why would you even say that?

Ethan just hums. He didn't see Thomas for months until he gave him a call and then Thomas just appeared in front of his door today, hugging him close and now Thomas is laying in his bed after hours of talking.

"You would come as well, right?" There's a glimmer of hope in Thomas' eyes.

"Sure," he smiles at him, "Can't have you party alone."

For a long time nothing is said, until Ethan thinks that Thomas already fell asleep. He reaches for the second blanket that is at the foot of the bed, turns the already dimmed light off. Only then, in the darkness, Thomas stirs again.

"Thank you," Thomas mumbles against his neck, "for not hating me."

Ethan stiffs before he relaxes again: "Of course not."

"Do you think we will work as a band now?" Thomas buries his face against his neck.

"It'll be okay."

"Did Vic or you tell him to apologise?" Thomas asks, slightly shaking in his arms.

"No, Dam just asked us for your new number. He wanted to apologise himself."

Again there's only silence and darkness surrounding them. But there's still one question Ethan wants answered, there's an idea forming in his head.

"Tho?"

"Eth?"

"Do you still write her?"

There's rustling next to him. He blinks and the next time he opens his eyes, he holds Thomas' phone in his hands. Thomas' Instagram DM's with you are opened. Messages you never answered but there's the little heart emoji under the text that shows that someone liked the message.

I think, I never said it but I'm sorry.

Ethan scrolls further up, sees text blur together, sees the hearts on Thomas' texts but how he never got an answer, except once. He scrolls down, and blinks at the screen confused, then it's gone again. Thinking that he imagined it, he wants to give the phone back to Thomas but just before he does, it starts again.

Typing …

Nothing happens, no text appears, but the plan is shaping up in Ethan's head - the last five years have been enough.

.#####.

"I know this is really weird," Ethan says, "Look, do you still talk to …"

He's getting cut off: "Yes, we still talk. It's okay, we just fucked, you made that really clear. What do you want?"

"Could you do me a favour and get her to a party?"

"Are you going to tell me why?"

"I can't go on seeing Thomas like this," he says, "They have to talk."

"You can't lie to me, I know which arrangement you had." There's a sigh on the other side of the phone. "You want it back as well."

"I'm already happy when he's not breaking down again. He still loves her, that's more important and more than enough for me."

"It has been years."

"Please! Before they are running away from each other again."

"I'm sorry, she just broke up with someone, I don't know if it's a good idea to just confront her with Thomas of all people right now."

"Just this one favour, I don't know who to ask otherwise."

"What do I get for being a part of this stupid plan?"

"Seeing a happy end?" A small laugh, but he counts it as a victory. "I would give you my soul if I have to, I just want to see him happy after all this."

.#####.

Five Years ago - The Breakup

Hindsight is always easier than foresight. You know now, Thomas knows now and Ethan knows now as well. Now is just too late. It wasn't what was said that ended your relationship - it was what went unsaid. At least that is what you tell yourself, but it's too late.

Just lock the door when you leave.

Just chuck the keys into my letterbox.

You cry downstairs when you are in front of his mailbox, his keys in hand. He isn't going after you to say that he's sorry. There's nothing - just silence.

Did you just break up with me?

You should have known, should have known better. Should have known before they even came back home from tour, but you were stupid enough to tell yourself that it will all turn out to be okay in the end. It didn't, you can see that now. You should have known when he went to parties more often than picking up the phone for calls you agreed on before. Forgetting calls all together and him being more distant than not.

Just when you're about to throw the keys into the letterbox, there's a hand on your shoulder and then Ethan pulls you into a hug. For a few seconds you had hope. You were clinging to the last bit of hope on this gloomy November day, all to have it shattered.

"I'm sorry," he says and hugs you closer.

You can't do anything than cry into his shirt, onto his shoulder. Your phone vibrates in your hand, has the keys making a jiggling noise.

"He doesn't mean it, don't believe him," Ethan says, "he missed you. Thomas missed you so much, he thought it would make it worse and that it would make it worse for you or him."

You don't answer, you just stare down on your phone.

Yes

The keys you drop into Ethan's hand are almost falling to the floor. And then you leave them behind.

.#####.

FIVE YEARS AGO

"Los Angeles?" Vic looks at him surprised, "Are you sure, Thomas?"

He just nods, nervously picks at his nail polish.

"Why?"

"Vivi wants to go," Thomas isn't looking at her, "might be easier for her to start a career there than here. You know how hard everything here is."

"I'm sorry, what?" The expression on Victoria's face changes from surprised to something like outraged. "You know her for what? Two months of fucking? If she has any talent, she'll also make it here, you of all people should know that."

Thomas just shrugs, avoids her gaze, and Vic sighs.

"Are you that heartbroken?"

He shrugs again, doesn't want to face the truth.

"I told you, that she would break your heart."

"I …," Thomas looks at his hands - thinks of the day the break up happened, "I was the one who broke up with her."

"Maso!" The anger gives way to a sadder look on Vic's face. "You are so in love, and you are still, don't lie to me. I don't understand, why?"

"I thought it would hurt less when I do it."

.#####.

You try to ignore it, you try to ignore the rumours and the gossip that reaches your ears - the whispers around the city. It works, but only until someone you almost forgot you know, sends you an article that you open without thinking even one second about it. You should have, you shouldn't have looked at this. Shouldn't have seen what you so desperately tried to avoid the last couple of months.

There's no need to read the article, you just see the photo. Thomas in an intimate embrace with a woman. He has his tongue down her throat, or the other way round, you're not sure. Deep down, you don't even want to know. Then you switch off your phone. You don't want to think about it, but it doesn't work.

Even in the evening when you're home and switch your phone on again, you're still thinking about it. Not getting the image out of your head, the bottle of white wine doesn't help, it just has you thinking about Thomas again, and about Ethan. The one night, you all got drunk on wine and high on weed, crossfaded - a happy pile on Thomas' couch, some obscure horror film playing in the background. Ethan kissing your neck, and Thomas giggling under you, how he tried to kiss you on the lips but his lips landed right under your eye. How he poked his tongue out, slowly licked and Ethan laughed against your shoulder. But on your phone, you can see more photos. Thomas holding hands, Ethan somewhere in the distance, the girl looking straight into the camera and you want to throw your phone against the wall.

For one second, you in your head you play with the thought to call him. Just to hear his voice, to be soft, but you don't. You call one of the friends you made in Rome, a friend you made because of him, after he took you out for dinner the first time. Thomas' friend, Franca - the waitress that evening, with who you hit it off. She showed you around bars when he wasn't there, talked with you - teached you more Italian, became a friend. Exactly like Thomas wanted to, I knew you would like each other.

"Hi," you feel bad, "I'm so sorry to call. I know he's your friend, probably more than mine but, I, I just don't know what-"

"Sweetheart," her voice is soft, "so you saw it? I'm so sorry. It's okay, he's an idiot, he was told. You're my friend as well."

"Thanks," you sniff slightly, "This hurts. He couldn't wait at least more than a month or two before almost climbing someone in public?"

"I know this isn't any condolence, but Ethan and Vic both told him, this isn't going to turn out any good and everything else …," she stops.

Sweet Ethan, you think.

"What do you mean? Everything else?"

"Are you sure, you want to know this?" She asks. You know, you shouldn't say yes to this question, it was enough for today, but you still do. "I'll sent you a screenshot, and you know what we should do? Go out, there's plenty of fish in the sea. We'll get you something better."

Problem is, you don't want anything better. You want Thomas. You want Ethan as well - but it doesn't hurt as much.

The screenshot almost makes you cry, it's a photo of Thomas and the woman you saw too many times today already. She's pressing her lips to one of his cheeks, just next to a freckle you loved to kiss, her arms around him. Worse is only the caption: Can't wait to start a new and better life with my sweetheart, the absolute love of my life, in Los Angeles next month.

"Los Angeles?" You should be happy that you'll have Rome to yourself again, that you don't have to be careful where to step, to not run into any of them. You feel nothing. "This day was enough, I think."

"You don't know the best part yet. She actually tagged him in this post but not only him, she somehow managed to tag the band account as well." A tiny bit you even have to laugh. "Ethan apparently lost it, saying he doesn't want to be associated with this. And Vic commented under it Are you tagging us to remind us that we'll have band practice over video call now, or why are we seeing this. And now, I promised you to party."

"Actually …," you thought about it before but now is the time to really do it, "I would rather look for a new job than for a stopgap just to fuck."

.#####.

