life goes on

Some of the employees, whose faces you had started to memorize, began closing the chairs in the restaurant’s outdoor area; a sign that you should give up on staring at the establishment’s door and windows. — At least you would accept the outcome of the night.

Your boyfriend was late; specifically, one hour and seven minutes late. No, you did not admit to knowing the exact seconds. — Was it strange to be unable to stand or grow tired of checking the time displayed on your phone?

Staring at the restaurant’s classic dessert — which, by the way, was very good, and you would have loved to enjoy it at a better moment; that way, not wasting all of the chef’s effort with melancholy and drama — you watched as it was almost completely melted and had lost the will to finish it. You did not care about the feeling of embarrassment pressing against your chest. Your crossed arms could not hide your frustration from the waitress standing in front of you.

She gave you sympathetic looks, almost in a gentle way. The poor girl seemed as though it was the first time she had ever witnessed a date being stood up; she did not know what she could do. — The hiring team had never trained her for this kind of situation.

“Would you like to save the slice of tiramisu?” — she asked with a slightly uncomfortable smile, still trying to be understanding. It was the third time she had stopped by your table. — “We can place it in a more… suitable container, if you’d like.”

“No, thank you.” — You lifted your eyes, which had been admiring the melted, burning candle on your table, thanking her with your best attempt at a smile; it did not seem like enough. — “This is what happens when you lend your boyfriend to the city.” — You laughed without humor. The comment was a thought that had unfortunately escaped out loud.

“Oh, is he a police officer?”

“Worse.” — The waitress nodded, pretending to understand so she would not prolong the conversation, and walked away.

Checking your phone, even though you did not want to, it was 7:12 PM. Some notifications could distract you, perhaps. Looking through specific emails might actually be considered entertaining at that moment, or checking your gallery; anything was more interesting than your current situation. — You felt embarrassed, but more than that, honestly; you wished you could know every synonym for “embarrassment,” judge every paragraph in the dictionary, and have the chance to throw them all in your boyfriend’s face.

In the end, you did not give the dessert another chance and asked the waiter, who had been waiting since your arrival, for the bill. You made sure to leave a tip, which resulted in his eyes lighting up and a warm thank you, then stepped out of the restaurant and continued through the busy city streets. — The cold breeze did not bother you; you remembered the news reports and had brought your leather jacket. On the bright side, it was pleasant weather. — While the sky was painted with the orange hues of the late afternoon, blending into the beginning of the almost-night, you could hear a few sirens and helicopter blades echoing from afar.

Oh, right.

As an ironic coincidence, your phone started vibrating inside your purse; when you grabbed it, you bit the inside of your cheek — a habit of his that you seemed to have picked up — as you read the contact name and answered immediately.

“So, it seems like someone remembered they have a girlfriend.” — You teased, waiting for the traffic light to turn green so you could cross the street. On the other end of the call, a mixture of metal being crushed, something being thrown far away, and someone screaming fell into sync; accompanied by Jungkook’s heavy breathing.

“Hi, Jagiya!” — He could not hide the overly excited tone in his voice, more than he should have and more than the situation allowed, when he heard your voice. A voice with a strong accent echoed something like, “COME HERE, SPIDER.” It sounded so familiar? — “Ah, shit.”

“Jungkook, where are you?” — You continued waiting for the signal, this time impatiently. You could not believe he was calling you in the middle of a fight. — “Don’t tell me you’re fighting…”

“Fighting is a very strong word, sweetheart.” — Another metallic sound being thrown near your boyfriend. You heard him shooting webs. — “I’m having a conversation about anger management and its dangers with a friend who dresses like a scorpion.” — Something exploded in the background where Jungkook was. — “YOU WON’T CONTROL IT LIKE THAT, MAC!”

“Damn spider!” — The man’s words carried pure rage. The heavy metallic noises dragging along with his footsteps were clear through the call. This guy should be behind bars; the safety of this city was truly impressive.

“Now he’s jealous because i’m talking to the prettiest girl in the city.”

Regardless of the situation, or how serious it could be considered — whether he was being reckless or not — Jungkook never let go of his comedic spirit. Comments filled with pure sarcasm, terrible jokes, or historical references and random facts were part of his double life. — Of course, he recognized his limits; he knew that classic humor could not always save him from trouble. But the important thing was to remain willing to face those situations.

Besides that, his stupidly unfunny jokes and cheap pick-up lines made you laugh. — So, one point for Spider-Man.

“I’m sure he didn’t have any friends in college.” — Jungkook commented to you, but he did not fail to shout it loud enough for the villain to hear. You slapped your forehead with your hand. Immediately, the light turned green, giving you the chance to cross the street. — “He’s very rude.”

“Jungkook, we had a date, you know?”

“I know, sweetheart.” — He sounded genuinely sorry. You could picture his sad expression, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips forming a pout; you shook your head at the image. — “I’m sorry, please! I was planning the perfect date with dinner, little kisses, taking you to the bridge so we could watch the sunset, more kisses…” — Before he could finish his sentence, the masked man was interrupted by a growl; it was strange, and somehow difficult, to take Spider-Man’s criminals and villains seriously.

During your walk, you came across a flower shop. The flowers displayed in front of the store were beautiful, so delicate and breathtaking; you stopped in your tracks to admire them peacefully. The owner of the establishment, a kind elderly woman, introduced you to the flowers. — Meanwhile, things being thrown around and the Scorpion cursing at Spider-Man played through your phone; sometimes, you could hear Jungkook humming a song.

“Mom, look. It’s Spider-Man!” — A child beside his mother, who was looking at the flowers in the shop, shouted to get the woman’s attention. Your head immediately turned when you heard what the little boy was pointing out, and you followed his gaze toward the huge screen on the building across the street.

The masked hero swung across the block with his webs, dodging the Scorpion’s enormous metallic tail. The recording was live, but the quality was far from perfect.

“Just come back in one piece, Ggukie.” — You remembered you were still on the call. Your heart could not deny the tightness of worry; you did not care that he was in control of the fight, you just wanted Jungkook to be okay. — “Please.”

“You know i always come back to you, my love.” — You could feel, or rather hear, your boyfriend’s gentle and devoted smile. Deep down, you could not stay angry at him. After all, it was not entirely his fault. Jeon ended the call with the sound of a kiss, leaving you to continue your way home after admiring the flowers and promising you would return another day.

Your apartment was not that far away; only a few steps remained, about six minutes until you arrived. You wanted to feel excited, like you normally did whenever you knew you were getting home, but you felt strangely tired. — You knew what it was. — Still, you continued walking along the sidewalk. The streetlights began turning on, casting long shadows across the ground; it was the end of the day.

“Good evening, citizen.” — A familiar voice startled you. — “I’m looking for a girl who was unfortunately abandoned at a restaurant by some idiot guy. Have you seen her?”

Following the direction of the voice, you came face to face with a heroic, arachnid figure hanging upside down from a web. The reddish-blue suit, with black details, was dirty and covered in scratches; probably caused by the sharp edge of the Scorpion’s tail. Not to mention the mask, which had a small tear near the cheek area. — Jungkook would spend the night repairing that suit; and you would be right beside him,

You had not seen him before. — You had been so lost in your thoughts that you had forgotten the world around you. — That was why you startled so easily and quickly composed yourself; crossing your arms, trying to contain any smile threatening to appear on your lips.

“Hmm, i don’t think so.” — You shrugged, pretending you had no idea what your boyfriend was talking about. Jungkook lightly swung on the web and shook his head. — “But i’m sure she must be upset with the guy.”

You took a step forward, standing face to face with the arachnid; able to hear his embarrassed sigh.

“She has every right to be.” — Jungkook did not care about the looks the two of you were receiving from the people on the street; some were taking pictures or recording videos that would be posted online or sold to the press. He only cared about you; about making things right with his girlfriend. — “Aegi, i know this is an extremely stupid way to show up after ruining our date.”

Spider-Man detached the web holding him upside down, twisting his body with a flip before landing in front of you. Now, the two of you were face to face; or rather, face to mask. — If he were crazy enough, Jungkook would have already removed his mask and kissed you right there in the middle of the street.

“I have an explanation, and it’s a very long one, but it doesn’t change the fact that I left you waiting at the restaurant.” — He was behaving himself, holding back, stopping himself from touching you the way he wanted to; Jeon remembered that you were in public. Spider-Man was only reminding you to be careful. — “Please, don’t ever think you come second. Because you don’t.”

“Ggukie…” — You whispered his nickname. Your eyes admired him with such affection, with a love Jungkook felt he did not deserve. He could see the brightness in your gaze. — “…it’s okay. We can reschedule another—”

You were immediately interrupted by the hero.

“You trust me, right?”

“What do you mean?” — One of your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the question; it was such a ridiculous thing to ask, honestly. Tilting your head, you tried to understand what your boyfriend was planning. — “What kind of question is that?”

“So, that’s a yes.” — There was a playful edge to his words. Without wasting another second, a web shot around your waist and pulled you forward, making you collide with Jungkook’s solid body. Your scream was met with his laughter. — “Come on, you’re used to this.”

Your hands rested against the arachnid’s chest, while Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your hips, holding you tightly.

“Spider-Man…” — You tried to scold him, and his real name almost slipped from your lips. Jungkook raised his arm, shooting a web toward the nearest building. Nothing could stop him now; there was no point in trying to complain or protest.

“As always, hold on tight, my beautiful girl!”

There was no ground beneath you; it had completely disappeared. That classic second when your body realizes there is nothing beneath your feet continued to surprise you; it did not matter how “used to it” you claimed to be, just like he had mentioned. — However, you were never afraid of something going wrong or of losing your support; you were completely safe with Jungkook. — The hero’s arms were wrapped around you; he held you against his chest as if you were the most precious, valuable thing in the entire city.

And you were.

A few minutes later, he took you to the destination he had wanted. The bridge connecting one side of the city to the other; but with one difference — you were standing at its highest point. — Only special people, those permitted on construction sites, could reach it. — A part of the city that was not crowded; one of the only places like that, actually.

Jungkook landed carefully. — Extremely carefully. — Your feet touched the structure of the bridge, but the masked hero’s hands remained around you; and he would not let go. Without rushing or putting any pressure on you, he waited for your reaction and allowed you to take in the scenery.

Your eyes wandered across the orange-painted sky, blending into a mixture of colors, while the river reflected it below; the sun slowly disappeared behind the enormous buildings. — It was perfect. It looked like a painting.

“Jungkook, this is…” — You were speechless. Maybe a strong emotion was growing inside your chest, and you did not know how to control it. — “…beautiful.”

Jeon slowly removed his mask. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to savor the air around him. Small bruises and a tiny cut on his eyebrow were visible on his face. There was no longer Spider-Man.

Now, he was only your boyfriend.

“Did you think so?” — Jungkook brushed his nose against your cheek, leaving small kisses against your skin. — “I wanted to bring you here from the very beginning. Consider the dinner an extra.”

He buried his face against your neck like a puppy rescued from the street; while your arms wrapped around your hero’s broad shoulders, your fingers ran through Jungkook’s messy black hair.

“Well, i’m impressed.”

Jeon smiled when he heard you and lifted his head from your neck, meeting your beautiful eyes.

Jungkook slowly raised his hand toward your face with care and tenderness; as if he was afraid he would break you or leave a crack. — He cursed himself for touching you with those dirty hands; you did not deserve that. — His eyes then fell to your lips.

He could not tell who moved first, or if it was both of you, but the space between you disappeared when the oldest’s lips touched yours.

Pulling him closer by the collar of his suit, you deepened the kiss that had started softly; it transformed into something warmer, something more intense.

Jungkook’s grip on your waist grew stronger, bolder; he wanted to merge with you, to keep you as close as possible. The desire to protect you, to keep you within his reach, was overwhelming. — His determination and need to keep you safe would never disappear; Jungkook would give his life for you. — Even if he failed, he would never leave you.

Lessons continued while the Builders worked on the space. Over the sound of hammers against wood and grumbling voices, you read the class, Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. A beat up paperback someone had brought along on the journey to the Safe Haven had become a favorite of the Lost Children. Evidently, it was a favorite of one of the Builders. The tallest one. The one who was easily annoyed until story time started, then he was focused and quiet. Gally. You caught him leaning away from the beam he had his hand on, straining to hear, or laughing at the same part the kids did. When Dorothy angrily tossed a bucket of water at the Witch, the Builder hissed in pain. Accidentally, he had hit his index finger with his club hammer because he had been paying more attention to the story. 

“Would you like me to make you a copy of the book?” The kids were gone and the Builders were beginning to pack up for the day themselves. It was the perfect time to approach the guy who was still shaking his hand out in an effort to minimize the pain. “I am going to write copies for the class anyway.” What was one more?

“Why would you do that?” He was asking in a way that suggested you were crazy for asking. 

“It seemed like you were enjoying it. We're going to start The Secret Garden soon. It's too bad you guys are almost done.” 

Gally inhaled deeply, hastily trying to hide the flush of color growing across his face. A whistle sounded through his teeth as he inhaled. 

“I don't care about your kid stories, okay?” He huffed, arms crossed over his chest. He sounded defiant, but not at all convincing. Still, you had been spending most of your days surrounded by small children. You understood when not to push. 

“Understood.” A simple nod seemed to soften him.

A few mornings after your terse exchange with Gally, you were sitting at breakfast with your crew of kids. They had become something of an extra limb, but not an anchor. They couldn't wait to swallow their porridge before asking the new questions that had come to them in the morning. 

A rare second of silence granted you enough time to put a spoonful in your mouth, but a delicate barely-there tap on your shoulder interrupted as soon as the cutlery was between your lips. 

“Teacher.” The little boy, Malcolm, sputtered instead of calling you by your name like you had told them they could. With a full mouth, you simply gave him your full attention with an enthusiastic stare. “Gally has a question. He told me to ask you -” His arm outstretched, he pointed right at the Builder hunched over his own breakfast two tables away. Gally appeared mad, but you detected it was embarrassment tightening his jaw. “But I forgot.” It was Malcolm's turn to look embarrassed. 

“If the question is important enough to him, Gally will ask me himself.” Gally was no longer looking over at your table, but you were willing to bet he overheard. 

*****

As the kids in your class grew closer, it was easier for them to let their guards down even with only select people. Grown adults still struggled with night terrors whether they had survived a maze, a medical facility, or life through the Flare so it made sense that the kids were scared to fall asleep. You were sharing rancid moonshine around the fire with a friend when three of your students scampered over, taking turns jumping over sticks and small designs in the sand on their way to you. 

It was all they could think to do when one of them was crying from a nightmare: Go find teacher. 

Three hands pulled you along, back to their tent, as you swallowed over and over to try and replace the putrid flavor that had instantly dried out your mouth. If you hadn't seen the jar with your own eyes, you would have sworn your friend gave you something from the laundry to drink. 

Holding the sniffling little girl, Ada, up on your lap, running a hand down her long braid as she leaned into your cheat, you started to weave a story aloud for all the kids. It started with the Cowardly Lion, a character they particularly liked from The Wizard of Oz, and he had to go on a journey with his friends not unlike the one they went on down the yellow brick road, but despite all they had been through, the Lion was still afraid. 

As Ada began to drift off on your lap, you looked up to see how many others had been lulled to sleep. It was then you saw him. Gally. A jar of moonshine in hand, leaning against the beam he installed and listening intently. He didn't break your stare. He didn't pretend to be doing something else. This time, he stayed completely still and just listened. 

It took a couple minutes to tuck every kid in and you waited one more to be sure they were actually asleep. Stepping around their cots and hammocks carefully, you made your way to Gally with a playful insult about his moonshine on the tip of your tongue. 

“How does it end? You didn't say what happened to the Lion…”

“I thought you didn't care about my kid stories.” 

“I don't.” Instinctively, the answer popped out like a button leaving the pants of a man they no longer fit. “You know a lot. It's intimidating.” Reluctantly, he caved before taking a big sip. 

“I intimidate you?” It made you laugh. Gally was large and loud and seemed sure of himself.  

He wasn't laughing though. He was looking off over your head, drinking. Tilting your head to the side, you led him away from the kid's quarters. 

“I'm intimidating, you were saying…”

Maybe, that was the wrong word, Gally wasn't sure. He wrestled with his head before the liquid courage took control, “You’re smart.” People always said Builders were good with their hands, not their heads and that stuck with him now that he was out of the Glade. “You’re literally teaching those kids to read and write and count…”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin with building these structures. We all have our roles.” It was the truth, but you could tell that it did little to comfort him.

“I can read and write okay, like, I wrote Chuck’s name in the rock.” He explained as you two walked side by side towards the water, the sound of the waves softly meeting the shore calling to you. He offered you his jar, but you shook your head. A clear ‘no’. “I just…I was in the Glade a long time. I don’t know a lot that…other people do.” He was turning his throat into linen, taking a sip with every embarrassing piece of his confession. He noted your feet walking along where the water met the land like you were walking along a tightrope, moonlight dancing down the part of your arm exposed from your fallen sweater. He reached over and pulled it back up over your shoulder, nervous by how much he liked what he saw. It made you pause and stare back up at him. “I do like your stories and I like when the kids tell me stuff they’re learning from you. I guess I’m…I’m not jealous, but -”

“Gally?” It seemed like if you didn’t interrupt, he might talk himself into a circle. “Do you want private lessons?”

“What?”

“We could get together and we can read or you can help me make copies of stories for class. Nobody has to know.” The last part seemed vital to the Builder so you held up your hands as if you were being held at gunpoint, trying to mime that you had no malintention. 

Gally sat on the offer while you kept tip-toeing over the wet sand, arms out at either side for balance. He took a long sip of his drink before nodding.

“Okay!” He called to your back. “Yeah, I could do that.” He jogged to catch up to you again, once again lifting your sleeve over your shoulder. “When?”

The bonfire was still roaring in the distance, but there was no chance Gally would have his story time on full display like that. The key to successfully tutoring him was the privacy aspect. Checking your surroundings, it took a second before an invisible lightbulb flickered on above your head. As if Gally was one of your adorable students, you grabbed his hand and pulled him toward your classroom. 

It was pitch black, but Gally could hear you closing cupboards and shuffling around. Being there reminded him that you had asked for desks for the kids, but it had been waved away at the time. It crossed his hazy mind that he could do it himself after hours. 

