line had been approaching would remain uncrossed.

Then - 

“Undress.”

The word didn’t land.

Not at first anyway.

It hung in the air between you, too flat, too casual, like you had misheard it - like your mind had twisted something else into something far worse.

You just stared at him and your vision blurred at the edges, tears gathering without your permission, your chest tightening around a breath that wouldn’t come.

“Joel…” It barely made it out, more whisper than anything else.

“Don’t ‘Joel’ me, sweetheart.” His voice stayed even, grounded in that authority he carried with him. “You heard me just fine.” A small tilt of his head toward the edge of the bed. “Up. Off. And get out of those clothes.”

Your body didn’t move.

It wasn’t defiance - not really. There was no strength behind it or resistance you could follow through on. It was more like a full-body refusal that locked every muscle in place and turned your limbs heavy and unresponsive.

You could only look at him and could only hope - irrationally, desperately - that he would see it. That he would read the fear sitting plain in your eyes and understand what he was asking of you.

That something in him would stop this.

It didn’t.

A tired breath left Joel instead, the faintest flicker of impatience crossing his face.

“Listen, darlin’,” he said, quieter now, but no less firm. “I don’t like repeatin’ myself.”

The knife flipped once in his hand with ease - until the blade pointed your way.

“So you got about a second,” he continued, almost conversational, “to get down here and start movin’… before I decide to help you along.”

Your pulse slammed hard against your ribs.

Still - nothing.

Your body refused you.

His shift was quick enough to steal the breath from your lungs before you could react. His hand closed around your arm, fingers digging in firm and unyielding as he yanked you forward off the bed.

Your feet hit the ground awkwardly, balance faltering as you stumbled, barely catching yourself before your knees gave out.

“No - please, I -”

Too late.

In one smooth motion, he turned you, your back colliding with his chest as he pulled you flush against him. The sudden contact knocked the air from your lungs again, your body going rigid as his arm slid across your upper chest, locking you in place.

Your hands came up instinctively, clawing at his forearm, your nails bit into his skin and the fabric of his flannel where it was rolled at the sleeves. But it didn’t even seem to reach him.

The panic that followed came instantly and broke through whatever control you’d tried to hold onto. Your breaths turned ragged, uneven, sobs spilling out without words as hysteria crept in at the edges.

And then - 

Cold metal pressed lightly against your throat again, making you freeze all over.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice right against your ear. “That’s better.”

His cheek brushed your temple as he leaned in, his presence wrapping around you from behind.

“Easy,” he went on like he was talking you down from a atupidity. “Ain’t done nothin’ yet.” The contrast made it worse. That calm. That control. It make you shudder and break another whimper.

“Shhh…” The knife shifted, gliding from your throat down along the line of your collarbone. “Just gonna help you outta this,” he added absently, as the blade traced over the front of your tanktop, following the damp, dirt-streaked fabric. “Don’t want you catchin’ a cold now, do we?”

His beard brushed faintly against your skin. The scent of him pressed in inescapably.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you tried to block everything out. The proximity. The strength behind you. The way his chest rose and fell steady against your back, like none of this was anything out of the ordinary.

“Now,” he said, the edge in his voice returning just enough to cut through the haze, “be a good fuckin’ girl...” The knife lingered, hovering just enough to remind you it was there. “... and take it off, before I slip.”

Your grip on him faltered just a fraction. Your fingers, which had been digging into his arm hard enough to leave marks, loosened as something in you shifted - not giving in, not accepting, but… adjusting. Surviving.

At the same time, his hold eased just enough to allow movement.

Your hands trembled as you lowered them, your breath still coming in uneven pulls as you forced yourself to focus.

Slowly, carefully, you reached for the hem of your top.

Your fingers fumbled at first, uncoordinated, numb from the rush of everything flooding through you. It took effort - more than it should have - to get a proper hold.

The fabric dragged upward, catching briefly before sliding over your ribs, your chest, your shoulders - until it came free, leaving your skin exposed to the cold air of the room.

Your arms dropped again, the shirt clutched loosely in your hands.

And for a moment - 

Everything went very, very still.

“There we go.” His voice came low behind you, threaded with sick satisfaction. “Not so hard, was it?”

Your arms came up instinctively, folding across your chest and bra, a poor attempt at shielding yourself.

Joel didn’t seem to care. You felt the shift of him behind you, close enough that the heat of his body still lingered, and then the faint brush of his hand as he took the discarded top from your grip. It slipped from his fingers a moment later, landing somewhere on the floor with a soft, final sound.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Because you already knew what would follow.

“Those jeans next, darlin’,” he said, tone easy, like he was giving instructions for something mundane. “Don’t need more mud in my bed.”

Something in you wanted to hesitate again. To stall. To cling to what little control you had left. But that had already been taken from you the moment he decided it would be.

