you're Noah's little sister, and Noah knows you're already an adult who could easily kick his ass without any problem, like when he was a teenager and you were shorter. But he can't help still seeing you as his little sister, the one he had to take care of even when he was still a kid because there were problems at home and it was just the two of you.
You're a member of the band, you try to go on every tour when you have time, you're friends with everyone, but especially close to Jolly. You both understand each other well, you can talk for hours without getting bored, and the age difference isn't a factor that complicates communication. But little by little, a kind of sexual tension develops that neither of you can explain.
It started with brushing hands, seeking each other out, wanting to be closer, bringing each other snacks, noticing small details in each other's facial features—a freckle, a blemish, in Jolly's case, a gray hair. All of that awakened something special that you couldn't quite explain.
After a tour wrap party, you ended up drunk. Everyone at the party was having a great time. Jolly, who was a bit tipsy, started whispering in your ear how beautiful you looked in that dress. The alcohol clouded your judgment, and since no one was paying attention, you went upstairs and ended up having sex on the bedroom bed. Clothes were everywhere, your panties were torn, his long hair covered you like a veil as he fucked you while you were on top. The tension was gone, and neither of you regretted what you'd done.
Their happiness and ecstasy plummeted as soon as someone opened the door. They'd forgotten to lock it. There, standing in the doorway, was a furious, drunk older brother, still holding his glass full of what was probably vodka and lemon soda.
"JOLLY, YOU SON OF A BITCH, YOU FUCKED MY...HIP...SISTER!"
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The wind blew gently around them. Cicadas could be heard along with the crickets. Somewhere off in the distance, a motorcycle echoed.
But on that porch, there was nothing but them, and years of want and pain floating between them out in the open.
Jolly’s hands still held her face, thumbs brushing under her eyes when new tears appeared before they could fall, even though he knew new ones would replace them immediately.
“I’m sorry.” He repeated again quietly.
Jolly’s eyes dropped to her mouth and then back to her eyes. It was subtle for anyone who didn’t know Jolly. But Y/N knew Jolly.
Her breath caught as he leaned down and finally kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed or desperate in the way years of tension probably should have made it. It was gentle and careful, as if he was terrified of mishandling something precious now that he finally had it in his hands.
A small sound escaped Y/N the second his lips touched hers, soft and shaky and completely overwhelmed. Her hands moved from his wrists to his chest instinctively, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt like she needed something solid to hold onto.
And God.
The feeling of her finally kissing him back nearly ruined him.
It felt exactly like her: warm, soft, emotional in a way that settled deep into his bones immediately.
Jolly’s hands stayed cradling her face the entire time, thumbs brushing softly under her eyes every couple seconds as if he physically couldn’t stop touching her now that he finally could again.
Years.
They lost years to fear.
Somehow, even with that realization sitting heavy between them, the kiss stayed tender.
The exact way he knew she deserved.
Not something rough and overwhelming. Not something selfish.
This wasn’t about finally getting what he wanted. This was about finally loving her out loud.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them moved very far. Jolly rested his forehead back against hers immediately, breathing unevenly.
Y/N’s eyes stayed closed for another second before slowly opening again.
The look in them nearly dropped him to his knees; relief, love, heartbreak, happiness.
All tangled together so deeply it physically hurt to look at.
Jolly swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered roughly. “I let you go through all this alone.”
Y/N smiled softly through lingering tears.
“It just means,” she whispered back, “you have years to make up for.”
A broken laugh escaped him immediately. “Oh, I absolutely do.”
Her nose brushed his slightly when she smiled wider.
Jolly stared at her for another second before shaking his head faintly like he still couldn’t believe this was actually real.
Then quietly, “Five years.”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
Jolly huffed softly. “Five years I’ve loved you.”
Her breath caught instantly.
“You loved me seven,” he continued quietly. “I loved you five.”
Y/N stared at him in complete shock. “What?”
Jolly laughed weakly at her expression. “Yeah.”
Another small shake of his head. “I remember exactly when it happened too.”
Y/N’s lips parted slightly.
Jolly’s eyes drifted away from her for a second, unfocusing slightly as the memory surfaced.
“I came downstairs one morning,” he said quietly. “Mom wasn’t home.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth despite himself. “And you were standing in the kitchen making breakfast for me and the guys.”
Y/N blinked slowly, already trying to place the memory.
“You were singing to one of the demos Noah sent you.” His smile widened slightly now. “Loudly.”
Y/N huffed softly. “That sounds right.”
“You were wearing my hoodie.” Her cheeks flushed immediately. “And those godforsaken tiny shorts you’ve always loved.”
She laughed through embarrassment. “They were comfortable.”
“They were a problem,” he corrected immediately.
That earned a real laugh from her this time.
Jolly smiled helplessly at the sound before continuing. “You looked over your shoulder at me and smiled.” His voice softened noticeably now. “And you said, ‘morning Jollybean.’”
Y/N physically melted at the memory.
Jolly rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I still don’t know what the fuck was different about that day.” His eyes found hers again. “But something punched me directly in the gut.”
The honesty of it made her chest ache.
“And I haven’t stopped loving you since.”
Y/N covered her mouth briefly as fresh tears filled her eyes all over again.
Jolly laughed softly. “Trust me, I tried ignoring it.”
“You did a shitty job,” she whispered.
“Apparently.” He shook his head again. “I tried dating other girls.” His face twisted slightly. “Clearly those always fell apart.”
Y/N stayed quiet and just listened. Because hearing him say these things after years of silence still felt unreal.
“Emma tried getting serious too fast,” he admitted, then immediately sighed. “But honestly?” His expression turned guilty again. “She was a distraction.”
Y/N’s eyes softened.
“A fucking terrible distraction,” he muttered.
That got another small laugh out of her.
Jolly smiled faintly at the sound before continuing. “We went to this upscale fancy bullshit restaurant once.”
Y/N immediately groaned. “Oh no.”
“Exactly,” he laughed. “The entire time all I could think was you would absolutely fucking hate this place.”
Y/N smiled wider now.
“You’d be offended by the portions.”
“Correct.”
“You’d make fun of the menu descriptions.”
“Absolutely.”
“And the waiter?” Jolly laughed harder now, tears still lingering in his eyes. “You would’ve had a fucking field day.”
Y/N snorted.
He smiled. “That reaction is exactly the reaction I would have expected.”
The warmth in his face now was devastating.
“Coffee shops were worse.”
Y/N tilted her head slightly.
“All I could think about was how you’d be roasting my coffee order.”
“I mean, your order is embarrassing.”
“There it is,” he said instantly.
She laughed again and his chest physically tightened at the sound.
Because God, he missed that. Missed her. Missed this.
“You’d make some dry little comment under your breath,” he continued softly. “Or steal my drink after swearing yours was better.”
Y/N smiled knowingly. “Mine usually are.”
“Debatable.”
“Not really.”
“There she is,” he repeated.
Y/N blinked softly. “What?”
Jolly looked at her. “That’s the girl I’ve been losing my fucking mind over for the last how many weeks.”
The softness in his voice nearly knocked the air from her lungs.
Jolly’s hand slid carefully from her face down to the side of her neck, thumb brushing lightly against her skin.
“And the worst part?” he admitted quietly.
Y/N’s breathing slowed instinctively under his touch. “What?”
“I genuinely thought I was protecting us by not saying anything.”
That one hurt both of them.
Jolly shook his head weakly. “I kept thinking if we never crossed the line, I’d never lose you.”
Y/N’s eyes watered again immediately.
“And instead?” His voice cracked softly. “I almost lost you anyway.”
Silence settled around them for a second, full of emotions neither of them knew what to do with yet.
Then Y/N smiled faintly through tears. “Well.”
Jolly lifted an eyebrow slightly.
“You gonna stand on my porch all night?”
A breathy laugh escaped him. “Depends.”
“On?”
His eyes dropped briefly to her lips before meeting her gaze again. “Whether or not your couch is still an option if I completely ruin my life by refusing to leave you alone now.”
Y/N laughed softly. She then reached up and grabbed his face exactly the way she always did and kissed him again before he could overthink another thing.
Besties! I am so sorry I had the audacity to leave y'all on a cliffhanger. My computer has chosen violence the last few days because it's dramatic and did not appreciate me uploading my daughter's prom photos accidently to it and not my memory drive. But! Jade is being nice to me tonight and not being dramatic. 🖤
Y/N stared at him.
For a second, she genuinely couldn't process what she'd just heard.
Not because she didn't understand the words. But because she'd imagined them so many times over the years that reality almost felt impossible.
Jolly stood on her porch, looking completely shattered: red eyes, tear-stained cheeks, shoulders slumped beneath a weight he'd finally stopped trying to carry alone.
And somehow that hurt almost as much as everything that came before it.
Because she loved him.
God, she loved him.
And seeing him this broken wasn't something she'd ever wanted.
Not even when she was angry. Not even when her heart was breaking.
"Jolly..." she whispered.
His eyes immediately found hers again.
The look on his face nearly destroyed her.
Hope. Fear. Regret.
Like he was waiting for the verdict.
Waiting for her to tell him he'd waited too long. That he missed his chance. That she'd finally given up.
Y/N wiped at her face quickly and laughed through another wave of tears. "You're an idiot."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Yeah."
"No," she continued, voice wobbling. "Like an actual idiot."
A watery laugh escaped him. "That's been established."
She shook her head, then took a breath. "You know, when you saw me and Nick?"
The smile vanished from his face instantly.
Y/N saw it happen.
Saw the tension return. Saw the guilt.
"He wasn't holding me because there was something going on."
Jolly's jaw tightened. "I know that now."
"I know," she said softly. " But I need you to hear this."
His eyes locked onto hers.
"That was him holding me while I fell apart."
The words hit him like a punch.