There's some kind of magical string pulling you to the bar that day. The bar you met in, where Thomas first act upon seeing you was to empty his Tequila Sunrise over your dress by accident. Just when you want to step into the bar, you can see a blond man with messy hair turn around quickly and walk away - you shake your head at yourself, you're seeing ghosts.

You just want to get a drink, watch people for a bit, and go home but when you come back from the bar, Vic is sitting at the table where you usually sit.

"I know, I know, yes I got it," she says into her phone, "I just thought, you wouldn't cancel on me after you should have been already here. I get that you still have to pack stuff but …"

She hangs up with a sigh, then she looks at you: "I can't believe he just bailed on me like that."

"Welcome to the club," you want to be sarcastic but the bite is missing from your voice.

Victoria chuckles, but quickly stops when she sees your face: "I can't believe, he's really going to move to Los Angeles of all places. Half my life he was always just a few streets away."

You can feel your lips start to quiver, your hand slightly shaking. Vic takes your drink out of your hand and then she pulls you down into a hug.

"God, I'm so sorry," she whispers while you cry into her soft cardigan, "This must be hard for you as well."

"Please don't tell him."

.#####.

When you're home hours later, you stare at the Instagram DM Thomas sent you a while ago:

I just wanted to tell you that I'm moving to LA. I wanted you to know from me, not from somewhere else.

You didn't answer - there was nothing left to say. You already knew.

It should have been the quickest way to get you back home but now you're already standing in the streets for the last ten minutes. Autumn is just around the corner, it's early September, and you are standing in front of Thomas' flat. Thomas' old flat - he moved end of June, you try to tell you that it's better like this. That he's gone, but it doesn't work, you tell yourself the same when you see pictures in glossy magazines or when you accidentally see Thomas' Instagram's posts. It always hurts whatever you tell yourself.

You try not to let your thoughts wander back in time, you try not to think about them. But before you can tell yourself not to do it, you think about how many times you went up the stairs to Thomas' flat. How you went up the stairs the first time after the night at Ethan's place.

They just came back from some little promo tour they had for a little over a week and Ethan asked if you would come over to Thomas' place later. You couldn't say no, you where just wondering why Thomas didn't text anything all evening and isn't the one who's opening the door for you.

"Where's Thom?"

"In the living room." Ethan grins at you, glass of wine in hand. You can only hear the intro music of a film playing from the living room. "He'll be happy to see you."

Contrary to what you expected Thomas isn't sitting on the couch, he's laying on his back, on the wooden floor boards - almost naked. You kneel down next to him, to press a kiss to his cheek. Affectionately you let your fingers glide through his hair. He wants to say something but he can only whine and mumble against the soft scarf that is between his lips, used to gag him. You let your hands wander over his body, his waist, his hips, play with the hairs of his happy trail until he whines again and tries to buck his hips up.

Ethan kneels down next to him on his other site and carefully gets the scarf out of his mouth. He wipes the spit away from Thomas' chin with his thumb.

"We will watch a film now." Ethan says, "If you promise me to make no noise, you can come up to the couch and we can leave this off."

Thomas sits between you two, while you are still dressed. Everytime Thomas does want to say something or a whine almost lefts his mouth, he carefully bites into Ethan's shoulder or into your arm. When there's a heated scene of two people fucking against a wall, Thomas loses the battle with himself and lets a loud whine slip past his lips. It doesn't help that you let your hand slip into his slightly tented briefs and let your fingers swirl around his tip. He whines even louder.

"You have to go back down." Ethan says, slapping your hand lightly, so you take it off Thomas' and then he pauses the film. "Just lay down, stick your tongue out."

Thomas does lay down, while Ethan takes off your trousers and your panties: "You can have him, but not his dick, otherwise you can play with him, 'kay?"

You kind of have an idea what he wants to see, and you don't want to disappoint, you know Thomas doesn't want to either. You wipe some of the drool away from Thomas' face. He looks up to you, a little bit unsure - you still remember how he said he isn't good at this.

"You'll do great," you reassure him before you put both your feet next to his head, grab a handful of his hair and lower your body down. "I know it, just keep your tongue out, babe."

He is doing more than keeping his tongue out, he's trying to go with your movements. Carefully licking through your folds, then faster - a little bit harsher, before he switches back to carefully. You move his head, his tongue gliding in and out. Whoever made him believe that he's not good at this, deserves to be haunted for their rest of their life, you think. When you pull him off, he presses his tongue flat against your clit, slightly circles it. It feels so good, you almost cum and you would but Ethan pulls you off. Thomas heavily panting under you.

It doesn't take long to free Thomas of his briefs, or to get him to fuck you. You're bouncing up and down playfully on his dick, you can feel how he restrains himself to not just buck up into you.

"You did such a good job," you can hear Ethan tell him, "You don't have to hold back."

And he doesn't. The next second your back hits the floor and he's over you. There's no restraints anymore, just Thomas going deeper, moaning into your mouth. The only word you can think off is wild, and you definitely see the stars when you cum.

A loud noise gets you out of your memories, people being noisy, carrying boxes. Just when your phone is ringing and you pick it up almost in trance.

We would like to offer you the job.

The For Rent sign is taken down. Someone new is moving in. He isn't coming back, you realise. It's not feeling like a weird and unpleasant dream anymore, it feels like reality crashing down over you. And you are offered the job you always dreamed of. In Sydney, a city you never asked for. You look up to Thomas' window, the window you have seen him smoke out so often and know that you'll not see him again like this, and you say yes.

.#####.

Thomas is sitting on the roof of his rented house. Cigarette between his lips, guitar next to him, he's watching the sunset in the distance. He can't tell if he's happy, the only thing he knows for sure is that he's drunk. Incredibely drunk. He went up to the roof after Vivi asked him another time this week, if he could show her photos to some people, as she did the months before. Thomas tried, he did try for her, showed them to some people he thought might have pity - either with him or with her - or would like them, but everyone told him the same. No. It escalated into a fight and then into a fight about something else, not the first time since they moved, or even this month and not only because of this alone.

He's tired. Tired of running after people for other people. Tired of the fighting. Tired of band practice over webcam. Tired of Vic and Damiano looking at him pityfully. And he's so tired of Ethan looking at him as if he had told him that stars aren't real and the big celestial bodies are only an illusion he made up in his head years ago. He's so tired of it.

Don't fucking cry. He tells himself.

He is tired of being tired. Thomas takes another sip of his drink that is too bitter. He loves sitting on the roof with the last sunrays of the day but he misses his balcony in Rome and his small kitchen full of people, cooking that goes wrong and food that can't be eaten but he still had fun. Now there are still people in his kitchen but every day blends into the other, people talk to him as if he's an animal in a zoo and he's getting scolded for burning something more often than feeling lips on his forehead, in his hair or on his cheeks - and collective laughter.

Do you think stars have a life?

There's no thought in his head when he writes it, no one stopping him sending it. Nothing happens, until a little heart appears under his text. Causing his own heart to jump in his chest. He waits but there's nothing else, no answer.

I hope Sydney makes you happy x

No answer.

I'm not. Happy, I mean. He writes it, but before sending it, he deletes it and dials Ethan's number instead.

"It's early," Ethan says. There's a voice next to him and Thomas can hear how he gets out of bed.

"It's late," Thomas says, "Do you think stars have a life?"

"Do you want to hear the scientific answer?" Ethan asks and sighs. "Or are you asking for a story?"

"A fairytale?" He picks up his guitar, it almost wheeps when he plays. He still isn't ready to cry but his guitar wants to. "Please?"

"Hundreds of light years away, in a bright galaxy full of other stars, there was once a little star …"

He only gets down the roof late in the night. Vivi is standing in the corridor, looking tired and she snaps at him.

"Did you have fun?" she asks, "While I had to tell your friends that you aren't in a good mood and everyone looked at me like I'm the most pathetic person in the room?"

"Vivi."

"No. Don't look at me like that, like you're all sad and your life is horrible with me but like you're sorry," she says, "You cannot always leave an argument like this Thomas."

His voice is smaller than he wants it to be: "I didn't invite those people, you did. You can't just invite people to my house. They aren't my friends, how many times do I have to repeat? You started an argument in front of them because you started with your," he makes air quotes, "Can you believe he still didn't ask me to marry him again."

"Yes, because we had this conversation so many times. I told you I want to get married, get a hint."

"You want me to marry you? Fine." He is tired, he's still so fucking tired. "I'll buy you a ring. Go dress shopping or whatever people do that get married."

"You finally came around?" She smiles and puts an arm around his hips, "We will make such a great couple, I already know the perfect dress, you will love me in it."