“Aha!” Pulling him from his thoughts, you lit a white candle. Carrying the flame chin-level, Gally was mesmerized by your features. He supposed he might actually make a decent student considering how much studying he was doing at the moment: noting the three different shades he saw in your eyes and the fluttering of your lashes, taking a mental picture of mouth as it curved into a smile when you waved him over with your other hand. 

There was a comfortable corner with cushions and blankets, a place the kids liked to sit when they were having a tough time focusing. You rested the candle on a stool while Gally spread out his legs. He didn’t leave much room for personal space, so you folded your legs behind you and opened up the book to the first chapter. 

Your finger stroked the page, gliding beneath the first few words, “Can you read that?” Gally’s lids were heavy though. A hard day of work and a plethora of moonshine made it hard to resist the comfort of the pillows he was resting again.

"I was sort of hoping you could tell me what happens to the Lion in your story..." Gally admitted, putting his jar off to the side and leaning deeper into the soft nest. 

Curled up like an oversized child himself, blanketed by a small flame, it seemed Gally wasn’t so tough and you couldn’t help, but feel genuine care for him. The offer to tutor him came out naturally, but looking at him now, it didn’t feel like extra work. It was something you wanted to do.

You wore the blanket like an oversized shawl, holding it together at your chest, and took his hand. The usual nighttime soundtrack of the glade made up for Gally’s silence: crickets, low wind between blades of overgrown grass, and light snoring from your fellow Gladers fast asleep. Gally’s footsteps leading you around the outskirts of the forest was the only added note. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” Finally, you interrupted his stewing and asked. “Secret’s out - you’re upset.”

Gally walked a little deeper into the trees, sighing as he tried to decipher how to even go about expressing himself. It was easy when it was with his fists with the other guys, but talking was a novel concept. He didn’t let go of your hand, but he leaned himself up against the trunk of a walnut tree and sighed with his head bent back. The moon illuminated his face through the branches, softening his face that was otherwise tight from the tension he was carrying. His eyes opened slowly on you and he put his fingers between yours. It occurred to you now that he seemed scared. He was holding on tightly. 

“Talk to me.” You tried again, taking a step closer to him. The words were trapped between his teeth though, locked between molars. “Is this because Thomas thinks he found a way out of the maze?” It wasn’t a promise. He and Minho had simply found something new: the Griever's entrance.  

“I've been here three years. We had made peace with being here. He comes along and now, three days later, everyone's itching to get out -" His nose scrunched up as his eyes narrowed, casting his anger away from you and toward whatever was tangled up in the shadows of the forest. 

“It's just hope. For the first time, they feel -”

“Yeah, don't think I didn't notice how you lit up when he made his big announcement.” Gally snarled. He felt your fingers loosen in his grip and Gally adjusted his posture, standing at attention, trying to make out your expression. “What? You did.”

“Yeah, I did. Wouldn't you want to be out there instead of trapped in here?”

“We don't know what's out there.” He snapped, almost hissing as he pushed off the tree and toward you. 

“Change is scary, Gally. I know that, but if there's a chance-”

“A chance for what?” He snatched his hand away, gripping at his hair as his eyes dilated wide as if he needed to make them as large as possible to make you understand, to get through your head. “We're here. Our lives are here. I built us our own place. We have community. We have what we need.” His voice was getting away from him. Gally stopped to try and compose himself, running both hands down his head while taking a deep breath. He returned to you and pulled you closer, both hands sliding under the blanket until they were rested at your side. It was as if he was attempting to anchor you both to the Glade. “If there's something else you want, name it, I'll make it. There's nothing out there for us.” He kept his voice down, but barely. 

The silence felt as heavy as the darkness you were both standing in. The only thing you could think to say was the one thing you knew Gally did not want to hear. 

“But what if there is a chance -” His groan cut you off as he stomped away, his calloused hands off you like you were suddenly made of flames. “No, listen to me…” Following behind him, you pleaded. It was hard to catch up. He had long legs and knew the forest was better. You didn't want to trip and land in God knows what. “I have thought about a life outside of this. With you. A real bed or a home with a door. Or, I don't know, a morning where I get dressed without you standing watch…” Gally had to admit that would be a perk, one less responsibility. “Don't you want to know where you came from?” It had been the hardest part of adjusting to the Glade for you, having no answers to the past. Who were your parents? What had been your life? Did you have siblings? Pets? Good friends? You used to close your eyes as tightly as you could to conjure up a memory but there was nothing, just phosphenes.

“Not anymore.” Gally turned around and made your shape out under the crescent moon's glow. “Not since you got here.” Six months and three days ago. “I don't long for anything now. I'm happy here.” Maybe, it wasn't happiness, but he was satisfied. “You make me happy. This is enough for me.” A beat passed and you thought, maybe, he would walk over to you again. “I guess I thought I was enough for you too.” 

The three-star restaurant is packed. The perfect setting for a high-end establishment. The waiters are dressed in black with immaculate white waist aprons. Just another Friday at Luca's in Copenhagen. The streets outside are lit by street lamps and the enchanting view is only visible from four tables. Small candles illuminate the white tablecloths, dishes are served, waiters move quickly and politely. Nothing is left to chance, everything is measured to perfection and the pastries are worth selling your soul to the devil for. 

You always book in advance, the table near the bay window for Friday night. It has become a ritual, a sort of gift you give yourself at the end of the week. And today is no exception.

This is already the third time you've done this since discovering the restaurant tucked away at the corner of an alley. Three times you've come and sat at the same table with your gaze lost outside, and three times you haven't finished your meal. Chef Luca doesn't pay attention at first. At least not particularly. At the end of every service, he always inspects the leftovers to see what is appreciated and what isn't, and your plates are always half full. His blue eyes scan them every single time, no potatoes left untouched or vegetables pushed to the side, just half of the dish eaten. The first time, he tells himself it's nothing serious. The second time, he takes the plate and tastes it to see if something is wrong. The third time, he frowns. Which is why today, when you sit down at your usual table and stare through the bay window, he watches you from the kitchen.

He notices your tense posture, your legs crossed beneath the table and your phone that you check far too often for his liking. When your order comes in, he takes care of it personally. A citrus avocado starter, a risotto with shavings of Italian parmesan and, for dessert, a chocolate mousse. You ask for the mushrooms and seafood to be removed from the dish. A request that leaves him confused considering they're the very heart of the plate, but his muscular arms accept the challenge and he decides to make you something special. 

The sous-chef watches him from the corner of his eye as Luca delegates the other dishes to focus entirely on yours. And about thirty minutes later, your appetizer arrives. He watches as the waiter places the plate in front of you and you order a glass of non-alcoholic wine. Strange once again, but he heads back into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on your meal. 

Chef Luca is patient, kind with his team, orders fly around but are never shouted. He handles his tools with care and cooks with his heart. The Michelin stars are there to prove his excellence and he puts his expertise into your plate in a particularly personal way. It's not an ego thing, he simply hates knowing a customer has left dissatisfied with his food.

Classical music echoes through the restaurant, cutlery clinks and quiet conversations fill the space. Your flowing dress falls along your legs all the way down to your heels. Curly hair pinned into a bun, a few strands resting against your temples and a sad look directed at your plate. You place your fork and knife to the side before picking up your phone. You're alone, not a word, not a smile, just a plate returning to the kitchen with the entire right side untouched. Luca wipes his hands on his apron, his black shirt rolled up over his tattooed forearms, then picks up the plate and inspects it. The avocado is creamy, the radish shavings are crisp, the seasoning is perfect and everything blends together in harmony despite the absence of crab. He looks at you again from afar, you sip your non-alcoholic wine without even lifting your eyes and remain glued to your phone while waiting for the main course.

Luca sighs before pressing the bell to send it out. You welcome it with a small, polite smile before beginning to eat while watching passersby walk through the streets outside. Your expression is melancholic and your movements elegant. You look like a painting frozen in time through flavors and candlelight. He glances at the silver watch on his wrist, answers a few questions and then gets to work on your dessert. You eat slowly, a good hour passes before the waiter brings your plate back and once again Luca loses patience when he sees it unfinished. He even makes his sous-chef taste it and judging by the pleased groan that follows, the dish is excellent, so why don't you finish it? He can't understand it. 

If you didn't like it, you wouldn't have eaten it. If it didn't interest you, you wouldn't have ordered it and considering the outrageous prices of his restaurant, you might as well enjoy it. He chooses to ignore his disappointment and send out the dessert instead. He practically follows the waiter into the dining room and positions himself at a reasonable distance. He shakes a few hands, those of regular customers, wealthy neighbors and simple admirers of his cooking, but he never looks away from you. No, you remain the center of his attention. At six foot three, he towers over almost everyone. He stays behind the register, arms crossed, leaning against the counter where menus and napkins are stacked.

Every bite is watched, analyzed, dissected. You barely react, no expression of pleasure, no dissatisfaction either. You eat your dessert quietly, ignoring the world around you as if there is only you inside your little bubble. He sees you as a loner. You come here alone every Friday and tonight, you somehow look even sadder than the week before. And yet he added little surprises to the chocolate mousse: caramelized hazelnuts, tiny biscuits and a sprinkle of crushed peanuts. A delight for anyone willing to be seduced by it, but you remain neutral. Every spoonful brings you closer to halfway and Luca holds his breath. 

Then suddenly, you place a hand on your throat and begin coughing. Not a pretty cough. A frightening cough. The kind of cough that makes people think something is stuck. Luca doesn't waste a second. He crosses the restaurant with quick strides. He's the only one who noticed you were struggling to breathe.

“Hey, are you alright? Need help?” His hand brushes against your arm while you cough before sliding up to your shoulder.

“I’m- cough- fine- cough- the hazelnuts- stuck.”

“No, don't talk. Drink this.” Luca fills your glass with water and places it in front of you. “Drink.” he says as he leans over you. It doesn't sound like an order, but it isn't very far from one. You hear the urgency behind it and empty the glass in one go. “Easy now. Yeah, just like that. Better? Still stuck?”

You shake your head. Your coughing is less violent but still there. You take another sip of water. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes from the effort.

“Look at me.”

You lift your eyes and your gazes connect instantly. His is soft and blue, a mixture of certainty and confidence that reassures you.

“Breathe. It'll pass.”

You nod and swallow hard and he smiles.

“See? All gone.”

He straightens up and his hand leaves your shoulder. He moves to the other side of your table and leans against the chair while watching you catch your breath.

“Thank you.” You clear your throat softly and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“So I suppose the hazelnuts were a bit too big.”

“No. No. It was fine. Delicious.” You push the empty bowl slightly across the table to show him you've finished eating. His gaze drops to it before returning to you.

“You're sure it was delicious? You might as well be honest with me. Any feedback is welcome.”

“Excuse me, who are you?”

“Fair.” He laughs quietly. “I'm the owner and the chef of this restaurant. My name is Luca, but you can call me Chef.” He offers you his hand. “For now.”

“Oh!” You shake it. His hand is large around yours, warm and surprisingly soft. “I'm-”

“You're Friday.”

He watches you frown.

“You've come here every Friday since last month.”

“You noticed?”

“I did. Especially when you don't finish your meal every single time. You offended a chef, that's quite an uncommon thing to do.” He smiles. “I'm kidding. I was curious about you. Well, about your taste, at least. Your satisfaction is mine. Help me achieve it.”

His hands grip the back of the chair and he leans a little closer.

“Please.”

He straightens up again and crosses his arms.

“What was wrong with the menu?”

“Nothing.” You swallow hard. “Really.”

“Try again.” The answer comes too quickly and he immediately reins himself in. “You're not obliged to answer, but I'd appreciate some honest feedback. It's the only way for me to know what you like.”

You look left, then right, then back at him. His gaze hasn't left you once. You take a deep breath and begin turning your glass slowly against the table.

“The appetizer... Good, but a little sour.”

“Too much citrus, alright.” He nods.

“The main course, too simple.”

“I should've replaced the protein instead of simply removing the grilled octopus.”

“And the dessert...”

“You nearly choked on it.” A smile stretches across his lips.

“More biscuit.”

“Interesting.” He thinks for a moment. “Good to know for next time.”

“Yeah...” You lower your eyes to your phone. It's almost ten o'clock already. And you're already thinking about the trip back home.

“Would you like some tea? Coffee? I have to make amends for the incident. The bill is on the house.”

You are about to refuse.

“Don't fight it. I'm a gentleman. It's the British side of me.”

“A tea would be nice.”

“Let me guess, green?”

“Black.”

You smile despite yourself. You have the vague impression that he's flirting, but you could be wrong, so you look away.

“Thank you.”

“The waitress will be back with your tea.” He smooths down his apron. “Have a lovely evening, ma'am.”

“You too, Chef.”

You watch him walk away, say something to a waiter while pointing toward your table and disappear back into the kitchen. A few minutes later, your tea arrives, along with a tray of miniature pastries, each one more tempting than the last. The waiter tells you they're compliments of the house and thanks you politely before leaving.

You start on the desserts with an appetite you hadn't expected and, about thirty minutes later, you push open the doors of the restaurant without knowing that the chef is watching you leave with a thoughtful expression.

The following Friday is a rainy day. Heavy drops fall over the canal, the streets are slippery and umbrellas are everywhere. Around seven thirty in the evening, you walk through the double doors of the Michelin-starred restaurant. The waiter guides you to a table you know all too well. You take off your trench coat and sit down on a comfortable chair. September is damp and slightly cold. You pull at the sleeves of your light sweater as you pretend to read the menu. You already know what you're going to order, the same thing as last time and the times before that. The brunette waiter with the mischievous eyes keeps a straight face when you tell him what you want. He doesn't write anything down as if he already knows. He brings you your non-alcoholic wine and a carafe of water. Then a bowl of warm homemade bread with salt and pepper on the side.

Your thoughts drift toward the people passing by outside. You've been holding back your tears for hours, a deep sadness pulling at your features. You swallow it down and fiddle with your phone. Videos scroll by, you don't listen, you only watch to pass the time. Some are funny, others thought-provoking. You rest your face against one hand, your expression passive when your appetizer arrives. 

The first thing you notice is that the lemon is much softer, lighter, almost bright somehow. It's no longer served as a sauce but as an airy foam. The avocado melts in your mouth and the radishes are crisp. It's good, so good that you eat more than half of it but not the entire plate. The second course arrives a few minutes later and you lift your eyes to thank the waiter automatically, but a blond man with blue eyes greets you instead. He places the dish in front of you with almost reverential grace before giving you a wink. You can't help but smile.

“Hi, Chef.”

“Evening, Friday. I came myself to check whether the risotto is to your liking.”

“You mean you'll stay here while I eat?”

“If it doesn't bother you, yes. You look like you could use some company. Though don't hesitate to tell me I'm wrong. I'm perfectly willing to hear a very polite ‘leave me alone and go back to your kitchen, Chef.’”

“I wouldn't say that.” You laugh a little but he notices your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. “You can stay. Do you want to sit down?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Wouldn't be appropriate. I should maintain some composure while spying.”

He stands behind the chair, his hands gripping the wood. You can see his tattoos more clearly now, vegetables, drawings, all more artistic than the last. You pick up your cutlery and begin eating. You don't dare look up but you know his blue eyes are fixed on you. He's not intimidating, or maybe he is a little, but it isn't unpleasant. Something about him feels kind and there is something else beneath it, something controlled. Not in a bad way, at least not to you. The tears you've been holding back since this morning are almost forgotten. The dish is comforting, like an old grandmother's recipe he reinvented to fit within a fine dining setting. Silence takes up space as spoonful after spoonful disappears and eventually you decide to look at him. He smiles.

“Keep going. Almost there.”

You swallow the last spoonful and his smile widens.

“You did it.”

“Yeah...” You pull your sleeves over your hands and he notices. “You added bacon.”

“The very best for you. I mean for my clients.” He pauses. “I choose my suppliers myself.” Another pause. “Are you alright today?”

“Yes, why?” You smile awkwardly.

“You look... sad. May I ask why? I'm a curious sort, forgive my bluntness. You usually seem to drown in melancholy but today there's something else.”

“It's, uh... personal.”

“Right. Of course. I respect that.” He picks up your empty plate. “Your dessert is waiting for you. I'll be back with it.”

He starts walking away. Your breathing quickens and the words leave your mouth as if they had been waiting for permission all along.

“I'm pregnant.”

He turns around. Contrary to what you expected, he doesn't look surprised. He almost looks happy for you.

“That's good news. Congratulations. But it doesn't explain why you're sad.” He studies you. “The father?”

“Not in the picture.”

You pull at your sleeves again, a nervous habit or maybe he hopes you're simply cold. Luca doesn't want you to feel nervous around him and the thought intrigues him.

“How far along are you?”

“Three and a half months.”

“I see...” He nods as though he's suddenly understood something about you. “I didn't know.” He nods again. “That deserves a little treat. What's your favorite dessert? And don't tell me to surprise you, that's a death sentence for a chef. You might as well sleep here because I'd take far too long, so choose something and I'll bake it.”

“Really?” you ask incredulously.

“Come on, Friday. Try me. Don't be shy now when I can still fix it.”

“Cinnamon rolls.”

“An hour and a half wait. Does that sound fair to you?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

You smile a little wider and Luca seems to freeze.

He grips the edge of the plate harder than necessary and nods before heading back into the kitchen. The waiter comes over with tea and little pastries, you tell him you didn't order any and he replies that the chef made them for you. The cup is warm in your hands, warming both your body and your heart. The sadness inside of you seems to lose some of its space and you feel grateful. 

Finally, someone who sees you, who sees beyond the facade and acts for you. This gift may seem small but to you, this tea is worth all the gold in the world. The rain keeps falling over Copenhagen while you sip hot tea with a slightly lighter mind. The tables begin to empty as the night goes on. Conversations become rarer. Two hours later, the waiters clear the tables and there are almost no customers left apart from a couple in the corner and you. Luca returns with a plate of three steaming cinnamon rolls and places it in front of you. You slip your phone into your bag, the sweet smell makes you hungry.

“Mmm, it smells good.”