Y/N looked down briefly. "I couldn't do it anymore." A tear slid down her cheek. "I spent days pretending I was okay."
Another laugh escaped her.
Only this one sounded exhausted.
"I cleaned the same spot at the reception desk three times."
Jolly closed his eyes.
Because he could picture it perfectly.
"I kept moving because if I stopped..." She swallowed."...I had to think."
His chest tightened.
"And Nick took the rag away from me." The memory made her smile faintly through tears. "He told me the desk was begging for mercy."
Jolly huffed a tiny laugh despite himself. Then it vanished again because she looked heartbroken.
"And when I finally stopped moving?" Her voice cracked. "I couldn't hold it together anymore."
The silence between them stretched.
"He just held me."
Jolly looked away.
Guilt crawling under his skin again.
"I saw you."
Y/N nodded. "I know."
"He didn't tell me until later." A pause. "I thought..."
He stopped.
Y/N shook her head. "I know what you thought."
Neither of them needed to say it because they both knew.
She took another shaky breath. "This has been really hard."
Honesty; simple and painful.
The kind that carried more weight than dramatic speeches ever could.
"I don't think I've ever hurt like this before."
Jolly physically flinched.
Y/N immediately noticed.
"I know." His voice cracked. "I know."
She wiped her face again. Then laughed softly. "Your mom is the only one who knew I was sleeping in your bed."
Jolly froze.
Y/N looked embarrassed now.
"It started as an accident." A small smile tugged at her lips. "The first time, I just sat in there." She shrugged. "Then I fell asleep."
Jolly stared at her, unable to look away.
"Your mom found me the next morning." A pause. "She made sure I was awake before Freja could catch me." A weak laugh escaped her.
Jolly swallowed hard.
Y/N looked away briefly. "Freja would sit on your bedroom floor with me."
His chest physically hurt now.
"Sometimes we'd just sit there." She laughed quietly. "Well. She'd talk." Another tear escaped. "I'd mostly stare at nothing."
Jolly's throat tightened.
"Because you've always been the place where I felt safest."
The words hit him hard because even now, after everything, after Emma, after the confusion and hurt and distance.
"You were still the place I went."
Jolly lowered his head, unable to hide the tears gathering again.
"So your room felt safe." Y/N shrugged slightly. "Your bed felt safe." A pause. "You felt safe."
His eyes squeezed shut. That was somehow worse, knowing she'd gone there for comfort while he was actively causing her pain.
"I still made your food." She laughed softly. "Which is honestly pathetic."
Jolly immediately shook his head. "No."
"I timed it." She smiled weakly. "Like I always do."
Her eyes drifted away.
"I knew when you'd get home because Nick texted me what time you guys would land, like he always has."
Jolly's heart cracked all over again.
"I didn't feel right not making you something."
The confession hung between them.
Y/N rubbed her arms. "I almost stayed."
Jolly looked up immediately as the words knocked the air from him.
"What?"
She laughed sadly. "I almost stayed." A pause. "Like ten times." Another pause. "I'd finish cooking and think maybe I should wait."
His heart hammered painfully.
Y/N looked away. "But if you didn't choose me..." Her voice broke. "...I didn't know how I'd react."
The truth of it settled heavily between them. Because she genuinely hadn't known. And neither had he.
For a second, neither spoke; they just stared at each other.
Years of history stretched between them.
Seven years.
Thousands of moments. Thousands of opportunities. Thousands of reasons they should've had this conversation sooner.
Y/N finally took another breath. "I can't even be mad at you."
Jolly blinked. "What?"
She smiled softly. Tears still falling. "I didn't say anything either."
His brows furrowed. "Y/N—"
"No." She shook her head. "I was scared too." A humorless laugh escaped her. "You weren't the only one obsessed with everything that could go wrong."
Jolly stared.
Because she was right.
"I spent seven years not saying anything." She wiped her face. "Seven years." A pause. "I don't think it would be right to sit here and act like all of this is entirely your fault."
His eyes watered again because she was still giving him grace.
Y/N smiled through her tears.
Somehow, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"Just because you feel like you don't deserve this..." She stepped a little closer. "...doesn't mean I don't want it."
The words stole every coherent thought he had.
Jolly let out a shaky, breathless laugh. The kind that escaped when emotions overwhelmed everything else.
"Yeah?"
Y/N tilted her head.
And for the first time since opening the door, he saw a glimpse of the woman who stole his hoodies and bullied him relentlessly; a tiny spark. A tiny bit of confidence. A tiny bit of her.
"Jolly." Her voice softened. "I've been waiting seven long fucking years to hear you tell me you love me in a non-platonic way."
The laugh that left him after that sounded wrecked.
Completely wrecked.
And before he could stop himself, he crossed the space between them.
Fast.
Like, if he didn’t touch her immediately, he might actually lose his mind.
Y/N barely got a breath in before his hands were suddenly on her face, carefully, like she might disappear if he held too tight.
His forehead dropped against hers instantly.
Both of them shaking. Both crying.
Jolly let out a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Seven years,” he whispered against her skin like he still couldn’t process it.
Y/N nodded slightly. “Yeah.”
His thumbs brushed under her eyes automatically, wiping tears away only for more to replace them immediately. “I am so fucking sorry,” he whispered.
Y/N shook her head softly. “You’re here now.”
That one undid him all over again.
Because she said it like it mattered more than the pain did. Like, despite everything, him showing up still meant something.
Jolly closed his eyes tightly for a second before finally whispering, “I love you so much it scares me.”
Y/N’s hands finally lifted then, resting carefully against his wrists; grounding him. Steadying him.
And when she spoke again?
Her voice was soft enough to ruin him permanently.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because you scare the absolute shit out of me too.”
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Jolly stared at his phone for a full five minutes before finally hitting call.
The bus was quieter tonight.
Not silent, but quieter in the way it got after long conversations finally settled into everyone’s bones. Noah was asleep in the back lounge, Folio had headphones on pretending he wasn’t paying attention to anything, and Nicholas sat across from Jolly, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.
Watching him.
Because of course he was.
Jolly ignored him.
Or tried to.
The ringing cut through the silence once.
Twice.
Then… “Hey,” Emma answered.
Too casual. Too normal.
Immediately, something in Jolly snapped tighter.
“What the fuck did you think you were doing?”
Silence met him for half a second.
“…What?”
Jolly laughed once.
Sharp. Humorless.
“Oh, don’t fucking do that.”
“Jolly—”
“No,” he cut her off immediately. “What the fuck made you think showing up at my house was a good idea?”
Across from him, Nicholas slowly lowered his phone.
Emma exhaled softly through the speaker. “I was introducing myself.”
“Bullshit.”
The word cracked out of him instantly.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
His voice was low now. Controlled in that dangerous way that meant he was trying very hard not to actually lose his temper.
“You did not drive over to my parents’ house just to introduce yourself.”
Emma scoffed quietly. “You’re overreacting.”
Jolly leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“Then why the fuck did my sister tell her boyfriend you walked in and went straight for Y/N?”
That made Emma pause.
Jolly caught the hesitation immediately.
Nicholas did too.
Emma sighed softly. “I was curious.”
Jolly laughed again. That same bitter sound.
“Curious.”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
Emma’s tone sharpened slightly now too.
“About the girl, you specifically said you didn’t want me around if you weren’t there.”
Jolly closed his eyes briefly.
Jesus Christ.
“Emma—”
“Seriously,” she continued. “What was I supposed to think about that?”
Jolly roughly rubbed a hand down his face. “You weren’t supposed to do anything because it stopped being your business when I ended things.”
Emma went quiet.
Then colder, “So that’s it?”
Jolly’s jaw tightened.
“You break things off with me, and suddenly I’m not allowed to question why there’s some girl you’re clearly obsessed with?”
Emma laughed softly. “Really? Because it was pretty obvious at your house.”
Jolly stayed silent.
“She knows everything about you,” Emma continued. “It’s honestly kind of fucking weird.”
That hit something immediate in him.
“No,” he said flatly. “It’s not.”
Emma scoffed. “Jolly—”
“That’s what happens,” he cut her off sharply, “when you’ve known someone most of your fucking life.” The pause was heavy. “And honestly?” he continued. “It’s not any of your fucking business to begin with.”
Emma exhaled slowly. “She acted like she hated me.”
Jolly’s eyes narrowed immediately. “She was civil.”
“She was cold.”
“She was hurt,” Jolly snapped before he could stop himself.
The bus went dead quiet.
Nicholas slowly looked away.
Emma caught it immediately.
A dangerous pause filled the line.
“…There it is,” she said softly.
Jolly clenched his jaw. “You hurt someone who didn’t do a damn thing to you,” he said instead of responding.
Emma sounded genuinely offended now.
“I didn’t do anything to her.”
Jolly laughed bitterly again. “You walked into my fucking house, making it seem like you and I were still together.”
“We were talking.”
“Not anymore.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No,” Jolly said sharply. “I actually don’t.”
Emma’s breathing became audible through the phone. “I was trying to understand why you ended things so suddenly.”
Jolly rubbed at his forehead. “And your solution was to go after Y/N?”
Emma laughed weakly on the other end. “Even I could see that.”
That hit him straight in the chest.
“And honestly?” she continued. “I think you liked knowing she’d always be there.”
Jolly’s stomach twisted.
Because the fucked up part? She wasn’t entirely wrong.
“I think,” Emma said carefully now, “you realized too late that she might stop.”
Jolly swallowed hard.
“And that scared you.”
Nicholas watched him carefully from across the bus now.
Because Jolly wasn’t yelling anymore. Wasn’t even fighting.
He just sat there looking wrecked.
Emma sighed softly. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her.”
“Well, you did.” His response was immediate. And if I’m being honest?” Jolly continued quietly. “I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”
Emma didn’t answer.