"I'm crashing in a hotel." He takes his guitar and his car keys. And then he's out the door, he wants to get out, he just wants to breathe.

In the end he does buy a ring. He even goes down on his knees. He's so fucking tired. He wishes he really could be the little star light years away that so desperately wants to be a shooting star and is still finding happiness in the end.

I got engaged

This time he isn't waiting for an answer, a reaction, isn't staring at his phone. He knows there will be no answer - there's nothing else to say.

.#####.

They tour Europe and Thomas finally feels like he can breathe again. He calls Vivi after gigs, lets her talk about wedding decisions she makes without him. But more often than not, he sends you a quick message. A photo from Florence, an anecdote how he almost fell off stage in France, that he misses talking to you from Stockholm and a selfie of him and Ethan with the Colosseum in the background from Rome which you saved to your phone.

"Do you think Sydney is nice?" Thomas asks Damiano one evening.

"You want to tour Australia, huh?" Damiano looks back at him but then his look changes. "It's not about touring, is it?"

Thomas shakes his head.

.#####.

FOUR YEARS AGO

It's already early May when Ethan comes to visit him in Los Angeles. He's excited, excited to see his friend, excited to have nothing to do and he hopes that he is finally getting away from deciding which colour the tablecloths at the wedding should have, which they still don't have a date for and will more than likely still be months away.

The first two days are the best he had since the tour ended. Just Ethan and him going to the beach, eating ice cream and existing next to each other. There's a party in the evening and Thomas almost gets Ethan to dance on a table with him but in the end he smiles fondly at him and stays on the ground. Thomas laughs when Ethan puts his hands on his hips to get him off the table at the end of the night. He still smiles when Ethan strokes his sweaty bangs out of his face and says goodnight, presses a light kiss to his cheekbone, hours later.

"You came home late!" It's the first thing he hears when he wakes up only hours later. Vivi's voice sharp next to him.

And then all of a sudden it isn't the relaxed holiday anymore he wanted, or Ethan wanted for himself. Vivi always hanging around, pulling him back when he gets too close or when Ethan puts an arm around his waist. There are more photos of her in Thomas' flowy shirts than usual, Thomas in the background sometimes, a hand here, an engagement ring there. A little reminder. Not one minute she leaves them alone, Ethan rolls his eyes when she cuddles up to Thomas at the pool one afternoon, making out with him until Ethan takes his book and leaves for his room.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing!?" She puts her hand on his chest. "You don't like it?"

"That's not what I'm talking about. Am I under surveillance or something?"

"You fucked with him, or someone with him, I don't care. But don't think I'll let him out of my sight or alone with you. That one party was enough."

"You're exaggerating," Thomas tells her but Vivi isn't listening anymore, "There's nothing you have to worry about. You know we aren't getting back together."

Ethan is staying away from him the next days, doing his own thing. Sending Thomas a photo from an art gallery he is going to, while Vivi is dragging him to another one at the other end of the city. He has a headache. Somehow there's a snapshot of him holding hands in an Italian gossip magazine a day later which Damiano sends him a photo off.

You remember when Ethan told us about his fave painting? And how the brushstrokes are unique? I wish, I could still remember the painting's name without asking him but I only remember the name of the tea I had. Who names a tea Dulce & Banana?

One morning, the second week of Ethan's stay, Ethan and Thomas take their breakfast to the pool. Listening to music together and Thomas rests his head on Ethan's shoulder while biting into a croissant.

"Smile!" Ethan says and then everything goes a little bit too fast. Thomas smiles when Ethan points his phone camera to them. While Vivi sneaks in from behind just in the moment Ethan rises his hand to show the camera his middlefinger, directly in front of her face. Strangely he has to giggle when he sees the end result. Vivi on the other hand is fuming, Thomas just looks at him, a little bit annoyed, a little bit lost. He posts it anyways and thinks about getting a hotel room for the rest of his stay.

"Can you at least try to be nice to her?" Thomas says later in the day.

Before Ethan can answer, Vivi lays her arm around Thomas: "We're going out for dinner now, right?"

"Are you joining?"

"No, I'm going to look for a hotel room."

Later he does look for a hotel room but before he books it, he decides to facetime Victoria.

"How are you two? Oh…" Vic looks at him surprised, "Where's Thom?"

"Out for dinner, with Vivi."

"Your holidays aren't that great?" She asks.

He tells her everything that gets on his nerves, how it feels like he can't talk to Thomas even five minutes a day. How he really doesn't want to be here and that he really was excited to be here in the beginning.

"This is why I didn't want to join." Chili is crawling into her lap. "Or why Damiano and I decided she isn't allowed to join us on tour."

"You decided this without me?"

Victoria sighs: "You can never be angry with him for long, damn you can't even say no to him even when he's the biggest fucking idiot." Vic and Chili are both looking at him. "Dami didn't want the paparazzi to swamp us, they somehow turn up when she's around, and I didn't want you to have to see this the whole time."

"Okay."

"Ethan, you … As I said you can't say no to him, he just has to look at you. We … we also thought it would be …," she shakes her head, "You and him is a different story, I didn't want to make it harder for you or him or for … For, you know, for her."

"Okay."

"And … I can see he's suffering."

Ethan startles when there's a knock on the door. Thomas in front of it.

"Did you eat?"

"Shitty pizza and an even shittier salad."

Thomas looks at Ethan's laptop: "One of your fuckbuddies?"

"I hope I'm better than that!?"

All three of them laugh, and Vic hangs up. Thomas gives him a paper bag. It contains some pastries and a salad that isn't shit according to Thomas and two pre-mixed cocktails in bottles.

"Can I come in?" Thomas asks, "I'm sorry because of earlier."

They go up to the roof in silence, they eat in silence, they drink in silence.

"Do you really want this engagement, Thom?"

"I don't know," he shrugs - fumbles for a cigarette.

"If you could start over with your life would you do it?" Ethan tries to change his approach. "Would you change anything?"

"Hmmm," Thomas looks down at the cigarette between his fingers, "I would. I would do a lot different now. Let the devil be my witness, I would do things differently."

"When she would have come up with me again, would you have still broken up?"

"Did you ask her to come up again?" Thomas looks at him - hurt and broken.

"No."

"Does it matter then?"

Ethan swallows. Maybe it doesn't matter after all. There's only cigarette smoke and silence between them.

"Can I stay here?" Thomas plays with his ring, twists it on his finger, puts it on another finger before he puts it back where it belongs.

Thomas cuddles close to him when they are in bed. All Thomas wants is another story, and Ethan settles on a story that one of his older sisters told him when he was a child.

Thomas is almost asleep, when he speaks again: "Can we book a room for us together?"

.#####.

Sydney isn't Rome. You knew but it still shocks you how the city and you aren't getting along - there's a point mid-year where you have to admit that you aren't going to be friends. Everywhere you step, everywhere you walk, you miss Rome. History surrounding you, traffic chaos, you miss it. It doesn't help that your new job isn't as good as you made it out to be in your head and your manager a dickhead.

Sometimes you think about how easy it would be to write Thomas. Like you did before, talk about your day, that your job is shit, how stressed you are. That the grass isn't always greener on the other side. You wish, you could hear his voice, hear him talk and fall asleep to the sound of his guitar. You want to tell him that you recently saw a poster of them a street you walk every day but the next morning someone already sprayed over it and you imagine how he would laugh and make a joke.

You don't write him, you don't answer when he writes. But in the end, you post a photo of you packing boxes. And a month later you post a photo of you back in Rome.

I hope Rome missed me as much as I missed Rome.

It's your first night back. You're happy, sitting on your new balcony with a bottle of wine. You're happy and melancholic. Thomas sends you a <3 - and you almost start to cry.

I miss Rome as well

Realisation that you will think about him at every corner you turn and every street you cross again strikes you when you see his message.

Do you remember when you told me you didn't regret kissing me?

You do - you remember it still too clearly.

A few months after the first night at Ethan's place. After a few more nights together, you in Thomas' bed and in his arms for most of the evening. Until Thomas is turning onto his stomach and you end up sitting on his thighs, pressing kisses to his neck and shoulders.

"Do you regret being here?" Thomas mumbles into his pillow.

"No." Another kiss to his shoulder. "Why would I? I'm exactly where I want to be?"

"You really don't regret kissing me the first time at the pool?"

"I don't regret it," you say, "And I meant everything I said as well."

Thomas is still slightly humming into the pillow when Ethan joins you two in bed.

"You smell like sex," Thomas says, turns his head - and lifts his head into Ethan's touch when Ethan tousles his hair.

