san˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

you hadn’t told him you were coming. not your boyfriend, he had no idea you were even out of the city tonight. arthur didn’t know either. that had been the plan.

for weeks…months, really; he’d been asking. more like begging you to come see him perform.

"come to a show."

"just one."

"i want you there."

and every time you’d had an excuse. work. travel. timing. life. always something. but tonight you were here. here for your friend, her to support him in person for his greatest accomplishments.

your hand lifted before you could second-guess yourself and knocked softly on the green room door. for a moment there was only the muffled sound of someone strumming a guitar inside. then a voice filtered through.

“yeah?”

his voice. even through the door you felt it. you pushed it open.

arthur was sitting on the couch with an acoustic guitar resting across his knee, head tilted down as his fingers absentmindedly moved across the strings. a notebook lay open beside him, messy handwriting filling the pages. he looked up. and froze. for a second he didn’t move at all, like his brain hadn’t caught up with what his eyes were seeing.

then his eyebrows shot up. “no way.”

you couldn’t help the smile that found it’s way to your face. “hi.”

he stood so quickly the guitar slid sideways, barely caught before it hit the floor.

“what—” he laughed in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. “what are you doing here?”

“you kept asking me to come,” you said, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. “so i thought i’d finally listen.”

arthur stared at you like you’d just told him gravity stopped working. “you’re serious?”

you lifted your arms slightly. “in the flesh.”

he crossed the room in three quick strides, and then he stopped a foot away from you. that familiar tension snapped into place instantly. it had been weeks since you’d seen him in person. video calls and late-night messages were nothing compared to this. being in the same room with him again felt like standing too close to a flame. too close to something you shouldn’t have, too close to something you wanted so badly.

arthur looked you over like he was making sure you were real. “you flew here,” he said slowly.

“surprise.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

there was a smile tugging at his mouth, but something deeper flickered in his eyes, something softer. something that you knew from experience to be dangerous.

your gaze drifted briefly to the notebook on the couch. “writing?”

arthur glanced back at it and huffed out a quiet laugh. “trying to, helps with the nerves.”

“you always say that like it’s a struggle,” you teased. “meanwhile you’ve got an entire tour happening.”

he shrugged. “doesn’t mean it’s easy.” his eyes flicked back to you. “some songs are harder than others.”

something in the way he said it made your chest tighten. because you knew. or at least… you suspected. there had been lyrics lately, lines he’d sent you half jokingly in texts. voice memos recorded at 2 a.m. none of them had your name but, they might as well have.

he clears his throat, suddenly remembering something. “wait, how long have you been here?”

“five minutes.”

“you’re telling me you just walked into the venue like it’s nothing?”

“i had help.”

“of course you did,” he muttered, shaking his head. his grin faded slightly as his eyes softened again. “you actually came.”

something about the way he said it made warmth spread through your chest.

“yeah,” you said quietly. “my favourite arthur asked so i did my best and delivered.”

you knew how it sounded, how it always did. toeing the line between what you could pass off as simple ‘friendship’ and actual romance.

for a moment neither of you spoke. the space between you felt heavy with everything that had never quite been said out loud.

arthur leaned back slightly against the table behind him. “so,” he said, attempting a casual tone. “you’re staying for the show, obviously.”

“obviously.”

“you better be in the crowd.”

“i will. gotta see if the hype is actually worth it for myself.”

he smiled softly, his features falling as he studied you carefully. “and after?”

you tilted your head. “after what?”

“after the show.”

his voice lowered just slightly and in response your pulse jumped.

you pretended to think about it, shrugging your shoulders. “i suppose we could celebrate. it’s not everyday you fulfill your dreams and perform in front of all these people.”

arthur’s lips twitched.“oh yeah?”

“yeah.” you stepped a little closer subconsciously, like that red string was finally running out. “unless you’re too busy being a rock star for little old me.”

“please,” he scoffed. “i’ll cancel the entire afterparty.”

“you’re joking.”

“mostly.”

the tension snapped tighter, your shoulder brushed against his arm and yet neither of you moved away. it was ridiculous how easily it happened between you. like gravity, it was something inevitable.

arthur’s voice dropped quieter. “you look good. the outfit is nice, your hair too.”

your stomach flipped. “you say that every time.”

“because it happens to be true every time.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “if i knew i’d get all this flattery i might’ve shown up sooner. but, i’m here just as a friend.”

“you flew across the country to surprise me,” he countered. “so what does that say about you?”

your smile faltered for just a moment, because the truth wasn’t simple. it never was. if you could simply sort out your feelings and it’s only effect would be on you then so be it. but this whole thing was messier, more explosive and horrible on so many levels. yet, you couldn’t find it in you to finally cut him off. your phone buzzed faintly in your bag and like usual you ignored it. not that ignoring it made him disappear, if anything it worsened the thoughts clawing at the back of your head. 

arthur noticed the sudden tightness in your posture, the forlorn look in your eyes. “you gonna check that?”

“no.”

“boyfriend?” he asked carefully.

the word landed heavier than either of you expected. it wasn’t as if it was some new revelation, yet it always felt like an after thought when you were with him.

you shrugged like it didn’t matter. “probably.”

arthur nodded once. not pressing, but the air shifted slightly between you. maybe the weight of the conversations you needed to have, or the things you needed to let go of. 

your gaze dropped to the notebook again. “you writing something new?”

“maybe.”

“can i see?”

he hesitated for a moment, then he slid the notebook shut. his eyes remaining on the closed cover before drifting over to you. “not yet. i got to shift a few things around.”

“so…” you pry jokingly, “that means it’s about me.”

his lips quirk up, “you’re very confident.”

“am i wrong though?”

he didn’t answer. which was answer enough for anyone who had ever witnessed you two together.

you felt heat crawl up your neck. “you’re ridiculous,” you muttered.

“yeah,” he said softly. “maybe.”

for a moment he just looked at you again. really looked, almost like he was memorizing you. you’d done your eyebrows differently today, they were darken than usual. the colour of your eyes, your lashes, the curve of your cheeks. every single detail down to the curve of your lips. oh how he’d missed the seeing you physically in front of him. the feeling of being close to you, your scent, your laugh, you. he’d missed you.

“you know,” he said, voice quieter now, “i almost didn’t believe you’d ever come.”

your chest tightened, as your hands fidgeted at your sides. “i told you i was busy.”

“you’re always busy.”

“life happens.”

arthur gave a small shrug. “yeah.”

but the word carried something else with it. a quiet frustration. or maybe a quiet longing?

you stepped closer again, lowering your voice. “i’m here now though, we can worry about the rest later.”

his eyes flicked down to your lips again before he could stop himself. the moment stretched. too long, teetering into a place you had to stop yourself from imagining.

arthur exhaled slowly. “you should probably go watch the show before i get distracted.”

“distracted?”

“very.”

your heartbeat seemed to pick up at that. “you’re the one with the concert.”

“exactly.”

you leaned in slightly. “then i guess i’ll see you after.”

arthur’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “you better.”

your hand brushed briefly against his wrist before you stepped back toward the door. the contact lasted less than a second, but it sent electricity up your arm. you paused at the door.

“arthur?”

“yeah?”

“i’m proud of you.”

something soft flashed across his face. “thanks.”

you slipped out into the hallway before either of you could say anything else; because you truthfully, you weren’t sure if you wanted to venture into more conversation. the fear and the guilt surrounding the unanswered questions and ‘need to knows’ would drown you. and tonight wasn’t the night for that.

outside, the crowd was loud. louder than you expected. lights flashed across the stage as the opening chords rang out, and the entire room erupted into cheers. arthur walked out, the picturesque view of someone who belonged on that stage. because after everything he’s done and all the sacrifices he’s made, he did.

you found a spot near the front of the crowd, half hidden behind a group of fans screaming his name. when his eyes scanned the room, you saw the exact moment he finally found you. his smile changed, just slightly. the grin spreading a bit too wide, and a bit too crooked. but you noticed.

throughout the show you caught little things. seeing the art in person meant that lyrics you could’ve written off as coincidence now felt too personal and the glances in your direction didn’t help. the grin when certain lines came up made you feel like maybe you hadn’t imagined that those lines were about you. and once… just once, he changed a lyric. just one word. but you heard it. your chest tightened, because it sounded like something dangerously close to the truth.

something about wanting someone you shouldn’t. something about knowing they were right even when they weren’t yours. your thoughts drifted to the song you’d had on repeat lately. the one about knowing someone else might be better… but still going home to the person you’d been with forever. because familiarity was easier than taking the leap. because in a world of chaos ‘good enough’ was just enough to get you through it.

you hated how much you understood that feeling. when the final song ended and the crowd erupted again, arthur lingered on stage for a moment. his eyes flicked toward you one last time, and he smiled.

about ten minutes later you were back in the green room. the adrenaline from the show still buzzed through the building. arthur shut the door behind him.

“you stayed,” he said again, breathless from the performance.

“i told you i would.”

he laughed quietly.

“you liked it?”

“of course i did.” you stepped closer.

“i think my favorite part was the very obvious crush.”

arthur blinked. “i didn’t—”

“arthur.”

he sighed. “okay maybe a little.”

your smile softened. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and yet you’re still here.”

the words hung between you. you tried to pretend your feelings were just excitement. just feeling proud that one of your best friends could achieve something so big. that this was  just attraction,  just the thrill of something secret. yet deep down you knew the truth. you’d crossed that line a long time ago. more like you’d tripped over the line and fell head first into what you could only describe as loving him.

arthur’s voice softened. “you’re staying tonight, yeah?”

your stomach flipped. “yeah.”

“and tomorrow?”

“maybe.”

he nodded slowly. like he understood exactly what that meant. you weren’t ready to burn your old life down. at least, not yet. even if part of you already knew it was over. 

arthur stepped closer until there was barely space between you. his forehead rested lightly against yours.

“dangerous game we’re playing,” he murmured.

you closed your eyes. “i know.”

but neither of you stepped away, because sometimes knowing something is wrong doesn’t make it feel any less right. and just as arthur’s hand slid to the small of your back the knock on the green room door came. you both froze.

then the door swung open without waiting for an answer.

“mate that last song—” chris stopped mid-sentence the second he spotted you standing there with arthur. he blinked once. then twice, as if questioning his next move.