That answered enough, though.
Jolly leaned back slowly. “She never did anything to you.”
“No,” Emma admitted softly.
“She was nice to you even though she didn’t have to be.”
Another silence.
Then Emma quietly asked, “Are you in love with her?”
The question hit differently now.
Three weeks ago? Jolly probably would’ve dodged it, denied it, or laughed it off.
Now? Now he just looked out the dark bus window and answered honestly.
“…Yeah.” No hesitation. No excuses.
Emma let out a shaky breath, “I wish you would’ve figured that out before me.”
Guilt twisted in his chest immediately.
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly.
Emma sighed. “I really did like you, you know.”
Jolly closed his eyes briefly. “I know.”
“But I’m not going to sit around waiting for someone whose heart already belonged to somebody else.”
That one stayed with him because she wasn’t wrong there either.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Emma laughed softly. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Me too.”
The call ended a minute later.
No screaming. No dramatic ending.
Which somehow made it feel worse.
Jolly sat there staring at the dark phone screen for a long time after.
Nicholas finally spoke first. “You good?”
Jolly laughed weakly. “No.”
Nicholas nodded once. “Fair.”
—
The drive home after tour felt different now.
Heavier.
Like every mile closer made his chest tighter instead of lighter.
Normally, coming home felt easy and exciting.
Now? Now all he could think about was her.
What if she wasn’t there? What if she was? What if he’d already ruined this beyond repair?
He barely heard half the conversations around him as they unloaded gear and filtered out toward their cars.
Noah clapped him on the shoulder before leaving. “Good luck.”
Jolly frowned. “With what?”
Noah just gave him a look, then walked away.
Asshole.
The drive to the house felt too short and too long all at once.
His fingers tapped anxiously against the steering wheel the entire time.
By the time he pulled into the driveway, the house was dark except for the kitchen light over the stove.
His chest tightened immediately.
Because maybe? Maybe she was there like usual.
He grabbed his bag quickly and headed inside.
The house was quiet. Everyone was asleep.
He dropped his keys onto the counter and immediately headed toward the kitchen before he could stop himself.
Instinct. Hope. Stupidity.
Maybe all three… Actually? Definitely all three.
But the second he stepped fully into the kitchen, he stopped.
Because she wasn’t there.
No music playing quietly from her phone. No sarcastic comment about him finally showing up. No Y/N sitting on the counter, stealing pieces of food while pretending she wasn’t.
Just silence.
Something sank heavily in his chest.
Then, he saw it: the sticky note on the fridge, bright against the stainless steel with her handwriting.
Jolly stepped closer slowly and read it.
Foods in the microwave. Got done at 1:36.
His eyes flicked toward the clock.
1:50 AM.
Meaning he’d just missed her.
By literal minutes.
Jolly stared at the note for a long second before slowly reaching for the microwave handle.
He opened the door, and sitting on a plate was one of the stupid complex meals he loved that only she and his mother knew how to make properly. One that she’d make every time he’d come home from tour. There was a cover sitting over it to ensure it would stay warm longer.
Jolly just stood there staring at it. Her note still clutched tightly in his hand.
Y/N’s side of things wasn’t much better. Or maybe it was.
Really depended on how someone looked at it.
Because unlike Jolly, she wasn’t confused.
There was no denial left in her.
No pretending. No, carefully built walls, convincing herself it was one-sided crush territory she’d eventually grow out of.
No.
That illusion had shattered the second Emma walked into the Karlsson house smiling like she belonged there.
After that?
Everything became painfully clear to everyone around her.
Not that they hadn’t already known on some level.
You didn’t spend years learning someone down to microscopic details just because they were your friend.
Not the way Y/N did.
Not the way she remembered things. Not the way she watched him or built pieces of her life around him without even realizing she was doing it.
Mrs. Karlsson saw it fully now.
Freja definitely did.
Even Elias picked up on the fact that something was wrong because Y/N wasn’t as loud lately. Still loving. Still present. But quieter around the edges in a way that felt unnatural coming from her.
The Emma situation had hit a nerve nobody could soothe.
Because it wasn’t even jealousy at that point.
It was grief.
The kind that sat in your chest and hollowed things out slowly.
And the worst part? Y/N couldn’t even be angry at Jolly.
Not really.
Because Emma was who he was with, who he’d seemingly chosen.
Which meant Y/N had no claim to anything she was feeling.
So she just sat in it.
Alone most nights.
Mrs. Karlsson tried.
God, she tried.
One evening, Y/N sat at the kitchen island, absentmindedly peeling the label off a beer bottle while Mrs. Karlsson cooked dinner nearby.
“He’ll figure it out,” she said gently without looking up from the stove.
Y/N gave a weak hum. “Maybe.”
Mrs. Karlsson sighed softly. “Not maybe.”
Y/N stared at the bottle in her hands. “You don’t know that.”
“No,” his mother admitted. “I unfortunately don’t.”
That honesty almost hurt worse.
“But I know my son,” she continued quietly. “And I know what he looks like when he’s pretending something doesn’t matter when it actually matters too much.”
Y/N swallowed hard.
Mrs. Karlsson looked over then. “And you matter entirely too much.”
Y/N looked away immediately.
Because hearing it out loud made her chest ache.
Freja tried too.
Less gentle than her mother; more frustrated on Y/N’s behalf than anything else.
One night, they laid on Freja’s bed surrounded by snacks and some horrible reality show neither of them were actually paying attention to.
“He’s going to come home and choose you this time,” Freja said suddenly.
Y/N laughed quietly without humor. “You sound really convinced for someone who isn’t him.”
Freja rolled her eyes. “Because I have eyes.”
Y/N stared at the ceiling. “Emma wouldn’t have came over if she didn’t think she was the one he wanted.”
Freja sat up immediately. “Or she came over because she was insecure.”
Y/N shook her head. “People aren’t insecure without reason.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No,” Y/N said softly. “It’s realistic.”
Freja looked at her for a long second. “You really think he’s coming home to her?”
Y/N’s silence answered enough.
Because what else was she supposed to think? Emma existed in a space Y/N never let herself believe she could occupy.
Publicly. Openly. Normally.
And meanwhile, Y/N was sitting there feeling like her heart was breaking over a man who technically had never even been hers to begin with.
Nicholas tried helping where he could, but being across the country limited things.
And he was balancing his own exhaustion on top of trying to keep the band from combusting after forcing Jolly’s emotional breakdown on the bus.
So most of it came through phone calls late at night. Usually, when Y/N was trying not to spiral.
“You need to sleep,” Nicholas said one night over speakerphone while Y/N laid sprawled across her couch staring at the ceiling.
“I am sleeping.”
“No,” Nicholas replied flatly. “You’re horizontal and dissociating.”
Y/N huffed softly. “Semantics.”
Nicholas sighed. “How bad tonight?”
Y/N hesitated too long.
Nicholas immediately caught it. “…Y/N.”
She rolled onto her side, finally, curling into herself slightly.
“I miss him.”
Quiet. Small. Honest.
Nicholas closed his eyes briefly on the other end of the line.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I know.”
“I hate this,” she whispered.
“I know that too.”
Silence stretched for a minute.
“I feel stupid,” she admitted.
That one hurt him a little.
Because Y/N was many things, stupid was never one of them.
“You’re not stupid.”
“I am,” she argued quietly. “Because I knew better.”
Nicholas frowned. “Knew better than what?”
“Than hoping.”
That one sat heavy.
“He never actually chose me,” she continued. “Not really.”
Nicholas opened his mouth, then stopped himself.
Because he knew things. Too many things.
But they weren’t his to say.
So instead, he carefully said, “You don’t know that yet.”
Y/N laughed softly. Broken around the edges. “That sounds suspiciously optimistic.”
Nicholas leaned back against the bus wall. “Maybe I’m choosing violence and hope tonight.”
That got the faintest breath of a laugh from her.
Tiny. But real.
And honestly? At that point he’d take it.
Still, once the calls ended? Y/N was alone again.
And that’s when it got bad.
During the day, she could function.
Work helped. Running the shop helped. Freja helped.
But nighttime?
Nighttime was cruel.
Especially in her apartment.
Too quiet. Too empty. Too much room for her thoughts to echo.
Sometimes she cried.
Not dramatically. Not loudly.
Just silent tears while lying in bed staring at nothing.
Other nights, she’d end up at the Karlsson house.
Those nights were somehow worse.
Because eventually she’d wander upstairs.
Past Freja’s room. Past the bathroom. Stopping outside Jolly’s door.
Every single time.
Like her body moved there on instinct.
At first, she told herself she wouldn’t go in.
Then she started sitting in there “just for a minute.”
Then eventually, she stopped pretending.
Now she’d sit on his bedroom floor for hours sometimes.
Knees pulled tightly to her chest, one of his hoodies swallowing her whole, just staring at whatever managed to catch her attention that night.
The edge of his desk. The posters on the wall. His guitar leaning in the corner. The stupid crack in the ceiling she’d noticed when she was fifteen and laying upside down on his bed, annoying him while he tried writing.
Little things.
Always little things.
Sometimes she’d sit there in silence. Other times she’d cry quietly into the sleeves of whatever hoodie she stole that week.
Because yeah, she still stole them.
Even now.
Maybe especially now.
And that honestly felt the most pathetic part of all. That even heartbroken, even trying to convince herself to let go, she still found comfort in him. Or whatever pieces of him she could keep close.
One night, Freja found her there.
Y/N sat on the floor beside the bed, chin resting on her knees while absentmindedly tracing the cuff of the hoodie over her fingers.
Freja lingered in the doorway quietly for a second before speaking.
“You okay?”
Y/N laughed softly without looking up. “No.”
Freja’s chest tightened immediately.
She walked in slowly before lowering herself onto the floor beside her best friend.
Neither spoke for a minute.