Ethan just grins while you're busying yourself with continuing to kiss Thomas' shoulder blades.

It's your deal. Ethan will do whatever he does, whatever he wants - go and come how he pleases. Will join you whenever he likes, taking advantage of the spare key Thomas gave him. More often than not. Thomas is different, a constant. But in the end Ethan isn't that different - he always comes back to both of you.

"Yes," he kisses your cheek, "You two don't, are you just cuddling?"

Now it's your turn to grin. Thomas shivers when you put your hand on the small of his back and breath lightly against his ear: "I think, Thomas would love to cum."

"Would he?"

Thomas nods and whimpers quietly, looking at you with pleading eyes.

"What would have happened if I wouldn't have come home?"

"He wouldn't cum." Thomas whimpers again, "Obviously."

You know, somewhere along the lines, Thomas will get his revanche at you for this. Later, when you do smell like sex, Thomas and Ethan cuddled close to you, you think home.

You still think about it sometimes, home.

.#####.

I felt safe.

He looks at the text, but deletes it, puts his phone down and goes for his guitar instead, he plays mindlessly. He plays until his mind is blank, no emotion or feeling left.

When he goes back to the bedroom, Vivi is in bed, red lingerie, but what catches Thomas off guard is his phone in her hands.

"What are you doing?"

"You changed your PIN?" She looks at him. "I also can't open it anymore with my fingerprint?"

"You shouldn't be on my phone."

He's tired. He's so tired again.

"You are hiding something from me." It's not even a question.

"No."

He doesn't. She knows, knew from the beginning, she still decided she wanted a relationship with him. Wanted to move to Los Angeles together, wanted to marry him. Maybe she really is in love, he thinks. He was at one point, maybe still is a bit, otherwise he wouldn't be here. But then he realises that she got him away from all his friends, from home, he feels alone. She's always there, but he's still alone. He's always wrong, sometimes he isn't, when she wants something. With everytime she posts a photo of her in one of his shirts, it gets worse. With every pic he posts, with every ohhhh and awwww in the comments, while Vivi is there to ridicule him, he wants to get away.

"Sure, lets say I'll believe you." She gets up and tries to open his shirt. "I didn't get into this for nothing."

"Not in the mood."

"You're never in the mood. You could at least fuck me, Thomas."

And then she rushes out of the room.

He wants to go home.

.#####.

Once again, it's November. And he breaks up with someone. It almost becomes a tradition, he's sarcastic to cope.

"You promised to marry me."

Thomas doesn't say anything.

"I wish we never met," she takes a plate that is next to the sink. "Everyone warned me about you."

That rings a bell, Thomas thinks but he keeps silent. He's too afraid he'll fold again, stay.

"You'll regret this." The plate flies towards him, he can just duck before it flies over his head and shatters on the wall. The last time it was a tea cup - he wants to cry. "I'll make you regret this."

He sinks down the wall, ends up between the shards of the broken plate.

"Please, stop." Thomas says, when he sees Vivi reach for another plate. "Stop."

"You'll see what happens next."

She throws her engagement ring at him and leaves.

And he finally cries.

.#####.

Thomas goes home for Christmas, he isn't planning on going back. He's back in Rome and he wants to stay.

He posts a picture of him being back.

I'll never be as happy somewhere as here

He smiles at his phone when you like the post, Ethan smiling at him in return.

Vic, Damiano, Ethan and him are spending New Year's in his new flat. Damiano cooking with Ethan's help. Vic annoying them with party crackers. He laughs, he's happy, he needed this.

"I missed you." Victoria hugs him from behind, then she annoys him with a party whistle, blowing it directly against his stomach.

The New Year starts with too much champagne, laughter, his friends and a walk Ethan takes him on.

"I'm glad you're back." Ethan offers him a cigarette. "Did you tell her you're back?"

"No." But Thomas smiles. "I think she knows."

He stays back a little, Ethan walking ahead slowly. There's one thing, he wanted to do, he gets the engagement ring out of his coat. Looking at the Tiber, he breathes in deeply, it's cold, then he throws it into the river and he sees it sink.

Happy New Year <3

Happy New Year, Thom!

If he would have looked up, he would have seen you cross the bridge he walked over only minutes ago.

.#####.

Three Years Ago

Your year starts out differently than expected. It really starts a few days after it already started and it starts at a place you didn't expect, the supermarket. Almost it doesn't catch your attention but then you have a closer look. It's a magazine you see, and take from the rack. It's a flashy one with big letters and attention grabbing headlines and the word EXCLUSIVO in red. What grabs your attention is the photo of Thomas, and his ex, the photo photoshopped to seem torn apart and the exclusive interview the cover teases. Her name printed beneath another picture of her and the Polyamouros affair with his bandmate - what else did she have to go through? headline makes your head spin. You buy it and hurry to get home.

Your head spins even more, when you read it.

We already sent invitations for our wedding.

He broke up with me on my birthday.

He kicked me out of our shared house, without letting me get my stuff, in the middle of the night.

Before me, he had an affair with Ethan and some random girl. They both f*cked her, he tried to keep it a secret. This probably explains why he's incapable of real intimacy, one just isn't enough for him. I'm still wondering if he cheated on me during our time together, they were on tour, maybe they just fucked random groupies.

Maybe that's why we didn't have sex.

You can't believe that she got two double pages and you can't believe that she's talking about Thomas. Your Thomas. Maybe you don't want to believe it.

The next days the story is all over the place. Your friends who knew, blowing up your phone. Even Victoria reaches out to you.

Thomas keeps silent, the only thing which is said, that the statements do not reflect true events, is coming from their publicist. You can see him getting shit, see the hateful comments.

I cried in the shower. fuck.

That's what Thomas writes one night later.

I didn't do anything of this. I should have stayed with her, she said she would make me regret it.

You want to hug him, you want to tell him that everything will be okay. You don't, the moment just passes.

Ethan posts something close to a statement in his stories, which Thomas reposts.

The only thing, I want to say is this: All 3 people have consented to this form of relationship, no one cheated. It was a relationship with a person we adore and not some "random girl", it was full of love from all sides. Don't judge.

And then the narrative changes.

Their wedding planner speaking up, that no invitations where sent: "They didn't even have a date? Do you send invitations to your wedding without a date?"

Her birthday is in March - they broke up in November.

"I saw her throwing a cup at him after a party, because he ruined her party at his house, he paid rent for. He didn't say a peep."

"She left, he didn't kick her out. This is what she wrote me after they ended their relationship."

And then the story dies, another attention grabbing story coming along.

.#####.

It's over and done with, he tells himself when he's laying down to get his new tattoo on his birthday. Vic got him to go to therapy, after she saw the story with the cup and asked if it's true. He was hesistant, but he has to admit, she was right, it's better. Sometimes, like now, he is afraid it isn't over, that she'll make him regret it, somehow.

Then the needle starts and there's only the feeling of getting tattooed. Just blissful pain.

"You have to show," Vic says at the next band practice and then she already pulls down his loose joggers, "Come on! I already couldn't really admire that tattoo over your ass when you got it."

"Vic!" He pulls his joggers up again while Ethan and Damiano giggle. "It's on my back, not my ass."

She puts her hand on his back, just over the waistband of his joggers, directly over his ass: "I said, over your ass, not on your ass and now show me that new tattoo."

Thomas starts pulling his joggers down again before Damiano opens his mouth, "Please don't show us your dick."

"What is wrong with all of you. It's not on my dick, just on my pelvis, really upper thigh."

"Next to it," she laughs and then she has a closer look, "Interesting."

It's a small colosseum, around it a snake that carries a little star.

.#####.

It's early May and it starts slowly. The comments in his direction getting more, as Damiano starts getting more and more frustrated. Their newest album not getting the best reviews or the good attention they hoped for, it's their fifth, it shouldn't matter, they are working on the sixth. The hype died down, it's normal, Ethan tells him, it's okay. And Vic telling him to concentrate less on numbers again.

"You have been a mess since the day I met you." Damiano says one day.

It's dead silent in the room. Vic shakes his head at him.

"What?" Thomas' voice is small.

"You are a mess. Ethan even had to get the press to not publish the name of your ex because your other one is crazy."

"Dami, stop." Ethan says, he bites his lips.

"What?"

"They asked for a statement from me and they mentioned her name," Ethan sighs, "I paid them to not mention it. It's okay, I didn't want you to worry about it again."