“ah,” he said simply.

behind him, george leaned over his shoulder to see into the room. the movement was exaggerated, dramatic as it usually was when he intended to prove a point. his eyes landed on you almost immediately.

 “oh look,” george  gasped. “see. like i said, she’s already here. you were worried about the wrong thing.” he muttered, dragging the words out with a satisfied little grin.  like you had been sitting there the entire tour.

arthur rolled his eyes. “hello to you too.” he muttered dryly, as if george’s commentary was the least helpful thing he could have added to the situation.

chris stepped inside, still grinning. “didn’t know we had extra special guests tonight.”

you lifted a brow. “is that a problem?”

“not at all,” chris answered immediately. “honestly, this is the least surprising thing that’s happened all week.”

george snorted as he walked in behind him, followed by a few others from the tour crew. “yeah,” george added, dropping onto the couch. “we were more surprised when you weren’t at the last show. but i can't lie, i’m hurt you didn't think to tell us you were coming.”

arthur shot him a look. “don’t start.”

george raised both hands innocently. “what? i didn’t say anything.”

chris leaned against the wall, studying you and arthur for a moment with that knowing smile that said far too much. despite everything he didn’t comment on it. none of them ever did. as fucked up as it probably was, they never made any move to confront the two of you about anything. 

not the lingering touches, inside jokes, longing looks and definitely not the time you'd walked out of arthur's the morning after a night out in his clothes. it was almost impressive how smoothly the entire room just… moved past it. like everyone knew. and no one was going to be the one to say it out loud. whether that was the selfishness of wanting to keep their friend group together, or the fact that they cared more about arthur’s happiness than your boyfriend, the ‘secret’ was safe with them.

chris clapped arthur on the shoulder. “seriously though, mate. that show was sick.”

george nodded. “yeah, you actually sounded decent tonight. my singing lessons are finally paying off.”

arthur scoffed. “thank you.”

“don’t get used to it,” george added.

you laughed softly and arthur glanced at you immediately, the sound pulling his attention like a magnet.

chris noticed. it was kid of hard to when the man acted like the only thing tethering his mortal body to this plane of existence was you.

“so,” chris said casually, looking between the two of you. “drinks? george said he was buying.”

arthur didn’t even hesitate. “yeah.”

george sat up immediately. “thank god. i’ve been waiting for someone to say that, but i forgot my wallet at the red cross on my way in...so somebody is gonna have to borrow me...”

one of the crew members laughed. “there’s a bar two streets over.”

arthur looked at you. “sound good? if you're too tired we could stay in.”

you shook your head, giving him a soft smile.. “no, it's fine. booze is my favourite remedy for jet lag, trust me. lead the way.”

your phone buzzed in your bag again. another text asking how you were doing, you ignored it.

sometime later, the bar was loud and warm. filled with low music and the clinking of glasses. the kind of place made for artists still buzzing with adrenaline, friends celebrating, everyone talking too loudly.

your group took over two small tables pushed together. chris was already halfway through a story by the time the drinks arrived.

“i’m telling you,” he said, gesturing with his glass, “that guy definitely thought george was someone famous.”

george leaned back smugly. “i am someone famous.”

chris laughed. “mate he asked if you were a tiktoker.”

“that’s still famous. and i do have a tiktok.”

arthur sat beside you, his thigh pressed firmly against yours under the table. not subtle. his arm rested across the back of your chair, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder without thinking. every time he did it, your stomach flipped. chris noticed. george definitely noticed. but again; no one said anything.

the conversation flowed easily. tour stories. stupid fan interactions. chris roasting arthur for forgetting lyrics during rehearsal earlier.

“you literally wrote the song,” chris said.

arthur groaned. “i had a moment.”

“you had several moments.”

george leaned forward. “wait, is that the one where you changed the lyric tonight?”

arthur’s eyes flicked briefly to you. “maybe.”

chris grinned immediately. “oh that one.”

you raised an eyebrow. “what? it's unfair to keep secrets. i wanna know too.”

chris leaned back with a mischievous smile. “nothing.”

arthur kicked his foot under the table. “shut up. stop making a big fuss over nothing. it's nothing important.”

your phone buzzed again. this time you glanced down for a moment.

evan 💕

a message preview lit up your screen. 

> did the meeting go okay?

your stomach twisted slightly, the guilt from earlier starting to gnaw at your mind again. 

arthur noticed your expression, leaning in he asked quietly “everything alright?”. 

you locked the phone and placed it onto the table again. “yeah. just becky asking when i’m back in london. nothing major.”

arthur studied you for a moment but didn’t push. he let you lie to yourself a little longer. maybe one day you'd accept the truth of the situation, maybe you’d let go of the past, not even for his benefit anymore; simply so that you could stop living a lie. for now, he simply nudged your drink closer to you. “you barely touched this.”

“you’re paying too much attention.”

“someone has to.” 

your lips curved slightly.

across the table george whispered loudly to chris. “see what i mean?”

chris nodded solemnly. “it’s actually sickening.”

arthur grabbed a napkin and tossed it at them. “i’m starting to think you two might actually be in love. george you're drooling on him.”

you laughed again, leaning slightly into arthur without realizing. his hand immediately settled on your knee under the table. casual. comfortable. definitely friendly, definitely a bestie move ⁠♡.

your phone buzzed again. another message.

> miss you. call me when you’re done tonight.

you stared at it for a moment before flipping the phone face down. you'd answer soon… just not now. you wanted to enjoy yourself in the moment, surrounded by friends and people who you loved with your whole heart.

arthur’s thumb traced slow circles against your knee. random patterns, different shapes, for a while you thought it felt like a heart. “you cold?” he asked softly.

“no.”

“your hands are freezing.”

before you could protest, he reached over and wrapped your fingers briefly in his own. the touch warm and steady as your chest tightened. pulse hammering in your ears for a moment before you settled into being more relaxed.

george leaned toward you suddenly. “so,” he said. “first show?”

“yeah.”

“what’d you think?”

you glanced at arthur. “he was good.”

“just good? i taught him better than good. he refuses to use my tips.” george teased.

arthur scoffed. “see?”

you smiled slightly. “he was amazing. could use a couple more classes to help with the pitch but other than that you're a great teacher.”

arthur looked pleased enough with that. george, however, sat back like he’d just been personally validated.

“exactly,” he said, pointing at you. “finally, someone with taste. i thought i’d be around neanderthals forever.”

“mate,” arthur cut in, “you once said vocal warmups were just shouting in the shower.”

“they are,” george replied instantly. “you just don’t commit to it. that’s your issue.”

from across the table, chris rolled his eyes as he took another sip his drink.

“no, no,” chris said, shaking his head. “let him cook. i want to hear more about george’s extensive music career.”

george didn’t miss a beat. “thank you. someone appreciates real talent.”

arthur leaned toward you slightly. “he made one tiktok where he sang half a line and deleted it within ten minutes.”

“i did not delete it. it was a copyright issue, real artists know this.” george argued.

“you absolutely did,” chris said. “because the comments were absolutely cooking you.”

george pointed at him. “that was constructive criticism. a real artist knows how to handle criticism. i would'nt expect you to understand that.”

“that was people asking if you were having an aneurysm,” chris shot back.

you laughed into your drink, and arthur’s eyes flicked to you again, smiling like that was the only reaction he cared about.

george turned back to you, still committed to the bit. “don’t listen to them. i could’ve gone pro, you know.”

“in what?” arthur asked dryly.

“music.”

“you can’t even clap on beat,” arthur replied.

chris nodded thoughtfully. “that’s true. we tested once. horrible sight to see, honestly.”

george rolled his eyes. “you lot are just threatened by real talent and beauty.”

“by what?” arthur asked. “your imaginary record deal?”

“exactly,” george said, completely serious. “you get it. with a face like this and a voice like mine i’d put you out of business.”

arthur laughed, shaking his head before glancing back at you. “see what i have to deal with?”

you tilted your head. “i think you need more of his lessons actually.”

arthur raised a brow. “oh yeah?”

“yeah,” you said, trying not to smile too much. “maybe then you’d stop writing sad songs about… whatever it is you write about.”

chris made a quiet noise, immediately clocking the implication.

“yeah, arthur,” he added casually. “what do you write about these days?”

arthur shot him a look. “don’t.”

george leaned in, grinning. “no no, i’m interested now.”

arthur leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face. “can we not do this right now?”

chris smirked into his glass. “bit personal, is it?”

arthur kicked his foot under the table again. “shut up.”

you tried to hide your smile, taking another sip of your drink.

george sat back again, satisfied. “anyway,” he said, waving a hand. “when you’re ready to take your career seriously, arthur, my rates are very reasonable.”

arthur snorted. “you couldn’t pay me to take lessons from you.”

chris raised his glass. “i would actually pay to see that.”

“same,” one of the others added.

george pointed at them. “fake friends. all of you.”

arthur leaned closer to you again, voice dropping just enough to cut through the noise. “he’s been like this all tour.”

“i can tell,” you murmured.

arthur smiled slightly.

and just like that, the chaos of the table faded again — not completely, but enough that it felt like you were in your own little bubble inside it. and such is the tides of fate, your phone buzzed again. this time it rang, and you quickly muted it.

arthur noticed. “persistent,” he murmured.

you forced a small laugh. “work stuff.”

he nodded slowly, but his hand tightened slightly around yours. the conversation kept going around you. jokes, stories, chris complaining about some football match. but every now and then arthur leaned close to say something quietly just for you.

“want another drink?”

“did you eat earlier?”

“you okay?”

it was small things. it was always the smallest things, but it was a constant. attentive like he couldn’t help it.

at one point chris stood to grab another round and clapped arthur on the shoulder. “don’t go anywhere, lover boy.”

arthur flipped him off.

you laughed into your drink.

arthur noticed that too. his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles in slow circles.

“you know,” he said quietly so only you could hear, “i’m still offended you think i need a lesson from him. pretending that you don’t love my singing.”

“i’m not pretending.”

arthur tilted his head slightly. “right.”

you held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

then george suddenly raised his glass.

“to arthur,” he announced loudly. “for not completely embarrassing himself and us tonight.”

chris returned with the drinks. “i’ll drink to that.”

everyone lifted their glasses and arthur leaned closer to you as you did the same. your shoulders touching. your legs tangled under the table.