So this time, you didn’t fight it.

Your shoes came off first, kicked away clumsily, landing somewhere in front of you. Then your fingers found the button of your jeans - fumbling at first, shaking too much to get a proper grip.

The zipper followed, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet room, and you pushed the damp fabric down your legs, shifting awkwardly to step out of it. The cold hit harder without it, your thighs pressing together as if that could make any difference.

“I’ll be damned.” The low huff behind you made your stomach twist, followed by a soft whistle that carried just enough weight to make your skin crawl. “Didn’t figure you’d get cooperative this quick.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your gaze fixed somewhere ahead - anywhere but on him.

“Want me to fight back again?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharp-edged and brittle, your voice carrying more bite than you had any right to show.

You regretted it instantly.

A short laugh left him and he stepped closer again.

“Now that,” he murmured, “sounds like a fun way to spend the evenin’.”

You flinched before you could stop yourself as the tip of the knife found your back and dragged slowly along the line of your spine. 

“Wouldn’t mind puttin’ you back in your place just now,” he went on, voice dipping lower. “Wipe that attitude clean until there’s nothin’ left but sense.”

The blade shifted, catching lightly at the back of your bra, and your breath hitched, a sob threatening to break free before you forced it down.

You felt him lean in, the rough brush of his beard against the back of your head, his breath warm where it ghosted over your hair as he inhaled.

Your eyes squeezed shut tighter.

“But,” he added after a moment, and the word alone carried enough weight to still you, “that ain’t what this is.” The knife lifted and the pressure vanished. “This here’s about patience.” His voice softened for a torturous fraction. “Need you to understand somethin’. Not fear, it’s about realizin’ what your new life will be.”

Before you could make sense of it, he stepped away.

The loss of him - of the heat, the presence - felt just as abrupt as when he’d first created distance, leaving you standing there, exposed and unsteady.

And then his hands were on you again.

He pushed you forward without warning, and you stumbled, catching yourself only barely as your knees hit the mattress, your hands coming down hard against the worn fabric of the bed.

“Just -” The words tore out of you, sharp with something that felt dangerously close to anger now, rising where only panic had been before. “Just get it over with.”

You turned slightly, enough to look at him over your shoulder, your jaw tight, your eyes burning.

Joel didn’t answer right away.

His gaze moved over your body instead - taking in every detail you wished he wouldn’t see. The way your shoulders tensed, the way your body tried to fold in on itself despite your attempt to hold steady.

“Oh,” he clicked his tongue. “So impatient now? Don’t get me wrong, costin’ me a lot not to fuck you right away. But… When that time comes, you will want it just as much as I do, I promise.”

A faint tilt of his head.

“For now -”

His hand moved fast.

It caught your ankle before you could pull away, his grip locking around it with an ease that sent a jolt of panic straight through you.

For a split second, your mind went somewhere worse - anticipating him spreading your legs, forcing himself over you and pining you down with his body.

But that wasn’t what he did.

Instead, he pulled you - just enough to shift you closer to the foot of the bed, toward the iron frame.

And then you saw it.

The metal glint caught your eye too late.

“No -” The word barely formed before the cold bite of a handcuff closed around your ankle with a sharp, final click.

You jerked instinctively, pulling back, trying to wrench yourself free - but the chain held fast, short enough to keep you close, strong enough to make resistance pointless.

“No more runnin’, sweetheart.”

Your hands scrambled at it, fingers fumbling over the cuff, searching for anything that might give.

But it didn’t budge.

Your gaze snapped back up to him, panic surging all over again.

“What are you - what will you -”

“As I said.” He cut you off with a shrug. “Patience.” There was something unsettling in the way he said it. “You’ll see,” he added, giving you one last look over. “Soon you’ll beg for very different things.”

His expression shifted again, that same dark edge curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Gotta admit,” he went on, almost idly, “takes some patience on my end too. But I want you to understand,” he said as he reached the door, his back half-turned to you now. “Where you are. What this is.” His hand rested briefly on the frame. “This is your place now.” The door creaked open. “And you’ll learn how to be fuckin’ grateful for it.” Joel clicked his tongue, lips splitting into a darker grin. “And next time you’re beggin’, you’re beggin’ that I take you, ‘cause it’s the only thing that’ll make you feel safe.” 

Then he stepped out.

The door shut behind him with a dull, solid thud.

And just like that - 

He was gone.

For a second, you didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Then it all rushed back in at once.

You lunged for the chain, pulling hard enough to rattle the frame, the metal biting against your skin as you tried - again and again - to force it loose.

“Joel?”

Your voice cracked, louder now, sharper.

Nothing.

“Joel!” The name tore out of you, echoing off the walls. “JOEL!”

Silence answered.

And no matter how hard you pulled - 

Nothing gave.