The nail in the coffin follows two weeks later. It escalates one day. They are sitting in the practice room again, nothing wants to work, no riff, no lyrics, nothing. Damiano lashes out at all three of them and Thomas smokes more than he plays guitar. During his next smoking break, he feels for a folded sheet of paper in his pocket. They should try it, he thinks, it could work better than everything they have. He has a riff in his head for it, he has an idea for on intro, he has the lyrics written down - maybe Damiano can tweak them.

"This is childish," Damiano says after only reading the first line.

"'kay. When you think, I'm childish, I'll leave." Thomas looks at the paper in Damiano's hand. "You're hurting me. I'm not going through this again."

"Thomas, come on. We just need something better tha-"

"I'll get my stuff later."

Ethan takes the paper out of Damiano's hand: "Oh, Thom!"

But Thomas is already out of the door.

"What?"

"It's a fairytale I made up for him. It's about a little star that wants to be a shooting star but shooting stars aren't real stars, the little star isn't meant or even built to be one. The story is about the little star which tries to be something else without realising that people love it for what it is. The little star is unhappy, it wants to be a star that others wish upon, bring them luck but shooting stars are meteors burning, just surviving for us to see before they burn up and hit the ground, they die, Damiano." Ethan gives the paper back to him, "And stars are beatiful nonetheless. I thought he didn't understand."

"And now?" Vic asks carefully.

"He'll be here tomorrow."

But Thomas isn't there the next day. His guitars - gone, his pedals - gone, his equipment - gone, his hoodie he left behind the day before - gone.

"And now?" Vic asks again, sitting on the floor where Thomas usually would sit.

"I'm not doing this without Thomas. You have been a real dickhead to him the past weeks, he had every right to leave. Why did you have to be so condescending to him?"

And then Ethan leaves.

"I … This only started because of Thomas, he started this with me. We had that silly little dream together to become rockstars. It only worked because of Thomas. Then it should also end with him. I'm sorry, I … can't do this without him, I don't want to."

And then Vic is gone as well.

Only Damiano stays behind, the piece of paper in his hands.

Saggezza delle stelle

.#####.

I broke up the band. Can I do anything right?

The news say they are taking a break, you saw it. But you believe him when he writes that they broke up as a band. You believe it even more, when Ethan reaches out to you. He isn't saying much, he's only asking you to reach out to Thomas, that he thinks he isn't feeling well. You're on the way to your first date in a while when you get the text. You don't answer - you don't write Thomas when Pedro the guy you saw for lunch is asking you for a second date.

.#####.

Thomas opens a bar, it's late summer. He thought about it, what to do with his life now and decided he wants a break from music. He doesn't want to write music for money - he wants to enjoy it, wants to love playing guitar just for the love of playing. He doesn't think that anyone would care anyways and then he started thinking, ended up with a tapas bar. It should be small, full of people and laughter. The opening is a party, he's happy.

Ethan is there, next to him behind the bar. Someone is missing, but Thomas is too chicken to reach out to Vic - he still has the feeling he ruined part of her life. Ethan told him, that she tries to cope, that it's hard but that they all will find their way. Thomas misses her, he misses their dinner dates and their silly rituals.

"To something new!" His mum cheers to him and he cheers back.

Do you think people who are hurt can be happy?

.#####.

"Thomas, are you okay?"

It's a simple question, or at least should be one. He only came to the bar tonight to meet his date. Now he isn't answering, just stares past his barkeeper, into the tiny room of the bar full of guests. There's only static noise in his brain. And then he bolts for the backdoor, just runs. He runs until his lungs give out, stands with his back to the wall in a small alley, and lets himself sink down.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Tears are stinging in his eyes. He really thought this would be over, he can't even remember how long it his been since that one rainy, gloomy day one past November. Or how long it has been since that one day in May. How long it has been since the last band practice. Or when he saw Vic or Ethan the last time. Or how long it's been since he came back from Los Angeles, with an engagement ring in his pocket that he threw into the river. Sinking down, just like one of his other dreams. He can't tell how long it's been, but he still remembers that voice.

"Fuck!"

He balls his hands into fists, slams them against the hard stone wall behind him. And he doesn't stop, he sniffs. He only stops when there's blood dripping drown his hands. Drips down from his knuckles onto the silver of his ouroborous ring, he gets blood into his blond hair somehow and winces when his knuckles slam against the wall another time.

"Fuck, please."

He pulls the hood of his hoodie over his head, into his face. No need for anyone seeing him like this, maybe even someone who still knows who he is. He searches for cigarettes, winces again when his opened skin comes in contact with the fabric of his jeans, but there are no cigarettes. He must have lost them, like he lost the last bit of his dignity. He thinks and laughs bitterly before he curls into himself. Somehow he manages to get his phone.

"Thomas?"

"Can you pick me up, please?"

"Sure? From the bar? Was your date this terrible?"

Thomas swallows, he never even saw his date. He stepped in and out of his bar in the timespan of two minutes.

"I'm not." He winces again. "Just pick me up, please. Ethan, please."

.######.

"Are you okay?"

It's another date, in a small tapas bar that is bustling, loud and full of people. With Pedro, the first person in a while you think that it could work with.

"Hmmm sure," but you're distracted. Distracted by a conversation that goes on behind you.

"Thomas, are you okay?"

When you turn, you can see someone in a hurry. Blond hair, tall. You shake your head, you must have imagined.

The evening goes on, you drink one of the best glasses of white wine you had in while. Talk, have fun, you laugh. This will work out, you tell yourself, how so often with him.

"Hi!? I'm here for Thomas, is he here somewhere?"

You wan't to ignore it again but the next sentence punches you in your gut.

"No, sorry. I don't think so. Salvatore, did you see Raggi come back?"

And the next one slaps you square in your face.

"No. We all just saw him bolt out of the backdoor like a mad man earlier but he didn't come back. Can you imagine dude owns this place."

"Are you sure, you are okay? You look like you just saw a ghost."

Blast from the past, you would say. You try not to suffocate yourself on your food.

"No, I'm fine," you hurry to reassure him, "But we could go home after we finish the wine."

He smiles at you.

Later, much later, your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You want to put it back again before you see the Instagram notification and without better judgement, you open the app and the direct message.

There's a kiss on your shoulder.

I miss you. Why do I still fucking miss you?

.#####.

"I'm useless." Thomas says a month later, when it happens again. Him running away when he sees you. "Vivi was right, I'm useless and not worth anyone's time."

"Thomas," Ethan brushes through his messy hair, "Please don't believe that, you're worth people's time. Certaintly my time, you aren't useless."

.#####.

"How is Tho?" Vic is asking him, nipping on her hot chocolate. It's getting colder outside again.

"Better, I think." Ethan tells her. "I think the bar is good for him, he loves having people around. He loves seeing people happy. I think it's the right thing for him, he's thinking about producing his own wine, he's experimenting with some grapes right now."

Vic hums, looking a little sad: "And how are you?"

"Fucking around."

"Literally?" Vic laughs.

"I fucked up a little?" He laughs as well. "I'm seeing this one girl, I really like her but I'm also seeing this other girl. I like her as well, but I'm not really interested in either of them? I know, it's weird and … well, I kind of forgot to tell them about each other?"

"Come on, you should know how this works." She still laughs before she gets serious again. "I'm glad you're still hanging on to Thomas, despite everything, he deserves someone like you."

When Ethan is driving her back home, Damiano's solo single plays on the radio. They both look at each other and Victoria changes the station.

.#####.

You are sitting on your couch, cuddled up. You're home, Pedro next to you.

"Are we together?" He smiles at you.

"Yes."

.#####.

"I want to show you something."

Thomas is excited, Ethan can tell and see, Thomas is skipping in front of him, but when they stand in front of the building, Ethan is confused.

"That's the house you throw me into the pool because I fucked your crush?"

"It's also the house she kissed me in the first time." Thomas smiles. "And it was on sale. It's a nice house, I wanted it."

Ethan shakes his head but he still smiles when he sees Thomas being happier than before.

.#####.

One Year Ago

You're happy, you really are. Rome feels like home again, you're in a loving relationship, your job finally not draining all energy out of you. Everything feels right again.

Sometimes when you're taking Thomas' umbrella with the dots on it, you're thinking about him. It outlasted him - still in your possesions. Sometimes there are evenings when Thomas writes to you, when he's on your mind. Sometimes Pedro asks if you want to answer him, he would understand, but you always shake your head. It still hurts.

.#####.

"Vic, people are looking already."

She's clinging to Thomas' body, arms around his neck and he has to hold her up when she wraps her legs around his thighs.

"I don't care. I haven't seen you in a year, you asshole."