“Homemade bakery effect.” He stands behind the chair across from you as usual. “Extra butter and extra icing sugar for the lovely pregnant lady. I can add ice cream if you fancy it. And don't forget the feedback, I'm rather eager for that.”

“Alright, I taste and I tell you.”

“Please, be my guest.”

You pick up your fork and he makes a disapproving sound.

“Eat with your fingers. Better flavor. Trust me.”

You do as he asks without even arguing and he licks his lower lip.

“Good gi-... uh yeah.”

The dough is perfectly soft. The cream melts on your tongue. There is a little crunch to it, hazelnut chocolate. Sweet and not bitter. You close your eyes as you chew and a quiet moan escapes you. He watches you eat with your cheeks full, satisfying in a way that feels almost intimate. Watching you enjoy his cooking creates a kind of euphoria inside him and his smile widens. You eat one, then the second, then the last one. Your fingers are covered in thick cream and you lick them eagerly while Luca finds himself caught by your slow movements.

“Right. I'm definitely adding those to the menu. You seem to like them, Friday.”

“It’s really, really good. Oh my God! How can it be this good?!”

“Chef's secret. Want more?”

“No, no, that's enough sugar for tonight.” You laugh, happy for once. “Thank you, Chef. I'm going to wash my hands and head home. It's late.”

You stand up, move too quickly and the top of your thigh hits the edge of the table.

“Ouch!” you exclaim with a grimace.

“Hey. Hey, what happened? Did you bump yourself?”

He steps closer to you and it's only now that you realize just how tall he is. You stammer something but Luca is already crouching in front of you, inspecting your bare thigh beneath your skirt.

“Sharp edges... I should buy new tables with rounded ones.”

His warm hand moves across your skin as he checks whether a bruise is forming, too focused, too involved. You remain speechless somewhere between surprise and satisfaction. You blame your hormones because the way he touches you stirs something inside of you.

“You don't need to throw away the tables. I'm just clumsy.”

“I don't need to, no.” He rises slowly, his hand gliding over your skin, then your skirt which he adjusts slightly over your thigh before moving to your arm. “But I want to.”

“Okay...” you breathe.

The closeness is overwhelming for a few seconds. Neither of you moves and then he steps back and removes his hand at the same time.

“Doggy bag for later then. No discussion.”

“Chef?”

“No. Discussion.” He says seriously before his features soften and a smile appears. He steps back again to let you pass and you hurry away from him.

“Same time next week? I might have more surprises for you.” He laughs. “I'm talking about the menu. That came out wrong. I'd like to keep this routine. I work hard to make you finish your plates and it's surprisingly fulfilling. How does that sound?”

“Uh... good. Sounds good.”

“Will you give me the honor of coming back?”

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨’𝗗 left for your meeting earlier, you'd feel so excited to feel the sun shining on your face that you'd slipped your cute leather flats onto your feet, glad they were black and matched your outfit. With a blazer thrown over a cute blouse tucked into a pencil skirt, you were the picture of chic professionalism, perfect for the meeting that you were presenting at. Your work at a talent agency right outside Hollywood was not only enough to pay the bills and then some, it also gave you the chance to help build up young actors. The more representation your talent agency got, the less bogus talent agencies would thrive. That's why you worked so hard in your marketing job: you wanted to get the talent agency's name out there. 

Your car was currently in the shop getting a new door after some idiot had t-boned you and completely crushed the passenger side back door the week before. You were fine; just shaken, but your car was a different story, so now your boyfriend, Will, was acting as your chauffeur. You'd tried to protest and say it was too much work for him, but he was in town anyway for several award ceremonies, so you let him drive you around. It had only been in the last year that he'd learned how to drive; you'd taught him yourself, but he was surprisingly good at it for being so new to it. 

Though, maybe he was just extra careful when you were in the car. Come to think of it, he did always refer to you as ‘precious cargo.’ 

Your presentation had gone smoothly, your words flowing like honey as you successfully pronounced every word, even the ones you'd had to review a million times the night before. Will had stayed up extra late to help you prepare even though he had to be functional today, and it warmed your heart to think of his kindness. He was such a thoughtful man, and sometimes, you wondered how you'd gotten so lucky. 

The media wondered that, too, but the first time a reporter had dared to camp out on your lawn and ambush you with that question when you left your house, Will had confronted the man—first with words, then with his fist. He'd let it act as a warning to anyone who tried to interrupt your personal life, and you were grateful. Thankfully, your own insecurity had died down once you got used to the fact that you were dating a celebrity. No one was ever good enough for one of them in the media's eyes. Upon remembering that, you found that you no longer cared what they had to say.

After a long day at work that felt twice as tiring because of your presentation earlier, you watched the clock turn to 5:00, a groan of relief worming its way out of your throat. Finally. It was time to go home and eat dinner and then crash onto your bed and sleep for fifteen years. You almost forgot that Will was picking you up, jumping in surprise when you heard a throat being cleared.

“Love?” the British man chuckled with a bemused smirk. Your face morphed from startled confusion to happiness as you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him lift your feet several inches off the ground as you nuzzled into his neck.

“Baby,” you hummed in tired satisfaction, resting your forehead against his chest playfully as he rubbed your arms soothingly. You soaked in the sensation, loosely wrapping your arms around his waist to pull him closer to you.

“Don't you want to go home?” Will laughed, using your shoulders as leverage to push you away from his body a few feet, but only so he could look into your eyes.

“Yeah, but I'm tired,” you grumbled.

“An even better reason to head home, then,” Will grinned. You nodded, too exhausted to argue as you packed up everything you would need that evening before shutting off your office light. 

When you reached the clear front door, you let out a noise of dismay as you took in the rain hurtling from the gray sky above, water splashing in the parking lot. 

“What's wrong?” your boyfriend asked, worried.

“It's raining,” you whined. “Just another way to ruin my day.” 

“Why does rain ruin your day?” Will inquired, genuinely curious. I sighed as if he was supposed to know, my annoyance getting the best of me.

“Because these shoes are leather. The shoes will be ruined.” Will just chuckled, patting your head. “What?” you eyed him suspiciously.

“You think I'd let your shoes get ruined?” he asked, pretending to be offended. “I would never allow such a tragic event to occur.” Before you could ask what he was going to do about it, Will had swept you off your feet in a bridal carry, your squeal of surprise making the British man smile.

“Don't worry, Cinderella,” Will murmured as he collected your things before sprinting across the parking lot to his car. “Your shoes will be just fine.”

@/poulterlover: "WILL POULTER IS MARRIED?????? TO Y/N Y/L/N????? I WAS NOT PREPARED THIS FRIDAY MORNING."

@/softforwill: "No because look at the way he looks at her... I've never seen Will this happy I'm SOBBING."

@/ynupdates: "THEY'VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR YEARS AND WE DIDN’T KNOW 😭 they really said PRIVACY!! GOALS!!!"

@/poulterstan94: "The way they KEPT IT SECRET AND LOOK SO IN LOVE I'M UNWELL."

I slapped a hand over my mouth, cheeks burning. It was overwhelming. But mostly... it was beautiful. People weren’t angry. They were rooting for us.

"Mm, what’s happening?" Will mumbled beside me, his voice raspy from sleep. He cracked one eye open, blinking blearily.

"Everyone knows," I whispered, biting my lip.

He smiled slowly. That gorgeous, heart-stopping smile I’d fallen in love with years ago.

"Good," he said, tugging me closer. " ‘Bout time."

I laughed into his chest as he kissed the top of my head. We lay there a little longer, scrolling through the endless flood of love pouring in. Fans posting edits of our wedding pictures, people saying they were inspired by how we’d protected what mattered most.

It was surreal. But also... kind of perfect.

Two Weeks Later

"Graham’s going to grill us, isn’t he?" I said, nervously adjusting the hem of my dress backstage.

Will chuckled, looking unfairly handsome in a dark green suit. "Of course he is. It's Graham Norton. It's his job."

I fiddled with the ring on my finger the beautiful, simple band that now never left my hand. "I’m not sure I'm ready."

He stepped closer, gently cupping my face. His thumb brushed my cheek. "You were ready to marry me," he murmured. "You can survive a few cheeky questions."

I grinned. "You’re lucky you’re charming, Poulter."

"I know," he said, smirking.

Before I could retort, we were being ushered onto the stage. The lights were blinding for a moment. But then I spotted Graham's familiar smile, and the nerves settled slightly.

The audience went wild when we walked out hand in hand. I caught Will’s eye as we sat down and he squeezed my hand once, reassuringly.

Graham leaned forward, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Well, well, well," he said, mock-stern. "You two have been very busy, haven’t you?"

The crowd laughed.

Will chuckled. "Guilty."

"I have to say," Graham continued, "this is one of the best kept secrets in showbiz history. How did you manage it?"

I took a deep breath. "We just... decided early on that we wanted to protect what we had," I said honestly. "It wasn’t about hiding it because we were ashamed. It was because it mattered too much."

Will nodded beside me. "We were really happy and we didn’t feel the need to share it with the world until we were ready."

"Amazing," Graham said warmly. "And what made you finally decide, 'Okay, let’s let people in'?"

Will looked at me with so much affection that my heart practically somersaulted. "I wanted to marry her," he said simply. "And we figured if we were going to celebrate with our friends and family, why not let the people who’ve supported us celebrate too?"

The audience awed loudly.

I blinked rapidly, trying not to cry on national television.

Graham smiled kindly. "Well, the photos are beautiful. And the way you look at each other... It’s honestly ridiculous. It's like a Nicholas Sparks novel come to life."

We all laughed.

Will turned to me with a teasing grin. "Bit soppy, aren’t we?"

I elbowed him lightly. "Speak for yourself, Mr 'I'll love you even when the stars burn out.’"

The audience roared with laughter. Will just shook his head fondly, clearly not denying it.

We spent the rest of the interview laughing and joking with the other guests, occasionally sneaking glances at each other like we were still in our own little bubble. Every time our hands brushed, every time our knees bumped under the sofa, it felt like a silent reminder: You’re mine. I’m yours.

And now... everyone knew. And it felt bloody wonderful.

Later That Night

Back at the hotel, we collapsed onto the bed, still fully dressed.

"Well," Will said, flopping onto his back dramatically. "We are officially public property."

I rolled over to face him. "Do you regret it?"

He met my gaze seriously. "Never. Not for a second."

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Me neither."

We lay there, scrolling through the chaos online again. Fans were losing their minds over the interview clips.

@/poulterynheart: "When Y/N said 'Speak for yourself, Mr I'll love you even when the stars burn out' and he just LOOKED at her... I've never seen someone more whipped."

@/lovepoulternation: "THEY'RE SO IN LOVE IM CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP."

@/grahamnortonfan: "Petition for Will and Y/N to have their own romcom series immediately."

I turned my phone off and curled into Will's side.

"Crazy, isn't it?" I said softly. "How something that was just ours for so long is now everyone's favourite story."

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.

"Let them have the fairytale," he murmured into my hair. "We still have the real thing."

And lying there, with his heartbeat under my ear and his arms around me, I realised he was right.

-🎀-

thinking about!gally before he knew he liked you, who gets frustrated - at the fact you’re on his mind too much. he’d grumble obscenities under his breath whenever he caught himself looking at you or thinking about you as he zones out, when he really should be focusing on his job

thinking about!gally before he knew he liked you, who unconsciously pushes himself harder when you’re watching or near him.

if its when he’s in the fighting pit: he’d roll up his sleeves to the point his muscular arms are bulging out the tight shirtsleeve - making up excuses when asked about it by his friends, saying things like:

“they just feel better when I go to land a punch - no biggie,” (but it isn’t a “no biggie,” those muscles are far from that and he knows it - lets just hope you realise it too)

he’d pull off more tactical moves and stronger throws of his fists.

or if its a normal day of building: he’d take things out of gladers hands, even shoving them out of the way, just so he’d be in your field of vision.

“gally- wait you just said I was positioned here a few minutes ago!”

“not anymore - go and help out, somewhere else shuck-face,”

thinking about!gally before he knew he liked you, who suddenly snaps/scoffs at you randomly. If you’re too close - at the teasing jokes you make, you know what? even at the sound of your voice.

you know and he knows that he doesn’t mean it, after all your good friends, but it starts to confuse you. which only makes him snap back even more.

its almost comedic.

but really it’s just a defensive mechanism to him - a barrier he puts up to help push down bubbling feelings that keep arising in his chest.

-🎀-

gally who thought he was pretty good at keeping his emotions in line, finally ends up cracking when he lets himself sit with his thoughts.

-🎀-

thinking about!gally who now knows he likes you, suddenly becomes ticked off by any guy who gets your attention - he might throw some shade or a sarcastic comment at them but shrug it off when you mention it.

though, if the glader you were speaking to, ever brought it up - he’d go and make a scene out of it.

pushing at gally’s chest a glader steps in front of him, “what the hell dude, what’s your deal?”

shoving the male in front of him slightly he scoffs back, “you wanna find out slinthead? c’mon keep pushing me, dude.”

thinking about!gally who now knows he likes you, does everything in his power to avoid you - whats he supposed to do with these feelings now? why does he keep acting out?

he doesn’t remember any trace of knowledge that taught him how he’s supposed to go about, whatever this even is!

while this existential crisis occurs in his brain, his demeanour does not show any signs of panic. His body seems to just run itself - his expression serious, and his body just a teensy bit more tense when he’s around you, whilst his consciousness suffers inside.

-🎀-

gally who isn’t the type to easily admit his emotions - finally admits that he likes you when his body takes full control and crashes his lips into yours.

this wasn’t how his little declaration of love was supposed to go - but all thoughts of worry slip away when you feel your body melt into his.

gally honestly was never going to get his way by expressing his feelings through his words so maybe his actions might show much he likes you?

but the funny thing is the fact you always knew - you had always liked him - from the moment you met him - but there was no way in this world you’d ever admit that. so imagine how relieved you felt when he finally made the first move.

at the end of the day though, you were as stubborn as he was, maybe thats what makes you so crazy for each-other?

Stack gives you a look for interrupting him, but you just innocently shrug before motioning for him to go on. 

“I was gonna say that I don’t like to brag, but this is what happens when you don’t let just anyone do stupid shit and get over on you,” Stack tells you. “Them people are just statin’ the facts.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I mean you did just almost crush a man’s hand for trying to pick up some change you accidentally dropped. Gotta keep up that untouchable facade,” you agree with a sarcastic tone. 

Stack either doesn’t notice your sarcasm or chooses to ignore it.

“Damn right,” he nods.

You quickly fold the newspaper up in your hands and swat his arm. Stack just shoots you a wink. 

The two of you are sitting on a bench outside of Mrs. Chow’s shop and keeping an eye on the store and her daughter while she takes care of some errands. And by errands you mean Mrs. Chow is tending to the man’s hand that Stack had tried to crush 30 minutes prior at her husband’s shop across the street. The location of the incident is only a few feet from where you sit.

Thankfully it wasn’t too hot out today, so you didn’t mind waiting, and plus this gives you a reason to spend more time with Stack.

You shake your head in disappointment at Stack’s response, but you can’t help but smile at him unapologetically being himself.

After the twins’ party a few nights ago and after some confessed feelings (Stack confessed first, and you’ll never let him forget it) the two of you decided to take things slow.

Well, more you than him. You don’t have much relationship experience—or life experience, if you compare it to the twins’— so the last thing you want to do is jump into anything. You’re only in your twenties, so what’s the rush? Who cares that a lot of women your age are already married or are in long term relationships? 

Okay, maybe you do, and maybe you also feel like you’re falling behind, but you’re only human. 

When you had debriefed Mary about the situation and your feelings, she had surprisingly taken your side. Usually she would says that you’re just overthinking or being your usual anxious self, but this time she said:

“You’re doing the right thing by not wanting to rush. I mean, look at me. I got married to a businessman that’s always out of town and who knows exactly what or who he’s doin’,” Mary tells you, the two of you sitting on your front porch enjoying the stars.

“Really, you think?” you ask.

“Yeah, really. You don’t have to compare yourself to all of these other women in town because I can guarantee you not all of ‘em are happy,” Mary points out.

You nod along as you begin to think of all the interactions you have seen between couples in the past; some of them happy and obviously in love, and some of them are just…there.

“And what if Stack doesn’t want to wait like I do?”

“Pea, please. How many times do I have to tell you that that man is in love with you? He’ll wait for you, and if he doesn’t then he can go ahead and take his cocky suit-wearin’ ass to hell.”

Mary’s sudden change in tone makes you burst into laughter, clutching your stomach as you bend over.

“What? I’m serious,” she admits, before joining you.

“Hello? Pea?” you hear Stack’s voice say, bringing you back to the present.

You blink a few times as you notice Stack waving a hand in front of your face. You take a deep breath as you look over at him.

“Sorry, I was just…thinking,” you speak, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

Stack’s eyebrows are furrowed. “I can see that. What’re you thinkin’ about?”

“It’s nothing important,” you tell him while giving him a small smile.

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Didn’t look like nothing’ from how hard you were statin’ off into space.”

“It’s lady stuff, you don’t wanna know,” you joke, trying to change the subject.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Stack smirks. You just roll your eyes and hit him again with the newspaper in your hands.

You sigh. “Really, it’s nothing,” you wave him off.

You can tell Stack doesn’t fully believe you, but he decides not to pry. Before you start feeling too awkward, you notice Mrs. Chow walking up to the two of you, dusting her hands on her apron.

“Alright, I’m all done. Thanks again for watchin’ the shop f’me,” Mrs. Chow smiles at you, but gives Stack a more firm look.

Stack just gives her a cheeky grin.

“It’s not a problem. Besides, it’s the least we could do,” you smile.

“Well, I’ll go ahead and let the two of you get on with your day. Best get him out of here before he causes anymore trouble,” she says, gently touching you on the shoulder as she walks past you and into her shop.

“Oh, come on, I ain’t that bad,” Stack scoffs at her words, but still keeps that grin on his face.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say,” you scoff, collecting your bag and fixing your dress as you stand up from the bench.

“What was that?” Stack teases. 

He stands up with you and places his hat on top of his head before he begins poking you in your side.

“Stop,” you laugh at the ticklish feeling, using your hands to try and swat him away. 

You let out a shriek as he digs his fingers into your side, causing some people to look over, but most just mind their business.