Time lost its edges somewhere along the way.

At first, you had tried to keep track of it - counting the hours by the thin sliver of light that crept through the small, covered window, marking the slow crawl from dim gray to daylight, then back again to night. You had clung to it like it mattered, like knowing how long you had been here could somehow anchor you to something real.

But it slipped.

Blurred.

Days bled into nights into something in between, until the difference stopped meaning anything at all. The rhythm of it dissolved, replaced by a dull endlessness that stretched on without shape or structure.

You barely moved anymore.

Your body had learned quickly what it could and couldn’t afford, and movement had become something costly. The chain at your ankle dictated most of it anyway - its short length forcing you into a small radius that had long since become your entire world. The bed beneath you had molded itself around that limitation, the only position that didn’t pull or strain or send a sharp reminder through your leg being the one you’d settled into days ago.

Curled. Small. Still.

You remembered being different.

At the beginning, there had been anger. Sharp and biting, it had cut through the fear like a drive that could keep you standing. You had argued - God, you had argued. Thrown words at the walls, at the silence, at him whenever he had stepped through that door. You had tried to bargain, to reason, to push back in whatever ways you could manage.

And you had listened, too.

Every sound outside that room had mattered. Voices drifting in from the camp, footsteps passing by, the occasional shift in routine that you tried to piece together into useful information.

An opening.

A mistake.

Anything.

Now - 

Now all of it felt far away. Like something that had belonged to someone else in another life.

Your body lay curled on its side, knees drawn in just enough to ease the pull on the cuff around your ankle, your arms tucked close in a weak attempt to preserve warmth that never quite came. The blanket beneath your fingers was rough, worn thin in places, but it was the only constant you had left.

Your tears had stopped days ago.

Not because you didn’t want to cry - God, you did - but because your body had simply… run out. There was nothing left to give. No moisture to spare, no energy to waste on something that didn’t change anything.

Everything felt dulled.

The hunger had faded first, gnawing and sharp until it wasn’t, until it slipped into the background like a distant.

The thirst stayed though.

Relentless and consuming it turned your throat dry, every swallow a small, painful effort that gave you nothing in return. Your lips felt cracked, your tongue heavy in your mouth, your head pounding with a dull, persistent ache that never quite lifted.

When had he last come in?

You couldn’t remember.

The thought drifted through your mind without finding anything solid to hold onto. His visits had become… brief and infrequent. A presence that came and went so quickly it almost felt imagined, if not for the small, undeniable traces he left behind.

A shift in the air. A sound at the door. Proof that you hadn’t been abandoned entirely.

Because that - somehow - felt worse.

The idea of being left here, alone, with nothing but the forest outside and whatever might wander through it… that still sent a flicker of panic through you, even now. Even in this dulled, distant state. Raiders. Strangers. Infected. You had nothing left to fight them with. No strength, no weapon, no chance.

At least here - at least with him - 

There was… something.

A boundary.

A cruel kind of safety.

Sometimes, in the long stretches of night, when the dark pressed in too close and the silence grew too loud, your thoughts drifted somewhere you didn’t want them to go. To places that whispered of an easier end.

But a stubborn force in you refused to let that thought settle. Refused to let go completely.

It kept you here, kept you breathing.

Even when every part of you felt like it was slipping further and further away.

You hovered there now, on the edge of sleep - not true rest, just the empty kind that came when your body had nothing left to give - when the sound reached you.

The click of the door.

You didn’t move or lift your head, didn’t even open your eyes. It took too much.

It was always him anyway.

The slow, measured sound of Joel’s boots crossing the room followed, each step unhurried. You could track him without looking, could feel the shift in the air as he moved closer, closer - 

Until the broad shadow fell over you.

“Not lookin’ too energetic, sweetheart.”

The words settled over you, carrying that same steady calm that had never once faltered. Not at the beginning. Not now.

You tried to swallow.

Your throat protested immediately, the motion dry and painful, leaving you with nothing but the faintest rasp when you attempted to answer. No words came. Only a weak shift of your fingers against the blanket, a reflex more than anything.

The mattress dipped beside you.

Your eyes fluttered open and for a second the world didn’t quite come into focus. Shapes blurred together, light and shadow bleeding into each other until they settled enough for you to see Joel’s broad figure.

And the glass in his hand.

Your entire focus snapped to it, your head lifting just slightly, barely enough to track the way the light caught against the surface.

Joel let out a quiet, humorless huff.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Figured as much.” His gaze flicked back to you, something unreadable sitting behind it. “You thirsty, darlin’?”

You managed the smallest nod and a faint, broken sound escaped your throat with it, barely there.

“Shh.” His voice softened even though it lacked real gentleness.

His hand came up, sliding beneath your head, lifting you with surprising care until you were more upright, your body swaying slightly with the movement.