It's true, it's over a year since they have seen each other last. He dreaded it when Vic reached out to him a few days ago but holding her, it already feels like no time passed. They are in his bar, he feels comfortable here. They can sit down, he can offer Vic some food, test his wine on her.

"I almost died a few days ago."

Thomas blinks at her.

"I went to a party, I got a little bit drunk." She smiles sheepishly. "A bit too drunk, I fell into the pool and I swear I almost drowned. I just didn't know how to get up? It was the weirdest feeling."

"How did you get up?" Thomas asks. He feels worse than he felt at the beginning of their conversation. He should have been there, get her out of there. Whatever happened at parties, they always saved each other since they were teenagers. He wasn't there when she would have needed him.

"Ethan was there with some guy and the dude jumped after me into the pool?" She plays with her white wine glass, lets the wine swirl. "He fished me out of the pool."

"I'm glad they were there with you."

"He looked a lot like you," she looks at him and sighs. "I thought it was you and then I thought I'm seeing god and I'll just die. How funny would that have been? I'm gonna die and god is just you judging me."

He laughs with her, he hugs her.

"Less parties for me now. I thought, I could go back to music. Maybe go into producing some stuff? I want to have my own label, encourage more girls going into rock music. I think, I would enjoy that." She pauses, takes another sip of her wine. "I wanted to ask if you would join in? Help me with starting it?"

"I can help a little bit here and there if you want me there," he says, "but don't get me wrong, I won't join. I have the bar, I'm really happy here and I have this project with a charity which advocates about abusive relationships. You could ask Ethan, he would love to do it, I think."

"But I can leave you the option to join in and own the label with us together when you're ready for music again?"

"Sure!" He gives her a pinky promise. "I'm sorry, Vic. I'm sorry that I fucked everything up."

.#####.

"Did you ever think about having a thing with two other people at the same time afterwards?" Thomas asks.

"With you?"

"Does it matter?" Thomas turns, pulls the blanket up to the tip of his nose.

"It does." Ethan sighs. "Yes, I actually had and I did think about it. But not with you."

"Oh."

"You need someone who loves you unconditionally. I do love you, but not like you need." Ethan sighs again. "It just worked because she loved you. She always wanted you. I don't think it would work any other way, with any other person."

"She didn't."

"What?"

"Love me!"

He curls up under the blanket.

"Maso," Ethan sits down next to him - brushes his fingers through his hair, "You're an idiot."

"Can you stay please."

"Yes, for tonight."

Ethan is gone the next morning, before Thomas even opens his eyes. Victoria tells him about work, the meetings they have together, and he is helping out but he isn't seeing Ethan again. He doesn't know what happened exactly, he just knows he doesn't want to be a piece of charity work. He also knows he's doing him wrong.

.#####.

This Year

You're in the supermarket to get a good bottle of wine. It's your anniversary, and you decided to have dinner on your balcony. You grab the bottle of white wine that springs to your eyes when you have a look around. Until now you just like the label, it's local, from the Lazio region. Before you put the bottle in your basket, you see the label on the back. There's a small picturous photo of a vineyard but next to it is another photo, one of Thomas smiling into the camera.

The bottle glides out of your hands, to the supermarket floor and shatters into pieces. People are looking at you while you try to hold your tears back. You're going back home without a bottle of wine, Pedro in the kitchen.

"I want to break up."

.#####.

Unknown number.

It's the fifth time today the number is calling him. He's laying in the sun and finally picks up. The phone almost drops to the ground when he hears Damiano's voice. He almost hangs up on him without saying anything.

But Damiano is faster: "I'm sorry, Tho. I was an asshole. You don't have to forgive me, I just wanted to apologise."

Thomas is silent first, he's in a better place than he was two years ago or even one, he realises. This would have gone differently then, he knows.

"I do," he says, "forgive you."

.#####.

You don't regret going to the party your friend dragged you to. You don't regret ending up in Thomas' bed. You don't regret the desperate sex, Thomas on top of and Ethan next to you. There's absolutely no regret when Thomas cuddles closer to you and you all stand in his kitchen the next morning.

You don't regret when you say, that you love him.

.#####.

Nothing changed when they all walk into their old rehearsal room.

"How did we get it back?" Vic asks.

"I paid the rent," Thomas says and ignores the looks the others give him.

It takes a while until they get around with each other again, but it works. They have new ideas. Sometimes they don't know how to act, what can be said or is too much but in the end, all of them are happy to be there. Back together.

"I thought we could try something," Damiano says. He pulls a piece of paper out of the pocket of his jeans, it looks more ragged now, after all the folding and unfolding it went through. He looks at Thomas. "If you want to."

.#####.

Thomas comes back with Ethan in tow. You're reading a book that you suspect to be Ethan's on Thomas' sofa.

"You're still here?" Thomas looks at you surprised.

"Yes." You swallow. "Did you want me to le-"

"NO!" He's fast to interrupt you and then sinks down next to you on the sofa. "I want you to stay. I want both of you to stay."

You kiss him on the nose and Ethan sits down on your side.

When you're all cuddled up together, you can see a tattoo flash when Thomas' waistband slides down his hips slightly.

"I didn't see this last night." You look at it interested and then tilt your head to look at his face. "Is there a meaning behind this?"

"I'm the snake, the little star is also me, I guess, but it's a story Ethan made up for me. And the colosseum, I missed Rome but … I fell in love you that day we met in front of it and went sightseeing together."

You cuddle up together, watch a film together, and Thomas takes some selfies of you all together. Him cuddled up against you, your head resting on his shoulders and Ethan next to you, his arm around the both of you.

He sends the pic to Vic.

Look who's back together? Just an idiot with his bandmate and some girl.

.#####.

END

All my friends told me you'd break my heart

Taglist:

Warnings: Mentions of an abusive relationship, some smut, angst and the big sad but with a happy end

Other: Thanks to the anon and Alba @maneskings who wanted this story <3

I wanted to make Vivi likeable in the beginning and there's a version where she is but it didn't work as well. There had to be the contrast between everything going wrong for him and seemingly everything going right on the outside and seemingly everything going right for Reader but in reality it doesn't.

And I wanted to make clear that obviously this is fiction and not reality. This is as it said everything going wrong.

The whole morning, he went through Ethan’s scribbles while she was sleeping on the couch with their dog only a few steps away. Peacefully slumbering while Thomas went into turmoil. He knows better, he shouldn’t lurk through Ethan’s thoughts or go through his notebooks, he should give them back to him but he can’t help himself.

The Mary Oliver quote he reads over and over again was written by you. He wonders if you knew how this would end when writing it. 

We’re under the same moon and I’m sick with that knowing.²

Ethan wrote it under your quote. He feels sick, and still he wants to go somewhere he hasn’t been for years. Thomas still thinks about you and him with such intensity he worries it became his daily prayer.

She’s still on the couch when he puts the box full of knick knacks away. 

“I’m going to the beach.”

“Let’s take the dog,” she yawns, “And go to the beach then.”

“Sure.” It’s not what he wanted, he wanted to go alone, have time for himself and indulge in memories - the past. Doesn’t look like he’ll have the chance for that now.

She is sitting next to him on the passenger seat, her hand on his thigh. The drive is quiet - no words being spoken. There’s only music coming from the speakers he wouldn’t have chosen himself, some noises coming from the dog. He feels like he has to get out of this car before he slows it down.

At the beach he gets a beer and some fries as he did so often. Sharing his beer with Ethan and sharing his fries with you. Days and nights full of laughter, sand everywhere, and the far away thought that the year is already over when the summer begins. The other thought that he’s still with the people he loves. Now he just looks at the sea, how the water laps against the shore. Nipping on his beer. Just one hand in his lap, his dog walking around them.

Two figures are on the horizon but otherwise this part of the beach is empty this time of the day. They have a dog with them as well. He sighs and prepares himself to leash his dog and for a lot of barking.

“Come here, Cinnamon.” He already takes the leash, pets her head and pleads with her. “No barking and jumping people today, okay? Please.”

His partner laughs next to him, loud and freely, he smiles.

The figures are holding hands and one of them is whistling for the dog that comes closer and closer, Cinnamon happily wagging her tail, ready to jump already. But the other dog changes direction, running away from them again. And then there’s a laugh. A laugh that has his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. The fierceness of his own feelings sets him aflame. There’s too many feelings he can’t shake off. It’s your laugh he hears and for a moment he thinks he deluded himself into making up the voice in his head just to feel closer to you again. But there’s a red umbrella with yellow sprinkles that he thought he had misplaced years ago in a hand that isn’t yours before he sees your face and how you’re holding hands with someone that isn’t him. 