“People are looking, stop,” you lower your voice, but there’s a smile on your face as you shove him away.

You hate how giddy he makes you feel. 

“Nah, I heard you say somethin’ smart,” Stack smirks and stays right on your tail as you begin walking away from him. 

“I think you’re hearing things. It’s okay, though, everyone knows you’re not all there,” you snicker.

“Ohh, you think you’re funny, huh,” Stack looks at you in fake astonishment. “That hurts, Pea. You’re ‘posed to be on my side, you know we gotta stick together.”

“And I am on your side,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“Well, from what you just said, that’s not what it seems like.”

“It doesn’t matter what it seems like, all that matters is the truth. You should know this.”

“Don’t get smart. This ain’t over.”

“It is, if I say it is.”

“Alright, keep playin’,” Stack chuckles.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as the two of you slowly carry on down the road through the town. Stack had offered to drive, but you had declined and told him that a little exercise won’t kill anyone. Stack had just groaned, but he followed behind you anyways when he realized you were serious.

“Are you still coming over for dinner?” you ask after a while, your tone hopeful.

Smoke and Stack always used to have dinner at your house when you all were growing up, so much so that you eventually stopped asking them because you knew they would show up. 

“Of course, nothing could keep me from your mama’s cookin’. I thought about it a lot while I was gone,” he says, rubbing his stomach over his clothes.

“Really?” you’re taken aback for a second.

“Really,” Stack nods sincerely.

Before either of you have the chance to say anything else, a man carrying a container loses his footing in front of you along with his hold on the object, causing it to slip from his grasp. Whatever liquid is inside splashes up onto the bottom of your dress as the container hits the ground. 

You gasp as you take a step back while looking down at your clothes. Some people passing by turn to look at the cause of the commotion.

You hate nosy people. 

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean to,” the man frantically apologizes, his eyes wide, “My buddy told me not to carry this by myself, but I was bein’ stubborn and look where that got me. I shoul-.”

You hold your hand up to cut him off, shaking your head with a small smile. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Stack making a move to say something, but you quickly place a hand on his arm.

“Don’t, it’s okay,” you tell him softly, giving him a look to let him know you’re serious.

Stack hesitates as he looks down at you. His body is tense and his jaw is tight, but once he sees your face, he takes a deep breath before looking away from the scene in front of him.

When you look back at the man in front of you, you see the uneasiness on his face as he notices Stack standing next to you.

“I really am sorry, ma’am. I meant no disrespect,” the man  shifts uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry about it. Like you said, it’s an accident. Besides, I’m sure this isn’t something a little elbow grease can’t fix,” you give the man a reassuring smile, and he nods.

Not wanting to stand there any longer, you give the man one last smile as you walk past him, pulling Stack with you.

“Sorry about the dress,” you say once the two of you are out of ear shot.

Stack had given you the dress a couple of days ago, saying that he felt bad for coming back after all this time without something to give you. You had insisted that you didn’t need anything and that having you and Smoke back in one piece was good enough, but had just ignored you and shoved the dress into your hands.

Stack is confused as he looks at you. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I ruined the dress you gave me.”

“You didn’t ruin it, that piece of shit back there did. You should’ve let me say something to him back there,” Stack grumbles, glancing back at the man in the distance. 

“And say what? He didn’t mean to, Stack. Sometimes, you just gotta let things go. Besides, you already hurt a man earlier, there’s no need for more violence.”

He rolls his eyes. Then, he says, “just know, I would’ve said something if you wanted me to.”

“I know you would’ve, but I didn’t need you to.”

“Okay, Miss independent. You don’t need me no more, I see,” Stack jokes, giving you a playful nudge with his shoulder.

“Oh, please. I never needed you, you just never listened and kept weaseling your way into things in the past.”

“And I was just a man tryin’ to handle business,” Stack throws his hands up dramatically and sighs.

“Man? Your voice was still squeaking when you talked,” you snort.

“Hey! That’s not funny, I was in the process of becoming a man,” Stack tells you with a serious face. The two of you share a look for a moment before bursting into laughter. “I missed spendin’ time with you, Pea.”

You feel your face get warm as you glance down at your feet with a shy smile at his admission.

And I missed you too.

Being around Stack makes you feel like everything only happened yesterday, like no time has passed and the two of you haven’t changed.

He brings a different side of you out. 

God. You sound gross, you sound in love—if this is even what love feels like.

“Well, who wouldn’t miss me?” you tease.

Stack playfully shakes his head with a smile, before grabbing your hand and twirling you around. You’re taken aback at first, but you quickly recover and let him spin you in the middle of the street.

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore is twirling you around in the street.

Before the two of you could get too lost in the moment, you hear a female voice call out.

“Well, I’ll be damned, it must be my lucky day. Is that one of the twins I see over there?” the woman’s voice is teasing.

You turn in the direction of the voice and see a gorgeous woman with a bright smile slowly walking over. There’s a hat sitting on top of her neatly styled hair, and she’s wearing a dress that matches her glove and purse. She uses one of her covered hands to shield her eyes from the sun.

You’re not sure if you’re dizzy because of all the spinning or from the way Stack gently rests his hand on your back as he stands next to you.

“It’s my lucky day, which one of the twins are you?” the woman asks, but quickly laughs and adds, “Who am I kidding? I can recognize you from a mile away, Stack.”

You’re confused at first, thinking that this was some random stranger walking up to the two of you, but as you look up at Stack, you can tell by the smile growing on his face that he recognizes the woman.

“Liza? What the hell are you doin’ in Mississippi?” Stack asks. His hand leaves your back as he leaves your side to go hug the woman—Liza. 

Your mood shifts a bit. 

“Sightseeing, although there’s not that much to see,” Liza giggles.

“Sightseein’ my ass, what are you really doin’ out here?” Stack asks as he pulls away.

“My father’s in town handlin’ some business, and I decided to tag along because why not? I remembered you mentioning’ something about you bein’ from Mississippi, but I didn’t think I’d actually run into you,” Liza grins up at Stack. Then, she finally notices you standing over to the side. “Look at you being rude, Stack. Who’s your friend?”

Friend.

Stack moves to put his arm around your shoulder, not on your back like it was a few moments ago, but around your shoulders. “This is Pea, she grew up with me and Smoke. We go way back.”

He didn’t correct her. It’s not like he’s supposed to, though, the two of you aren’t official. It still hurts.

“Pea?” Liza asks with furrowed brows.

“It’s a nickname,” you explain, to which she nods.

“It’s sweet that you guys have stayed close after all this time.” Liza holds her hand out for you to shake. “I’m Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Liza, I guess you could say that that’s my nickname. It’s nice to meet you.”

So cheer-y.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Her hands are soft, her fingernails are nicely manicured, she smells amazing, and she looks even better up close. There has to be something wrong with her, she’s too perfect.

Then Liza’s bright smile changes into a gasp as she looks down, “Oh, honey, you got a little somethin’ on your dress.”

Your heart drops. “Oh, it’s nothing. I ran into someone earlier and they spilled this on my dress,” you respond, glancing down at the spot still on your dress.

For a moment, you had forgotten all about it.

Now, you suddenly feel hyper-aware of your appearance in comparison to Liza’s. Here she is looking all elegant from head to toe, and then here you are with a stain on your dress. Stack’s dress. A dress you had felt so confident in an hour ago, but not now as you stand in front of Liza.

You shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you are.

Why couldn’t she have popped up earlier before everything happened?

“What a shame, it looks like a lovely dress despite the stain. I know someone who can remove almost anythin’ if you’re interested?”

“I think I’ll manage, but thank you, though,” you offer a kind smile.

“Of course,” she tells you, before turning her attention back to Stack. “I gotta go, but I’ll be in town for a couple of days, so we should get together before I leave. I’m sure my father would love to see you.”

Your eyebrows are raised as you look between the two. 

“I don’t think your old man would be too happy to see me after I won that game against him,” Stack chuckles.

“Oh, please, I’m sure he’s over it. Besides, I think he was more impressed than anythin’. Think about it at least?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Perfect,” Liza claps. She turns to you to say, “It was really great to meet you.”

You watch as Liza leaves, her confidence obvious in the way she walks in her heels. Why are you surprised, she’s just the type of woman Stack would go for. 

-

You’re not as excited for dinner as you should be, given the fact that it’s Stack’s first time in your house in years. You hate how much that Liza girl had affected your mood for the day. 

After washing your dress and successfully getting the stain out, you changed into a new one for dinner, although it didn’t really matter. You’re pretty sure you hung your appetite up alongside your dress on the clothesline. 

Even though you weren’t in the mood to eat, you were apparently still in the mood to laugh. You couldn’t help the noises that left you as your mother and Stack shared memories from over the years. 

Your mother went on a tangent summarizing everything that Stack had missed out on concerning the whole town. She told him about how boring the stories the women at church told in his and Smoke’s absence, but also how a lot of people in town missed them even though they would never admit it to twins’ faces.

Stack enlightened her on his adventures with his brother, but you could tell when he was leaving out some details or changing them to spare your mother.

After dinner, when Stack had asked you if you wanted to take a walk with him outside, you had declined and told him that you weren’t feeling too well—which wasn’t a complete lie.

You just needed some time to yourself to think.

-

A few days later, Stack hadn’t seen or heard from you since that night.  At first, he just thought you were still feeling under the weather from dinner, but as time passed that just didn’t seem likely. 

Stack didn’t want to admit it, but he felt like he was going crazy. He had just gotten you back and the two of you were making progress, but then poof. You’re gone. 

Was it something he had done? 

You told him wanted to take things slow, but did he somehow move too fast? Was he laying on too heavy with the flirting? Did you not like when he twirled you around in the street?

And why the hell did he twirl you in the street? Who was he? Better yet, who were you making him become? 

He was different when he was around you, but he liked that, didn’t he?

Stack asked around for you during the gatherings at the Juke Joint, and most people would say that they had spoken to you earlier in the day or they had passed by you in town. Cornbread, Slim, Sammy, Smoke, and Annie hadn’t seen you either.

Yesterday, Stack had run into Mary after she had gotten off at the train station. When he asked her about you, she was confused because she had figured you’d be spending most of your time with Stack while she was gone. She didn’t tell Stack any of that, though, and instead told him that she was sure that you’re fine.

To anyone else, Stack seemed like his usual witty and firm self, but it was obvious to Smoke and Annie that something was off about him.

Annie wanted Smoke to say something to his brother, but talking about feelings was never Smoke’s strong suit. 

So, he made Annie do it.

“Word on the street is you’ve gone soft,” Annie smirks at Stack, her voice gentle and teasing as she casually walks up to Stack.

Stack was leaning with his back against the bar with his arms folded across his chest as he watched people move around the dance floor.

“Oh, yeah? Says who?” Stack lets out a humorless laugh, keeping his eyes in front of him.

“The streets,” Annie jokes. Stack gives her an unimpressed look, but Annie keeps her smirk as she comes to stand next to him and mimics his stance. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What do you mean? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.” Stack’s face contorts.

“Boy,” Annie scoffs, “try tellin’ that to someone who doesn’t know you.”

“Well, I’m tellin’ you that nothin’ is wrong with me.”

Annie raises an eyebrow as she turns her body to face him. “Mhm. So why have you been walkin’ around here all sad and lookin’ like you got a stick up your ass?”

Stack breathes out a frustrated sigh as his jaw tenses. “What the hell do you want, Annie?”

“I want you to tell me what’s got you actin’ like this. Your brother notices it, too, but he just didn’t wanna say anythin’ so I am.”

Stack looks over at Smoke in the distance leaning against a pillar as he watches with a smile as Slim performs.

What a pussy.

“We can stand here all night gettin’ absolutely nowhere, or we can just get to it. The choice is yours. That hard-headed brother o’ yours is just as stubborn as you, so this little facade you got goin’ on doesn’t phase me one bit.”

Stack lets out a sigh and doesn’t say anything, but Annie notices the slight flicker of emotion in his face, so she keeps talking.

“Is it Pea?” Annie questions, even though she already knows the answer. 

This makes Stack whip his head towards her. Annie smirks.

“What, you don’t think I notice how upbeat you’ve been lately? I can put two and two together. Plus, I saw you in town with her the other day while I was grabbin’ some ingredients. Now here you keep askin’ around about her because she ain’t here by your side, which is why you look like a puppy dog who got kicked,” Annie continues.

Stack isn’t a fan of the puppy comparison but chooses to ignore it. “So you saw that, huh?” he asks.

“Yes. Now, what’s wrong? Did you guys get in a fight or somethin’?”

“No, we didn’t. She’s avoidin’ me for no reason.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a reason,” Annie scoffs.

“Well, if there is, I obviously don’t know what the fuck it is! You just said you saw us in town and seen for yourself that everythin’ was fine, but apparently not, and I’m over here goin’ damn near crazy.” Stack does his best to keep his voice down but doesn’t do a very good job.

Annie, being used to the twins’ reactions, lets Stack’s outburst wash over her like nothing. If anything, this tells her how much Stack cares for you, and not just as in a bestfriend way.

“Use that big head o’ yours and think. Did she say somethin’ to you to let you know that she was upset? Was she actin’ different later that day? Did anythin’ at all happen that she seemed fine with in the moment but could upset her?”

Stack rolls his eyes, thinking to himself that there’s no way he’s going to figure this out. Then, as he goes back into his memories to recall that day with you for what seems to be the 100th time, it clicks.

-

While Stack was receiving an insightful pep talk from Annie, you were getting one from Mary. 

The two of you were sitting at your dining table drinking tea that your mother had just made, and you were planning on not telling her anything and just start rambling about whatever comes to mind, but Mary had other plans.

“So, what’s this I hear about Stack not bein’ able to find you? What the hell did I miss while I was gone?” Mary asks you.

“How do you know that?”

“I saw him yesterday at the train station, and he came up to me and asked about you. I didn’t say anything, of course, but what the hell happened while I was gone? Did things change?”

You don’t look up at her and instead fidget with the spoon inside of your cup.

“Pea, come on. Don’t make me sit here all night because I will, and you know I will,” Mary tells you, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded. 

So you tell her everything—from spending the day with Stack to meeting Liza, who is probably one of Stack’s one night stands, in a ruined dress.

“I’m sorry, that bitch said ‘honey’ to you?” Mary is taken aback. 

You quickly shush her and glance back towards the kitchen where your mother still was. Yeah, you’re a grown woman, but it just seems weird to have someone come into your house and swear around her. 

Mary just waves you off and tells you to keep going. She knows your mother loves her and mostly likely won’t say anything.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if she meant it in a snarky way or if she was just saying that because it’s something she always says,” you point out.

Mary gives you a ‘really’ look. “Trust me, if everythin’ happened like the way you just told me, then this Liza girl was bein’ exactly how you think she was. Don’t let that woman get to you, if anything, you’re the one that got to her.”

“And what makes you say that?” You scoff.

“Because she felt the need to point out that something was wrong with your dress, and I don’t care how kind or gentle her tone seemed, she didn’t mean it in a friendly way. I would never do somethin’ like that to you, ‘specially not in front of a man.”

You stare into space as you think about it for a moment. “I guess you’re right, but I still don’t understand why she would feel threatened by me. I mean, you didn’t see her. She was gorgeous and I’m just…me. It would make sense if the two of them were ever together.”

“Don’t you dare,” Mary tells you as she sits back up in her chair. “Don’t you dare start puttin’ yourself down like that. So what, I wasn’t there to see Liza. Any woman who is ugly on the inside looks just the same on the outside in my eyes.”

 “Well, I’m not putting myself down…I was just telling it how it is,” you shrug.

Mary holds her hand up to stop you. “Don’t even try me. You might not realize it, but that’s exactly what you’re doin’, Pea.”

You open your mouth to speak, and Mary quickly shuts you down with a look.

“I’ve known you your whole damn life, and I’ll be damned if I let some random woman come here and tear you down after only knowing you for five whole seconds. Don’t let me run into her because who the hell does she think she is?”

You can’t help but smile at your best friend’s choice of words. Her tone might seem aggressive or intense, but deep down you know anything that she says comes from love. 

You hear a faint “that’s right” coming from behind, which makes you turn your head only to catch your mother peeking from behind the wall.

“Ma!” you gasp. 

Your mother holds her hands up in surrender as she smiles. “Sorry I ain’t mean to eavesdrop. I won’t do it no more, I promise. Carry on,” she tells the two of you. 

She sends Mary a wink before leaving. When you turn back around to face Mary, she’s looking back at you with a smirk. You roll your eyes.

“What, your mother knows best and obviously agrees because she knows I’m tellin’ you nothin’ but the trust,” Mary laughs.

“Oh whatever. Don’t make me kick you out.”

“But, as I was sayin’, there’s absolutely nothin’ wrong with you, and the fact that Stack is still choosin’ you after travelin’ the damn planet should tell you everythin’ you need to know.”

“We’re not even official yet, so he didn’t exactly choose me,” you counter.

Mary dramatically throws her hands up. “How about you stop guessin’ about all of this and let Stack decide for himself. Just ask that man, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of.”

You let out a sigh. “I guess. I can’t exactly avoid him forever,” you suppose and Mary nods.

“Exactly. So this means you’ll talk to Stack tomorrow then, right?” Mary raised an eyebrow at you.

“Right,” you nod, giving her a small smile

-

Two days later, you still haven’t talked to Stack. 

You know that you told Mary that you would, you just…haven’t gotten around to it–and by that, you mean you’ve been tryin’ your hardest to avoid both Stack and Mary. 

It’s obvious you can’t carry on like this much longer because your mother keeps giving you this look like she wants to say something, but she never does. 

You’re starting to feel a little guilty about this whole situation, but to be honest, Mary should’ve known that you weren’t going to march right up to Stack and demand that he tell you that you’re the only woman for him.

And Mary did know this, which is why she was currently bursting through the front door of your mother’s shop, with a clear attitude on her face.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Mary asks as she crosses her arms, her purse dangling from one of her hands.

Your eyes widen as you curse under your breath. The customers that were in the shop, turned their heads at the sudden commotion. 

The woman you were currently ringing up, Mrs.Lenetta, a close friend of your mother’s, looks between you and Mary before shaking her head. She’s been around long enough to not be surprised by Mary and her ways.