“C’mon,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”

The glass hovered close enough now that you could almost feel the coolness of it against your skin. Your eyes tracked it, slipping in and out of focus, your entire body leaning toward it without thinking.

“You want some?” he asked, like it wasn’t already obvious.

You nodded again.

Weak.

Desperate.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

The calm in his voice made something twist in your chest.

“P-please…” The word scraped out of you, so thinned out…

His mouth curved faintly.

“That’s my girl.” His hand shifted, cupping your cheek to steady you, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “Open up for me.”

You did.

Instantly.

The moment the glass tipped and the water touched your lips, everything else disappeared. The restraint you’d been clinging to - what little of it remained - shattered under the sheer need of it. You drank greedily, swallowing too fast, too much, the liquid spilling at the corners of your mouth as you tried to take in as much as you could.

A small cough broke through, choking you briefly, forcing you to pull back just enough to catch your breath.

Joel let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing away the water that had run down your cheek.

“Easy,” he said. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He gave you a moment, then brought the glass back.

“That better?” he asked, watching you as you drank again, slower this time, your body still trembling slightly with the effort.

You nodded faintly against his hand.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Thought so.”

When the glass finally emptied, he set it aside, his hand still steady at your jaw as he adjusted you, lifting you just a little more.

Your gaze followed the glass as far as it could.

Then snapped back to him.

“M-more…” The word came easier this time, but only just. “Please.”

It was instinct now. Need overriding everything else.

He watched you for a moment.

Long enough to make your stomach tighten.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, like he was considering it.

His fingers tilted your chin slightly, guiding your face up toward him, while his other hand brushed through your hair, pushing the tangled strands back from your face. You knew how it must look - greasy, unkempt, clinging in uneven pieces - but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Not when the dryness in your throat screamed louder than anything else.

“Tell you what,” he went on, his tone shifting again into something almost casual. “We’ll get you a bit more.”

A pause.

“But first -” His thumb dragged lightly along your jaw. “We clean you up some.”

How you were supposed to manage that, you had no idea.

Holding your own weight upright for more than a few seconds already felt like too much, your head swimming with the effort, your body barely responding the way it should. The thought of moving - of doing anything beyond the small, careful shifts you’d limited yourself to - felt almost impossible.

Luckily, Joel didn’t leave it to you.

His hands steadied you first, lowering you back against the mattress with a care that felt almost out of place after everything else. Then you felt him at your ankle - fingers brushing over the cold metal there - and a second later, the distinct click of it releasing.

For a moment, your mind didn’t catch up.

Didn’t process what that meant.

Because before you could, he was already moving again, one arm sliding beneath your knees, the other bracing your back as he lifted you up with ease.

Your body reacted before your thoughts could catch up, your head lolling against his chest as your arms curled in close, instinctively seeking stability.

You hated the way it felt. Because it was good somehow.

The steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek, the solid warmth of him holding you close - it pulled at something deep and desperate inside you, something that had been starved of contact, of anything resembling care.

You curled in without meaning to.

You didn’t need to see his face to know that he noticed it - the slight shift in his hold, the way his grip settled more comfortably around you, like he was exactly where he wanted to be.

“When was the last time you had a real bath, hm?”

His voice was close to thoughtful as he carried you out of the room, the place that had become your entire world fading behind you with each step he took.

The room he brought you to was small.

A bathroom that had long since lost whatever comfort it once held, but the sight of the tub - actual water filling it, faintly steaming in the low, flickering light of a worn out camping lamp - felt almost surreal.

Joel crouched slightly as he approached it, adjusting his hold on you.

“Gonna get you outta the rest of this, alright?”

The question wasn’t really one.

You both knew that.

Still - your head shifted faintly against his chest.

A weak nod.

“Yes.”

The word came easier now and with a quiet compliance.

He set you down on the edge of the tub, the cold porcelain biting into your skin as your body slumped forward slightly before you forced yourself upright again, your balance wavering but holding - for now.

Joel crouched in front of you but even like this, he felt larger than you by far.

“Gonna have you feelin’ brand new,” he murmured, his hand brushing slowly along your arm.

Your body reacted immediately. A small shift toward him before you could stop it. The need for contact overriding your better judgment for just a second too long.

It vanished though the moment his fingers moved higher, finding the clasp at your back, undoing it with practiced ease before sliding the straps of your bra from you.

Your shoulders pulled inward automatically, a weak attempt at covering yourself that you didn’t have the strength to fully follow through on.

“Now, now,” he muttered amused. “No need for that. Nothin’ I haven’t seen somewhere already.”

His grin wasn’t kind.

“Now help me out here.”

His hand moved lower, fingers grazing your side before hooking lightly at the edge of your panties, tugging just enough to guide you.

And again - 

You followed.