Then Freja quietly asked, “You wanna know something sad?”
Y/N glanced at her slightly. “What?”
Freja smiled weakly. “This room smells more like you than him lately.”
That almost broke her.
Y/N’s face crumpled instantly as she covered her mouth with her sleeve, trying to stop the sound that escaped her.
Freja immediately moved closer, wrapping both arms around her while Y/N folded into her.
“It hurts so bad,” Y/N whispered brokenly.
Freja held her tighter. “I know.”
“I don’t know how to stop loving him.”
That one nearly made Freja cry too.
Because there was no dramatic solution.
No magical answer. No “just move on.”
Not after seven years. Not after growing up beside someone until they became stitched into every piece of your life.
“You wanna know the really fucked up part?” Y/N whispered against her shoulder.
Freja rubbed her back slowly. “What?”
“If he came home tomorrow and looked at me the way I wanted…” Her voice cracked. “I’d forgive everything in a heartbeat.”
Freja closed her eyes hard.
Because yeah, Y/N loved Jolly in the kind of way that didn’t leave room for self-preservation.
Everyone around them was finally starting to understand just how deep it actually went when it came to her.
Not the yelling. Not Nicholas laying every ugly truth out in front of him, piece by piece, until there was nowhere left to hide.
It was the silence after.
The way Jolly’s jaw kept working like he had words clawing to get out, but none of them actually came. His breathing had gone heavier somewhere in the middle of Nicholas talking, shoulders tight enough to snap, eyes darting everywhere except directly at any of them for too long.
And still? Nothing.
No denial. No defense. No “you’re wrong.”
Just silence.
A loud sigh finally cut through the room. Folio leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
“Seven and fourteen.”
Jolly blinked, looking over at him sharply. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
Folio didn’t blink. “They’re numbers,” he said flatly. “The answer to the same question just worded differently.”
Jolly frowned harder.
“Like those annoying questions on tests,” Folio continued. “Where the teacher changes the wording but the answer stays the same.”
Nicholas immediately shot him a warning look. “Folio.”
Folio held a hand up without looking away from Jolly. “Respectfully, Nick?” he said. “I’m done watching this.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened slightly.
Folio kept going. “This information,” he said, motioning vaguely between himself and Jolly, “is shit I learned.” His tone sharpened. “You have no part in it.”
Nicholas stayed quiet.
“This will not fall back on you,” Folio added firmly. “I’ll make damn sure of it.” A beat. “You are not losing the trust she has in you because of me.” Folio pressed his lips together for a moment. “However,” he continued, “if I have to hear my girlfriend cry one more fucking time because she’s worried sick about her best friend?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m gonna start saying a lot more.” A pause. “And none of it’s gonna be nice.”
The room went quiet again.
Jolly stared at him for a second before scoffing lightly. “What the hell are you even talking about?”
Folio looked at him like he genuinely couldn’t believe he still didn’t get it.
“The age is fourteen,” he said.
Jolly frowned.
“The years is seven.” Another beat. “Keep it in mind.”
Something flickered across Jolly’s face.
Recognition.
Tiny. But there.
Nicholas noticed it immediately. So did Noah.
Folio pushed off the wall slowly. “Now,” he said, “I don’t actually think the problem is that you love her.”
Jolly’s eyes snapped to him.
Before he could speak, Folio kept going. “The problem,” he said evenly, “is that you’re fucking terrified of what happens if it doesn’t work.”
Silence.
“Because you refuse to look at the positives.” Folio stepped closer. “You only focus on what you lose if things go bad.” Another step. “Not what the fuck you gain if things go right.”
Jolly looked away immediately.
And Folio laughed softly under his breath. “Are you really this fucking stupid?"
“Watch it,” Jolly snapped.
“No,” Folio shot back immediately. “You watch it.”
The edge in his voice surprised everyone.
Even Nicholas looked at him differently now.
“Do you seriously think,” Folio continued, “that girl acts the way she does with you with everybody?”
Jolly scoffed immediately. “That’s literally her personality.”
Folio nodded slowly. “So, you are stupid.”
Jolly glared at him hard enough to kill lesser men.
Folio didn’t care.
“When,” he asked calmly, “has she ever hung all over one of us the way she does you?”
Jolly opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Folio kept going. “When has she stolen our hoodies and refused to give them back for three fucking days?”
No answer.
“When does she steal our food? Drinks? Phones?”
Jolly’s jaw tightened.
“When does she sit between our legs on the floor and lean against us?”
Every example landed harder than the last.
“Better yet,” Folio added, “when has she ever asked any of us to braid her hair?”
Nothing.
Because the answer was obvious.
“She doesn’t,” Folio said.
His voice softened slightly now; not kinder, just more certain.
“She can walk up to a pile of black hoodies,” he continued, “and somehow knows exactly which one is yours.”
Noah muttered quietly, “That one’s always freaked me out.”
Nobody acknowledged him.
“Food and drinks?” Folio continued. “If she really wants to try something from us, she asks.” A pause. “With you?” He pointed directly at Jolly. “She just fucking takes it.”
And the worst part?
Jolly knew he was right. Not once, though, did he ever think twice about it.
“She’s fallen asleep leaning on Noah during movies.”
Noah lifted a hand slightly. “Once.”
“Twice,” Nicholas corrected automatically.
Noah looked offended. “Traitor.”
Folio ignored them. “Sometimes she leans on Nick for a few minutes.”
Nicholas stayed silent.
“But you?” Folio said as his eyes locked onto Jolly again. “That girl has literally jumped on your back to tackle you.”
Jolly rubbed a hand over his face slowly now, like the headache had finally become unbearable.
“She doesn’t sit on our laps,” Folio continued.
Every word was another nail.
“She doesn’t grab our faces to kiss our cheeks.”
Noah nodded faintly. “We lean down because she’s short.”
“Exactly,” Folio said.
Then looked back at Jolly.
“Let's add to it. Have you ever noticed something?”
Jolly didn’t answer.
“You’re either the first or the last person she says hi or bye to.”
That one hit differently.
“You are never in the middle.”
The room fell silent again because even Noah looked like he hadn’t consciously realized that before, and now he couldn’t unsee it.
Folio exhaled slowly through his nose. “Hoodies,” he said again.
Jolly closed his eyes briefly.
“Did you ever stop to think about why it’s always three days before she gives them back?”
No answer.
Folio laughed quietly. “I figured this one out over the years,” he admitted.
Jolly’s eyes opened again reluctantly.
“By day three,” Folio said, “they stop fully smelling like you.”
Jolly completely froze.
“So she brings it back,” Folio continued, “and steals a new one.”
Noah physically grimaced. “Jesus Christ.”
Nicholas rubbed a hand over his mouth like he was trying not to laugh and lose his mind simultaneously.
And Jolly? Jolly looked wrecked.
Like every single thing he’d spent years refusing to look at was suddenly standing directly in front of him.
“And here’s my personal favorite,” Folio added.
His tone softened just slightly now.
“Did you know she knows how to braid her own hair?”
Jolly’s head snapped up.
Folio nodded once. “She learned the first time we went on tour.”
Silence.
“She just pretends she can’t,” Folio said quietly. “So she has a reason to be near you.”
That one finally broke through the last wall.
Jolly looked away so fast it was almost violent.
His chest rose sharply once. Then again.
Nicholas watched him carefully now.
Because there it was.
Finally.
The moment it all actually started sinking in.
And the fucked up part? Nobody in the room pitied him. Because Y/N had lived with this for seven years, and Jolly couldn’t even survive one conversation about it without looking like he was falling apart.
The bus had gone dead silent after that.
Not uncomfortable silence. Not even angry silence. Just the kind that settles after someone drops a truth so heavy nobody quite knows where to put it or what to do with it.
Jolly stood there for another second, chest rising unevenly, before finally dropping down onto the edge of the couch like his legs gave out under him.
His elbows rested on his knees. Hands clasped in front of his mouth. He inhaled sharply through his nose and stayed there for a second too long.
Folio watched him carefully. “The numbers clicking yet?” he finally asked.
Jolly laughed once under his breath.
Not amused. Almost disbelieving.
Then he lowered his hands slowly. “I don’t believe that.”
Folio frowned slightly. “Believe what?”
Jolly looked up at him finally. “I don’t believe she’s loved me that long.”
The confession sat strangely in the air.
Not because it was shocking, but because of how genuinely shaken he sounded saying it.
Folio leaned back against the wall again. “But she has, Jolly.”
Simple.
No dramatics. No exaggeration.
“That’s seven years,” Folio continued quietly, “of swallowing down her own bullshit for one reason or another.”
Jolly looked away immediately.
Seven years.
The number sounded worse every time someone said it out loud.
Nicholas finally sighed and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. “You’re not the only one who obsesses over what happens if something goes wrong,” he said.
Jolly glanced toward him.
“But honestly?” Nicholas continued. “At this point, I don’t even know if that matters much.” He paused. “Because Emma stopped by the house today.”
Jolly’s head snapped up instantly. “What?”
Folio nodded once and repeated, “Emma came to the house.”
Every muscle in Jolly’s body visibly tightened.
“And she went right for Y/N.”
Jolly stared at him. “What the fuck do you mean she went right for Y/N?”
Folio shrugged slightly. “Exactly what it sounds like.”
Nicholas huffed quietly. “She tried playing this whole sweet introduction angle,” he said. “Like she was just introducing herself to everyone.”
Jolly leaned back sharply. “Unbelievable.”
“She was fishing,” Folio added bluntly.
Jolly rubbed a hand over his face hard enough to drag his skin with it. “There was no reason for her to even fucking be there.”
“No,” Nicholas agreed calmly. “There wasn’t.”
Jolly laughed bitterly under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”
Folio watched him carefully. “Y/N handled it,” he said.