Besides, Mary is only comfortable causing a ruckus like this because she knows most of the people in the area. You honestly shouldn’t even be surprised.

You quickly finish up with Mrs. Lenetta, giving her an apologetic smile, before coming from behind the register and walking up to Mary.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask her with a hushed voice. 

You grab her arm to push her outside, but she moves out of your grasp. You look behind you and see the customers no longer caring and going back to browsing.

“What do you mean ‘what the hell am I doing’? What are you doing? First, you avoid Stack, but now you’re avoidin’ me? That won’t do. This is gonna get settled once and for all right here, right now.”

“I know, and I’m sor- Wait, what do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows.

Before Mary has a chance to answer, you hear your mother’s voice announce, “Alright, everyone, I’m sorry to do this to ya, but I’m gon’ have to close up a little early.”

You whip your head around to see your mother coming out from the backroom and standing behind the counter.

Your mother rarely closes up the shop early, so she either has to be close to dying or she won some kind of lottery to do it now.

Mr. Gibbs, an older man and frequent customer, starts grumbling to himself, but your mother comes up to him with a kind smile and reassures him that he can come back anytime as she guides him out the door.

“What’s going on?” you look from your mother to Mary, but neither of them give you an answer.

Your mother waits for the last customer to walk out the door, before she finally turns to you.

“Mary’s right, honey. This has to end.”

“Are you serious? Is this some kind of intervention?” you scoff and turn to head to the backroom, but your mother stops you.

“Not so fast”

You turn around with a confused look on your face, which doesn’t change as you watch Mary go to pull the shop door open.

Then Mary leans out to say, “Come on in.”

You feel yourself begin to sweat, before you even see him, the small smirk on Mary’s face making it obvious who's waiting right outside. 

Your mouth opens and you subconsciously hold your breath as you look at your mother, shaking your head in disbelief on how she could do something like this to her own daughter. Your mother gives you an unapologetic look as she claps her hands together in front of her.

Is it too late to make a run for it? Maybe you can quickly make it out the back door. Maybe you can hide? Or better yet, make the ground could just open up and swallow you whole to avoid all of this.

It’s when you finally see all of him as he steps through the door that your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

Stack Moore.

“Evenin’ ladies,” Stack greets, taking off his hat and calmly placing his empty hand into his pocket as he steps further inside. He gives your mother a nod, before his eyes land on you.

There’s no anger or disappointment behind his eyes from what you can see, just curiosity and his usual charming smile.

“We’ll give you two some time to talk,” Mary looks you in the eye as smirks and walks out.

You know hate is a strong word, but that’s just how you feel towards her right now, even if you know you’re going to eventually forgive her.

Is it hot in here or is it just you?

Your mother hums in agreement, before she leans in to whisper, “Close y’mouth, dear.”

You shoot her a glare as she backs away with a knowing grin, but you do close your mouth.

Your eyes follow her as she walks out of the shop and closes the door behind her. Even as you're left alone in silence with Stack not too far from you, you still keep your eyes on the door, not yet ready to look at him.

Stack’s eyes haven’t left you once, watching as you avoid him and shift under his stare. He notices the slight shine on your forehead from the thin layer of sweat forming and the way you fidget with your fingers, both tells of your nervousness.

Stack moves casually and begins to walk around the store, taking his time as he takes in everything. Things have changed since the last time he’s been here, and a sense of pride and respect filling him as he sees how much progress you and your mother have made over the years.

He doesn’t touch anything as he looks, keeping one hand in his pocket and the other holding his hat. The sound of his steps coming in contact with the wooden floorboards seem amplified with the silence surrounding the two of you.

You find your gaze shifting to the floor in front of you, suddenly becoming really interested in the old and worn floorboards that have needed to be fixed for a while. Maybe it’s finally time to get them fixed. 

Better yet, maybe one of the floorboards will cave in and help you get out of this situation.

“Long time no see, Pea,” you hear Stack say, still walking around. “It’s obvious why I ain’t seen you around in a while–”

It is?

“–You’ve had to help run a family business, and y’know I know a thing or two about businesses. It ain’t easy, I understand. You have to build relationships with the customers and make sure they know they can trust you so they come back–”

Where is this going?

You’re still looking everywhere but him.

“-Communication is an important tool to being successful, and it’s obvious that you and your mama already understand that part–”

Okay?

“–So I think you can understand why I’m a little confused on why you feel you can’t communicate with me.” Stack ends his stroll right in front of you as his rant comes to an end. “What’s up with that?”

There it is.

Stack looks at you with an expectant look on his face, his eyebrows raised as he waits for you to speak.

“How’d you even know I was here?” you grumble, taking a step back as you suddenly feel too close to him.

“Mary told me. She and your mama got together and said that I should meet them here because you would be working.” You huff out a laugh because of course they did. “Come on, Pea. I asked you a question.”

You honestly don’t know what to say because there’s not much that you can say, except for the truth. Your mouth opens and closes, then opens and closes again as you try to find the right words to say.

You get frustrated and finally throw your hands up in the air. “I just–I don’t know, okay. I needed some time to myself…to think.”

“To think? Think about what? It’s been days, Pea.”

Stack follows you as you move to tidy up the front of the store. You’re behind the check out counter and Stack stands in front of you on the other side. He lays his hat down and leans onto the counter.

“Everything. Life. Me. Us.”

“Us?” Stack furrows his eyebrows. He watches as you clean the counter, but his patience begins to run low, so he snatches the rag you were using out of your hand. “What’s goin’ on, Pea? Talk to me.”

You think back to what Mary had told you; about how there’s no point in stressing over all of this and how you should just come clean to Stack because he chooses you. 

So, you decide to listen to her advice, and quickly spit it out before you have a chance to chicken out.

“Do you really want to be with me?” you ask. After hearing yourself say it, though, you hate how sad your words sound. You fold your arms across your chest as a defense mechanism.

Stack is visibly taken back. “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I wanna be with you, you think I would be goin’ through all of this trouble if I didn’t?”

Like Mary had said.

“It’s just…” you start, but you trail off.

“This is ‘cause of Liza, ain’t it?” Stack asks, already knowing the answer to it.

You raise your eyebrows as you look at him, surprised. “What makes you say that?”

“Because the day you met her was the last time I saw you. Somethin’ was off about you after we ran into her.  I didn’t notice it at the time, but after thinkin’ about it, it just made sense.”

“Well, even though she did have an effect on me, she isn’t the main reason for how I feel.”

“And what is it that you feel, Pea, you ain’t tellin’ me anything!”

Just spit it out. 

“I feel like I’m not good enough for you,” you breathe.

Stack’s mouth closes as he takes in what you just said. You can see the gears turning in his head as he looks back at you and just blinks. You look away and down at the old counter. 

The shop falls into an uncomfortable silence, only the sounds of both yours and Stack’s breathing filling the space.

When you notice that Stack isn’t going to say anything right away, you continue. “I feel like you could have any other girl in the world because you’re you, Elias ‘Stack’ Moore. You’ve travelled the world and you’ve obviously come across many beautiful women, and unfortunately, I find it hard to believe that you’re choosing me after everything and everyone  you’ve experienced. Yes, Liza is gorgeous, and yes, I felt—and still feel—that she is the better choice for you.”

Stack’s expression is unreadable as he listens to you.

“We’ve been best friends since day one, so it’s only understandable that we’ve remained close  after all this time.” You pause for a second, before continuing. “I guess what I’m saying is that I know what my feelings toward you are, but I want to know if you’re feelings are because you actually see a romantic future with me, or if you’re choosing to be with me because I’m a safe option and it’s what everyone expects.”

You take a deep breath after you finally spill what’s been plaguing your mind. Part of you feels relieved, like a huge weight has been lifted over your shoulders, and the other part of you is full of tension and anxiety as you wait for Stack’s response.

You suddenly feel hot again after revealing your feelings, making you wipe your forehead. You wish he would just hurry up and say something.

Stack stands across from you not knowing where to begin.

“Is this how you’ve always felt, like you ain’t good enough f’me?” Stack’s voice is quiet as he speaks, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve heard him like this. 

“I wouldn’t say always, but lately, yeah.”

“Pea,” Stack shakes his head, “why on earth would you think somethin’ like that? Have I done somethin’ to make you think that? Did someone say  somethin’ to you because if they did, just tell me who–.”

You put your hand up to stop him from going further. “No, no. No one said anything or did anything. This is…all me.”

Stack lowers his head to try and catch your eyes. “Then help me understand because from where I’m standin’, no one else stands a chance against you.”

And hearing those words come from his mouth in that sincere tone that he doesn’t just use on anyone, makes you hold your breath as you stare back at him. You feel something grow in your stomach and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Stack pushes himself off of the counter and walks around to where you are behind it, holding your gaze the entire time. Your heart rate picks up again and your throat goes dry as he comes closer. You naturally take a few steps back as he comes to stand in front of you, but you only end up backing yourself into the edge of the counter. 

Stack uses this to his advantage and grabs your hands to hold in his. He’s not letting you get away again without a fight.

“You say you’re a ‘safe option’ because of our history, but that’s not how I see it. Yeah, I’ve been across the world, but that don’t mean I was fuckin’ women left and right the whole time. Yeah, women came up to me, but that don’t mean I gave every single one of them the time of day. Now, I will admit that I did sleep with three women throughout those years, but that don’t mean that I felt anythin’ for ‘em. Liza was not one ‘em either; Smoke and I just used her to get close to her father, and she obviously keeps gettin’ her hopes up. Smoke and I kept each other grounded while we were gone.”

A breath leaves you after hearing Stack admit to not sleeping with Liza. You can't even blame Liza because, who wouldn’t?

“You may think that you’re not as ‘beautiful’ as any other woman you might see, but that’s not how I feel, Pea. You’re more attractive than most of the women I’ve encountered, and I ain’t just sayin’ that to make you feel better, I’m tellin’ you this because it’s how I really feel. It’s my truth. You’re intelligent, hardworking, kind, and damn near perfect.”

A smile grows on Stack’s lips as he watches you laugh at him calling you perfect. It’s a word you’ve never used to describe yourself, only others. He knows you’re going to object to the fact when he sees you open your mouth, so he jokingly tightens his grip on your hands as he continues.

“You don’t know how hard it is to come across a woman like you anywhere else, and even if she’s somewhere out there, I don’t want her ‘cause I already have you. Everythin’ that makes you you is what makes you beautiful. You’re in a league of your own, baby.”

That’s the first time Stack has called you ‘baby’, and apparently your legs know too because they feel like jello underneath you. You don’t know how you’re going to get through this.

It’s definitely hot in here, right?

Stack releases the hold he has on your hands to place them on either side of your face. You feel like your feet are stuck to the ground as Stack comes even closer into your personal space. As much as you want to pull away, everything about him is keeping you near.

“Now, I only agreed to take things slow because that’s what you wanted, and y’know I wouldn’t do anythin’ to make you uncomfortable, but, Pea, I am so serious about you. Of course, I see a future with you, I want you by my side at all times because you’ve changed me. You don’t know how crazy I was goin’ after not hearin’ from you all that time. I hate to admit it, but I damn near lost my mind, and I don’t wanna go through that again if I can help it. I love you, Pea–”

And just like that, all of your thoughts seem to leave your mind to allow you to fully focus on what Stack has just confessed. 

“–and, yeah, I always have, but this is different. I don’t know how else to convince you or what else to say except for that I love you,” he repeats. “I always have and I always will. You ain’t gotta say it now ‘cause I know how you feel about–”

You don’t think as you cut him off by surging forward and pressing your lips to his. 

Both of you are shocked by your sudden boldness; you eyes widen and you freeze when you realize what you’ve just done, and you hear a startled noise leaves Stack.

Just as you go to pull away, Stack says, “Nah, where’re you goin’? You can’t just do that and not finish it,” before closing the space between you once again.

This time, you allow yourself to melt into him as he wraps his arms around you and presses against your back, pulling you further into his chest as your lips move against his. 

Your arms make their way around his shoulders to pull him down by the neck, and you feel Stack back away slightly to laugh at this, his breath fanning against your face, before smashing his lips back into yours.

To anyone looking in on the outside, the kiss might seem rushed, but you and Stack know that this is from both of your combined feelings that have been pent up over time; from your insecurities being silenced by Stack’s confessions and admissions; from the tension that’s been growing and overflowing in Stack’s body now being released.

It’s impossible for you and him to get any closer, but that doesn’t stop you guys from trying as you both continue to grab and pull one another. 

Stack ends up pushing your back against the edge of the counter even more, and any other time the pressure would be uncomfortable, but, right now, you couldn’t care less.

When your lips finally disconnect, Stack leans his forehead against yours for a moment while the two of you catch your breath, before fully pulling away.

“I love you, too,” you shyly confess, and to this Stack grins.

“I choose you, Pea, I always will,” Stack assures, and his tone leaves no room in your mind for doubt.

His hands are on your waist, but one of them leaves to grab ahold of one of your hands again. He dips his head down to place a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, and he smirks when he sees you rolling your eyes.

You let out a fake dramatic sigh. “I guess, we’re stuck together.”

Yeah, he has gone soft, but he doesn’t care.

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taglist (for those who asked and who I thought would enjoy it)

Stack gives you a look for interrupting him, but you just innocently shrug before motioning for him to go on. 

“I was gonna say that I don’t like to brag, but this is what happens when you don’t let just anyone do stupid shit and get over on you,” Stack tells you. “Them people are just statin’ the facts.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I mean you did just almost crush a man’s hand for trying to pick up some change you accidentally dropped. Gotta keep up that untouchable facade,” you agree with a sarcastic tone. 

Stack either doesn’t notice your sarcasm or chooses to ignore it.

“Damn right,” he nods.

You quickly fold the newspaper up in your hands and swat his arm. Stack just shoots you a wink. 

The two of you are sitting on a bench outside of Mrs. Chow’s shop and keeping an eye on the store and her daughter while she takes care of some errands. And by errands you mean Mrs. Chow is tending to the man’s hand that Stack had tried to crush 30 minutes prior at her husband’s shop across the street. The location of the incident is only a few feet from where you sit.

Thankfully it wasn’t too hot out today, so you didn’t mind waiting, and plus this gives you a reason to spend more time with Stack.

You shake your head in disappointment at Stack’s response, but you can’t help but smile at him unapologetically being himself.

After the twins’ party a few nights ago and after some confessed feelings (Stack confessed first, and you’ll never let him forget it) the two of you decided to take things slow.

Well, more you than him. You don’t have much relationship experience—or life experience, if you compare it to the twins’— so the last thing you want to do is jump into anything. You’re only in your twenties, so what’s the rush? Who cares that a lot of women your age are already married or are in long term relationships? 

Okay, maybe you do, and maybe you also feel like you’re falling behind, but you’re only human. 

When you had debriefed Mary about the situation and your feelings, she had surprisingly taken your side. Usually she would says that you’re just overthinking or being your usual anxious self, but this time she said:

“You’re doing the right thing by not wanting to rush. I mean, look at me. I got married to a businessman that’s always out of town and who knows exactly what or who he’s doin’,” Mary tells you, the two of you sitting on your front porch enjoying the stars.

“Really, you think?” you ask.

“Yeah, really. You don’t have to compare yourself to all of these other women in town because I can guarantee you not all of ‘em are happy,” Mary points out.

You nod along as you begin to think of all the interactions you have seen between couples in the past; some of them happy and obviously in love, and some of them are just…there.

“And what if Stack doesn’t want to wait like I do?”

“Pea, please. How many times do I have to tell you that that man is in love with you? He’ll wait for you, and if he doesn’t then he can go ahead and take his cocky suit-wearin’ ass to hell.”

Mary’s sudden change in tone makes you burst into laughter, clutching your stomach as you bend over.

“What? I’m serious,” she admits, before joining you.

“Hello? Pea?” you hear Stack’s voice say, bringing you back to the present.

You blink a few times as you notice Stack waving a hand in front of your face. You take a deep breath as you look over at him.

“Sorry, I was just…thinking,” you speak, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

Stack’s eyebrows are furrowed. “I can see that. What’re you thinkin’ about?”

“It’s nothing important,” you tell him while giving him a small smile.

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Didn’t look like nothing’ from how hard you were statin’ off into space.”

“It’s lady stuff, you don’t wanna know,” you joke, trying to change the subject.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Stack smirks. You just roll your eyes and hit him again with the newspaper in your hands.

You sigh. “Really, it’s nothing,” you wave him off.

You can tell Stack doesn’t fully believe you, but he decides not to pry. Before you start feeling too awkward, you notice Mrs. Chow walking up to the two of you, dusting her hands on her apron.

“Alright, I’m all done. Thanks again for watchin’ the shop f’me,” Mrs. Chow smiles at you, but gives Stack a more firm look.

Stack just gives her a cheeky grin.

“It’s not a problem. Besides, it’s the least we could do,” you smile.

“Well, I’ll go ahead and let the two of you get on with your day. Best get him out of here before he causes anymore trouble,” she says, gently touching you on the shoulder as she walks past you and into her shop.

“Oh, come on, I ain’t that bad,” Stack scoffs at her words, but still keeps that grin on his face.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say,” you scoff, collecting your bag and fixing your dress as you stand up from the bench.

“What was that?” Stack teases. 

He stands up with you and places his hat on top of his head before he begins poking you in your side.

“Stop,” you laugh at the ticklish feeling, using your hands to try and swat him away. 

You let out a shriek as he digs his fingers into your side, causing some people to look over, but most just mind their business.

“People are looking, stop,” you lower your voice, but there’s a smile on your face as you shove him away.

You hate how giddy he makes you feel. 

“Nah, I heard you say somethin’ smart,” Stack smirks and stays right on your tail as you begin walking away from him. 

“I think you’re hearing things. It’s okay, though, everyone knows you’re not all there,” you snicker.

“Ohh, you think you’re funny, huh,” Stack looks at you in fake astonishment. “That hurts, Pea. You’re ‘posed to be on my side, you know we gotta stick together.”

“And I am on your side,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“Well, from what you just said, that’s not what it seems like.”

“It doesn’t matter what it seems like, all that matters is the truth. You should know this.”