“Bagel, no.” Your voice is ringing in his ears and Thomas has to close his eyes before he can’t take them off you. There’s a smile around your lips, the guy next to you looks like someone he would have tried to befriend if things would be different. “I assure you these people have no food but I have treats. Sit.”

“I wish Cinnamon would do that and listen sometimes.”

He just hums in agreement. When you look at him Thomas’ whole world stops for a few seconds. He waves - just to see if you react but you don’t wave back and for the last moment you look at him he asks himself if you might have forgotten him entirely. You look ahead and he slowly lets his arm sink down. Cinnamon licks his hand before she walks away. Love is humiliating, he thinks, and wonders if the person next to him sometimes thinks the same.

“Someone you know?”

“I must have mistaken them for someone I used to know.”

He didn’t. He is sure. And when he sees a new DM on Instagram, a photo of you smiling at him, he is certain. You unfollowed him years ago, he did the same but somehow he always came back to check on you. Love in the age of followers, always reminded of each other somehow.

Are you happy?

It has been 15 years. A lifetime away, so long ago. Still seeing you walking along the beach, hand in hand with someone else, a dog running around your legs, breaks Thomas' heart. Again. Over, and over, and over, and over. 

The Ouroboros ring is still on his middle finger, like it was all these years ago. There's another ring on his ring finger, glistening in the sun. After all the ring he turns to when he's nervous, when he doesn't know what to do with his hands, he reaches for the one around his neck. It was a promise. Never quite broken, but never fulfilled. 

Thomas reaches for it now. His hand still shaking, he wishes you would have looked at him longer, just for a little longer. A second, a minute, just a moment longer. A moment that would have felt like another lifetime. He was close to following you, leaving everything else behind. His dog trudges over, licks his knee, and lays down in his lap - always knowing when he's about to break. There's a hand on his other knee.

Nothing lasts. There is a graveyard where everything I am talking about is, now. I stood there once, on the green grass, scattering flowers.³

He has read those lines once. In one of Ethan's poetry collections, or maybe Ethan read them to him. Thomas has to think about it now, nothing lasts, and everything five feet under. Him, Ethan, you, everything said and everything locked away.

Happy? He isn't happy, he hasn't been in a while. That was a lifetime ago.

He doesn’t know what you expect the answer to be, if you even want to hear the truth. 

No.

He types and sends it off.

.#####.

When he drives back to the beach on Sunday, this time alone, he is hopeful. It should scare him but he can’t remember when he felt this much hope flooding through his veins and his mind the last time. The windows are down, wind in his hair and he put Led Zeppelin on, so loud that he can’t hear himself hum to the melody.

He gets his fries and his beer. For a second he thought about asking Ethan to join him, even just for the feeling to not be alone. He didn’t ask, he didn’t say anything, Ethan’s notebooks still in the box at the same spot in the house he made himself a home out of. 

But he lets his mind wander back in time. To the times where you and him were watching the sun. When you leaned your head against his shoulder. When you would eat your fries, laugh and tell him from your week. To the times Ethan was there, how Ethan kissed his neck and you kissed his face. To when you went skinny dipping, Thomas splashing Ethan’s face and Ethan dunking him under water in turn and him only feeling safe because your hands never left his body until he resurfaced and he had to cough. But before he could get mad there was always someone to kiss him.

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to appear out of nowhere, to step in his life again like you did the day before. You don’t show up, there’s no answer from you, nothing that would even suggest that you even saw him yesterday.

Thomas would like to stay but he promised to be somewhere else this evening and he can’t wait any longer. He promised Ethan something a while ago and he is sure that everyone else thinks that he has forgotten about it just after saying it.

“You made it.” Vic smiles at him when he sits down on the seat between her and Damiano. Damiano smiles at him as if he knows something no one else does but isn’t saying anything. As expected of him he claps when Ethan is called on the stage and sits down but when he is the only one still doing so Vic elbows him in the ribs slightly.

“Sorry.”

Vic dismisses it with a hand gesture. The whispering from the audience is dying down and only then Ethan begins to speak, book in his lap, glasses on his nose. There’s no introduction, no hello or pleasantries. He just opens the book and starts reading. 

“For the ceiling full of stars.”

Thomas’ hands shake and he clutches to his own thighs. His head spins and he only hears scraps of what is being said.

“Explain the children of the world that they should stop growing If there's one thing no one needs, it's more people who hate themselves.”

He knows he will start crying in a second, Vic takes his hand and he’s afraid to crush it.

“And then explain to the lovers, the constant pain of endless searching And if the tears bother us, explain that they are always part of it.”

There are tears rolling down his cheeks, Vic isn’t letting go of his hand and Damiano hands him a tissue as if he came prepared. The rest of the reading he tries to breathe, his vision blurred from tears. He can’t wait to get out of here, this room, away from people, away from all the words that sting and away from Ethan. But Victoria isn’t letting go of him, even when they are standing up. There are tears drying on his cheek while he watches how Ethan’s boyfriend goes to him, hugs him and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, Damiano puts his arm around him, and Ethan looks at him. Thomas’ eyes are closed when Ethan comes to him, he’s sure he makes a pathetic noise when Ethan wipes a stray tear away from his cheek with his thumb, kisses him on the forehead, and then he hugs him. Slowly Thomas lets go of Vic’s hand and his nails are digging into Ethan’s back. Ethan gives him the book he read out of earlier on stage.

Poetry Dies Last - Ethan Torchio

When he looks over Ethan’s shoulder he can see how Ethan’s boyfriend looks at him sceptically.

But he comes over and gives him a quick hug as well, his voice dangerously close to his ear: “I don’t like it but I guess I have to live with you.”

.#####.

Monday afternoon he takes Cinnamon and leaves the house without saying a word and a drive later he finds himself at the beach again.

He waits, again. There’s hope that he can’t quite explain, he’s haunted with it. There’s love he hasn’t felt in a while somewhere under all the pain. He’s only going backwards it seems. Cinnamon next to him howls at the waves when she thinks they are coming too close to him.

You don’t come to see him. 

His bare feet are resting in the sand that is cooling down from the heat of the day.

There’s something Ethan quoted once he has to think about: I want nothing. I just want the emptiness to mean something.⁴

Thomas thinks he still knows how ice cream tastes off your lips.

.#####.

Tuesday he’s back in the same spot. He stays longer this time, darkness engulfing him. He’s alone this time but he can see the lights of a small port somewhere in the distance. 

Even when you don’t come he knows the lights will still always be there. Somewhere far away but still there for him to see. He would like to know what you’re up to, how you’re doing, where you are. If your dog is in your lap. He wanted to have forgotten you by now but he’s still sitting at your beach waiting for you. 

It’s easier during the day, when it’s light outside. But now it’s dark and the sea is whispering your name. He wonders if you’re still thinking about him like he thinks about you but he’s certain that you’re far from that. The only thing he ever wanted was someone to see the mess he is and despite everything find him worthy to be loved. You and Ethan to love him anyway.

It pains him how much he thinks about you. How much seeing you turned his world upside down again. 

Thomas lights himself a cigarette. A cigarette he stole from Ethan earlier in the day, an old habit resurfacing again. The first drag of the cigarette feels and tastes weird on his tongue but by the third it feels pleasant. He hasn’t smoked in five years. Something his new partner encouraged and wanted, and he just gave in. Too many bad memories of people handling him without care, too scared that love turns into something else.

The lights are brighter than he remembers. And you're gone, forgetting him and kissing someone somewhere else.

.#####.

Early on Wednesday before she even wakes up, he takes Cinnamon and drives back to the beach. Maybe, that little bit of hope tells him, he’s only there at the wrong time. He gets himself breakfast and a coffee, planning to get his beer and his fries later in the day. The dog jumps around his legs when they’re walking along the shoreline. Running after a toy he throws and bringing it back to him, jumping up to encourage him to run with her.

He’s out of breath when he sits down but he has a small smile on his face. It slowly drops off his face when there’s a new text on his phone.

Where are you? Are you ok?

He thinks about his new relationship, that he changed. That he’s bored with everything and has a boring life with boring sex which feels more like a chore than a blessing and with a relationship that only gives him the feeling to not be alone. He still has his bar that brings him joy and playing live which he always loved the most in his life but everyone around him moved on.

Sometimes Vic would sit next to him, head on his shoulder, and say: “I know you grew up but … I miss my Thom.”