Your body shifting with his touch, hips lifting just slightly as he pulled the fabric down, over your skin, over your thighs, your knees - until it caught briefly at your ankles.

He took his time then.

Lifting one foot free.

Then the other.

His fingers brushing lightly over your skin in a way that lingered just a second longer than necessary.

“You’re doin’ real good,” he praised and it washed over you. “See? Ain’t so hard.”

You nodded again in automation. You weren’t even sure what you were agreeing to anymore - only that going along with it seemed to make things… easier.

“C’mon.” His hands guided you gently, lifting your legs over the edge of the tub and lowering you into the water.

The warmth hit instantly.

A shock at first - then relief.

Your body sank into it and tension unraveled in a way you hadn’t realized it could, every muscle loosening as the heat seeped in, easing the stiffness, the ache, the constant strain you had been carrying for days. The water bit only at the skin where the cuffs had scraped over the past few days.

“There you go,” he murmured, watching you as you settled, his voice carrying that same quiet approval. “That better?”

You nodded again, slower this time.

His hand hovered in the water near you - not touching, but close enough that you were aware of it.

“Yeah,” he said, almost to himself. “Figured. C’mon,” he added after a moment. “Lean back.”

His hand slid beneath your neck, supporting you as he guided you down, your head tilting back into his palm as your hair sank beneath the surface. The water closed around you and muffled everything for a bit.

His other hand moved then, scooping water, letting it run slowly over your scalp, careful and controlled, keeping it from your eyes.

You let them close.

Let yourself drift in it.

For a moment, it felt like actual safety. Like care or something you could almost trust.

That was because you didn’t see the way his gaze shifted.

Didn’t catch the way it moved over your naked body - taking in every detail with a quiet intensity that bordered on predatory.

Instead, you only felt his hand again, moving from your hair to your arm, fingers tracing slowly along your skin.

Up.

Down.

Your breath caught faintly, your body tensing just a fraction before it eased again, caught between instinct and the overwhelming relief of the warmth around you.

His hand moved further.

Your side this time, following the curve there, slow and unhurried.

Your eyes only snapped open when his fingers suddenly found your nipple, softly tweezing it as if testing.

“J-Joel…” You searched his eyes but he only looked at you with the same unraveling calm. His fingers retreated slightly, the pressure easing as if nothing had happened, as if it had meant nothing at all.

“Easy,” he said, that same quiet tone slipping back into place. “Just helpin’ you out.”

Your pulse picked up.

But you didn’t pull away.

Instead, you let your head fall back into his hand again, your body sinking deeper into the water, your mind too tired, too worn down to hold onto a sane reaction.

“See?” Joel’s voice dropped low next to you. “Whole lot better when you just let go, darlin’.”

The words drifted over you, wrapping around the warmth of the water, around the heaviness in your limbs that made it easier to sink into it. His touch followed soon after, returning without hesitation nor rush. His fingers brushed along your collarbone, traced the line of your neck before moving over your shoulder like he had all the time in the world.

The path of his hand as it cupped your breast, slid further, over the softened curve of your stomach beneath the water. A faint, involuntary flinch slipped through you when the touch tickled just slightly, your breath catching on it.

A low chuckle answered it.

“That feelin’ alright?” he murmured, close enough that you could feel the vibration of it through the water. “Me takin’ care of you?”

Your head tilted back just slightly in his hold.

You nodded.

Because somewhere beneath the exhaustion, beneath the haze of everything you had been through, there was a pull - a need - that reached for exactly this. For steadiness. For something that felt like being held together instead of pulled apart.

Joel’s voice shifted again, something deeper threading through it now.

“Want me to take real good care of ya?”

There was something in it.

An edge you should have caught.

But your mind… lagged. Sluggish, dulled by days of deprivation, by the overwhelming relief of warmth and water and touch that didn’t hurt.

So you nodded again.

“Yes, Joel.”

Your eyes had already slipped closed again, your body settling further into the water, into him - so you didn’t see the change in his expression. Didn’t see the way a darkness settled behind his gaze, paired with that faint, unsettling curve of his mouth.

His hand moved further from your stomach until he dipped between your legs, cupping your mound. He kept still then, letting you feel the warmth of his hand in contrast to the warmth of the water. It blurred together, your body too slow to react the way your mind tried to. There was a disconnect there, you should scream, object, push away. 

Instead your hips shifted against him - just slightly, barely there - but enough for him to notice.

“Look at you,” Joel murmured, shifting beside the tub as he sat at the edge, his focus fully on you. “Real pretty like this.”

His voice dropped lower.

“Soft… open…”

His middle finger traced lazily along your slit and your mouth opened without meaning to, a faint, unsteady breath slipping free.

“...vulnerable.”

He shifted closer as he applied more pressure with his finger, parting you and sliding once up and down before giving your clit a small, testing flick. There was a subtle increase in pressure and your body answered before your mind could catch up.