“Don’t get smart. This ain’t over.”

“It is, if I say it is.”

“Alright, keep playin’,” Stack chuckles.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as the two of you slowly carry on down the road through the town. Stack had offered to drive, but you had declined and told him that a little exercise won’t kill anyone. Stack had just groaned, but he followed behind you anyways when he realized you were serious.

“Are you still coming over for dinner?” you ask after a while, your tone hopeful.

Smoke and Stack always used to have dinner at your house when you all were growing up, so much so that you eventually stopped asking them because you knew they would show up. 

“Of course, nothing could keep me from your mama’s cookin’. I thought about it a lot while I was gone,” he says, rubbing his stomach over his clothes.

“Really?” you’re taken aback for a second.

“Really,” Stack nods sincerely.

Before either of you have the chance to say anything else, a man carrying a container loses his footing in front of you along with his hold on the object, causing it to slip from his grasp. Whatever liquid is inside splashes up onto the bottom of your dress as the container hits the ground. 

You gasp as you take a step back while looking down at your clothes. Some people passing by turn to look at the cause of the commotion.

You hate nosy people. 

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean to,” the man frantically apologizes, his eyes wide, “My buddy told me not to carry this by myself, but I was bein’ stubborn and look where that got me. I shoul-.”

You hold your hand up to cut him off, shaking your head with a small smile. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Stack making a move to say something, but you quickly place a hand on his arm.

“Don’t, it’s okay,” you tell him softly, giving him a look to let him know you’re serious.

Stack hesitates as he looks down at you. His body is tense and his jaw is tight, but once he sees your face, he takes a deep breath before looking away from the scene in front of him.

When you look back at the man in front of you, you see the uneasiness on his face as he notices Stack standing next to you.

“I really am sorry, ma’am. I meant no disrespect,” the man  shifts uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry about it. Like you said, it’s an accident. Besides, I’m sure this isn’t something a little elbow grease can’t fix,” you give the man a reassuring smile, and he nods.

Not wanting to stand there any longer, you give the man one last smile as you walk past him, pulling Stack with you.

“Sorry about the dress,” you say once the two of you are out of ear shot.

Stack had given you the dress a couple of days ago, saying that he felt bad for coming back after all this time without something to give you. You had insisted that you didn’t need anything and that having you and Smoke back in one piece was good enough, but had just ignored you and shoved the dress into your hands.

Stack is confused as he looks at you. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I ruined the dress you gave me.”

“You didn’t ruin it, that piece of shit back there did. You should’ve let me say something to him back there,” Stack grumbles, glancing back at the man in the distance. 

“And say what? He didn’t mean to, Stack. Sometimes, you just gotta let things go. Besides, you already hurt a man earlier, there’s no need for more violence.”

He rolls his eyes. Then, he says, “just know, I would’ve said something if you wanted me to.”

“I know you would’ve, but I didn’t need you to.”

“Okay, Miss independent. You don’t need me no more, I see,” Stack jokes, giving you a playful nudge with his shoulder.

“Oh, please. I never needed you, you just never listened and kept weaseling your way into things in the past.”

“And I was just a man tryin’ to handle business,” Stack throws his hands up dramatically and sighs.

“Man? Your voice was still squeaking when you talked,” you snort.

“Hey! That’s not funny, I was in the process of becoming a man,” Stack tells you with a serious face. The two of you share a look for a moment before bursting into laughter. “I missed spendin’ time with you, Pea.”

You feel your face get warm as you glance down at your feet with a shy smile at his admission.

And I missed you too.

Being around Stack makes you feel like everything only happened yesterday, like no time has passed and the two of you haven’t changed.

He brings a different side of you out. 

God. You sound gross, you sound in love—if this is even what love feels like.

“Well, who wouldn’t miss me?” you tease.

Stack playfully shakes his head with a smile, before grabbing your hand and twirling you around. You’re taken aback at first, but you quickly recover and let him spin you in the middle of the street.

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore is twirling you around in the street.

Before the two of you could get too lost in the moment, you hear a female voice call out.

“Well, I’ll be damned, it must be my lucky day. Is that one of the twins I see over there?” the woman’s voice is teasing.

You turn in the direction of the voice and see a gorgeous woman with a bright smile slowly walking over. There’s a hat sitting on top of her neatly styled hair, and she’s wearing a dress that matches her glove and purse. She uses one of her covered hands to shield her eyes from the sun.

You’re not sure if you’re dizzy because of all the spinning or from the way Stack gently rests his hand on your back as he stands next to you.

“It’s my lucky day, which one of the twins are you?” the woman asks, but quickly laughs and adds, “Who am I kidding? I can recognize you from a mile away, Stack.”

You’re confused at first, thinking that this was some random stranger walking up to the two of you, but as you look up at Stack, you can tell by the smile growing on his face that he recognizes the woman.

“Liza? What the hell are you doin’ in Mississippi?” Stack asks. His hand leaves your back as he leaves your side to go hug the woman—Liza. 

Your mood shifts a bit. 

“Sightseeing, although there’s not that much to see,” Liza giggles.

“Sightseein’ my ass, what are you really doin’ out here?” Stack asks as he pulls away.

“My father’s in town handlin’ some business, and I decided to tag along because why not? I remembered you mentioning’ something about you bein’ from Mississippi, but I didn’t think I’d actually run into you,” Liza grins up at Stack. Then, she finally notices you standing over to the side. “Look at you being rude, Stack. Who’s your friend?”

Friend.

Stack moves to put his arm around your shoulder, not on your back like it was a few moments ago, but around your shoulders. “This is Pea, she grew up with me and Smoke. We go way back.”

He didn’t correct her. It’s not like he’s supposed to, though, the two of you aren’t official. It still hurts.

“Pea?” Liza asks with furrowed brows.

“It’s a nickname,” you explain, to which she nods.

“It’s sweet that you guys have stayed close after all this time.” Liza holds her hand out for you to shake. “I’m Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Liza, I guess you could say that that’s my nickname. It’s nice to meet you.”

So cheer-y.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Her hands are soft, her fingernails are nicely manicured, she smells amazing, and she looks even better up close. There has to be something wrong with her, she’s too perfect.

Then Liza’s bright smile changes into a gasp as she looks down, “Oh, honey, you got a little somethin’ on your dress.”

Your heart drops. “Oh, it’s nothing. I ran into someone earlier and they spilled this on my dress,” you respond, glancing down at the spot still on your dress.

For a moment, you had forgotten all about it.

Now, you suddenly feel hyper-aware of your appearance in comparison to Liza’s. Here she is looking all elegant from head to toe, and then here you are with a stain on your dress. Stack’s dress. A dress you had felt so confident in an hour ago, but not now as you stand in front of Liza.

You shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you are.

Why couldn’t she have popped up earlier before everything happened?

“What a shame, it looks like a lovely dress despite the stain. I know someone who can remove almost anythin’ if you’re interested?”

“I think I’ll manage, but thank you, though,” you offer a kind smile.

“Of course,” she tells you, before turning her attention back to Stack. “I gotta go, but I’ll be in town for a couple of days, so we should get together before I leave. I’m sure my father would love to see you.”

Your eyebrows are raised as you look between the two. 

“I don’t think your old man would be too happy to see me after I won that game against him,” Stack chuckles.

“Oh, please, I’m sure he’s over it. Besides, I think he was more impressed than anythin’. Think about it at least?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Perfect,” Liza claps. She turns to you to say, “It was really great to meet you.”

You watch as Liza leaves, her confidence obvious in the way she walks in her heels. Why are you surprised, she’s just the type of woman Stack would go for. 

-

You’re not as excited for dinner as you should be, given the fact that it’s Stack’s first time in your house in years. You hate how much that Liza girl had affected your mood for the day. 

After washing your dress and successfully getting the stain out, you changed into a new one for dinner, although it didn’t really matter. You’re pretty sure you hung your appetite up alongside your dress on the clothesline. 

Even though you weren’t in the mood to eat, you were apparently still in the mood to laugh. You couldn’t help the noises that left you as your mother and Stack shared memories from over the years. 

Your mother went on a tangent summarizing everything that Stack had missed out on concerning the whole town. She told him about how boring the stories the women at church told in his and Smoke’s absence, but also how a lot of people in town missed them even though they would never admit it to twins’ faces.

Stack enlightened her on his adventures with his brother, but you could tell when he was leaving out some details or changing them to spare your mother.

After dinner, when Stack had asked you if you wanted to take a walk with him outside, you had declined and told him that you weren’t feeling too well—which wasn’t a complete lie.

You just needed some time to yourself to think.

-

A few days later, Stack hadn’t seen or heard from you since that night.  At first, he just thought you were still feeling under the weather from dinner, but as time passed that just didn’t seem likely. 

Stack didn’t want to admit it, but he felt like he was going crazy. He had just gotten you back and the two of you were making progress, but then poof. You’re gone. 

Was it something he had done? 

You told him wanted to take things slow, but did he somehow move too fast? Was he laying on too heavy with the flirting? Did you not like when he twirled you around in the street?

And why the hell did he twirl you in the street? Who was he? Better yet, who were you making him become? 

He was different when he was around you, but he liked that, didn’t he?

Stack asked around for you during the gatherings at the Juke Joint, and most people would say that they had spoken to you earlier in the day or they had passed by you in town. Cornbread, Slim, Sammy, Smoke, and Annie hadn’t seen you either.

Yesterday, Stack had run into Mary after she had gotten off at the train station. When he asked her about you, she was confused because she had figured you’d be spending most of your time with Stack while she was gone. She didn’t tell Stack any of that, though, and instead told him that she was sure that you’re fine.

To anyone else, Stack seemed like his usual witty and firm self, but it was obvious to Smoke and Annie that something was off about him.

Annie wanted Smoke to say something to his brother, but talking about feelings was never Smoke’s strong suit. 

So, he made Annie do it.

“Word on the street is you’ve gone soft,” Annie smirks at Stack, her voice gentle and teasing as she casually walks up to Stack.

Stack was leaning with his back against the bar with his arms folded across his chest as he watched people move around the dance floor.

“Oh, yeah? Says who?” Stack lets out a humorless laugh, keeping his eyes in front of him.

“The streets,” Annie jokes. Stack gives her an unimpressed look, but Annie keeps her smirk as she comes to stand next to him and mimics his stance. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What do you mean? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.” Stack’s face contorts.

“Boy,” Annie scoffs, “try tellin’ that to someone who doesn’t know you.”

“Well, I’m tellin’ you that nothin’ is wrong with me.”

Annie raises an eyebrow as she turns her body to face him. “Mhm. So why have you been walkin’ around here all sad and lookin’ like you got a stick up your ass?”

Stack breathes out a frustrated sigh as his jaw tenses. “What the hell do you want, Annie?”

“I want you to tell me what’s got you actin’ like this. Your brother notices it, too, but he just didn’t wanna say anythin’ so I am.”

Stack looks over at Smoke in the distance leaning against a pillar as he watches with a smile as Slim performs.

What a pussy.

“We can stand here all night gettin’ absolutely nowhere, or we can just get to it. The choice is yours. That hard-headed brother o’ yours is just as stubborn as you, so this little facade you got goin’ on doesn’t phase me one bit.”

Stack lets out a sigh and doesn’t say anything, but Annie notices the slight flicker of emotion in his face, so she keeps talking.

“Is it Pea?” Annie questions, even though she already knows the answer. 

This makes Stack whip his head towards her. Annie smirks.

“What, you don’t think I notice how upbeat you’ve been lately? I can put two and two together. Plus, I saw you in town with her the other day while I was grabbin’ some ingredients. Now here you keep askin’ around about her because she ain’t here by your side, which is why you look like a puppy dog who got kicked,” Annie continues.

Stack isn’t a fan of the puppy comparison but chooses to ignore it. “So you saw that, huh?” he asks.

“Yes. Now, what’s wrong? Did you guys get in a fight or somethin’?”

“No, we didn’t. She’s avoidin’ me for no reason.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a reason,” Annie scoffs.

“Well, if there is, I obviously don’t know what the fuck it is! You just said you saw us in town and seen for yourself that everythin’ was fine, but apparently not, and I’m over here goin’ damn near crazy.” Stack does his best to keep his voice down but doesn’t do a very good job.

Annie, being used to the twins’ reactions, lets Stack’s outburst wash over her like nothing. If anything, this tells her how much Stack cares for you, and not just as in a bestfriend way.

“Use that big head o’ yours and think. Did she say somethin’ to you to let you know that she was upset? Was she actin’ different later that day? Did anythin’ at all happen that she seemed fine with in the moment but could upset her?”

Stack rolls his eyes, thinking to himself that there’s no way he’s going to figure this out. Then, as he goes back into his memories to recall that day with you for what seems to be the 100th time, it clicks.

-

While Stack was receiving an insightful pep talk from Annie, you were getting one from Mary. 

The two of you were sitting at your dining table drinking tea that your mother had just made, and you were planning on not telling her anything and just start rambling about whatever comes to mind, but Mary had other plans.

“So, what’s this I hear about Stack not bein’ able to find you? What the hell did I miss while I was gone?” Mary asks you.

“How do you know that?”

“I saw him yesterday at the train station, and he came up to me and asked about you. I didn’t say anything, of course, but what the hell happened while I was gone? Did things change?”

You don’t look up at her and instead fidget with the spoon inside of your cup.

“Pea, come on. Don’t make me sit here all night because I will, and you know I will,” Mary tells you, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded. 

So you tell her everything—from spending the day with Stack to meeting Liza, who is probably one of Stack’s one night stands, in a ruined dress.

“I’m sorry, that bitch said ‘honey’ to you?” Mary is taken aback. 

You quickly shush her and glance back towards the kitchen where your mother still was. Yeah, you’re a grown woman, but it just seems weird to have someone come into your house and swear around her. 

Mary just waves you off and tells you to keep going. She knows your mother loves her and mostly likely won’t say anything.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if she meant it in a snarky way or if she was just saying that because it’s something she always says,” you point out.

Mary gives you a ‘really’ look. “Trust me, if everythin’ happened like the way you just told me, then this Liza girl was bein’ exactly how you think she was. Don’t let that woman get to you, if anything, you’re the one that got to her.”

“And what makes you say that?” You scoff.

“Because she felt the need to point out that something was wrong with your dress, and I don’t care how kind or gentle her tone seemed, she didn’t mean it in a friendly way. I would never do somethin’ like that to you, ‘specially not in front of a man.”

You stare into space as you think about it for a moment. “I guess you’re right, but I still don’t understand why she would feel threatened by me. I mean, you didn’t see her. She was gorgeous and I’m just…me. It would make sense if the two of them were ever together.”

“Don’t you dare,” Mary tells you as she sits back up in her chair. “Don’t you dare start puttin’ yourself down like that. So what, I wasn’t there to see Liza. Any woman who is ugly on the inside looks just the same on the outside in my eyes.”

 “Well, I’m not putting myself down…I was just telling it how it is,” you shrug.

Mary holds her hand up to stop you. “Don’t even try me. You might not realize it, but that’s exactly what you’re doin’, Pea.”

You open your mouth to speak, and Mary quickly shuts you down with a look.

“I’ve known you your whole damn life, and I’ll be damned if I let some random woman come here and tear you down after only knowing you for five whole seconds. Don’t let me run into her because who the hell does she think she is?”

You can’t help but smile at your best friend’s choice of words. Her tone might seem aggressive or intense, but deep down you know anything that she says comes from love. 

You hear a faint “that’s right” coming from behind, which makes you turn your head only to catch your mother peeking from behind the wall.

“Ma!” you gasp. 

Your mother holds her hands up in surrender as she smiles. “Sorry I ain’t mean to eavesdrop. I won’t do it no more, I promise. Carry on,” she tells the two of you. 

She sends Mary a wink before leaving. When you turn back around to face Mary, she’s looking back at you with a smirk. You roll your eyes.

“What, your mother knows best and obviously agrees because she knows I’m tellin’ you nothin’ but the trust,” Mary laughs.

“Oh whatever. Don’t make me kick you out.”

“But, as I was sayin’, there’s absolutely nothin’ wrong with you, and the fact that Stack is still choosin’ you after travelin’ the damn planet should tell you everythin’ you need to know.”

“We’re not even official yet, so he didn’t exactly choose me,” you counter.

Mary dramatically throws her hands up. “How about you stop guessin’ about all of this and let Stack decide for himself. Just ask that man, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of.”

You let out a sigh. “I guess. I can’t exactly avoid him forever,” you suppose and Mary nods.

“Exactly. So this means you’ll talk to Stack tomorrow then, right?” Mary raised an eyebrow at you.

“Right,” you nod, giving her a small smile

-

Two days later, you still haven’t talked to Stack. 

You know that you told Mary that you would, you just…haven’t gotten around to it–and by that, you mean you’ve been tryin’ your hardest to avoid both Stack and Mary. 

It’s obvious you can’t carry on like this much longer because your mother keeps giving you this look like she wants to say something, but she never does. 

You’re starting to feel a little guilty about this whole situation, but to be honest, Mary should’ve known that you weren’t going to march right up to Stack and demand that he tell you that you’re the only woman for him.

And Mary did know this, which is why she was currently bursting through the front door of your mother’s shop, with a clear attitude on her face.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Mary asks as she crosses her arms, her purse dangling from one of her hands.

Your eyes widen as you curse under your breath. The customers that were in the shop, turned their heads at the sudden commotion. 

The woman you were currently ringing up, Mrs.Lenetta, a close friend of your mother’s, looks between you and Mary before shaking her head. She’s been around long enough to not be surprised by Mary and her ways.

Besides, Mary is only comfortable causing a ruckus like this because she knows most of the people in the area. You honestly shouldn’t even be surprised.

You quickly finish up with Mrs. Lenetta, giving her an apologetic smile, before coming from behind the register and walking up to Mary.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask her with a hushed voice. 

You grab her arm to push her outside, but she moves out of your grasp. You look behind you and see the customers no longer caring and going back to browsing.

“What do you mean ‘what the hell am I doing’? What are you doing? First, you avoid Stack, but now you’re avoidin’ me? That won’t do. This is gonna get settled once and for all right here, right now.”

“I know, and I’m sor- Wait, what do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows.