“i’m glad you came tonight,” he murmured.

your chest tightened again. “me too.”

hours later, you and arthur were in an uber as it moved smoothly through the late-night streets, the city quieter now but still glowing under streetlights and neon signs. music played faintly from the driver’s radio, something soft and low that blended into the hum of the engine.

arthur sat beside you in the back seat, his thigh pressed against yours again. your hands still tangled together between you. neither of you had let go since getting in the car. the partial solitude giving you a simple comfort.

for a while you just watched the lights pass outside the window; your head resting lightly against his shoulder. arthur’s thumb moved slowly across the back of your hand in absent circles, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. it felt too comfortable. too natural.

your phone buzzed again in your lap. you already knew who it was. you flipped the screen face down without looking.

arthur glanced down briefly. “you should answer it, he’s probably worried sick.” he murmured.

you let out a quiet breath. “yeah. i’ll do it later.”

he didn’t push… now that you think about it, he never really did. he let you set the pace for everything. from beginning to end he always made sure you did things as you were comfortable with them. 

arthur shifted slightly so he could get a better view of your face under the passing lights.“you having a good night?” he asked.

you tilted your head toward him. “maybe? you?”

“yeah.” he smiled a little. “show was good.”

“you were good.”

arthur huffed softly. “you’re biased.”

“maybe.”

your eyes met for a moment. something changed in the air between you. it always happened like this. these quiet moments where the noise faded away and suddenly the only thing you could focus on was him.

arthur’s gaze dropped briefly to your lips before lifting back to your eyes. “i'm glad you’re here. have i told you that yet?” he said softly.

your heart picked up a bit. “you did, but you could say it again to be sure. but let’s not act like that. i told you i’d come eventually.”

“yeah,” he said. “but you actually showing up… that was different.”

you studied him for a second, the faint glow of passing streetlights lighting his face every few moments.

“were you nervous tonight?” you asked suddenly.

arthur laughed under his breath. “before the show?”

“yeah.”

“always.”

“you didn’t look nervous.”

“that’s because i saw you in the crowd.”

your stomach flipped, but he said it so casually, like it wasn’t something big. but it was, at least to you.

“you’re dramatic,” you murmured.

“probably.”

he shifted slightly closer.

now your knees were fully touching. your shoulders too. the car slowed at a stoplight, the red glow filling the back seat for a moment, and arthur’s hand slid gently from yours to your wrist. just holding, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his finger tips.

your breathing felt slightly uneven. you knew this feeling…that pull. that gravity between you that always seemed to drag things somewhere treacherous. a palace that no matter how far you tried to pull yourself away from you found yourself under the spell of those eyes.

arthur leaned a little closer. “you thinking about something?” he asked quietly.

you hesitated. “maybe.”

“good maybe or bad maybe?”

your eyes flicked briefly down to your phone again. still face down. still silent now. you swallowed. “complicated maybe.”

arthur’s expression softened. “yeah,” he said quietly. “we do that.”

the car started moving again, the shift pushing you further into him. your faces were closer now. close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke. neither of you moved away. he took the time to study your face like he was deciding something. then he lifted his hand slightly, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your cheek. the gesture was gentle, careful. 

“you know,” he murmured, “you could’ve just told me you missed me.”

you laughed quietly, rolling your eyes at him. “who says i missed you?”

arthur raised a brow. “you flew across the country.”

“that proves nothing.”

“sure it does.”

your eyes dropped briefly to his mouth again before you looked away. arthur noticed immediately.  of course he did. he always just  ‘happened’ to notice everything when it came to you.

“hey,” he said softly.

you looked back at him. and suddenly he was closer, just a little. but your breath caught slightly. the car turned down another street, the glow of the hotel coming into view ahead.

arthur hesitated for a second like he was giving you time to stop him. and, like always, you didn’t. didn't even pretend to. so, he leaned in the rest of the way.

the kiss was soft at first, tender, careful. like he was testing the moment. your hand instinctively slid to the front of his shirt, fingers curling lightly into the fabric.

arthur made a quiet sound against your lips, his hand moving to your waist to pull you slightly closer. the kiss deepening slowly. not rushed, not desperate. just warm and familiar in a way that made your chest ache.

when you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling slightly.

arthur rested his forehead lightly against yours. “missed you,” he murmured.

you huffed a quiet laugh. “you’re annoying.”

“you kissed me.”

“technically you started it.”

“technically you didn’t stop me.”

you didn’t have time to respond because the car slowed and pulled up in front of the hotel.

arthur glanced out the window. “guess we’re here.”

you both straightened slightly as the car stopped.

arthur paid the driver quick thank you, before stepping out and walking around to your side of the car. he opened the door with a small grin.

“your castle awaits.”

“shut up.”

you stepped out onto the sidewalk beside him, the cool night air brushing your skin again. inside, the hotel lobby lights glowed warmly through the glass doors. his hand immediately found the small of your back as you walked inside. a habit he'd picked up even before your romance.

the lobby was quiet this late, only a few people scattered around. arthur nodded politely to the receptionist as you crossed toward the elevators. the moment the doors closed behind you, the silence returned.

arthur leaned casually against the wall beside you; but his eyes were already on you again.

“you okay?” he asked softly.

you nodded. “yeah.”

the elevator hummed as it moved upward. then, your phone buzzed again. you didn’t look…didn't need to.

arthur noticed that too but he didn’t say anything. instead, he reached for your hand again, intertwining your fingers like he had earlier.

finally, the elevator dinged and the doors opening to the quiet hallway of his floor. h led the way down the corridor, hands intertwined with yours, your footsteps soft against the carpet.

when you reached his door, he paused to swipe the keycard. pushing the door open and stepping aside slightly so you could walk in first. you hesitated just for a second at the threshold.

“you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

his voice was gentle. 

you looked at him, really looked. trying to discern what exactly he was thinking. trying to understand the way he was watching you…almost like you mattered? like he wanted you there?

you stepped inside and arthur followed, closing the door quietly behind you. the click of the lock felt louder than it should’ve.

for a second, neither of you moved. the space between you wasn’t much, but it felt charged; like the universe was waiting for something to happen. something neither of you wanted to stop anymore.

arthur let out a small breath, almost a laugh under it. “this is probably a bad idea,” he muttered, but there was no conviction behind it.

you looked at him, really looked at him, and whatever hesitation had followed you up to this room started to unravel at the seams. “probably,” you agreed softly.

despite it all, neither of you stepped back.

his eyes flicked between yours, giving you time to change your mind, to say something, to stop it before it went any further.

you didn’t. and that was all it took. he closed the distance first, one hand coming up to your face, fingers brushing along your jaw like he couldn’t quite believe you were there. the kiss wasn’t rushed. like he was savoring the moment, trying to commit it to memory like this was the last time he'd ever get to taste you.

but it didn’t stay that way for long. something shifts. maybe it’s the way you lean into him. or the quiet hum that slips past your lips as he deepens the kiss. but suddenly, it’s not careful anymore. he's wanted this all night, and now there’s nothing holding him back.

you stumble slightly as he walks you backwards, your hands finding his shirt, gripping like you need something to steady yourself.

“tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, breath uneven.

you don’t. instead, you pull him closer.

that’s when his restraint seems to drift away with the breeze. his fingers dig into the fat on your hips, sliding down until he's cupping your ass and pulling you flush into his large frame.

his fingers dig into the fat on your hips, sliding down until he's cupping your ass and pulling you flush into his large frame.

you gasp into the kiss, clash of teeth and tongue that turns into something heavier by the second. your arms are wrapped loosely around his neck, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

his tongue massages into yours, tasting of whiskey and something minty. you can smell that oil and aftershave on him, an addicting combination. 

you don't want to stop. and don't.

 his tongue massages into yours, tasting of whiskey and something minty. You can smell that faint sweat and his lingering cologne. You don't want to stop.

arthur pins you against the wall just inside the door, his body crowding yours, heat radiating from him as your lips crash together again. Your hands fumble at your feet, kicking off your shoes one by one. they thud softly against the floor, forgotten. 

his mouth devours yours, tongue thrusting deep, claiming every inch like he's starved. you melt into it, fingers clutching his shirt, pulling him closer. the world narrows to the slick slide of his lips, the scrape of his stubble on your chin, the way his hands grip your hips, holding you in place.

hr breaks the kiss just enough to murmur against your mouth, ''you can't leaving tonight. please, i need you.''

his words send a shiver down your spine, before the guilt flickers in as well. in your mind his face flashes…your boyfriend's face, unbidden yet you can't will yourself to focus on it as the taste of arthur on your lips drowns it out. you shouldn't be here. you shouldn't want this; but your body betrays you, your mind leaves you nothing but arching into him.

slowly, he starts walking you backward toward the bedroom, lips never fully leaving yours. kisses turn messy, breaths mingling as you stumble together, his hands roaming your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your shirt. you taste him, sharp and addictive, your own tongue tangling with his in desperation. the doorframe scrapes your shoulder, but you barely notice, lost in the pull of his mouth.

by the time you reach the bed, your legs hit the edge, and he guides you down onto the mattress, following without breaking the kiss. his weight settles over you, one knee between your thighs, pressing just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. 

arthur's kisses deepen, turning possessive as he begins nipping your lower lip, sucking it between his teeth until it stings. ‘'i missed you so much,'' he murmurs low, voice rough with need.

with that your heart picks up, that internal war twisting sharper for now…this was wrong. your boyfriend waiting somewhere, oblivious to all of this. but, the mere sight of arthur above you dishevelled and needy, makes you crave surrender to the impurity of love.

he shifts lower, trailing kisses down your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. he had a habit of ‘accidentally’ sucking marks along your skin. he somehow always left something behind for you to fret over in the mirror. whether it be the bruises on your hips from his fingers, the bites all over your breasts or the hickies across your neck. he always made sure to give you a reminder of your time together.

his hands move to pull your shirt up and over your head. cool air hits your skin, but his mouth follows, hot and insistent, latching onto your collarbone before moving to the tops of your breasts. you arch up, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer. but, he doesn't linger; his path leads downward, shoving your skirt up your thighs, panties tugged aside roughly.

he settles between your legs, cheek pressed against your inner thigh, warm breath tickling your folds as he watches intently. arthur's eyes fixate on your exposed core, dark and hungry, drinking in every twitch and quiver. he loves this, the way your body betrays your desperation for his touch.

folds glistening under his gaze, the subtle pulse as if  begging for more. it's intoxicating, seeing you unravel just from his attention. thighs trembling slightly like you can't bear the weight of his gaze. a low hum vibrates from his chest, satisfaction curling his lips; he could stay like this for hours. simply memorizing how needy he makes you, how your arousal drips slowly onto the sheets below. a memory for a rainy day.

his hand moves with deliberate slowness. fingers tracing feather-light circles along your inner thigh before drifting higher. he starts to tease you carefully, thumb hovering just above your clit, not quite touching. letting the anticipation build until your hips shift restlessly. 

when he finally grants you your wish, his touch is gentle at first, then firmer. your drooling entrance clenches around air each time, a soft, wet sound escaping as your body reacts. he unabashedly watches it all, mesmerized, thumb circling your swollen clit with precise pressure, easing up just as your breath hitches, drawing out the ache. 