Jolly’s eyes flicked to him immediately. “How?”
Folio’s mouth twitched slightly. “She obliterated every angle Emma tried making, and told her she wasted her time when all she was trying to do was enjoy her day off.”
That earned the smallest breath of relief from Jolly.
Tiny, but noticeable.
“Still fucked with her though,” Folio added.
And there it was again.
That guilt. That immediate heaviness settling right back onto Jolly’s chest.
“Because,” Folio continued, “that woman is clinging to any possible thread that you might’ve come home this time and chosen her.”
Jolly stared at the floor. “…There was never anything to choose.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh?”
Jolly leaned back slowly, exhausted all over again. “Emma and I weren’t even talking by the time we left.”
The entire bus stilled.
Noah blinked first. “…What?”
Jolly let out a hollow laugh. “Meaning,” he said tiredly, “I broke things off before we even got on the fucking bus.”
Silence.
Nicholas sat back slightly. “Interesting.”
Jolly rolled his eyes weakly. “Don’t start.”
Noah frowned. “Wait, seriously?”
Jolly nodded once. “She wanted to meet everyone,” he said. “I told her maybe eventually after we got back.”
Folio crossed his arms. “And?”
“And she asked if I actually wanted this to go somewhere.” Jolly exhaled sharply through his nose. “She saw the hesitation immediately.”
Nicholas hummed softly, as if to confirm every suspicion he already had.
“It became a whole thing,” Jolly muttered. He paused, then looked away. “And I fucked up.”
Noah frowned. “How?”
Jolly laughed bitterly again. “I let it slip that I didn’t want her near Y/N if I wasn’t home.”
The bus went silent all over again.
Folio blinked slowly. “…You said that out loud?”
“Not intentionally,” Jolly snapped. “It just came out.”
Nicholas rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hide the look on his face.
“She obviously didn’t buy the excuse I tried giving after,” Jolly muttered.
“Because there isn’t a good excuse for that,” Noah said carefully.
“No shit.”
Jolly leaned back harder into the couch now, staring at the ceiling.
“Emma was supposed to be a distraction,” he admitted quietly.
Nobody interrupted him now.
“That’s all she was supposed to be until tour started.” His voice sounded rougher now. More honest. “And then my mom basically ripped me apart that day she came over to talk to Freja and wouldn’t let me see Y/N.”
The three of them stayed quiet.
“Trust me,” Jolly muttered, rubbing both hands down his face now, “I know how I feel.”
That got everyone’s attention immediately.
“I’ve been hyper-aware for months,” he admitted. A humorless laugh left him. “Aware longer than that.”
He shook his head. “But when she pulled back?”
His throat tightened visibly.
“And left that night while I was inside?” A pause. “It’s been driving me fucking insane.” There was real, raw frustration in his voice now. “Emma stopped being a distraction from Y/N,” he admitted quietly. “She became a distraction because Y/N wasn’t around anymore.”
Noah winced slightly at that.
“Not exactly my proudest moment,” Jolly muttered.
Nicholas finally spoke. “No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”
Jolly nodded once. “I know.”
Silence stretched again.
Then Folio finally asked quietly, “Yeah?” He tilted his head slightly. “And how’d ignoring it work out for you this time?”
Jolly scoffed softly. “It didn’t.”
Simple. Honest. Final.
He sat there for a second longer before finally speaking again.
Quieter this time. Honestly, more exhausted than angry.
“…I’ve loved her for a long time.”
Nobody moved.
“Since she was sixteen, if I’m being honest.”
Noah’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
Jolly rubbed a hand through his hair roughly.
“It just made it easier to ignore because technically I was already an adult.” His jaw tightened. “So I latched onto that.” He laughed once under his breath. “Then eighteen hit and suddenly I didn’t have that excuse anymore.”
Nicholas watched him carefully now.
“So I ignored it harder.” Jolly’s eyes closed briefly. “Told myself it was one-sided because nothing about her changed.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word. “She still acted the same with me.”
A longer pause sat between them.
“But I think…” he started quietly, then stopped.
Noah leaned forward slightly. “What?”
Jolly swallowed hard. “I think I convinced myself it had to be one-sided because if it wasn’t…” His laugh this time sounded miserable. “…then I was fucked.”
Nobody joked. Nobody interrupted.
Because they could all hear it now. Really hear it.
“I never let myself fully feel how much I loved her,” Jolly admitted. His eyes stayed locked on the floor now.
“Not really.” A pause. “Because as long as she was there?” His throat worked hard. “I could pretend it wasn’t consuming me.”
That one hurt.
Even Nicholas looked away for a second after that.
“But then she left.” Jolly laughed weakly again. “And suddenly I had no choice but to sit in it.”
Every ugly part of it. Every realization. Every moment replaying itself in his head differently now.
“Even when I was with Emma,” he admitted quietly, “I’d think about Y/N constantly.”
Noah sighed softly under his breath.
“We’d go somewhere to eat, and all I could think was how Y/N would bitch about the menu.”
Folio snorted despite himself.
Jolly smiled faintly for half a second. “Or somebody would walk by wearing something ridiculous and all I could hear in my head was whatever smartass comment she’d make about it.” His smile disappeared just as quickly. “She never left my fucking head.”
Silence. Heavy silence.
“I’d wake up and instinctively check my phone expecting twenty texts from her, or voice messages because she was too lazy to type.”
Noah laughed quietly.
Jolly’s chest tightened again. “She’s in lliterally everything,” he admitted. “Every routine, every habit, every good thing.”
His eyes finally lifted toward them again. “And I think the reason this hit me so hard?” He swallowed hard. “Is because for the first time since she was nine years old…” His voice dropped quieter. “She stopped reaching for me.”
Nobody in that bus had an answer for that. Because there wasn’t one.
Jolly leaned forward again, elbows on his knees. “My mom made it very clear I wasn’t supposed to go near her until we got home.” He huffed softly. “Probably because she knew I’d cave immediately.”
Nicholas finally nodded once. “She was right.”
Jolly laughed weakly. “Yeah.”
Silence hit again.
Then, quieter, he finally said, “I miss her.”
Not dramatic. Not poetic. Just devastatingly honest.
“I miss her voice, her stealing my shit.” He took in a shaky breath. “The way she’d just exist in my space like she belonged there.” His jaw tightened again. “And the fucked up thing?” He looked down at his hands. “She always did.”
Nicholas looked up slowly from where he sat sprawled across the couch, one arm stretched along the back cushion like he didn’t have a care in the world.
And the asshole smiled.
“You lasted longer than I thought you would.”
Jolly’s jaw flexed.
Nicholas sat up properly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Floor’s yours, buddy boy.”
The room had gone quieter now; quieter in the way people got when they knew they were witnessing the start of something they probably shouldn’t interrupt but needed to stay put in case something went south.
Jolly got straight to it. “What’s going on with you and Y/N?”
No buildup. No dancing around it.
Just straight for the throat.
Nicholas tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Nicholas hummed softly. “That narrows it down absolutely none.”
Jolly’s patience snapped tighter. “Don’t play fucking stupid with me.”
Nicholas leaned back slightly. “I’m not. You asked a vague question.”
Jolly stared at him.
Nicholas stared right back calmly.
Annoyingly calm.
Finally, Nicholas shrugged lightly. “We’re close.”
Jolly scoffed. “No shit.”
“She trusts me.” Another shrug. “I trust her.”
Still vague. Still careful. Enough to imply something without actually saying it.
Nicholas knew exactly what he was doing. He used what Jolly thought to his advantage. The exact reason he never cleared the air about what he saw that day, walking past the shop.
Jolly narrowed his eyes. “That’s not an answer.”
Nicholas looked genuinely thoughtful for a second. “Hm. Okay.”
A beat.
“She comes to me when she needs someone.”
Jolly’s chest tightened.
Nicholas saw it happen.
“She talks to me about things she doesn’t talk to other people about.”
Another crack.
Small. But there.
“And?” Jolly pressed.
Nicholas’s mouth twitched. “And what?”
“What’s actually going on?”
Nicholas tilted his head again. “Why does it matter?”
Jolly opened his mouth immediately and stopped.
Because Nicholas followed it instantly with:
“You’re talking to Emma.”
Silence.
There it was. The thing sitting in the middle of the room that nobody had wanted to say out loud.
Jolly didn’t answer.
Didn’t deny it, but also didn’t confirm it.
Nicholas saw the hesitation, though. And the flicker of the exact moment something ugly and possessive crossed Jolly’s face before he shoved it back down.
Nicholas smirked slowly. “Oh,” he said softly. “There it is.”
Jolly’s expression darkened. “Shut up.”
“Come on, Jollybean,” Nicholas said, leaning back fully now, arms crossing over his chest. “You just gotta say it.”
“Don’t,” Jolly snapped instantly.
Nicholas blinked innocently. “Don’t what?”
“You fucking know what.”
Nicholas nodded slowly like something had finally clicked into place. “I see,” he paused. “So Jollybean is the breaking point.”
The room went dead quiet.
Noah physically leaned back in his chair like he wanted no part of this. Folio rubbed a hand over his mouth, praying this didn’t head the way he was seeing. Jolly looked like he might actually strangle someone.
Nicholas, meanwhile, looked entertained.
“The nickname,” Nicholas continued calmly, “you’ve spent years telling her not to call you.”
Jolly clenched his fists.
“The nickname you supposedly hate.”
“Nick—”
“The nickname she gave you because she said your vibe was a ‘grumpy marshmallow’ and Jollybean fit.”
Noah snorted loudly before immediately pretending he hadn’t.
Jolly shot him a murderous glare.
Nicholas kept going. “Funny thing is,” he said, voice quieter now, sharper, “there’s not actually any bite to it anymore when she says it, and you tell her not to call you that. More like you say it as a habit than actually meaning it.”