Before Mary has a chance to answer, you hear your mother’s voice announce, “Alright, everyone, I’m sorry to do this to ya, but I’m gon’ have to close up a little early.”

You whip your head around to see your mother coming out from the backroom and standing behind the counter.

Your mother rarely closes up the shop early, so she either has to be close to dying or she won some kind of lottery to do it now.

Mr. Gibbs, an older man and frequent customer, starts grumbling to himself, but your mother comes up to him with a kind smile and reassures him that he can come back anytime as she guides him out the door.

“What’s going on?” you look from your mother to Mary, but neither of them give you an answer.

Your mother waits for the last customer to walk out the door, before she finally turns to you.

“Mary’s right, honey. This has to end.”

“Are you serious? Is this some kind of intervention?” you scoff and turn to head to the backroom, but your mother stops you.

“Not so fast”

You turn around with a confused look on your face, which doesn’t change as you watch Mary go to pull the shop door open.

Then Mary leans out to say, “Come on in.”

You feel yourself begin to sweat, before you even see him, the small smirk on Mary’s face making it obvious who's waiting right outside. 

Your mouth opens and you subconsciously hold your breath as you look at your mother, shaking your head in disbelief on how she could do something like this to her own daughter. Your mother gives you an unapologetic look as she claps her hands together in front of her.

Is it too late to make a run for it? Maybe you can quickly make it out the back door. Maybe you can hide? Or better yet, make the ground could just open up and swallow you whole to avoid all of this.

It’s when you finally see all of him as he steps through the door that your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

Stack Moore.

“Evenin’ ladies,” Stack greets, taking off his hat and calmly placing his empty hand into his pocket as he steps further inside. He gives your mother a nod, before his eyes land on you.

There’s no anger or disappointment behind his eyes from what you can see, just curiosity and his usual charming smile.

“We’ll give you two some time to talk,” Mary looks you in the eye as smirks and walks out.

You know hate is a strong word, but that’s just how you feel towards her right now, even if you know you’re going to eventually forgive her.

Is it hot in here or is it just you?

Your mother hums in agreement, before she leans in to whisper, “Close y’mouth, dear.”

You shoot her a glare as she backs away with a knowing grin, but you do close your mouth.

Your eyes follow her as she walks out of the shop and closes the door behind her. Even as you're left alone in silence with Stack not too far from you, you still keep your eyes on the door, not yet ready to look at him.

Stack’s eyes haven’t left you once, watching as you avoid him and shift under his stare. He notices the slight shine on your forehead from the thin layer of sweat forming and the way you fidget with your fingers, both tells of your nervousness.

Stack moves casually and begins to walk around the store, taking his time as he takes in everything. Things have changed since the last time he’s been here, and a sense of pride and respect filling him as he sees how much progress you and your mother have made over the years.

He doesn’t touch anything as he looks, keeping one hand in his pocket and the other holding his hat. The sound of his steps coming in contact with the wooden floorboards seem amplified with the silence surrounding the two of you.

You find your gaze shifting to the floor in front of you, suddenly becoming really interested in the old and worn floorboards that have needed to be fixed for a while. Maybe it’s finally time to get them fixed. 

Better yet, maybe one of the floorboards will cave in and help you get out of this situation.

“Long time no see, Pea,” you hear Stack say, still walking around. “It’s obvious why I ain’t seen you around in a while–”

It is?

“–You’ve had to help run a family business, and y’know I know a thing or two about businesses. It ain’t easy, I understand. You have to build relationships with the customers and make sure they know they can trust you so they come back–”

Where is this going?

You’re still looking everywhere but him.

“-Communication is an important tool to being successful, and it’s obvious that you and your mama already understand that part–”

Okay?

“–So I think you can understand why I’m a little confused on why you feel you can’t communicate with me.” Stack ends his stroll right in front of you as his rant comes to an end. “What’s up with that?”

There it is.

Stack looks at you with an expectant look on his face, his eyebrows raised as he waits for you to speak.

“How’d you even know I was here?” you grumble, taking a step back as you suddenly feel too close to him.

“Mary told me. She and your mama got together and said that I should meet them here because you would be working.” You huff out a laugh because of course they did. “Come on, Pea. I asked you a question.”

You honestly don’t know what to say because there’s not much that you can say, except for the truth. Your mouth opens and closes, then opens and closes again as you try to find the right words to say.

You get frustrated and finally throw your hands up in the air. “I just–I don’t know, okay. I needed some time to myself…to think.”

“To think? Think about what? It’s been days, Pea.”

Stack follows you as you move to tidy up the front of the store. You’re behind the check out counter and Stack stands in front of you on the other side. He lays his hat down and leans onto the counter.

“Everything. Life. Me. Us.”

“Us?” Stack furrows his eyebrows. He watches as you clean the counter, but his patience begins to run low, so he snatches the rag you were using out of your hand. “What’s goin’ on, Pea? Talk to me.”

You think back to what Mary had told you; about how there’s no point in stressing over all of this and how you should just come clean to Stack because he chooses you. 

So, you decide to listen to her advice, and quickly spit it out before you have a chance to chicken out.

“Do you really want to be with me?” you ask. After hearing yourself say it, though, you hate how sad your words sound. You fold your arms across your chest as a defense mechanism.

Stack is visibly taken back. “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I wanna be with you, you think I would be goin’ through all of this trouble if I didn’t?”

Like Mary had said.

“It’s just…” you start, but you trail off.

“This is ‘cause of Liza, ain’t it?” Stack asks, already knowing the answer to it.

You raise your eyebrows as you look at him, surprised. “What makes you say that?”

“Because the day you met her was the last time I saw you. Somethin’ was off about you after we ran into her.  I didn’t notice it at the time, but after thinkin’ about it, it just made sense.”

“Well, even though she did have an effect on me, she isn’t the main reason for how I feel.”

“And what is it that you feel, Pea, you ain’t tellin’ me anything!”

Just spit it out. 

“I feel like I’m not good enough for you,” you breathe.

Stack’s mouth closes as he takes in what you just said. You can see the gears turning in his head as he looks back at you and just blinks. You look away and down at the old counter. 

The shop falls into an uncomfortable silence, only the sounds of both yours and Stack’s breathing filling the space.

When you notice that Stack isn’t going to say anything right away, you continue. “I feel like you could have any other girl in the world because you’re you, Elias ‘Stack’ Moore. You’ve travelled the world and you’ve obviously come across many beautiful women, and unfortunately, I find it hard to believe that you’re choosing me after everything and everyone  you’ve experienced. Yes, Liza is gorgeous, and yes, I felt—and still feel—that she is the better choice for you.”

Stack’s expression is unreadable as he listens to you.

“We’ve been best friends since day one, so it’s only understandable that we’ve remained close  after all this time.” You pause for a second, before continuing. “I guess what I’m saying is that I know what my feelings toward you are, but I want to know if you’re feelings are because you actually see a romantic future with me, or if you’re choosing to be with me because I’m a safe option and it’s what everyone expects.”

You take a deep breath after you finally spill what’s been plaguing your mind. Part of you feels relieved, like a huge weight has been lifted over your shoulders, and the other part of you is full of tension and anxiety as you wait for Stack’s response.

You suddenly feel hot again after revealing your feelings, making you wipe your forehead. You wish he would just hurry up and say something.

Stack stands across from you not knowing where to begin.

“Is this how you’ve always felt, like you ain’t good enough f’me?” Stack’s voice is quiet as he speaks, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve heard him like this. 

“I wouldn’t say always, but lately, yeah.”

“Pea,” Stack shakes his head, “why on earth would you think somethin’ like that? Have I done somethin’ to make you think that? Did someone say  somethin’ to you because if they did, just tell me who–.”

You put your hand up to stop him from going further. “No, no. No one said anything or did anything. This is…all me.”

Stack lowers his head to try and catch your eyes. “Then help me understand because from where I’m standin’, no one else stands a chance against you.”

And hearing those words come from his mouth in that sincere tone that he doesn’t just use on anyone, makes you hold your breath as you stare back at him. You feel something grow in your stomach and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Stack pushes himself off of the counter and walks around to where you are behind it, holding your gaze the entire time. Your heart rate picks up again and your throat goes dry as he comes closer. You naturally take a few steps back as he comes to stand in front of you, but you only end up backing yourself into the edge of the counter. 

Stack uses this to his advantage and grabs your hands to hold in his. He’s not letting you get away again without a fight.

“You say you’re a ‘safe option’ because of our history, but that’s not how I see it. Yeah, I’ve been across the world, but that don’t mean I was fuckin’ women left and right the whole time. Yeah, women came up to me, but that don’t mean I gave every single one of them the time of day. Now, I will admit that I did sleep with three women throughout those years, but that don’t mean that I felt anythin’ for ‘em. Liza was not one ‘em either; Smoke and I just used her to get close to her father, and she obviously keeps gettin’ her hopes up. Smoke and I kept each other grounded while we were gone.”

A breath leaves you after hearing Stack admit to not sleeping with Liza. You can't even blame Liza because, who wouldn’t?

“You may think that you’re not as ‘beautiful’ as any other woman you might see, but that’s not how I feel, Pea. You’re more attractive than most of the women I’ve encountered, and I ain’t just sayin’ that to make you feel better, I’m tellin’ you this because it’s how I really feel. It’s my truth. You’re intelligent, hardworking, kind, and damn near perfect.”

A smile grows on Stack’s lips as he watches you laugh at him calling you perfect. It’s a word you’ve never used to describe yourself, only others. He knows you’re going to object to the fact when he sees you open your mouth, so he jokingly tightens his grip on your hands as he continues.

“You don’t know how hard it is to come across a woman like you anywhere else, and even if she’s somewhere out there, I don’t want her ‘cause I already have you. Everythin’ that makes you you is what makes you beautiful. You’re in a league of your own, baby.”

That’s the first time Stack has called you ‘baby’, and apparently your legs know too because they feel like jello underneath you. You don’t know how you’re going to get through this.

It’s definitely hot in here, right?

Stack releases the hold he has on your hands to place them on either side of your face. You feel like your feet are stuck to the ground as Stack comes even closer into your personal space. As much as you want to pull away, everything about him is keeping you near.

“Now, I only agreed to take things slow because that’s what you wanted, and y’know I wouldn’t do anythin’ to make you uncomfortable, but, Pea, I am so serious about you. Of course, I see a future with you, I want you by my side at all times because you’ve changed me. You don’t know how crazy I was goin’ after not hearin’ from you all that time. I hate to admit it, but I damn near lost my mind, and I don’t wanna go through that again if I can help it. I love you, Pea–”

And just like that, all of your thoughts seem to leave your mind to allow you to fully focus on what Stack has just confessed. 

“–and, yeah, I always have, but this is different. I don’t know how else to convince you or what else to say except for that I love you,” he repeats. “I always have and I always will. You ain’t gotta say it now ‘cause I know how you feel about–”

You don’t think as you cut him off by surging forward and pressing your lips to his. 

Both of you are shocked by your sudden boldness; you eyes widen and you freeze when you realize what you’ve just done, and you hear a startled noise leaves Stack.

Just as you go to pull away, Stack says, “Nah, where’re you goin’? You can’t just do that and not finish it,” before closing the space between you once again.

This time, you allow yourself to melt into him as he wraps his arms around you and presses against your back, pulling you further into his chest as your lips move against his. 

Your arms make their way around his shoulders to pull him down by the neck, and you feel Stack back away slightly to laugh at this, his breath fanning against your face, before smashing his lips back into yours.

To anyone looking in on the outside, the kiss might seem rushed, but you and Stack know that this is from both of your combined feelings that have been pent up over time; from your insecurities being silenced by Stack’s confessions and admissions; from the tension that’s been growing and overflowing in Stack’s body now being released.

It’s impossible for you and him to get any closer, but that doesn’t stop you guys from trying as you both continue to grab and pull one another. 

Stack ends up pushing your back against the edge of the counter even more, and any other time the pressure would be uncomfortable, but, right now, you couldn’t care less.

When your lips finally disconnect, Stack leans his forehead against yours for a moment while the two of you catch your breath, before fully pulling away.

“I love you, too,” you shyly confess, and to this Stack grins.

“I choose you, Pea, I always will,” Stack assures, and his tone leaves no room in your mind for doubt.

His hands are on your waist, but one of them leaves to grab ahold of one of your hands again. He dips his head down to place a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, and he smirks when he sees you rolling your eyes.

You let out a fake dramatic sigh. “I guess, we’re stuck together.”

Yeah, he has gone soft, but he doesn’t care.

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taglist (for those who asked and who I thought would enjoy it)

He noticed it as soon as she stomped down the hallway, barefoot but somehow still managing to clomp like she had something to prove.

PMS week.

His favorite kind of chaos.

The signs were textbook: snippy tone, dramatic arm movements, sudden moral independence. Every offer to help was met with a death glare, like he’d insulted her and her whole lineage.

Still, he knew better than to take it personally. It was a performance. And he always had front-row seats.

So when she rolled her eyes for the third time before 10 a.m. and muttered something about needing to run errands — emphasis on needing, though what she could possibly need from Trader Joe’s that wasn’t fancy bread or mini macarons, he didn’t understand — he met her by the kitchen island with a plate in his hand.

“I made you breakfast,” he said calmly, like she wasn’t fuming in the hoodie she stole from him three days ago. “You’re gonna sit. You’re gonna eat. Even if it’s just a few bites. Then you can go back to having your little attitude.”

She squinted at him. “I said I’m fine.”

“And I said sit down.” He gave a thin-lipped smile that read don’t play with me in no uncertain terms.

He raised an eyebrow as he set the plate down. Belgian waffles with the works: dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar, a small ramekin of syrup on the side, accompanied by three pieces of turkey bacon, fried nice and crispy the way she liked it.

She tried to keep her expression flat, but her body betrayed her — shoulders softening as the smell hit her.

“Mmph,” she grumbled, sliding into the chair like her legs moved on autopilot.

He kissed her cheek on his way to grab her juice. “Good girl.”

She didn’t respond, but he saw her tiny smirk out of his periphery.

After an albeit silent breakfast together, she was back in the hallway towards the door, keys jingling, phone clutched in one hand. “Kari, I’ll be back. Just going to the mall.”

“Cool. Make sure to stop at the gas station,” he reminded her, gloved arms wrist-deep in the sink. You’re almost on E.”

“I know.” she sing-songingly called over her shoulder.

“You didn’t let me fill it last night,” he added, singing back to her in the same tone, gentler this time.

“Because I said I’d handle it!”

The door shut a little harder than necessary.

He stared at it for a long moment.

Ten minutes later, his phone buzzed. Her name flashed across the screen, followed by a sniffly, high-pitched: “Baaaaby…”

He already knew.

He didn’t laugh — not yet, anyway. That’d come later. “You ran out of gas, didn’t you?”

“I—maybe—I thought I had more! And I was just going to run into Trader Joe’s real quick and—”

He huffed out a breath in (slightly amused) exasperation. “I’m on my way.”

When he arrived at her location, a random mile-marker on the 405, her car parked ever-so nicely along the shoulder, he found her slumped in her seat. Her eyes were puffed, lips trembling, chest rising and falling in small sobs, lashes heavy from tears she swore weren’t real.

He didn’t even speak. He just walked past her car with the gas can, muttering something under his breath about how she never listens. She rolled her window down with a meek “I’m sorry.”

He gave her a look. “You say that every time.”

“I mean it this time!”

“You meant it last time.”

“But I was mean earlier,” she said, voice wobbling. “And you still brought me gas. That’s like… husband behavior, y’know.”

“Mhmm. I’m aware.” He popped the cap and poured.

“You could’ve laughed. Or yelled.”

“I did both in the car,” he smirked. “Got it out of my system.”

She leaned her head against the window frame, watching him like he was the sun. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, hood pulled up, focused and calm and somehow still fine as hell. Even when she was difficult, he never left her hanging. Not ever.

When he finished, he rapped his knuckles gently on the car’s hood. “Where to now?”

“I was gonna go to the mall—”

“Wrong answer.” He interrupted, “You’re going to the fucking gas station.”

She nodded, wiping under her eyes.

“And I’m gonna follow you there.” He continued, “And I’m gonna fill your tank the rest of the way while you finish getting the rest of your sniffles out.”

She sniffled again. “Okay.”

At the gas station, she barely got the car in park before he was out of the Big Truck and around the side. She tried to open her door and he gently tapped it closed.

“I got it,” he said, teasing.

She stayed seated, wiping her cheeks again as he took the pump in hand and slid his card into the reader like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t been a full-blown drama queen a little over an hour ago.

He glanced at her through the window. She looked sheepish.

She stepped out of her car anyway, sliding into his side, and wrapping her arms around him before he could fuss at her again. “Thank you,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I’m sorry I was an ass.”

He peppered kisses along the top of her head with a laugh. Because now it was funny, and he was allowed to laugh now that she had a full tank and she’s safe and in his arms. “You are an ass.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t listen.”

“I know.”

He hugged her back, his hand smoothing over her hoodie as she melted into his chest.

“But I’m your ass,” she added quietly.

He grinned. “Yeah, you are.”

They sat like that for a minute, her car still running, the scent of fruit and cinnamon still faint on her breath.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look her in the face. “Next time, let me do the damn gas. Please.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t lie when you say you got it.”

“Okay.”

“And eat your damn breakfast without the attitude.”

She squinted. “Okay… husband.”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, dramatic ass. Let’s go to the mall.”

—

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Sometimes, Michael wonders if you’re real. Like, were you born here naturally, or did some ethereal being from another plane of existence drop you off here on Earth? He plays the scenario over more and more in his head and concludes that you’re definitely on a different wavelength than everyone else here. 

One of the things that Michael enjoys about dating you is just how carefree and connected you are with yourself, your body, and nature. For him, it was always this bright light that surrounded you. Even now, as you’re casually twirling around in his yard and dancing to Solange. The shorts that you’re wearing shape your legs as his shirt on your body fans out. 

“Come dance with me, Kari,” You call out, flashing him a bright smile. 

Michael’s never been one to tell you no. He walks over to you and grabs your hand in his as he twirls you around. You laugh loudly as you crash back into his chest. Next, “No Plan” by Hozier croons through the speaker as you move your body. You run your hands up your body and into your hair as you sing the lyrics to Michael. He smiles in response and pulls you closer. 