''look at that,'' he murmurs, voice thick with awe, ''so desperate for me already.''

your cheeks burn under his scrutiny, but the guilt is starting to fade away. your boyfriend's steady presence in your mind feels distant now, overshadowed by arthur's focus, pulling you deeper into the forbidden haze.

your legs jerk slightly, a whine escaping you. he feels his mouth water at the sight and kisses your thigh once before pressing his face into your cunt, inhaling deeply like an addict finally getting his fix. his tongue flicks out and laps at your wetness, dragging in a firm stripe upwards.

groaning again, he begins to lose himself. making out with your clit, tugging your thighs closer, lapping at your slit feverishly while you choke down the sobs of pleasure that threaten to escape with each sweep of his tongue. you reach down, sliding your fingers into his hair, hips bucking into his face. he smiles against you, running his hands up and down your thighs as he lavishes attention on your pretty cunt.

your gaze drops, almost on instinct, and…oh. he’s hard. already. straining against his pants, so obvious it makes your face burn and your thighs clench. slowly, he shifts against the bed. a hiss escaping him when his straining cock rubs against mattress once more before he shoves his face back into your pussy. he pulls one of his hands from your thighs to slowly sink two fingers into you.

the stretch burns so good, his fingers thick and curling right against that spot that makes your eyes roll. he pumps them steadily, tongue still flicking your clit, building the pressure in your core.

‘'fuck, you're soaking for me,'' he rasps, eyes never leaving yours. ''this what you keep coming  back for, huh?''

guilt surges again. his name echoes in your head, a reminder of the life you're risking, but arthur's fingers speed up, scissoring inside you, and you can't think straight. he adds a third finger, stretching you wider, his tongue lapping sucking at your clit. overstimulation hits like a wave; your body trembles, hips grinding down, chasing release. yet, every time you teeter on the edge, he pulls back. just enough to keep you hovering, desperate and aching for him. absolutely delighted at the fact that he was the one holding your pleasure in his hands.

''not yet,'' he commands, voice laced with subtle joy, and maybe pride? his free hand pinning your hip down. ''you don't cum until you admit it. until you say this pretty pussy is mine.''

he thrusts his fingers deeper, twisting them, but slows when your walls flutter too close. a sob falls past your lips, thighs quivering. the denial making everything sharper, more intense. 

"please, arthur—''

he shakes his head, withdrawing his fingers entirely, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. "no. come on love, i know you know how to ask nicely. beg properly."

his eyes bore into yours, a twinkle of glee glitters there. you writhe, the ache unbearable, thoughts of your boyfriend fracturing under the need. he loves you.. or so he says, but arthur. oh, arthur needs you like this, body and soul.

finally, he pulls away for a moment and sheds his clothes, cock springing free, thick and veined, pre-cum beading at the tip. he lines up at your entrance, rubbing the head through your folds, teasing. 

"say it, please…" he begs, pushing in just the tip, stretching you inch by agonizing inch. "i just want to hear you, please."

you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. "it's yours…my pussy is yours, arthur." you shudder out a breath,  "i love you, not him." the words tumble out, raw and true, the conflict shattering as truth hits.

his smile turns feral. "there you go. was that so hard?"

he pushes home in one thrust, filling you completely, his fat tip bullying your cervix. you cry out, back arching, as he sets a brutal pace. uncoordinated yet perfect, hips rutting into you. 

"takin' me so well, my sweet girl," he coos, almost condescending, as he abuses your poor cunt, fucking you deeper. your moans echo throughout the room, inflating his confidence.

he stops for a brief moment, gripping your legs tighter before drilling his cock deep into your slick, gummy walls. his hand dips between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that sends shocks through your oversensitive nerves. 

the overstimulation builds again, but this time he doesn't stop. thrusts relentless, fingers merciless.

"y-you're mine, all mine, say it," he pleads, pace stuttering as pleasure coils in him too.

"yours—only yours!" you cry out, pushing back against him, chasing the building pleasure. 

he rewards you with faster thrusts, his hand working your clit never ceases, legs shaking under the onslaught.

"come for me, baby. show me how much you love this."

you gush around him, whining his name, fingers grabbing at the sheets desperately as your walls spasm around him. 

his thrusts are deep,  so full of determination, charged with something oddly close to satisfaction. his groans, rough, breathy and ragged; chest heaving with effort as he continues to rut into you, finally coming. warm and inside you with a strangled gasp against your neck.

the room settles into quiet long before either of you actually sleep. it isn’t the kind of silence that feels empty. it feels more like something full, something heavy that presses into your chest and makes it hard to think too clearly. the city hums faintly outside the hotel windows, distant traffic and laughter drifting up in fragments, but inside it’s just the two of you and the aftermath of everything that was said.

arthur didn’t move much after that. he stayed close, like if he loosened his grip even a little, the moment might slip through his fingers and disappear by morning like it usually did. his arm was draped across you, steady and warm. his breathing gradually evening out against your shoulder. every so often, his thumb brushed absentminded patterns into your skin, like he was still grounding himself in the fact that you were really there.

you didn’t say anything else either. there wasn’t much left to say. not when everything that mattered had already been said in the most intimate ways imaginable.

eventually, exhaustion pulled you both under. the city noise outside dulled to a distant hum, and the world shrank down to the hotel room, the tangled sheets, and the space you shared.

morning comes too bright.

you wake first, the light cutting through the curtains in thin gold lines that stretch across the room. for a moment, you don’t move. you just lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the steady rise and fall of arthur’s chest beneath your cheek.

everything feels… calm. too calm.

your phone buzzes somewhere on the nightstand, sharp against the quiet. you almost ignore it, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes that it's a hallucination. almost. but it buzzes again.

carefully, you slip out from arthur’s arms, trying not to wake him. he shifts slightly but doesn’t open his eyes, one hand still loosely curled where you’d been.

you reach for your phone.

one message.

from him.

your boyfriend?

you hesitate for a second. just a second…before opening it.

evan 💕

> I hope you’re happier with him.

> I think I always knew, just didn’t want to say it out loud. 

> We’re done. Take care of yourself.

that’s it.

no anger. no questions. no accusations. just… done.

you stare at the screen longer than you expect to. long enough for the words to stop looking real. long enough for the weight of them to settle in. waiting, maybe, for something to hit you. guilt. sadness. panic. anything.

but there’s nothing. your chest doesn’t tighten. your throat doesn’t close up. you don’t feel like crying. there’s no sharp, tearing feeling. no panic. no desperate urge to fix it. just a quiet, almost unsettling sense of…clarity. you just…feel still.

and that’s when it finally unsettles you. it should hurt more than it does. because you should feel something, shouldn’t you?

this was your relationship. your life. the person you were supposed to go back to. the excuse you'd held so tightly for the last year. the thing that kept you from committing to a new relationship with the man you knew you loved more.

and yet—

nothing.

your grip tightens slightly around your phone as that realization sinks in, slow and uncomfortable. you glance back over your shoulder at arthur, still asleep, hair messy, face soft in a way you’ve never seen when he’s awake. something shifts in your chest then. not sharp. not overwhelming. just… certain.

because if you ever tried to be honest with yourself. really honest, it had been over for a while. you just didn’t leave. not because you were in love, but because he was safe. familiar. constant. he knew everything there was to know. there was no risk, no uncertainty, no need to start over. staying was easier than the idea of losing that.

convenience willed to be something more.

you look back at your phone. at the message. at the end of something that, apparently, had already ended long before this moment. and for the first time in the entire mess of it all—

you actually question yourself.

“Was all this ever really worth it?”

when you were younger, love didn’t look like love. it looked like scraped knees and breathless laughter, like running down streets too fast and not caring when you tripped because he’d always double back for you.

“come on,” he’d grin, hand outstretched. “you’re so slow.”

“i fell, you idiot.”

“how do you not know how to use your legs? they’re your legs...”

you’d shove him. he’d laugh and then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he’d pull you back up anyway. that was the thing about arthur. he never noticed the way he took care of you.

years later, it’s summer. the kind that hums with heat and possibility, and you’re both lying on the grass behind his house. the sky is too blue, the clouds too perfect like something out of a film you’ll never quite recreate.

arthur turns his head toward you, squinting. “do you ever think about leaving?” he asks.

you laugh, because of course he would. he’s always been like that. restless, bright, a little too big for anywhere you’ve ever known.

“leaving where?” you ask in return.

“here. all of it.” he gestures vaguely. “like… bigger things. different places.”

you shrug, pretending the thought doesn’t twist something inside your chest. “i think i’d miss it.”

he smiles at that, soft and easy. “i wouldn’t. not properly. i’d just… take the good bits with me.”

you don’t say anything. because you were sure that you were imagining different things. the good bits, to you, weren’t places. they were him. the good bits to arthur? you weren’t to sure if you fit in. and something in your chest twisted at the thought that you might not be one of the things he’d take.

coincidentally, that was the summer you started noticing everything. the way his voice dropped slightly when he was serious. the way he’d grown taller. the way he absentmindedly reached for you; your wrist, your sleeve, your hand like it was instinct. the way he could make you feel like the most important person in the world without even trying.

it wasn’t sudden. to you, it was worse than that. it was gradual, inevitable. by the time you realized it had become something else. that deeper, heavier, harder to shake knot that weighed you down every time he was around. and you were already too far gone to stop it.

unsurprisingly, everyone else sees it before he does. that was almost the cruelest part. the way your voice changed when you said his name. the way you watch him when he’s not looking. the way you laugh a little too quickly at his jokes. not because they’re funny, half the time they were awful. but because you were already halfway in love with the person telling them, which made them the funniest things ever.

you laughed it off. “don’t be stupid.”

your friends would exchange looks when you spoke about him, smirks you pretended not to see.

someone once said, “you’re basically in love with him, you know that, right?”

yet still, you went home that night and stared at your ceiling for hours, heart racing for no reason you wanted to admit. because saying it out loud made it real. and if it was real, then it could be rejected.

but arthur?

arthur is oblivious in the way only someone like him can be. completely, entirely, almost beautifully unaware. he talked about girls sometimes. not often, but enough. passing comments. casual mentions.