Joel made a low, almost soothing sound, meant to calm, to steady, as if he could feel that split inside you.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Ain’t nothin’ to fight here.” His touch slowed, drawing rhythmic circles around your sensitive spot. “That’s what you needed?” he went on. “Someone takin’ proper care of you?”

Part of you recoiled.

The contradiction sat heavy in your chest, tightening your breath, even as your hand moved on its own accord, finding his arm beneath the water. Your fingers curled there, seeking something to hold onto as the surface shifted in soft ripples around you, each small movement of his hand sending them outward in quiet, overlapping waves.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured and the approval in his voice was coaxing. “Sweet girl… I got ya.”

His finger pressed at your entrance, and when it nudged at you more firmly, your body reacted instantly. A sharp inhale broke from you, uncontained, your back arching just slightly before the strength left you again, leaving only that trembling, uncertain tension behind.

“Shhh… shh…” he soothed, the sound close to your ear, his hand at your neck tightening just enough to steady you when you wavered, his thumb brushing slow, grounding strokes along the sensitive line there. “Easy now. Just relax.”

It shouldn’t have worked.

And yet -

Somehow, it did.

The tension softened at the edges as you let out a long, shaky breath. Your body followed it, sinking just a fraction deeper into the warmth, into his hold.

He didn’t hesitate.

The moment you gave him that inch, he took it.

His finger moved and pressed in, and the sensation made you jolt weakly, a broken sound catching in your throat as your grip on his arm tightened without strength behind it.

“There we go,” he smiled, satisfaction threading through the words. “That’s it, baby girl… gonna do you some good.”

His movements stayed steady, controlled in a way that gave you no choice but to adjust and to follow along, your body slowly giving way to the rhythm he set with his finger pumping in and out of you even though it felt too much already.

Your eyes stayed shut though.

Like that alone could block it out, could distance you from the reality of Joel fingerfucking you in a state of haze and hallucination.

Because if you had opened them - if you had forced yourself to look - you would have seen it. The way his gaze lingered on you, tracking every reaction you couldn’t hide. The slight shifts in your expression, the way your lips parted without sound, the way your brows pulled together when he hit deeper than before, burying his finger to the last knuckle.

You would have seen how closely he watched.

How much he noticed.

And you would have caught the way something darker settled into his expression. The quiet satisfaction. The intent behind it. Maybe even how his body responded in turn, the bulge in his jeans growing.

But you didn’t.

You stayed in the dark.

And in that darkness, everything blurred together - the warmth of the water, the weight of his touch, the exhaustion that dulled your thoughts and softened your edges until all that remained was sensation.

Because all there was with Joel was darkness, sweet, coating, everlasting.

His movements shifted - firmer now, more insistent - though they never lost that same controlled rhythm. It pulled small sounds from you before you could stop them, caught somewhere between resistance and a plea for more.

“What’s that, sweetie?” Joel’s voice carried that low, knowing edge again. “You need a little more?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t give you the space to form one. Instead, he added his index finger, splitting you further open and giving you little to no time to adjust as his palm pressed against your clit.

A broken sound slipped out of you and your body betrayed you once more - leaning into him, seeking the steadiness of his arm, your hips shifting just enough to meet the motion rather than escape it.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh at that.

“So eager, darlin’,” he smirked. “Can’t wait to get that sweet release, do you?”

The water moved around you in uneven ripples, echoing every subtle shift, every reaction you couldn’t fully control. Your legs tried to draw in, instinctively, but his arm kept you where he wanted you - open and surrendered.

His fingers pushed harder and it forced another breath from you - sharper this time, breaking unevenly as your head dipped slightly, the water brushing higher along your skin.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he muttered, though there was no real softness in it - only control. “Want me to give it to you, sweetheart?”

Your body tried to keep up, tried to ground itself, but everything felt blurred - too much and not enough all at once. The warmth, the exhaustion, the constant pull between pushing away and leaning in - it tangled together until it was impossible to separate one from the other.

“C’mon,” Joel pressed, his voice dropping lower and his hand pumping unrelenting. “Use your words.”

His grip at your neck tightened just slightly, to keep you from slipping further under the surface when your balance wavered.

“Speak.”

Your eyes fluttered open then, barely, your gaze catching on his through the haze - unsteady, unfocused, something pleading sitting behind it without form or clarity.

“P-please…”

The word came out thin.

He tilted his head slightly.

“Please what, darlin’?”

You didn’t know.

Part of you wanted it to stop - to end, to pull away, to reclaim something of yourself that felt like it was slipping too far out of reach. But another part clung to it instead. To the way it filled the silence, the emptiness.

A tear slipped free, tracing down your temple.

A faint smile touched Joel’s mouth.