Jolly looked away.
“But the second somebody else says it?” Nicholas continued. “Something in you fucking snaps.”
His eyes locked onto Jolly’s.
“It’s almost like,” he said slowly, “you don’t actually hate it because it’s her.” A beat. “But only if it’s her.”
“Will you shut the fuck up?” Jolly finally yelled.
The room flinched slightly at the sudden volume.
Nicholas didn’t. He honestly didn’t even blink.
“You don’t know shit about me when it comes to her,” Jolly snapped. “Not a fucking thing.”
Nicholas watched him for a long second.
Then slowly stood.
Not aggressively. Not confrontational.
Which somehow made it worse.
“Then enlighten me,” he said evenly then paused. “Jollybean.”
Jolly’s jaw clenched so hard it looked painful.
Nicholas stepped closer.
“Tell me what I don’t know.”
Silence.
“Tell me I’m blind,” Nicholas continued. “Tell me I’m stupid. Tell me I haven’t been watching this shit grow for years.”
Jolly didn’t answer.
“Since she hit eighteen,” Nicholas said. A beat. “Actually, before that. You were just better at ignoring it.”
Jolly looked away sharply.
“But then she turned eighteen,” Nicholas continued, voice steady, “and suddenly it changed.”
He motioned vaguely toward Jolly.
“She still stole your hoodies,” he said. “But by that point? Your hoodies were the only fucking baggy thing she wore anymore.”
Jolly’s eyes snapped back to him. “Watch it,” he said lowly.
Nicholas wasn’t phased. Not even slightly.
“And you sure as shit noticed how nice her body got.” Nicholas stepped closer again. “It got worse from there,” he said. “Because once she got confident in her own skin?”He shook his head faintly. “It was a domino effect.”
Jolly stayed silent.
But Nicholas could see every word hitting.
“Her personality’s still obnoxious as fuck,” Nicholas continued. “But she’s bubbly. Loud. She sings with no apologies.”
A faint smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.
“Especially our music.”
Noah quietly muttered, “That’s true.”
Nobody acknowledged him.
“She walks into rooms like she owns them,” Nicholas continued. “And the fucked up thing?”
He pointed at Jolly.
“She knows she does.”
Jolly swallowed hard once.
Then Nicholas delivered the real hits.
“And then a few months ago,” he said, quieter now, “suddenly you were different.”
Jolly’s shoulders tensed immediately.
“You stopped telling her to get off you. You stopped complaining when she kissed your cheek. You stopped telling her to move when you finished her hair.”
Jolly looked away again.
Nicholas stepped closer. “You adjusted.”
The room stayed silent.
“So she fit better,” Nicholas continued. “So she was comfortable.”
Jolly’s chest felt tight now. Painfully tight.
“And then you’d stay like that,” Nicholas said. “For hours.” His voice softened just slightly. “In your own little fucking bubble.”
Jolly closed his eyes briefly.
“You’d chime in on conversations,” Nicholas continued. “Talk to the rest of us for a minute.” A pause. “Then immediately go right back to her.”
Every word felt surgical.
Precise.
“Tattoo designs. Lyrics. Random bullshit.” Nicholas tilted his head. “And you always had to be touching her.”
Jolly’s fists clenched again.
“Usually your hands sat on her hips,” Nicholas said quietly. “While your chin sat on top of her head.”
Noah looked deeply uncomfortable now. Folio looked like he was watching a car crash happen in slow motion.
“And she’d lean into you,” Nicholas added. “And you stopped questioning it.”
That one hit differently. Because it was true.
Jolly hadn’t questioned it.
Not really. Not until it was gone.
Nicholas sighed softly. “Because it felt right.”
The words sat there in the air heavily.
“And instead of actually looking at what that meant?” Nicholas continued, eyes narrowed slightly. “You ignored it.”
Jolly looked furious now.
But underneath it?
Nicholas saw the panic.
“You refused to see it for what it actually is.”
Silence stretched.
Then Nicholas spread his hands slightly. “So please,” he said. “Tell me what I don’t know when it comes to you and her.”
Jolly couldn’t answer that. Instead, his jaw tightened again.
Nicholas saw it immediately and kept going. “I know way more than you think I do.” A beat. “Things I’ve observed.” Another. “Things she’s trusted me with because she couldn’t go to your sister.”
Jolly’s head snapped toward him at that.
“And things you’ve let slip,” Nicholas added quietly, “without even realizing you did.”
Jolly looked away.
Nicholas exhaled slowly then finally took a small step back. “But,” he said, his voice softened slightly. “You’re right.”
Jolly frowned faintly.
“I don’t know everything,” Nicholas admitted. “Not when it comes to your side of this.”
The room stayed painfully still.
Nicholas let the silence hang for a second before finishing, “I don’t know why you won’t stop being a little fucking bitch,” he said bluntly, “and finally say what this actually is out loud.”
Not loud in the way it had been during the show; no roaring crowd, no blinding lights, but alive in that aftershock kind of way. Gear got packed down, cables coiled, cases rolled toward the back exit while voices overlapped in quick bursts. Everyone moved with purpose, but the adrenaline hadn’t fully worn off yet.
Backstage, the guys had their usual rhythm.
Noah pacing with a half-empty water bottle, still riding the high. Folio leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. Nicholas sitting on a folding chair, elbows on his knees, head tilted slightly down like he was already a few steps ahead mentally, processing, planning, watching.
And Jolly? Jolly was moving around like everything was normal. Which meant nothing was.
Folio’s phone buzzed. He glanced down, the name lighting up the screen, and immediately pushed himself off the wall. “Give me a second,” he muttered, already stepping away from the group.
He slipped down the hallway, finding a quieter pocket near an emergency exit, pushing the door open just enough to let some cool air in before answering. “Hey, babe.”
Freja’s voice came through immediately. “Hey.”
Something in her tone made him straighten just a little.
“What’s up?”
She hesitated. Which she didn’t usually do. “…We had a visitor today.”
Folio frowned. “A visitor?”
“Yeah.” Another pause. “…Emma.”
Folio went still. “…At the house?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“How did that even—”
“She just showed up,” Freja cut in.
Folio ran a hand down his face. “You’re fucking kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“What happened?”
Freja exhaled slowly. “She introduced herself. Sat down. Talked like everything was normal.”
Folio leaned his head back against the wall. “Of course she did.”
“Yeah.”
“How’d that go?”
Freja huffed. “Civil.”
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
“It wasn’t bad,” she said. “But it wasn’t good either.”
Folio nodded to himself.
“Y/N handled it,” Freja added.
That made him pause. “…How?”
Freja let out a small breath. “She didn’t bite,” she said. “Didn’t snap. Didn’t give her what she wanted.”
Folio’s brow furrowed. “What she wanted?”
Freja’s tone sharpened slightly. “She was trying to push Y/N.”
Folio’s jaw tightened. “How hard?” he asked.
“Enough,” Freja replied. “Not obvious. But enough.”
Folio nodded slowly, piecing it together. “And Y/N?” he asked.
“She shut it down,” Freja said. “Then absolutely annihilated her with Jolly knowledge.” There was something in her voice; pride, mixed with something heavier.
“Jolly knowledge?” Folio laughed.
“Yeah,” she smiled. “Asked questions and completely rewired any concept in Emma’s brain that Y/N would see her as a threat, and Emma should absolutely see her as one.”
Silence sat between them for a second. “You should probably tell Nick,” Freja added.
Folio let out a humorless huff. “Yeah.”
“Just—carefully,” she said.
Folio almost laughed. “You know that’s not how he works.”
Freja sighed. “I know.”
“Alright,” Folio said. “I’ll handle it.”
“Okay.”
“Hey,” he added, softer now. “She good?”
Freja paused. “…She will be.”
That wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either.
“Alright.” Folio nodded to himself. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
They hung up, and for a second, he just stood there processing.
Because this?
This was exactly the kind of thing that didn’t stay contained.
Not with this group. Not with these dynamics. Not with him and her involved.
Folio pushed off the wall and headed back inside.
Nicholas looked up the second he saw him.
Didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.
Folio’s face said enough.
“What?” Nicholas asked.
Folio jerked his head toward the hallway. “Come here.”
Nicholas stood immediately. No hesitation.
They stepped off to the side, out of earshot.
“What happened?” Nicholas asked.
Folio didn’t ease into it. “She showed up.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”
“Emma.”
That did it. Nicholas went still. “Where?” he asked.
“At the house.”
“…And?”
Folio exhaled slowly. “Freja said it was civil.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened. “That’s not an answer,” he said.
“She tried to push,” Folio added.
Nicholas’s expression darkened. “And Y/N?” he asked.
“Handled it,” Folio said. “Didn’t give her anything. Minus making it very known that Emma wasn’t a threat to her, but she sure as hell is a threat to Emma.”
Nicholas let out a slow breath through his nose. “Not shocking,” he said.
But the tone? The tone said it wasn’t enough.
Folio crossed his arms. “You’re thinking.”
“I’m always thinking,” Nicholas replied.
“Yeah, well, now you’re thinking dangerously,” Folio said.
Nicholas didn’t deny it.
“Where is he?” Nicholas asked.
Folio glanced back toward the main room. “Not here.”
Nicholas nodded once. “Good.”
Because that meant he had room to move, act, and push buttons.
Which is exactly what he was about to do.
By the time they got on the bus, the tension had shifted.
Noah picked up on it almost immediately.
He dropped into the seat across from Nicholas, watching him for a second before shaking his head.
“I don’t even know what’s happening,” he muttered.
Nicholas didn’t respond. Folio leaned against the wall nearby.
Noah huffed. “But I’m annoyed.”
“That’s fair,” Folio said.
Nicholas then reached for his phone.
Folio saw it. So did Noah.