“met this girl the other day. she was weird, but like, in a funny way,” he’d say, and you’d nod like your chest wasn’t tightening.

or, “do you think i should text her back?” and you’d shrug, pretending you didn’t want to say no just to keep him where he was.

you became very good at pretending. you learn to nod. to smile. to swallow the quiet, aching what if that follows. because he’s your best friend. and you don’t risk that. you don’t risk him.

time moves the way it always does—too fast when you’re living it, too slow when you’re remembering it.

school ends. plans begin. paths split. arthur leaves first, of course he does. there was never a version of this story where he stayed. the conversation you’d been dreading without realizing it came to you tied up in a pretty bow. university.

you were sitting in a café, rain tapping softly against the windows, the air warm and heavy with the smell of coffee. arthur was different that day; quieter, but in a way that buzzed with something underneath.

“i got in,” he said.

your stomach dropped, even before you asked, “where?”

“it’s kind of far...”

of course. of course it was.

“and… what for?”

he hesitated, then smiled, almost sheepish. “law.”

you blinked. “law?”

“yeah, i know,” he laughed. “bit random. but—it’s good, isn’t it? it’s… stable. smart. my parents are buzzing.” he said it like he was trying to convince himself.

you forced a smile. “that’s amazing, arthur.”

and you meant it. that was the problem. you loved him enough to want this for him, even if it meant losing him.

“i’ll visit,” he says, like it’s a promise that means the same thing to both of you.

“yeah,” you reply, like you believe it. and you do. at the time, you do.

the months leading up to his departure felt like a countdown you couldn’t stop watching. everything became sharper, louder, more significant. every laugh felt like something to memorize. every conversation felt like it might be the last one that mattered.

you found yourself cataloguing him without meaning to. the exact shade of his eyes in different light, the cadence of his voice, the way he said your name like it was something familiar and easy. like it would always be there.

he was pacing as he talked, energy spilling out of him in waves.

the last night before he leaves, you sit on his bedroom floor, surrounded by half-packed boxes and the ghost of an inevitable ending. there were clothes strewn everywhere, books stacked in uneven piles, his life reduced to things that could fit into bags. it felt wrong to you. arthur wasn’t something that should be packed away.

“i’m telling you, it’s going to be so different,” he said. “like...new people, new everything. i’ll actually have to, you know, be responsible.”

you huffed a quiet laugh. “that’ll be a first.”

“oi,” he shot back, grinning. “i’m very responsible.”

you raised an eyebrow. he rolled his eyes. and then, for a moment, it was normal again. just you and him, like it had always been. he’s talking again, he always is. about everything he’s going to do. all the ideas, all the plans, all the maybes that sound like certainties when he says them.

“i—” you start.

you watch him instead. you think: say it. just once. just enough to get it out of your system, to let the truth exist somewhere outside of your own head.

he looks at you, eyebrows raised. “what?”

and suddenly, it’s too much. your heart slammed against your ribs, this was it. this was the moment. you could feel it, balanced on a knife’s edge, fragile and terrifying and irreversible.

say it.

and suddenly everything felt too fragile. too easy to lose everything. you looked at him, really looked. the familiarity of his face. the ease in his posture, the way he trusted you without question. and suddenly, the risk was too big. because if you said it, and he didn’t feel the same…you would lose this, you would lose him. and you didn’t know who you were without him. so you swallowed it down, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes

so you shake your head, swallowing it down and forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.. “nothing. just… i’m gonna miss you.”

he grins, wide and unguarded. “course you will. i’m the best thing you and this place’ve got.”

you laugh, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. because that was easier than crying. because that was safer than telling the truth. and just like that, the moment passes and you don’t tell him. not then. not ever.

he hugged you before you left. it lingered a second too long, or maybe that was just you. you buried your face in his shoulder, breathing him in like you could memorize it, like it would be enough to last.

“don’t forget me,” you said, trying to make it sound like a joke.

“impossible,” he replied.

and you almost believed him, but uni takes him the way you always knew it would.

at first, there are messages. late-night calls. snippets of his new life spilling into yours. half-finished conversations that stretch across busy schedules and new lives.

but things always change. slowly, at first, then all at once. the calls became less frequent. the messages shorter. the gaps between them longer.

“i’m just busy,” he said once. “it’s a lot, you know?”

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “yeah. i get it.”

and you did. that didn’t make it hurt any less. it’s not intentional. you know that. arthur’s not cruel—he’s just moving forward, and you’re something tied to a version of his life he’s already outgrown.

you don’t mean to find the video. it just… happens. one idle evening, scrolling without thinking, letting your brain soften around the noise of everything else; until a familiar face stops you cold. your thumb pauses. your breath catches. and suddenly, you’re sixteen again, lying in the grass, listening to him talk about leaving one day.

arthur.

older, somehow. sharper. the same, but not.

he laughs. and it breaks you. because it’s the same. that laugh, it hasn’t changed. it’s still bright and unfiltered and entirely, unmistakably your arthur. for a second, it feels like nothing has changed at all. like you could reach through the screen and find him exactly where you left him. like you’re back on that grass, under that sky, listening to him talk. but you can’t, because he’s not there anymore.

you click it before you can stop yourself and his voice fills the room like no time has passed. you watch him talk, animated and effortless, and it hits you with a force you weren’t prepared for…

you don’t know him anymore. not the way you used to. not in the quiet, instinctive way that came from years of being woven into each other’s lives. now, he’s something distant. something observed. something shared with thousands of people who know him in a way that feels both more and less real than you ever did.

he did it.

he left.

and he didn’t take you with him.

he’s animated, expressive, completely at ease in a way you’ve never seen before. there’s confidence there now. a polish. a version of him that belongs to something bigger than the small world you shared. and it hits you, suddenly and all at once. you don’t know him anymore.

a longing for something that’s gone. or maybe something that never quite existed the way you thought it did. a home you can’t return to. a love you never spoke out loud.

you pause the video halfway through. you don’t know why. maybe it’s too much. maybe it’s not enough. your reflection stares back at you from the dark screen; blurred, unfamiliar in a different way. the silence presses in around you, and that’s when you feel it. not just sadness. not just regret. something deeper. stranger. harder to name.

a boy who grew up and left, carrying pieces of you with him without even realizing it.

for the version of him that only ever existed in your memories.

for the version of yourself that only made sense beside him.

for the words you never said, sitting heavy and useless in your chest.

for the version of you that only existed when you were with him.

for a love that never had the chance to be real, and somehow feels more real because of it.

you think about that night, the almost-confession. the way one word. just one, might have changed everything. or maybe nothing. maybe he would’ve smiled, gentle and apologetic. maybe he would’ve said he didn’t feel the same.

the almost. the I— that never became anything more. and you wonder, if you had said it… would anything be different? or would you have just lost him sooner? there’s no way to know, and that’s the worst part.

you press play again. this time, you force yourself to watch it all the way through. because you owe it to yourself to see who he’s become. because you owe it to him to let him go properly.

you let yourself feel it all. the ache, the warmth, the strange, quiet pride that settles beneath it all. because he’s happy. you can see it. and maybe that’s enough. maybe that has to be enough.

when the video ends, the silence doesn’t feel as heavy. your reflection stares back at you in the dark screen. for a moment, you don’t recognize it. because you’re not the same person you were when you loved him like that. and yet, some part of you still is. still there. still present yet, softer. like something you’ve finally allowed yourself to set down.

you don’t message him.

you don’t comment.

you don’t try to step back into a life that’s already moved on without you, into something that no longer exists. because that’s what it was. not a future, not even a possibility, just a moment. a series of moments. a version of home that lived and died in the space between what was and what could have been.

and as you sit there, the ache settles into something quieter. still there. still real, but softer. like something you could learn how to carry.

you close the app, sit back, and let the memory of him exist exactly where it belongs. in the past. in the almost. in the quiet, aching space of what could have been. and for the first time in a long time, you don’t wish you’d said it, because some loves aren’t meant to be lived. because some loves aren’t meant to be spoken, some are meant to linger. to ache. to only exist only in memory, untouched by reality.

you had chosen a spot a little off the main path, tucked beneath the wide canopy of an old oak tree whose branches stretched overhead. just in front of you, a carefully tended flowerbed burst with color. clusters of daisies, soft pink carnations, and a few bright marigolds swaying gently in the breeze. the shade it cast created a cool pocket away from the direct sun, and from here you had the perfect view of the flowerbeds planted just a few feet away.

the rows of daisies and wildflowers spilled color across the soil, their delicate petals shifting softly in the breeze. to say that they were beautiful was an understatement, and the urge to eternally encapsulate their beauty gnawed at you.

your sketchbook rested against your knees, one hand holding the page steady while the other moved slowly, thoughtfully. the tip of your pencil dragged across the paper in careful strokes as you traced the curve of a petal, then paused to look at the flower again. checking over your work in hopes that you had done it some justice.

sketching here had become a small ritual. a break from the noise of everything else happening in your life. a way to slow down. a way to breathe. the world felt simpler when it was just you, the paper, and whatever scene you happened to be capturing.

in the distance, children’s laughter carried across the park from the playground. the steady creak of swings drifted through the air, accompanied by the occasional excited shout when someone went higher than before. shoes scraped against the metal of climbing bars, and somewhere a toddler squealed with delight.

you didn’t mind the noise. if anything, it made the moment better. it was background life; soft and distant enough that it didn’t interrupt your focus. yet, it was lively enough to make the afternoon feel warm and full.

you tilted your head slightly as you studied the cluster of daisies in front of you. a few petals curved inward in a way that was slightly different from the others. you erased a small section on your page before adjusting the shape, shading carefully until the flower looked just right. the gentle scratch of graphite against paper was steady and calming.

a small exhale left your lips as you leaned back slightly, examining your progress before adding another line. maybe it’d be better with some colour? but sadly, you’d left all of that at home in your haste to leave before the clouds could think of darkening outside.

across the park, near the playground, will stood watching the scene with quiet amusement. one hand rested loosely in the pocket of his hoodie while the other held his phone absentmindedly at his side. his attention, however, was fully on the small whirlwind of energy currently dominating the playground.

a head of curly brown hair bobbing up and down as she disappeared down the slide again. his daughter.

she clambered up the play structure with the fierce determination of someone who had absolutely no fear of falling. which she absolutely didn’t. the girl had every faith that her father would be right there behind her no matter what she got herself into. her small sneakers scraped against the plastic steps as she climbed, curls bouncing around her face as she reached the top platform.

for a moment she stood there triumphantly like she had conquered a mountain. then her eyes drifted back to him.