“You know I love you, right?” He questions, pressing his forehead against yours.

You give him a teasing smile, “You may have mentioned it a couple of times. But I’d love to hear it again.”

He kisses you softly, “I love you. I love you so much that I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else.”

A wide grin settles over your glossy lips, “I love you too, Kari. I’ve never been happier than being with you.” Michael smiles and leans down to press his lips against yours again. The song changes to something slower and more intimate. The soft and powerful crooning of Donny Hathaway’s “I Love You More Than You’ll Ever Know” radiates through the backyard. Michael pulls you closer to his chest as you drape your arms across his shoulders.

You both sway together as the song serenades the moment. 

In that moment, nothing matter except the two of you and how much you love each other. 

Michael’s been in the industry for a long time. He knows the ins and outs of what comes with the fame. From his last relationship, he’d been a bit more private and protective of this one with you. 

Of course, he would still post pictures of you in his collages on Instagram or in his stories, but he still wanted to protect your space and peace. He knew how cruel and parasocial people could get when their favorite celebrity was dating someone new. 

When he’d first started to post glimpses of you on his page, he’d caught about of the headlines and blogs speculating about his ‘new beau.’ 

When you and Michael had finally made your first public appearance together, the internet was in shambles. 

You stood by Michael’s side on the red carpet with so much confidence and grace. He held some form of contact with you throughout the night—whether that be holding your hand or keeping his arm around your waist. 

It was his way of making sure that you knew that you would always be safe with him. 

Little did you know, your presence provided Michael with a lot of comfort that night as well. Even after being in the industry for so many years and attending all of events, he still got nervous. 

You’d clocked the subtle twitch of his hand and the way that his eyes darted around the space. 

“Hey,” you muttered to him softly. 

Michael turned his head to look at you. Your worried eyes meet his, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just a little nervous,” Michael answers. You nod while giving him that same bright smile, “Shouldn’t I be the one that’s nervous?”

He chuckles, “Probably. I just still get nervous at events like these.”

“It’s okay. I’ll right by right your side the entire night,” you said, grasping his fingers tightly between yours. You bring your conjoined hands up to your lips where you press a soft kiss to back of Michael’s hand. 

If it was possibly to melt in the carpet, he would. He looks down at you and the world fades away. He leans down and presses his lips to yours as the camera flash around you both. 

“I love you so much, baby,” Michael whispers against your lips. Unbeknownst to you both, fans and cameras alike catch the moment closely.

It doesn’t take long for the video to blow up and become viral. All of the lip reader experts are called in to decode what Michael is saying to you. Once they get get a clear read of him declaring his love to you, it sends everyone into a frenzy.

It also doesn’t help that most of the pictures from the night have Michael looking down at you like you were the sun, moon, and stars. But to Michael, you’re all of those things and more. 

There’s an increase in people that start following you online and speculating about your relationship with Michael. There’s a lot of people rooting for you both as they can obviously see how in love Michael is with you. 

But naturally, with the good, there’s always bad. The negative comments start to roll in.

user1234: the fact that y’all can’t see that this is a PR relationship is crazy

tinamarie1: he doesn’t even look happy with her

donadondon: he looked way better and happier with Lori 

jeremystacks: how he downgrade? his new girl ain’t got nothing on Lori 

mbjfan: yall I got tea. According to a friend of mine that’s close with Michael, his whole family doesn’t even like her. They think she’s weird and just using Mike for clout 

@mbjfangirl: @mbjfan ugh that makes me so sick! Somebody needs to get her away from Michael bc he obviously can’t see that she doesn’t have good intentions 

You weren’t clueless. You’d seen most of the comments and even received some rather less than polite DMs. You wouldn’t let it affect you or your relationship with Michael. 

You knew what you had with him was real and special. You took the initiative to private your account and keep it moving. 

But the haters just aren’t ready to let you be great.

You know that you’re weird. It’s a title that you’ve always embraced even as a kid. You’ve always just kind of had weird and unique interests in things. 

Michael knows that you like to collect unique buttons, but he soon learns very early in your relationship that you like to collect odd items, such as preserved bugs, animal bones, and antique items. 

Which is what you both to this moment. 

“So what’s the name of the event again?” Michael asks.

“It’s the Oddities and Curiosities Expo. It’s where a bunch of different vendors who make and sell weird and unique collectibles,” you explain, swiping lip glass on your lips as you look into the mirror.

“And it’s usually stuff like bugs and dead animals?” You can hear the hesitation in his voice and it makes you chuckle internally. You know that Michael’s trying to be supportive, but he can’t hide how squeamish he is about blood and creepy things.

“Mhmm, it can be things like that. I’m taking the taxidermy class, but they also sell other stuff like buttons, pins, and shirts. There’s one vendor who sells vintage medical equipment that I want to get my hands on.”

Michael’s heart warms at how excited you are about this whole thing. Even though stuff like this would typically creep him out, he finds himself pushing the fear to the side because he knows how much this means to you. 

Truthfully, Michael would do anything if it meant that he got to see you be happy. 

He nods, “Do you mind if I come with you?”

You raise your eyebrows, “Are you sure? I know this isn’t typically your thing. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Michael shakes his head, “Baby, you’ve been enduring red carpets with me these past few months, and you’ve been doing it with a smile. I’d love to come to something that you’re passionate about.” 

“Awww, Kari. Of course you can come, just let me know if you’re ever uncomfortable,” you said, leaning up to kiss him. Michael takes the chance to peck your lips a few more times before grabbing his keys.

As he drives, he stops to get you an iced coffee before driving to the location of the event. 

You both walk hand-in-hand, and Michael can feel you buzzing with energy. The first booth that you drag him to is the preserved bugs. 

“Ooo look at this one Kari,” You said, pointing at the brightly colored butterfly in the box. You ooo and awe at all of the various specimens in the container. 

Michael has to admit to himself, this is actually some pretty neat stuff. You point to one box in particular, “You remember the Silence of the Lambs movie? This is the death heads moth species that Buffalo Bill uses in the movie.”

The vendor smiles at you, “She knows her stuff.” You both hop into an animated conversation where you gush over bugs and things. 

Michael watches the excitement on your face the entire time. It’s nice to see you in your element. Before long, you’re purchasing the moth, and the girl boxes it up for you. You carefully place it into the tote bag that you brought with you. 

You turn to Michael, “So..what do you think?”

“I think it’s pretty cool, baby. Thank you for letting me come,” He said, pulling you closer to his side. 

You and Michael continue your journey throughout the expo, stopping by different booths and surveying everything. As you both go to the taxidermy class, he has to hide the fact that he’s squirming in the inside. 

Though, he is fascinated. You both end up in a wet specimen class, where the girl leading it is teaching you both how to preserve a baby octopus in a jar. 

You clock the look on Michael’s face, “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm. I’m fine,” he responds, trying to play cool. 

You laugh, “You know it’s okay to say you’re feeling squeamish, baby. I’m not judging you. How about we go sit for a while?” 

Michael nods and you grab your jar containing the preserved octopus as you both go to sit down at a nearby table. 

You lay your head on Michael’s shoulder as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “What made you start collecting?”

“I’ve always liked to collect weird and unique things. Most people would find things like bugs and bones to be weird or gross, but I think it’s quite beautiful. Here’s this living that used to be alive on this Earth with us and now we get to honor it even in death. Plus, who wouldn’t want to collect something that someone put so much love and hard work into making?” 

“Huh, I guess I never really thought about it like that. I’m glad that I get to be with you, babygirl. It’s like you keep introducing me to these new parts of life, and I can appreciate them even more now,” Michael said, looking down at you. 

“You’re welcome. Thank you for not judging me. I’ve had people in the past try to make me feel guilty about liking stuff like this.”

You think back to all the times where you’d tried to show your interests to others, only for them to treat you like an outcast. Even growing up in a black family, you understood that you weren’t supposed to go outside of the status quo. 

You weren’t supposed to like “weird” or “odd” things. And if you did, you would often be labeled as “trying to act white” or engaging in “something demonic.” So you hid those parts of yourself that enjoyed the weird and macabre. 

It wasn’t until you got older that you decided not to care about what others thought. You embraced your weird and whimsical nature because it was you. 

There was nothing wrong with you, and you weren’t about to change yourself to make others comfortable. 

Being with Michael helped you to embrace more of that. Unlike most of your past partners, Michael was on board to support you through whatever. 

“You know I’d never judge you for your interests. I care about what you care about. And if that just so happens to be this, then I’m fine with it. I love you, baby. I’d do whatever I could to make you happy,” Michael said, staring deeply into your eyes. 

“I love you too, Kari,” you reply.

Soon, you both are off again to explore. Of course, there are a few stares at Michael and a few people approach him for autographs or pictures. But for the most part, people are respectful enough to keep their distance that he can enjoy the event with you. 

Eventually, you and Michael end up at the table that you were most excited for: the vintage medical equipment.

You gasp in excitement as you run your eyes across all of the various tools. Your eyes widen even more when you spot the vintage medical bag. 

“Are you gonna get a few?” Michael asks.

You pluck at one of the tags and immediately put it back down, “Probably not. This stuff would cost me an arm and a leg. But I’m glad that I got to see it up close.” You look back down at the equipment wistfully. You grab Michael’s hand and start walking off, “Come on, let’s go look at the teeth.”

Michael catches you looking back at the table. Once you both make it to the teeth table, he turns to you, “You look around at these. I’m about to run to the bathroom right quick.”

“Okay, I’ll wait here for you!” Michael gives you a quick kiss before walking off. 

Little did you know is that he makes a beeline back to the medics equipment table. The girl running the booth looks up at him, “Hi, nice to see you again. Was there something that caught your eye?”

Michael looks at all of the tools on the table and the bag in the corner. “How much for all of these and the bag?”

The girl’s eyes widen in surprise, “You want to buy all of these tools and the bag?”

“Yeah, my girlfriend is in love with stuff like this and she seemed really happy when she saw all of your stuff. I just want her to know that I care about her and all of her interests,” Michael explains. The girl’s gaze softens as she looks at Michael. 

She can tell just from the look and tone of his voice that he really loves you. 

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll let these all go for $1,500 and a picture of you holding my business card,” she negotiates.

“Wait..that’s it. Just $1,500 and a picture. I know all of the equipment costs more than that,” Michael inquires.

The girl smiles, “I have way more medical equipment at home than this. This is only half of my inventory. You said that your girlfriend is passionate about this, so I know she’ll take care of them. Plus, having a picture with you and you buying from me brings way more business in. It’s a win win situation.”

“Deal. I’ll throw in a video too and repost it on my stories. Thank you so much. It means a lot,” Michael said.

The girl smiles and types the total in the card reader. Michael swipes his card without any qualms. In his mind, the $1,500 is light work. He’d pay any price for anything if he knows that it would put a smile on your face. 

The girl bags all of the item up and places them into the medical bag before putting them into a box and tying a big bow around the box. 

She and Michael takes the pictures and he films a quick video. “Thank you again,” Michael states before quickly going outside and hiding the box in the back of the car. 

When he walks back to the table that you’re standing by, you smile brightly at him, “Hey, was the line long? I was worried that you got lost.” 

Michael shrugs, “It was pretty crowded.” 

You start hopping up and down on your heels excitedly, “I have a surprise for you. Since this is your first oddity expo, I wanted to have something for us to commemorate the memory together.”

You reach inside the bag and pull out a necklace with a tooth attached to the end of it. You smile widely, “It’s a shark tooth. I got us both one. That way if you’re away and filming, you still have a piece of me with you.”

Michael looks at you and then the necklace. He smiles, “I love it. Thank you, baby.”

“Yay! Now turn around so I can put it on you,” you said, to which Michael obliges.

He leans down so that you can clasp the necklace around his neck. The tooth sits perfectly in the middle of his chest. He looks down at it before gesturing to you, “Let me put yours on you.” 

You turn and move your curls while Michael returns the gesture. You turn to face him again as you look at your matching necklaces. 

“We’re twins now,” you said excitedly. 

Michael steps closer to you and cups your face in his hands, “Thank you again for letting me share this with you, baby. I couldn’t have imagined a better way to spend my day than being with you.”

You lean into his touch and press a kiss to his hand. You both spend the rest of the day looking at other booths before heading out to go eat together. 

You don’t realize the sneaky pictures and videos being taken of you both. 

By the time that you and Michael are at his house, you’re both cuddling on the couch with your shark necklaces still around your necks. 

“M’gonna go run to the bathroom. Watch Mikey,” you tell Michael before giving him a quick kiss. The tortoise in question is sleeping peacefully in his little bed with his silk bonnet on his shell. While you’re gone to the bathroom, both yours and Michael’s phones start buzzing incessantly on the table.

Michael reaches out to grab his and navigates to Instagram where you both are being tagged in posts. 

@theshaderoom: Roomies, looks like Oscar Winner, Michael B. Jordan, was spotted out and about with his girlfriend, YN YLN. The two were seen looking cozy and comfortable at the Oddities and Curosities Expo. One of our fellow roomies sent us a few pictures and videos of the happy couple casually strolling. In one of the pictures, you can see YN gifting Michael a necklace with what appears to be a tooth on it. Sources say that the pair looked rather in love. What do we think roomies? Is there love in the air, or a possible proposal in the future?

View comments..

@mbjfanpage: ew..why did she have him going to some weird convention?

@mbjbiggestfan: look at his face, you can tell that he’s not into it. He would’ve been better off going back to one of his old girlfriends

@georgiapeach: ugh…can he please end this PR relationship. He doesn’t even look like he likes her

@johnny2x: bro she got this man going to this white people stuff! Not Mike got a white washed girlfriend

@biamia: she’s not even cute and she got my man out here looking crazy 

@donthedon: a tooth necklace?! what kind of witchcraft is that? She too broke to buy him something else?

Michael feels sick to his stomach at reading all of the hateful comments directed to you. He picks up your phone and navigates to your social media. The DMs you receive are even worse than the comments. 

He swallows down the sick feeling, and soon the only thing that he feels is anger. He’s angry that people felt comfortable enough with disrespecting you and your personality. 

You walk into the room and catch Michael frowning at both of your phones. “Baby, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He looks up at you with a pained expression, “It’s okay, baby. Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

You cross the room and reach for your phone. Michael moves the phone out of your reach, “Baby, I don’t want you seeing any of that.” You frown and wrestle the phone out of his hand. You look down at the open social media page and read the comments. 

Your face drops. You glance down briefly at your necklace and at Michael’s. He immediately notices the pout as it crosses your lips, along with the tears that line your eyes. 

You look at him, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you the necklace. It’s weird, right?”

Michael frowns and crosses the room to stand in front of you. He places his hands around you, “Baby listen to me and I want you to listen closely. There’s nothing wrong with the necklaces. I love them and I love you. You’re my everything, baby. I’d do anything to see you happy and there’s nothing that I want to change about you. Princess, you’re the most authentic person I’ve ever met. You make me want to be the best version of myself. I love you, okay? And I’m not about to let anybody disrespect you.”

He leans down to press his forehead against yours, “I love you. I won’t ever get tired of saying that. Sure, you have some weird little quirks, but I love all of that about you. You’re my little weirdo baby.” 

You laugh softly as the tears trail down your face. They’re less about being upset and more about your love for the man. You press your lips to his, “I love you too, Kari. Thank you for always letting me be myself around you.” 

“You can’t always be yourself around me, babygirl. You get as weird as you want to around me and I promise to match you one hundred percent.” 

He pulls you into his chest as you hold him equally as tight. You both allow yourself to hold each other. 

When you pull back, Michael takes your phone out of your hand, “Don’t worry about anything else, I’ll handle it. But in the meantime, I have a present for you.” 

He ushers you to sit down as he comes back with the black box. He sets it down carefully in your lap. You carefully unwrap the bow before lifting the top. 

You gasp as you see the medical bag from earlier. You look up at Michael, who smiles at you, “Open it up. It’s more.”

Your jaw drops as you open the bag and see all of the medical tools from earlier. Your teary eyes meet his, “You went back and got all of the tools?”

“Yeah, you were really excited about them and you wanted them, so I didn’t want you to miss out on your chance to have them,” Michael explains.

“This must’ve costed you so much money.”

Michael shakes his head, “Don’t worry about that. There isn’t a price on making you happy, babygirl.”

You throw your arms around him and press multiple kisses against his lips. “I love you. I love you. Thank you so much, baby.”

“Anything for you, baby.” 

Mikey wakes from his sleep and you pick him up and point him towards the bag, “Look at what you daddy got me, Mikey.”

Michael watches you as you carefully explain each and every tool the tortoise, who he’s 100% sure doesn’t understand, but none of that matter. 

He continues to look at you and that same warmth returns to his chest. It only further solidifies the fact that he knows that he wants to marry you. 

But first, he needs to set the record straight to anyone who feels comfortable with disrespecting you. 

He takes his phone from the table and opens up the camera app. He points the camera in his direction before pressing record.

“What’s up, everybody. Mike here. I don’t usually do stuff like this, but I felt that it was necessary. Today, my girlfriend and I went to an event that meant the world to her. I had the privilege of tagging along with her. Now a moment that should be special for us is being turned into an opportunity for people to degrade and diss my girlfriend. So I just wanted to come on here and set the record straight. I love my girlfriend. She’s gonna be the woman that I make my wife soon. What will never be okay is people who claim to be fans of mine feeling like they can disrespect her. So this is my one and only time letting y’all know that if you disrespect her, then you disrespect me. Thats it and that’s all. Y’all be easy.” 

He ends the video and immediately uploads it on Instagram. He isn’t surprised that his phone starts buzzing like crazy, but he doesn’t care. 

The only thing that matters is spending time with you. 

He turns and finds that you’re already staring at him. You smile, “You really meant that?” 

“I meant every word that I said, I wanna marry you, baby. I love you and I plan on spending the rest of my life with you.”

“Don’t forget Mikey.”

Michael laughs, “Yeah, I’m planning on spending the rest of my life with you, Mikey, and any kids that we have.”

You squeal and launch yourself into his arms.

“I love you, Kari.”

“I love you too, babygirl.”

End.

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