“Oh no,” Noah said immediately.
Nicholas glanced at him. “What?”
“You’re about to do something,” Noah said.
Nicholas shrugged. “Maybe.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
Folio sighed. “Nick—”
But it was too late. The phone was already ringing.
Y/N picked up on the second ring.
“Hey.”
Nicholas leaned back in his seat, casual as ever “Hey.”
“How was the show?” she asked.
“Good,” he said. “Crowd was loud. Noah almost fell off stage.”
“I did not,” Noah protested immediately from across the aisle.
Y/N laughed through the phone. “I believe that he almost did.”
Nicholas smirked. “He absolutely did.”
“I tripped,” Noah argued. “That’s different.”
“Sure,” Nicholas said.
Y/N’s laugh softened.
“How are you?” Nicholas asked.
“I’m okay,” she said.
He tilted his head slightly. “Just okay?”
There was a small pause.
“…It was a long day,” she admitted.
Nicholas hummed. “Yeah, I heard it got… rough for a bit.”
He didn’t say how. Didn’t say why. Didn’t say who.
But he made it known he knew.
Y/N exhaled softly. “Yeah.”
“You good now?”
“I am,” she said.
“Good.” Nicholas smiled faintly. “What did you and Freja get into?”
“Nothing crazy,” she said. “We went out, grabbed food, came back, watched something stupid.”
“Sounds nice if you ask me.”
“It was,” she said. “Needed it, honestly.”
Nicholas nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Make sure you’re eating,” he added.
She huffed. “I am.”
“Sleeping?”
“…Working on it.”
Nicholas chuckled softly.
Across the aisle, Jolly was watching.
Not openly. Not obviously. But enough.
Enough to see the way Nicholas leaned back, relaxed, like this was the most natural thing in the world. Enough to hear the ease in his voice. Enough to feel something twist in his chest.
Again.
Nicholas laughed at something Y/N said, shaking his head slightly.
“No, absolutely not,” he replied. “You’re not allowed to make that decision unsupervised.”
Y/N laughed again.
Jolly’s jaw tightened.
Nicholas didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t even pretend to notice.
Which somehow made it worse.
“Alright,” Nicholas said after a few more minutes. “Get some rest.”
“You too,” Y/N replied.
“I love you,” Nicholas said easily.
Like he always did. Like it was nothing. Like it was everything.
And that? That was it.
That was the last fucking nerve. The last thread. The last piece holding everything in place.
“Love you too,” Y/N said softly.
The call ended.
Nicholas set his phone down.
And finally looked up. Right at him.
Jolly stood.
Slow. Controlled.
But there was nothing calm about it.
He crossed the aisle in two steps, stopping in front of Nicholas.
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Besties, I was asked yesterday if I was planning a Noah story when I was done with the two I’m working on. The answer is, yes. The other three have been requests so I’ve focused on those. I wasn’t sure which way I wanted to take it, but I think I might after a random lightbulb went off. Honestly, the way my writing usually happens. I believe I’ve seen it before but adding another can never hurt…. So hear me out…Mafia!Noah. It would possibly be spicier than anything I’ve written. I’ve been practicing writing those scenes in my spare time. So give me your thoughts before I dive head first into this 😬
Three weeks blurred together in a way that only tour time ever did.
Cities stacked on top of each other. Long drives. Louder nights. Shorter mornings. The rhythm of it all took over; soundcheck, set, teardown, repeat, until days stopped feeling like separate things and started feeling like one long stretch of noise and motion.
Back home, everything slowed in contrast.
The Karlsson house felt quieter.
Not empty, but missing a certain kind of chaos that only four grown men could bring into a space and leave behind them.
Freja noticed it the most in the evenings.
The backyard didn’t stay lit as long. The kitchen didn’t echo with overlapping conversations.
Even Elias had settled into a different kind of routine, one that involved more cartoons and less chasing people around the house.
And Y/N? She came around again.
Not every day. Not like before. But enough.
Enough that things started to feel normal-adjacent again.
That was the best way to describe it.
Not normal.
But close enough to function.
That afternoon had started like any other.
Freja sat cross-legged on the living room floor, laptop open, papers scattered around her like she was trying to convince herself she was being productive.
Y/N was on the couch, legs tucked under her, scrolling through something on her phone before tossing it aside with a quiet groan.
“I swear if I have to answer one more message about booking dates, I’m throwing the phone out the window,” she muttered.
Freja snorted. “Do it. I’ll film it.”
“You’re supposed to support me,” Y/N shot back.
“I am,” Freja said. “Emotionally. Not financially, when you have to replace your phone though. You're on your own there.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching for the remote and flipping through channels absentmindedly.
“Nick owes me when they get back,” she added. “Running the shop while he’s gone is not for the weak.”
Freja hummed. “You always say that, but we all know you love it. You wouldn’t offer to do it every time if you didn’t.”
“I do,” Y/N admitted. “But I also love sleep. And I haven’t had enough of that lately. It's criminal honestly.”
Freja looked up from her laptop. “You look fine.”
“That’s because I’m talented,” Y/N deadpanned. "And makeup does wonders when you know how to use it."
Freja laughed.
The doorbell rang.
Both of them paused.
Freja frowned slightly. “Were we expecting someone?”
Y/N shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
Freja pushed herself up off the floor, brushing her hands off on her jeans as she headed toward the front door. “Maybe it’s a package,” she called over her shoulder.
Y/N leaned back into the couch, not bothering to get up. “Or someone trying to sell you something,” she added. "Those guys have been out like vultures. I had someone yesterday try to sell me life-altering sponges."
Freja snorted as she opened the door then stopped.
“Hi,” the girl on the other side said, offering a polite smile. “I’m Emma.”
Freja blinked once, processing. “Oh,” she said. “Hi.”
There was a beat. Then she stepped aside. “Come in.”
Emma walked in with an easy confidence, her eyes flicking around the space briefly before landing on Y/N in the living room.
Y/N sat up just a little straighter.
Not tense. Not closed off. Just… aware. Because she could feel deep in her bones, this wasn’t a normal visit.
“Hey,” Emma said, her smile still in place. “You must be Y/N.”
Y/N nodded once. “Yeah.”
“I’ve heard about you,” Emma added.
Y/N’s expression didn’t change. “Have you?”
Freja closed the door behind her, glancing between them before stepping back into the room.
Emma settled into one of the chairs like she belonged there. “So,” she said, crossing one leg over the other, “I figured I’d stop by and actually meet you guys.”
Freja sat back down on the floor, though her posture had shifted; more upright now, more attentive.
“Yeah,” she said. “Makes sense.”
Y/N didn’t respond right away. She leaned back slightly, resting her arm along the back of the couch.
“Sure,” she said finally. Because no, it didn’t make sense. Jolly never lets anyone he’s dating come over without him. Even when they seemed serious.
There was a small pause.
Then Emma smiled again, a little brighter this time.
“He’s been telling me so much about everything,” she said.
Freja raised a brow slightly. “Everything?”
Emma nodded. “Yeah, like how things are here, how close everyone is.”
Y/N hummed faintly. “That sounds about right.”
Emma’s gaze flicked to her. “It’s nice,” she said. “Hearing how much everyone cares about each other.”
Freja nodded slowly. “We do.”
Emma leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on her knee. “He’s like that, too,” she added casually. “Really attentive. Pays attention to everything.”
Y/N didn’t react.
Freja didn’t either.
They just listened.
“He remembers things,” Emma continued. “Little things. Like how I take my coffee, or what I mentioned once about liking a certain place.”
Freja gave a small, polite smile. “That’s a good quality to have.”
“He’s such a gentleman,” Emma added.
Y/N’s gaze stayed steady.
Emma’s eyes flicked to her again, like she was waiting for something.
A reaction. A comment. A shift.
Anything.
Y/N didn’t give it. She just nodded once. “He can be.”
Emma tilted her head slightly. “Can be?” she echoed.
Y/N shrugged lightly. “Depends on the day, his mood, if the grass touched his ankle threateningly.”
Freja suppressed a smile. She knew exactly where this was going.
Emma leaned back again, her tone still light but her words a little sharper now. “I don’t know,” she said. “From what I’ve seen, it’s pretty consistent.”
Y/N crossed one ankle over the other, settling deeper into the couch. “Yeah?” she said.
Emma nodded. “Yeah. He’s just… easy.”
Freja glanced at Y/N briefly. Because that? That was a choice of words.
Y/N let it sit for a second before she leaned forward just slightly, resting her elbows on her knees.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
Emma smiled. “Of course.”
Y/N’s expression stayed neutral. “What does he do,” she asked, “when he’s working on a track, and it doesn’t sound right yet?”
Emma blinked. “What?”
Y/N tilted her head slightly. “When it’s not hitting the way he hears it in his head,” she clarified.
Emma hesitated. “I mean… I don’t—”
“He won’t sleep,” Y/N said calmly.
Freja’s lips pressed together to keep from smiling.
“He won’t eat,” Y/N continued. “He won’t focus on anything else until it clicks. The man will obsess over it.”
Emma went quiet.
“God, you had to almost sit on him the one time because he didn’t eat for almost two days while working on 'Concrete Jungle'.” Freja laughed.
Y/N’s lip twitched. “The funnel was ready if the bastard didn’t eat the damn food I made him.” Y/N paused before continuing, “And when he’s stressed,” Y/N added, “he starts drumming without realizing it.”
Freja nodded. “On literally anything.”
Y/N glanced at her briefly. “Tables, his legs, walls, my head the one time—whatever’s there.”
Emma shifted slightly in her seat.
Y/N leaned back again. “He hates swimming,” she went on.
Emma frowned faintly. “He does?”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah. Won’t go near water unless Elias asks him to.”
Freja huffed a quiet laugh. “Even then, he complains the whole time.”