“daddy!” she shouted proudly.

will laughed under his breath as she threw herself down the little plastic slide, sliding toward the ground with a soft squeal before hopping back to her feet like the ride had been far too short.

her cheeks were flushed pink from running around. a few stray curls sticking to her forehead from the warmth of the afternoon and the faint sheen of sweat coating her skin. grass stains were already beginning to form on the knees of her tiny leggings.

“can we get ice cream?” she asked, already bouncing on the balls of her feet.

will raised a brow, the corner of his mouth pulling into a small grin as he crouched down in front of her. giving her any more sugar was surely a bad idea…but, saying no to that face felt even worse than having to deal with the impending energy boost.

“you’ve been running around for… what, ten minutes?” he said, pretending to think it over as he brushed a stray curl away from her face. “you sure you’re not going to explode from excitement first?”

she gasped softly at the idea, then shook her head firmly. “yes, i won’t explode,” she insisted.. “ice cream helps. it makes everything better.” she declared with complete confidence in herself.

that made him laugh for real. a quiet, warm sound that wrapped around them both and made the day feel fuller. 

“that’s some very strong medical advice you’ve got there.”

she grinned proudly like she’d just won the argument.

will snorted at that, shaking his head as he stood again.“alright, alright,” he said, glancing over his shoulder toward the small ice cream cart stationed near the path that ran through the park.

the cart wasn’t far at all. just across a stretch of grass, maybe a four minute walk away. the vendor stood beside it with a small cooler and a colorful umbrella overhead, occasionally serving passing families.

will looked back down at his daughter. “you stay right here on the playground, yeah?” he said, gesturing around them. “where i can see you. don’t even think about going anywhere.”

her eyes followed his gesture before she nodded eagerly.

“promise?”

“promise!” she replied immediately, holding up her pinky like that somehow made it official.

will smiled softly. he bent down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head, ruffling her curls lightly before straightening again.

“don’t move from right here. i’ll know if you think about it.” with that, he turned and began walking toward the cart, already pulling his wallet from his pocket as he approached.

the grass crunched softly beneath his shoes as he stepped onto the path, giving the vendor a polite nod. “two cones, please.”

as the vendor turned to scoop the ice cream, will instinctively glanced back over his shoulder. just to check. he knew how easily the child would get distracted by the easiest things, and he couldn’t really blame her because it might’ve been his fault genetically…or so he always heard.

his daughter was still on the playground platform, leaning over the railing as she watched a couple of older kids race each other across the monkey bars. satisfied, he turned back toward the cart.

behind him, however… something bright and yellow fluttered lazily through the air. a butterfly drifted past the playground like a tiny piece of sunshine, its wings catching the light as it floated gently over the grass. the creature floated farther away across the grass, dipping and gliding unpredictably like it had nowhere in particular to be. and sadly, the little girl’s attention snapped to it instantly. her eyes widened and her hand reached out to try to grasp at it.

“butterfly.”

without a second thought, she hopped down from the platform and ran after it, giggling as it fluttered just out of reach. the butterfly bobbed farther across the grass and hot on its tail the young lenney followed. each time she got close, it drifted a little further away, rising and dipping in the breeze like it was teasing her. coaxing her along, her promise to stay put disappeared from her mind entirely. now replaced with the need to hold the small creature close, to feel the colours beneath her fingertips and satisfy her childlike wonder.

the butterfly eventually drifted toward the flowerbeds… right where you were sitting beneath the oak tree. you didn’t notice her approach at first. your focus was still entirely on your page, pencil moving slowly as you shaded the delicate lines of a daisy. but suddenly; a small shadow appeared beside you.

“what are you doing?”

your pencil froze mid-stroke. you blinked and looked up to find a tiny girl standing next to you, wide-eyed and curious, staring directly at your sketchbook like she had just discovered something magical. before you could say anything, she crouched down beside you, peering closely at the page. her eyes grew even bigger (if that was even possible).

“woah,” she whispered in awe. she pointed at the drawing. “you made the flowers.”

a small smile tugged at your lips as you glanced back down at the sketch. “something like that.”

she looked from the sketchbook to the real flowers and back again, clearly comparing the two with intense concentration. “you’re really good,” she decided after a moment.

“thank you,” you said warmly.

she scooted a little closer without hesitation, resting her chin in her hands as she watched your pencil move. “what’s your name?” she asked.

you told her.

she nodded like this was very important information. “i’m ellie,” she said proudly. “my friends call me…um…ellie.”

you huffed out a soft laugh. “nice to meet you, ellie.”

her eyes drifted back to the sketch. “do you draw all the time?”

“sometimes,” you said. “when i want to relax.”

she watched your hand carefully as you added a few more lines to the petals.

“you make the flowers look happy.”

you blinked slightly. “happy?”

she nodded enthusiastically. “yeah! see?” she pointed. “these ones are smiling.”

you looked at the drawing, trying to see it from her perspective. “well… i guess they are a little.”

ellie giggled softly. “can you draw butterflies too?” she asked hopefully.

“sure,” you said. “i can try.”

her eyes sparkled. “can you draw the yellow one?”

 “the one you were chasing?”

she nodded eagerly.

“yes! he’s my friend. i named him chris.”

you smiled, turning the page slightly before beginning a small butterfly sketch beside the flowers. ellie watched like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.

“you’re like magic,” she whispered in awe.

meanwhile, across the park, will turned back from the ice cream cart with two cones in his hands and immediately froze. the playground platform was empty. the slide sat quiet. the swings moved gently back and forth in the breeze. but his daughter wasn’t anywhere there. his stomach dropped instantly.

“…ellie?” he stepped forward slowly at first, scanning the playground. nothing. 

his chest tightened. “ellie?” he called again, louder this time, walking faster as his eyes darted across the park. panic rose sharply in his chest.

“ellie!”

back by the flowerbeds, the little girl had now settled cross-legged beside you, chin resting in her hands as she watched you draw like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“can you draw other butterflies too?” she asked.

but, before you could answer, a voice rang out across the park. frantic.

“ellie!”

the little girl’s head popped up instantly.

“oh,” she said casually as she she pointed across the park. “that’s my dad.”

ellie perked up instantly, her head turning toward the sound.

“oh!” she said brightly, springing to her feet.

she cupped her tiny hands around her mouth and shouted across the park with all the volume a six-year-old could muster.

“daddddyyyy!”

across the grass, will’s head snapped toward the sound.

relief hit him so hard it nearly made his knees buckle. there she was, standing by the flowerbeds. talking to… someone.

he exhaled sharply, one hand dragging through his hair as he hurried across the grass, the two ice cream cones still in his hands and now slightly melting down the sides.

“ellie,” he called, walking faster now. “ellie—”

“i’m here!” she shouted again helpfully, bouncing in place and waving both arms like he might somehow miss her.

will finally reached them, slightly out of breath. he crouched down immediately in front of her, looking her over quickly like he needed to confirm she was actually okay.

“ellie,” he said, his voice a mix of relief and mild panic. “what did i say about staying on the playground?”

she blinked up at him innocently. “i stayed… kinda.”

“not kinda,” he said gently, trying to keep his tone calm. “i turned around for two seconds and you vanished.”

“but i followed the butterfly,” she explained very seriously, pointing toward the flowers like that justified everything.

will pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before sighing. “right. the butterfly.” he softened immediately though, brushing a hand over her hair. “you scared me, kiddo.”

“sorry,” she said, not sounding very sorry at all.

then she brightened instantly again, grabbing his sleeve. “daddy look!!” pointed enthusiastically toward you. “she draws flowers!”

will finally looked up. and for the first time actually noticed you sitting there. there was a brief, very will moment where he just blinked.

“oh…uh— hi,” he said awkwardly, immediately straightening up a bit.

one of the ice cream cones tilted slightly in his hand and he quickly corrected it.

“sorry about that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “she… uh— tends to wander when butterflies are involved apparently.”

ellie tugged his sleeve again. “show him the butterfly,” she insisted to you, pointing at the sketchbook.

will leaned slightly, curious despite himself. “oh— you drew that?” he asked, surprised.

ellie nodded aggressively for you. “she’s really good, like so good,” she informed him loudly.

will glanced between the drawing and the actual flowers in front of you.

“that’s… actually really impressive,” he admitted.

ellie beamed like she personally deserved credit. “she made the flowers happy. you made the flowers sad last time.”

will blinked. “the flowers… happy?"

“yeah!” ellie said confidently. “look they’re smiling.”

will looked back at the drawing again like he was genuinely trying to see it. “…i think i see it,” he said slowly.

ellie grabbed one of the ice cream cones from his hand like she’d just remembered their existence. “thank you,” she said dramatically.

will sighed. “you’re welcome.”

she took a very enthusiastic lick before turning back toward you again like she had something extremely important to say. “my dad likes flowers too.”

will froze. “…ellie.”

she ignored him completely. “he looks at them sometimes,” she continued, nodding seriously. “like this.” she squinted dramatically and leaned forward, pretending to inspect a flower.

you couldn’t help but laugh.

will turned slightly pink in the ears. “i…okay— that’s not—”

“and he smells them too,” ellie added helpfully.