“‘Please continue’?,” he murmured, almost to himself. “‘Please go harder’? ‘Please more’? Want me to fill you up real good?”

That made you shake your head immediately. You were more than certain that your body would not be in a state to take him fully. Not now. Not ever.

Joel answered with a condescending laugh. “Yeah, no, that time will come. But we have to prepare you for it, don’t we? For now”, he pulled from you nearly completely only to drive in even deeper than before, making you gasp and your insides twist, “for now, I just need you to come for me, baby girl.” 

Your breath stuttered, your grip tightening weakly against him as your body tensed, that unfamiliar pressure coiling tighter and tighter beneath your ribs.

“Almost there,” he guided you through it. “Just let it happen.”

You didn’t fight it.

Not anymore.

There wasn’t anything left in you to hold it back.

The tension snapped suddenly, pulling you under in a way that stole what little breath you had left. The water rose around you, covering your ears and dulling everything for a moment - your own moans, his voice - the world narrowing to that single, overwhelming sensation that ran through you in sharp, unsteady waves.

Joel stayed buried deep in you, feeling your spasms pulling his digits deeper.

“Oh, darlin,” he cooed, “I can only imagine what you must feel like around my cock. Can’t wait for you to be ready for me.” His muffled words carried you through it, stars bursting before your inner eye and the sensation rippling through your weakened body. 

You barely registered the way he shifted, the low sound he made under his breath as your body tightened and then slowly, slowly began to ease again.

It took time.

Your breathing came back first - shallow, uneven - your body following in slow increments, the tension draining out of your limbs until you felt heavy again, spent in a way that left no room for anything else.

“Well done,” he spoke after a moment. “That must have cost you.”

He curled his fingers once more and made sure to collect every spasm and after effect his touch had on you before he slipped his fingers from you and gave your pussy a last affirmative pat.

Then his hand moved upward through the water, cupping your face this time, steadying you as he leaned in just enough to press a hard long kiss to the top of your head.

“Did so good for me,” he said softly. “Ain’t so bad when you listen, is it?”

You shook your head slightly, the movement weak, your eyes already drifting shut again as the exhaustion settled back in fully.

He adjusted his hold, his arms sliding beneath you once more as he lifted you from the tub, water splashing everywhere. The warmth left you too quickly this time, replaced by the cooler air that made you shiver faintly.

So, again, your body leaned into him, seeking what little warmth remained, what little steadiness he provided.

“Let’s get you back,” he muttered, already moving. “You’ve had enough for tonight. Think you owned a real blanket now, right?”

The thought alone nearly made you beg for it even though you knew deep down this was exactly what he intended with this. Making you compliant. Docile. 

It didn’t matter though as he set you down on the bed because when he returned shortly with the blanket, wrapping you up, that was all that you could ask or really.

Because humiliation was a small price to pay for safety.

You did not even register him leaving. But you knew he’d return. And he would continue to mold to into his world of darkness.

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Frankie sits up in the driver’s seat, stretches his arms and rubs his sore back. He’s spent the whole evening in his truck, watching your house. Well, the mansion belongs not to you but to your new boyfriend, the man you dumped Frankie for, Joel Miller. Frankie knows practically everything there is to know about him - he’s been stalking you two for weeks now.

Of course, Frankie’s well aware that it’s wrong. Following you and/or your new man around town, spending hours upon hours in his truck near your house as if seeing you would mend his broken heart. It will probably make it worse. It is making it worse.

Frankie lets out a deep sigh — he sees other people walk past the glowing windows, but can’t catch a glimpse of you. Piano music is audible even outside, it reaches Frankie in his truck parked across the street. Apparently Joel and you are throwing a dinner party. Classy. Not like Frankie’s usual BYOB shindigs.

You’ve got a lot of guests attending, judging by all the expensive cars along the road. Frankie’s old truck sticks out among them like a sore thumb but he knows he’ll be unnoticed. He always is. You must have left him because of it —him being ordinary. Lacking class. Lacking money.

‘No!’ Frankie grunts, gripping the steering wheel. His princesa is not a gold digger! You’re perfect. A beautiful angel that flew down from heavens and right into his shitty life. It was his fault that you left him. He hopes that you are happier now, that Joel takes good care of you. But he can’t let you go. That’s why he stalks you. Watches you from afar, yet doesn’t dare make contact. He tried though. Many times. Calls, texts, handwritten letters. Your answer was always the same — it’s over. Frankie’s afraid his heart won’t survive another rejection. So he’s just watching. Waiting. What for? He has no idea himself.

Finally, the guests leave, the cars drive off one by one, and Frankie’s heart risks to jump out of his throat when his eyes follow your beautiful silhouette floating through the house to the master bedroom. Joel joins you there minutes later. Frankie hates him. Despises him. Wants to be him.