Y/N’s mouth twitched slightly again.
“Favorite meals?” she continued. “They change.”
Emma straightened a little, like she finally had something to contribute. “I know a couple—”
“Knowing what they are and how to make them are two very different things, babe. He’ll only eat them if they’re made the way his mom makes them,” Y/N cut in gently.
Emma’s mouth closed.
“Except,” Y/N added, her tone still even, “there’s one other person he’ll accept them from.”
Freja’s eyes flicked to her.
Emma looked at her.
Y/N didn’t break eye contact. “…Me.”
Silence filled the space for a moment.
Freja shifted slightly, watching both of them.
Emma’s expression tightened just a fraction before smoothing back out. “I mean,” she said lightly, “people learn new things.”
Y/N nodded. “They do. But his mom taught me personally how to make them the correct way. Good luck getting her to do that again. I had to beg, and I’ve been around since they moved here. It’s a process and a half for even the simple one.”
Another pause.
Then Y/N leaned back fully this time, stretching her legs out slightly. “Was there anything else you needed?” she asked.
Emma blinked. “What?”
“I’m trying to enjoy my day off,” Y/N said simply. “From running Nick’s shop while they’re gone.”
Freja bit the inside of her cheek.
Emma let out a small breath, sitting back. “No,” she said. “I think that’s it.”
Y/N nodded once. “Cool.”
Silence settled again.
Different now.
Less polite. More clear.
Freja finally closed her laptop, glancing between them.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, breaking the tension.
Emma nodded. “Sure.”
Freja stood, heading toward the kitchen.
Y/N stayed where she was.
Calm. Still. Unbothered on the surface.
Emma glanced at her again.
Studying. Measuring.
Whatever she’d come in trying to do hadn’t landed the way she expected or wanted.
That was obvious the second Y/N glanced at her again and said, “By the way, whatever angle you were going for was sloppy. I knew from the second you walked in that this was some insecure talk you felt the need to have. Jolly doesn’t let anyone he’s dating come near this house without him. Even if they might become serious,” she looked back at her phone as a message popped up. “So, I’d hope, if I were you, that he doesn’t find out you disrespected a boundary he put in place before he left. Because I’d bet my house he told you to wait until he got home.”
That settled somewhere uncomfortable under Emma’s skin. She clearly underestimated just how well this girl knew Jolly and why Jolly didn’t want her near Y/N.
Writing besties, have you ever looked back on writing you started with and then look at your writing now and want to rewrite older stuff? I’m almost done with ‘Coffee Cups and Stage Lights’ and part of me wants to rewrite ‘Just Pretend’ because I feel my writing is so much better. It’s quite an epidemic 💀
The night before they were set to leave should’ve felt like every other send-off they’d ever had.
Loud. Full. Easy.
It looked like it from the outside.
Music drifted through the house and out into the backyard, bass low enough to let conversations carry but steady enough to keep everything feeling alive. People moved in and out of rooms, laughter overlapping, drinks passed around, someone arguing over a playlist near the speakers. Mr. and Mrs. Karlsson were in their element: hosting, talking, making sure no one’s cup stayed empty too long.
On the surface, it was exactly what it always was.
But something was off.
Everyone could feel it in small, quiet ways.
A pause that lingered too long. A glance that didn’t quite land. A space that wasn’t being filled the way it usually was.
Jolly felt it the most.
He leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter, nursing a drink he hadn’t really touched, his eyes scanning the room without actually seeing anything in it.
Too loud. Too crowded. Too much.
And still not fucking enough.
Because someone was missing, and it was getting under his skin in a way he couldn’t shake. No matter how hard he tried to bury it.
Folio walked past him, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “You good?”
Jolly nodded immediately. “Yeah.”
Folio gave him a look. The kind that said I don’t believe you, but I’m not going to push it right now.
“Alright,” he said, moving on.
Jolly exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck before pushing himself off the counter and heading toward the back door.
Outside felt marginally better.
More space. Cooler air. Less noise, though not by much.
Noah was mid-story, hands moving animatedly as a small group listened, laughing at something he’d just said. Nicholas sat nearby, half-listening, half-watching everything around him like he always did.
Jolly dropped into a chair near them, leaning back, stretching his legs out like he was trying to convince himself he could relax.
He couldn’t.
His eyes flicked to Nicholas, then away, then back again.
Nicholas hadn’t said anything. Not a single fucking word.
It was driving him insane.
He could ask. He should ask if he was being honest with himself.
But the mood he’d been in the last few days?
Yeah—no.
That conversation would go sideways so fast, and he knew it.
So instead, he sat there letting it eat at him.
Like an idiot.
Because that was apparently his brand lately.
Noah glanced over at him mid-laugh. “You look like you’re thinking too hard.”
Jolly huffed faintly. “I’m not.”
“Bullshit,” Noah said easily. “You’ve had that face all night.”
“What face?”
“The ‘I’m absolutely not overthinking something, but I definitely am’ face.”
Nicholas snorted quietly under his breath.
Jolly shot him a look. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Nicholas replied calmly.
“Yeah, but you thought it,” Jolly muttered.
Nicholas smirked faintly but didn’t argue.
Noah leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “You’re just mad because I’m right.”
Jolly rolled his eyes. “You’re always convinced you’re right.”
“Because I usually am.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Not really.”
Folio chuckled from across the fire pit. “This is comforting. Nothing’s changed.”
Jolly forced a small smile at that.
But it didn’t stick.
Because even in the middle of all this, something still felt off, and not once did it let up.
The night wore on.
People moved in and out. Music shifted. The energy dipped and rose again.
And still that space stayed empty.
Jolly found himself checking the gate more than once.
Not obviously. Not enough for anyone to call him out on it. But enough that he noticed it himself.
Which only made it worse, because he knew why she wasn’t here.
His mom had told him.
Space. Time. Distance.
All the things he’d apparently needed.
Allegedly.
And now that he had them, he hated it. Of course he did.
Because nothing about this made sense in his head anymore.
He pushed off the chair again, heading back inside this time, weaving through people until he landed in the living room.
Quieter. Dimmer.
A couple people sat on the couch, talking low, someone flipping through songs on their phone.
Jolly sank into the arm of a chair, running a hand over his face.
“…Get it together,” he muttered under his breath.
Because he had a system, a way of handling things.
Compartmentalize. Box it up. Ignore it.
And he was doing a fantastic job of it.
Until he wasn’t.
Out back, the night was starting to wind down more. Not over, but shifting toward it.
People settling. Energy softening.
And then the gate clicked.
It was subtle. almost easy to miss.
But Noah didn’t.
His head snapped toward it instantly, and then his entire face lit up.
“Y/N!” He was out of his chair before anyone else even processed it, crossing the yard in two quick strides. “I thought you weren’t coming,” he said, pulling her into a quick hug.
Y/N smiled, small but real, returning it easily. “I’m literally just popping in real fast,” she said. “I just wanted to say bye to you guys.”
Noah pulled back, looking at her. “You almost didn’t come at all?”
She shrugged lightly. “I wasn't, but didn’t feel right not to at least come say bye.”
Folio stood next, giving her a small, warm smile before pulling her into a brief hug. “Glad you did.”
“Me too,” she said.
Nicholas was already on his feet, stepping toward her. He didn’t say anything at first, just pulled her into a hug, one hand resting briefly at the back of her head.
Then, quieter, “You okay?”
Y/N nodded against him. “Yeah.”
He pulled back slightly, searching her face.
“Just stopped by after closing the shop,” she added. “Figured I’d make an appearance before disappearing again.”
Nicholas huffed faintly. “Disappearing?”
“Temporarily,” she corrected.
He studied her for another second. Then nodded. “Alright.”
“I’m heading home after this,” she continued. “Gonna make food. Freja’s coming over, we’re doing a sleepover.”
Nicholas laughed softly. “Chaos and bad decisions.”
Y/N grinned. “Always.”
Noah leaned in slightly. “Please tell me that involves junk food and terrible movies.”
“Obviously,” she said.
“Good.”
She glanced between them all, her smile softening just slightly.
“Be safe,” she said. “All of you.”
Noah saluted lazily. “Always.”
“You better bring me something good back,” she added, pointing between them.
Folio nodded. “We’ll see what we can do.”
Noah grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. East coast snacks.”
Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “I’m holding you to that.”
“Please do.”
There was a small pause. Just long enough to feel it.
“I should go,” she said quietly.
Nicholas nodded. “Text when you get home.”
“I will.”
She turned, heading toward the house.
Just like that, the space she’d filled for those few minutes started to close again.
But it wasn’t the same as before, because now Jolly knew she was here. He could feel it before he even saw her.
He was still in the living room when she came through.
He didn’t see her right away. He was too lost in his thoughts while staring at the rug as if it insulted his mother.
“There you are, Jollybean.”
His entire body stilled. He turned, and there she was.
Standing a few feet away, keys in hand, jacket half-zipped, like she really had just stopped in for a minute.
He froze for half a second longer than he meant to. “…Wasn’t expecting you to show,” he said finally.
She shrugged lightly. “Closed the shop. Figured I’d swing by, say bye.” Her tone was easy. Normal. Like nothing had changed. Like the last week hadn’t existed. “I’m heading home,” she added. “Making food before Freja comes over.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
And then nothing.
The air between them sat heavy. Different. Unfamiliar. Nothing that had ever sat between them before.
He looked like he wanted to say something.
Anything.
But whatever it was, it didn’t come out because she smiled.
Soft. Gentle. And said, “Well… I need to get going.”
He swallowed.
“Be safe out there,” she added. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
A faint huff of a laugh left him. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll try.”
She nodded once and then she turned and walked out. The door closing behind her.
And just like that, she was gone.
Again.
This time, though, it didn’t feel like space. It felt like a distance he couldn’t close.