“alright,” will said quickly.

“but only sometimes, he's not weird. i promise," she clarified.

will looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him.

ellie leaned closer to you conspiratorially. “he’s also alone.”

will choked slightly. “ellie.”

she looked up at him, confused. “what?”

“that’s, you can’t just…you don’t—”

she turned back to you. “my daddy doesn’t have a girlfriend. all the other daddies have mommies to kiss but he doesn’t have one. i think it makes him sad.”

“okay,” will said quickly, rubbing his face now.

“ellie we are not discussing my– my relationship status with strangers in the park.”

“but she’s nice, and look at her hair,” ellie said matter-of-factly, then she grabbed your hand suddenly, sticky ice-cream fingers and all. “and she draws flowers. you like flowers.”

will looked like he had absolutely no idea how to recover from this situation. “i— yeah— i mean— flowers are… fine,” he muttered awkwardly.

ellie nodded like she had just solved the world’s greatest mystery. “see?”

will sighed, looking slightly defeated before glancing back at you with an apologetic half-smile. “…i promise she’s usually only about half this embarrassing.”

ellie seemed very pleased with herself. she took another very serious lick of her ice cream before suddenly gasping like she had just remembered something incredibly important.

“daddy.”

will sighed lightly. “…yes, ellie?”

she pointed dramatically toward the flowerbed in front of you. “can i go see the flowers up close?”

will immediately looked at the patch of grass between the two of you and the flowerbed, mentally calculating the distance like a man who had just experienced a small heart attack five minutes ago.

“…you mean the ones right there?” he asked cautiously.

ellie nodded enthusiastically, curls bouncing. “yeah! the happy ones!”

will glanced at you briefly before looking back at the flowers. they were maybe six feet away. he exhaled, shoulders drooping slightly.

“alright,” he said slowly. “but you stay where i can see you, yeah?”

“the flowers!” she scrambled to her feet so quickly that will instinctively reached out to steady her.

“easy,” he said.

“i will!” she was already halfway there before he even finished the sentence.

will turned slightly so his body faced the flowerbed, keeping ellie firmly in his line of sight as she crouched down next to the daisies like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“she’s very into flowers today apparently,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

she grabbed his sleeve immediately. “daddy, come see them! up close! they’re happy flowers!”

will looked down at her, then toward the flowerbed beside you. “well…” he said slowly, glancing at you as if silently asking whether this was alright.

ellie answered for you. “come on!” she insisted, already tugging him forward.

will let himself be dragged the two steps closer before stopping beside the edge of the flowerbed. he shifted slightly so he was standing just a little in front of ellie, turning his body so he could keep her fully in his line of sight. there was that protective instinct in the movement, automatic and practiced.

ellie crouched down near the flowers immediately, holding her ice cream carefully in one hand while inspecting the daisies like they were rare museum artifacts. “look,” she whispered dramatically to no one in particular.

will watched her for a moment, the tension from earlier finally settling out of his shoulders now that she was safely within arm’s reach. then he glanced back at you. properly noticing you for the first time..and immediately forgot how to exist like a normal person for about half a second. you were… very pretty. like, distractingly so. you were… very pretty. like really pretty. the kind of pretty that made his brain momentarily forget how words worked.

he cleared his throat awkwardly. “she uh—” he gestured vaguely. “she normally goes for bugs. or mud. today it’s… flowers.” his hand rubbed against the back of his neck awkwardly. “also, i guess… uh… thanks for not letting her wander into traffic or something,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward ellie.

ellie, meanwhile, had leaned down to sniff a daisy with intense focus.

you glanced up from your sketchbook with a small amused smile. “happy to assist in butterfly-related emergencies.”

will let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with more force now. “yeah… she’s got a bit of a habit of chasing anything that’s colourful or flies. i guess this one was just a double whammy.”

ellie turned around suddenly. “i found a big one!”

will immediately leaned slightly to look. “don’t pick it!” he called gently.

“i’m not!” she said defensively.

then she turned back to the flower and whispered something to it.

will blinked at her but chose not to intrude. “…i don’t even want to know.” he glanced back at you with a sheepish smile. “she’s six going on… i don’t know ? sixty.”

ellie looked up again. “they’re talking to me!”

will looked concerned for half a second. “…the flowers?”

“yes.”

“right.” he nodded slowly like that was completely normal. “well… tell them i said hello. wonderful weather we’re having.”

ellie looked up suddenly. “they’re my friends. they think the weather is boring.”

will nodded solemnly. “of course they do..”

you tilted your head slightly, watching the way ellie leaned closer to the flowers like she was inspecting them for secrets. “she’s very curious,” you added between a soft laugh.

“that’s one word for it,” will replied.

ellie gasped again. “daddy look!”

both of you looked down immediately.

she pointed at a daisy with deep concentration. “this one is smiling extra.”

will crouched slightly beside her. “ah,” he said thoughtfully. “yes. i see the… extra smile.”

you snorted softly.

will glanced up at you again, catching the small smirk on your face. “oh come on,” he said defensively. “i’m just supporting her flower analysis.”

“of course,” you said. “very rigorous scientific process.”

he pointed at your sketchbook. “you’re the one drawing emotional daisies.”

“artistic interpretation.”

“suspicious,” he muttered.

ellie looked between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. “you’re funny,” she announced to you. “my daddy makes jokes but they’re bad. i try to laugh to help but it hurts.”

will scoffed slightly. “she just met you.”

“she knows quality humor when she sees it. can't argue with that."

will opened his mouth to respond but immediately fumbled his ice cream instead. the cone tilted dangerously. he caught it at the last second. “…i meant to do that,” he said.

you raised an eyebrow. “very smooth.”

“thanks,” he said dryly.

ellie wandered a step closer to you again, peering into your sketchbook like she had earlier.

“can you draw my daddy?” she asked suddenly.

will nearly dropped the cone again, his nose now turning a rosy shade of pink to match his ears. “…what?”

ellie pointed at him proudly. “so she remembers you.”

“i don’t think that’s how that works.”

you looked between them, clearly amused. “well,” you said, “i might need him to stand still for more than three seconds.”

ellie nodded seriously. “daddy can do that. right?”

will looked skeptical. “i absolutely cannot.”

ellie ignored him. she leaned closer to you again, whispering loudly. “he gets shy. like when uncle james makes him look like a dummy.”

will made a noise of protest. “i do not—”

“you do,” she insisted.

you laughed quietly, shaking your head before glancing back up at him. “you seem like you’ve got your hands full.”

he looked down at ellie, who was now attempting to balance her ice cream on a rock while examining a flower.

“…that’s putting it mildly.” despite the mild exasperation in his tone, there was a warmth in his expression as he watched her. like his entire world was placed into one being. then his gaze drifted back at you.

“do you come here often?” he asked, immediately realizing how that sounded. he winced. “that sounded like a terrible pickup line.”

you breathed out a laugh.“it did. but i'll allow it."

“great.”

“but yes,” you said. “i sketch here sometimes.”

he nodded. “that’s cool. i mean…not cool like— you know what i mean.”

you tilted your head, enjoying his awkward spiral far too much. “i’m starting to. i think, i’m remembering that you’re shy.”

he gave you a sarcastic smile. “it’s really good, by the way. like— properly good. i can barely draw a stick figure without it looking… demonic.” he mimed a terribly crooked line in the air with his finger. “last time i tried drawing something ellie said it looked like a potato from mars.”

from the flowerbed ellie shouted. “it did!”

will groaned softly. “thank you, ellie.”

“you’re welcome!”

he glanced back at you with a helpless smile. “she’s very supportive of my endeavours.”

ellie walked over again and grabbed your hand. “you should come again tomorrow,” she declared.

will blinked. “ellie—”

“so you can draw more happy flowers.”

will rubbed his neck awkwardly again. “well… i mean… if you ever did happen to be here again,” he said cautiously, “ellie would probably… like that.”

you pretended to think about it. “hmm.”

ellie looked up at you with wide hopeful eyes.

“…i suppose i could.”

she gasped happily. “yay!”

will chuckled, then he hesitated for a moment before reaching into his pocket.

“i mean… uh…” he said, suddenly nervous again. “if you wanted… we could— i don’t know, coordinate butterfly patrol shifts or something.”

you raised an eyebrow. “that sounds very official.”

“very serious job. i mean have you seen the girl run? i've thought about getting the football training in early.” he jokes, pulling out his phone awkwardly. "we can exchange numbers?”

you smiled slightly and gave it to him.

ellie watched the exchange like she had just witnessed the most successful matchmaking operation in human history.

“told you,” she whispered proudly to you.

the weeks after that afternoon at the park seemed to unfold naturally, like something that had been waiting to happen all along. at first, it was small things. you ran into them at the park again a few days later. and although will insisted it wasn’t planned. even if he had suspiciously brought ellie to the exact same playground at the exact same time. ellie had spotted you first, unsurprisingly.

“she’s here!” she had shouted across the grass like she’d just found buried treasure, immediately abandoning the swing to sprint toward you.

from that point on, the park quietly became your place. some afternoons you’d bring your sketchbook and ellie would sit beside you, offering extremely serious artistic feedback alongside some help when you got stuck. bringing her own brand new drawing book and some crayons so that you two could draw together. and although hers were never as precise as yours, you were sure that they were always a thousand times better.

“that flower looks lonely,” she once said, frowning deeply. “it needs a friend.” so she drew another flower, red crayon adding in some squiggles in the faint shape of a flower.

will would sit nearby pretending to scroll through his phone. though half the time he was watching the two of you instead.

other times ellie insisted the three of you play together. she forced will down the slide once and he claimed it was against his dignity as an adult. ellie strongly disagreed. you laughed so hard he ended up doing it twice just to make you laugh again. on his last attempt he almost got stuck half way through and you had to help him pull himself out.

then came the ice cream trips...they were not dates.  will made that very clear the first time.

“this isn’t a date,” he had said quickly while paying for the cones.

“of course not,” you replied.

ellie looked between both of you suspiciously. “then why are you smiling at each other?”

will nearly dropped his wallet.

after that, the ice cream outings became routine. sometimes you’d walk around the park afterward, ellie holding both of your hands as she told wildly exaggerated stories about kindergarten. sometimes will would offer to take you home if it was getting dark. those walks were quieter. just the two of you talking while ellie rode his shoulders, half asleep and clutching a stuffed bunny.

over time, something warm and steady began growing between the three of you. ellie adored you almost immediately. if you missed a day at the park, or a meeting or even a phone call she’d ask will where you were.