The lights go out and now the whole house is plunged into darkness. Frankie waits for another hour or maybe longer and then gets out of his truck.

Given the nature of his work, he’s really good at breaking and entering without getting caught. He can easily pick a lock and disarm any alarm but today he’s lucky. He sneaks into the moonlit house through the back door that Joel and you have forgotten to lock, walks past the dining room, wine bottles and other party remains left on the huge table, and then moves stealthily up the stairs.

The bedroom door is slightly ajar as if you left it like that on purpose, inviting Frankie inside. An obsessed and longing man in him really believes it.

Frankie steps into the room and the first thing he sees is your boyfriend’s naked buttock, bluish-white in the moonlight. Joel’s sleeping soundly on his stomach, a sheet covering only half of his ass and his legs. As Frankie walks closer, his eyes trail up the man’s broad back, move along his muscular arms and shoulders. Joel’s in great shape. Frankie wonders if he can take the bastard in a fight. Maybe. Definitely. If not, Frankie has a gun. Not at the moment, of course! Even the thought of accidentally getting you hurt makes him sick. Joel on the other hand… No! He’s losing his mind! Frankie chastises himself, staring at the man’s head. The salt and pepper curls are disheveled. Joel’s older than Frankie. More experienced, more mature. What if that was the reason why you chose him? ‘Huh!’ Frankie hums in his mind. He’s going to age, too, so maybe then you’d want to come back to him?

Finally, he stops at your side of the bed and only then his eyes land on you as if he’s been giving himself time to get ready to see his darling so close.

So naked.

Oh, mi amor. You’re lying on your back, one hand by your head on the pillow, the other on your hip. The white sheet is covering you from the waist down and your exposed breasts immediately mesmerize Frankie. He watches them rise and fall slowly with every breath you’re taking, your nipples perked up and calling for Frankie’s tongue. He almost drools, staring at your gorgeous tits, his gaze darkening. He’s been missing you and your body so damn much! It feels like only yesterday he licked your breasts, suckled them, drew a wet path with his lips from your chest and down to your sweet little pussy. It also feels like ages ago.

Suddenly you move and Frankie’s widened eyes dart to your face. Phew! You’re still sleeping peacefully, not knowing that your ex is standing in your bedroom and staring at your tits like a creepy perv.

Frankie feels bad now.

He’s also hard. Painfully hard. His hand flies to his bulge, finding it huge and stiff. He adjusts himself and takes a deep but silent breath to cool off.

But how can his body not react like this? He’s looking at the most beautiful woman in the world whose body gave him heavenly pleasure, who made him feel happy and loved. Who’s not his anymore.

Frankie looks at Joel again and grits his teeth. The jerk must have fucked you tonight. The messy sheets wrapped around your naked bodies, shadows of happy smiles on both of your faces — you two definitely had sex. Jealousy slashes Frankie’s heart with a sharp knife and making it worse his treacherous mind draws him a picture— your boyfriend fucking you doggy-style on this bed. The vision is so bright behind his glossy eyes, Frankie’s breath hitches. Joel’s strong hands are holding your hips up, his skin is slapping against yours as his cock’s plunging into you. Your muffled moans and his loud grunts fill the bedroom, your cheek is pushed into the pillow and you’re looking up at Frankie with your eyes half-lidded and drunk on pleasure. You look so fucked out. Joel’s doing a great job.

Frankie palms his stiff cock that’s crying precum into his boxers and then imagines himself in the corner of the room, watching this pornographic scene, longing, aching, wanting to join. Maybe you’d be ok with it? Maybe you’d purr to Joel ‘I want both of you. At the same time. Pleaseee.’ You were always so good at asking nicely. Would you ask Joel to let Frankie fuck you? Or he could just lick your pussy after Joel’s done with you. He’d happily do it. He’s that desperate.

Frankie shakes his head and clenches his fists. Why the hell is he a cuckold in his own fantasy? No! His eyes slide down your body as he’s imagining himself taking what’s his - you. Your hips are in his hands, your whimpers flowing beautifully only for his ears. In this new version Joel’s sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, fuming while Frankie is fucking his woman.

And you…Mi amor. You’re on your back because he wants to see your breasts shake with every hard thrust, wants to watch your folds bloom for him like a flower, your wet pussy swallow his cock and then suck it back in as he pulls out. Frankie wants to see those hearts in your eyes you used to give him when you two were making love. You looked at him like he was the only one. Like he was worth something.

Do you give this look to Joel now? Probably. Definitely. He seems to deserve it a lot more.

With his hand still on his hard-on, Frankie closes his eyes and swallows upcoming tears. He won’t be so pathetic as to cry here. He’ll do it in the truck, on the way to his empty apartment, the place so depressing without you in it he’d rather spend every night and day in his car, watching you live your life without him. Until you change your mind and come back.

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