“maybe she’s busy,” he’d say.

“but she likes us,” ellie insisted.

he never knew how to answer that without smiling. and somewhere along the way, will fell completely and hopelessly for you. not in a dramatic, sweeping way. but in quiet moments you shared. the way you crouched down to ellie’s height when talking to her. the way you teased him without hesitation. the way ellie looked happier when you were around. he never said anything, partly because he didn’t want to ruin what the three of you had. and partly because every time he thought about asking you out properly, his brain short-circuited.

ellie, unfortunately, noticed everything.

“daddy likes you,” she told you once while will was twenty feet away buying her a hotdog.

you nearly choked on your drink, quickly shifting the conversation to something less volatile. though you had to admit that comment made the small blossom of hope in your chest bloom a bit brighter.

“ellie,” he said later, horrified when she told him what she had done, hoping he would appreciate her hard work.

“what?” she asked innocently.

“you can’t just say things like that.”

“but it’s true.”

she also took great joy in teasing him whenever possible. and will, he turned red every time. 

“daddy gets nervous when you come over,” she told you proudly.

“i do not.”

“you do.”

meanwhile, you had fallen for both of them too. ellie had a way of making everything brighter. her attitude, that carefree spirit towards life and everything that came with it; that hadn’t yet been dimmed by the world’s pain. or, the curiosity she had for any and every new experience that came across her life. maybe it was the sparkle in her eyes and the hair that never truly seemed tamed. and will… well. the more time you spent with him, the easier it became to see how kind he was. how careful he was with ellie. how quietly thoughtful he could be even when he was tripping over every word he tried and failed to speak. it made your chest warm in ways you tried not to overthink.

which was how you ended up standing outside their apartment building one evening with a small bouquet of yellow tulips in your hands. earlier that week ellie had made a very, very, very important announcement.

“you have to come to dinner,” she told you firmly.

“oh?”

“i’m cooking.”

will nearly inhaled his drink. “you’re… what?”

“cooking dinner for everybody,” she repeated.

“right,” will said slowly. “with supervision.”

“daddy’s helping, but he’s not a good cook” she admitted kind of sad.

“good, but i’m an amazing cook. stop lying to her,” he muttered.

and now here you were, a bouquet of yellow tulip in hand. you knocked on the apartment door and there was immediate chaotic movement inside, the sound of a loud thud. a loud clatter. then ellie’s voice.

“wait wait wait—”

the door swung open. ellie stood there wearing a child-sized apron that was far too big for her, hair slightly messy, and what looked suspiciously like flour on her cheek. her face lit up the moment she saw you.

“you came!”

“of course i did,” you said warmly. you held out the flowers to her. “these are for the chef. i wanted to thank her graciously for inviting me.”

ellie gasped like you had handed her treasure. “flowers!”

she grabbed them carefully and held them to her chest.

“they’re tulips,” you explained, not that she particularly cared what type they were.

“i love them.”

behind her, will appeared in the kitchen doorway holding a wooden spoon and looking like he had just survived a small disaster. “…hi,” he sighed.

his hair was slightly messy, sleeves rolled up, and there was a faint splash of tomato sauce on his shirt.

you raised an eyebrow. "should i be concerned about the kitchen?”

will glanced over his shoulder. “…define concerned.”

from inside the apartment something made a suspicious plopping sound.

ellie beamed proudly. “i’m making spaghetti!”

will winced slightly. “we are making spaghetti,” he corrected gently.

ellie nodded. “but mostly me. he forgot to put the spaghetti in the water.”

he looked back at you. “it’s… a work in progress.”

ellie grabbed your hand excitedly. “come see! i picked out the sauce and everything!”

will followed behind you both like a man preparing to explain a crime scene. the kitchen looked… questionable. that seemed like a fitting descriptor. there was flour on the counter, tomato sauce on the stovetop. a bowl of noodles that appeared slightly overenthusiastic in quantity.

ellie pointed proudly to the pot. “spagetthi.”

will leaned closer to you slightly, lowering his voice. “…i’m monitoring the situation.”

you glanced at him. “brave man. but i think we may need more guests…that’s a lot of pasta.”

he sighed. “please stay,” he said quietly. “if i’m going down i need witnesses.”

ellie turned around suddenly. “dinner will be ready soon!”

you smiled. “take your time, chef. i trust you...”

will leaned against the counter beside you. “…this is either going to be amazing,” he said.

“or?”

“or we’re ordering pizza.”

ellie gasped. “no pizza.”

will raised his hands immediately. “right. no pizza. we trust the chef.”

about twenty minutes later ellie insisted dinner be served properly. which meant she fought with her father on how the table should be set. on what make shift vase should be used to hold her new flowers and in the end you were not allowed to sit just yet.

“wait!” she said, holding both hands out like a tiny traffic officer as you and will hovered near the dining table.

will blinked down at her. “what are we waiting for?”

ellie looked at him like he had personally disappointed her. “daddy.”

“what?”

she pointed dramatically at one of the chairs. “you have to do the thing.”

will frowned. “what thing?”

“the nice thing!”

he looked even more confused.

you leaned slightly against the table, clearly entertained. “don’t look at me, i'm just a guest." you said.

ellie huffed and stomped her little foot. “the chair thing!”

will stared at her for another two seconds before it finally clicked. “oh— oh.” his ears turned slightly pink.

“you mean—”

“yes,” ellie said impatiently.

will cleared his throat awkwardly before stepping around you. he pulled the chair out carefully.

“there,” he muttered.

ellie nodded approvingly. “good job.”

you raised an eyebrow as you sat. “well done.”

will rubbed the back of his neck. “i feel judged by a six-year-old.”

“you should,” you said.

ellie climbed into her own chair proudly. “i’m the boss.”

“that has become very clear,” will muttered.

a few minutes later, dinner was finally served. ellie carried a bowl of spaghetti with the careful determination of someone transporting priceless cargo. while will hovered nervously behind her in case gravity betrayed them and the maybe edible food took a nose dive to the floor.

she placed it down in the middle of the table triumphantly. “ta-da!”

will set down the plates beside it.

“…behold,” he said dryly. “spagetthi?"

ellie giggled. “daddy helped a little.”

“thank you for the credit,” he said.

you twirled some noodles around your fork.

“well chef,” you said to ellie. “this looks amazing.”

her whole face lit up. “really?!”

“really.”

will took a bite too.

he chewed thoughtfully. “…okay wait,” he said. “that’s actually really good.”

ellie beamed. “i told you!”

dinner quickly turned lively. ellie talked nonstop about everything from butterflies to preschool drama to the time her dad burned toast.

“that happened one time,” will said defensively.

“three times,” ellie corrected.

you covered your mouth to hide a laugh. then ellie suddenly leaned her chin in her hands and looked between the two of you with suspicious interest.

“so.”

will narrowed his eyes. “that tone worries me.”

ellie ignored him. “you should ask her.”

will froze mid-bite. “…ask her what.”

ellie shrugged like it was obvious. “to be your girlfriend.”

you nearly choked on your spaghetti.

“ellie,” will said slowly.

“yes?”

“we do not discuss that at the dinner table.”

“but you like her.”

will turned red. “i— that’s—”

ellie turned to you. “he does. sarah said her daddy turns red when her mommy says nice things about him. and when she said your shirt was nice you looked like rudolf!”

will groaned.

“i’m being sabotaged.”

you smirked slightly. “i’m enjoying the show. so it seems fine to me.”

ellie nodded proudly. “i’m helping.”

“helping what?” will asked.

“love.”

he stared at her.

“…you’re six.”

“i’m smart. mama said so.”

you laughed quietly, shaking your head.

eventually dinner ended with a surprisingly empty bowl of spaghetti.

ellie hopped down from her chair immediately, onto the next thing she could meddle her way into. “dessert time!”

will stood too. “i’ll help—”

“no.” she pointed at him sternly. “you stay.”

he blinked. “…why?”

“because.” she leaned toward him and made a very exaggerated “secret” gesture with her hand pointing between him and you. it was the least subtle thing imaginable.

will stared at her. “ellie.”

she whispered…rather loudly. “ask her.” then she scampered into the kitchen.

you and will sat there in silence for a second. from the kitchen came the sound of freezer drawers opening. and very quiet giggling. very very quiet, no one could hear her cackling not even herself.

will rubbed his face. “…i’m never going to recover from this.”

you leaned back in your chair. “she’s efficient, i'll give her that.definitely got that one from her mom.”

he laughed nervously. “yeah.”

another quiet pause settled between you. will fiddled with his hands on the table for a moment before finally looking up.

“…so,” he said.

you waited.

he immediately looked like he regretted starting the sentence. “i— uh—” he laughed awkwardly, tapping his fingers against the table. “this is going terribly already.”

you smiled slightly. “take your time. i know you’re shy sweetie.”

he took a breath. “right. okay.” he ran a hand through his hair. “i was wondering—” he stopped. then tried again. “i mean we already hang out a lot but—” another pause, sharper this time. “…i’m really bad at this.”

you rested your chin in your hand. “really? i hadn’t noticed.”

he huffed a laugh. “thanks.”

from the kitchen came a faint thump followed by barley suppressed giggling.

will closed his eyes briefly. “she’s listening.”

“obviously.”

he looked back at you. “…would you maybe want to go on a real date with me?” he added quickly. “like— an official one. not ice cream that isn’t a date.”

you tilted your head slightly. “hmm.”

will braced himself. “that sounds… suspiciously like you’re considering saying no.”

you smiled.

“i was considering making you suffer a little longer.”

he groaned. “please don’t. she already thinks i’m a wimp.”

“but,” you added gently, “yes.”

he blinked. “…yes?”

“yes will.”

his whole expression softened instantly with relief and quiet happiness. “okay,” he said, smiling now. “good.”

from the kitchen came the unmistakable sound of delighted giggling, bordering on delighted cackling sounded. ellie burst out laughing like someone who had just witnessed the best moment of her life.

will sighed. “she’s going to hold this over me forever.”

you laughed. “i think she already is.”