He doesn’t want to be that person, boring, bitter and closed off. And he isn’t, he can’t. He can’t let people from the past win over him like this. People who hurt him, people who scared him, people who abused him. Thomas learned that he has to let certain things go, that they are weighing on him too heavily but he still can’t let go of everything. The sand of the beach passes through his fingers. Maybe the longing for something more is his way of surviving. 

Thomas would smile one of his silly smiles. But Vic would elbow him and tell him not to fake it. Not for her. He would feel bad about it for a few moments and Vic would manage to put Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide on, take his hand and dance around with him wherever they were.

On these days he would be himself, feel like he was still 21. Go party with Vic during the night, drink, dance on tables, feel free and like how it’s supposed to be. He would come home late or rather early in the morning, would lay down next to her and think about how much he misses your warmth and Ethan’s lips that would press against his neck.

When he comes back home during the depths of the night he takes the notebook out of the box again. 

“I exist in two places, here and where you are.”⁵ 

He feels exactly like this quote you wrote down in Ethan’s and your collection of poetry quotes years ago. He wonders if you were thinking about him then.

.#####.

He takes Ethan’s poetry book he pressed into Thomas’ sweaty hands the other day. It’s already Thursday but he still goes back to the beach, she looks at him worried when he takes his keys. 

He was never an avid reader, the complete opposite to Ethan, but he wants to know what has been written even when the tears will drip down onto the pages later.

For: The ceiling full of stars.

There’s a handwritten note Ethan wrote on the page in red ink. 

“I won’t say it wasn’t meant to be, because it was. We were. Only for a short while, maybe. But we were.” - Unknown

Hearts are so easily broken. And I’m sorry, I still go to bed in one of your old t-shirts you forgot at mine sometimes. There’s still songs I put on playlists for you. Playlists full of songs I like because you loved them first. Everything sticks with you in certain ways even if the people don’t and people feel about you the same. I can’t make it sound poetic but the door will always be open if you ever feel like coming home.

Ethan

He didn’t expect the tears to come so easily or so fast but they are. It meant something is the only thing he can think about. 

He’s a shaking mess when he turns to the last page hours later.

I love(d) quite passionately, and always with a hint of tragedy.⁶ 

He almost skips the acknowledgement segment at the end of the book. But his name being first on the page catches his eye. Yours right under his makes his stomach turn.

We could have been okay.

And only then there’s Vic and Damiano getting their thanks.

He’s still sitting in the sand and hoping. It’s time to get his cold beer and fries that are dripping with grease. On the way he thinks about the time Vic told him that she saw you, breaking down in her arms, when he left for Los Angeles with a person that wasn’t good for him and he noticed too late, everyone did. How Vic told him only years later, he thought he wouldn’t forgive her but the one he can’t forgive is only himself.

He wishes he wouldn’t have turned around that day, that maybe he wouldn’t have moved, that things would be different now.

The thought that Vic was right, she’ll break your heart, Thomas. How he has been to hell and back and how he would still say it was wonderful.

.#####.

It feels unreal that it is already Friday again. It’s almost a week since he has seen you. His guitar is on his lap. 

This morning he gave her a kiss and she smiled at him. Tired but happy to still have him there. He felt exhausted. Exhausted from looking for something from someone he knows can’t give him what he needs. Deep down he knows she’s hurting too but she still makes him breakfast and sends him off with another kiss.

“Is he okay?”

He hears Damiano ask. And he hears Vic’s worried voice too. They talk about him as if he isn’t there.

“I think he saw her,” Ethan says, “he mentioned something the other day.”

Later he leaves without saying goodbye, only taking the pack of cigarettes out of Ethan’s leather jacket. He wonders if Ethan knows that he started again, or if she can smell it on him when he comes home and lays down next to her in bed.

And then he's back at the beach. He took the notebook with him and his guitar. He has his beer and his fries and the taste of cigarettes that feels comforting to him in a way he doesn’t understand. He flicks through the pages thinking that it might inspire something heart-wrenching in him.

“And I’ll never see you again, if I can help it In five years, I hope the songs feel like covers Dedicated to new lovers”⁷

They don’t and when he picks up his guitar later, he still thinks about you instead of the woman waiting for him in his bed.

There’s a ripped out page in the notebook and Thomas swears to himself that tomorrow is the last day he will wait.

.#####.

It’s Saturday, the sun is about to go under. His bottle of beer is empty, fries are eaten and he knows he should go home, leave this place behind once again.

Thomas sees your naked feet in the sand when he wants to give up, sandals in your hand, before he sees into your face.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You came.”

“Yes, did you wait?”

“Hope was stronger than not coming back, I guess.” You nod and then you sit down, next to him, close to him. Like he dreamt of every night this week. He looks down and takes his empties. “I have to get something, will you wait?”

Another nod.

Thomas goes to get another beer, more fries and a Sprite for you. There’s six cans of Sprite in his fridge from this week, just because he knows it would have been your drink of choice on a warm day while he can’t stand the taste. For some reason he didn’t take one earlier.

The guy looks at him annoyed: “Only drinks, sorry, I am already closed.”

“Please!” He fishes a 50 euro note out of his wallet.

“Give me ten minutes.” There’s a sigh and a slight shake of the head but the guy still takes his money. “Some large fries with ketchup and mayo, a beer, and … A sprite?”

Thomas nods. He’s nervous. Nervous that you’re gone before he’s back, that you already left, that you realised you made a mistake coming to see him. But when he’s coming back you’re still sitting where he left you. He sits down next to you in the sand and he hands you the fries and the can of Sprite.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For old times sake,” he says and you put your head down on his shoulder. It’s a little bit heartbreaking. A sentiment reserved for old lovers. For something that used to be but isn’t making it any smaller.

He takes a swig of his beer. It feels like you never have been strangers, not even for a second, it feels like you have been here with him for the whole way. 

“I miss you!”

“I miss you too,” you say, “both of you.”

“It’s too late … right?” He has to ask even when he knows what the answer is and that he doesn’t want to hear any of it. 

You twist the ring on your finger. It’s your wedding anniversary, you shouldn’t be here.

“Yes.”

Six years - he’s six years too late.

“We could just stay here.” He says regardless. “We could just leave, move somewhere close to the ocean and we could just live.”

He knows he’s building castles out of sand but he doesn’t want to stop, not for the moment.

“Sounds like a dream.”

“Can we just disappear?”

You’re holding his hand and your voice sounds tired: "Stop giving me always just that little bit of hope to stay. It hurts so much more, Thomas."

“We could just stay here.”

You aren’t letting go of his hand, you’re still holding it in yours. Maybe there are only endings after the first, everything ends because nothing is endless. Your head is still on his shoulders, he smokes, there’s tears again. And so many memories between you. 

“I’m glad you’re in Rome.”

“There’s a reason why Rome rhymes with home.”

You laugh at his stupid joke, like you always did.

“I want you to be happy, Thom.”

“It meant something, right?”

You sit up and you move the hand that isn’t holding his to his cheek. 

“It meant something, caro. Of course it did.”

Thomas doesn’t expect it and he can’t stop the whimper falling from his lips when you kiss him. He tastes like years ago. But you can’t shake the feeling that he tastes bitter underneath all the sweetness, the promises and the cigarette smoke. Under the surface it’s bitterness and lost chances. Another lifetime. It doesn’t stop you from leaning in to him and to deepen the kiss for how long it takes.

“I will stay,” Thomas says. Still a little breathless.

“I’ll leave,” you say, “And, Thomas? I love you. I’ll have to live with that. And you’ll have to make peace with everything else.”

“I wish it would be different.”

“I know,” you get up - there’s a last kiss to his lips and one to his cheek. A thumb that wipes a tear away once again. “Say hi to Ethan from me when you see him.”

And then you leave. Leaving him in the sand with castles he made out of air. And a ripped out page that has seen better days. 

“Maybe I’ll see you in another life If this one wasn’t enough So much time on the other side”⁸

Is what you have written down. And when he turns it he sees Ethan’s handwriting.

“Missing and silence. Isn’t that enough?”

He could just walk into the water. Wait for everything to go black. And maybe someone would kiss him again. Like all those years ago, after the feeling of drowning. Someone laughing next to him. 

He could and that scares him the most but he just sits there in silence.

“Thank you for stopping by all those years ago and for tonight.”

.#####.

END.

.#####.

For everyone who needs the real and actual happy ending now here you go: “All my friends told me you’d break my heart.”

Let the devil be my witness

Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist

.#####.

Poetry & lyrics used:

¹ The Uses of Sorrow | Mary Oliver

² Elegy for the Four Chambers of My Brother’s Heart | Steven Espada Dawson

³ Flare | Mary Oliver

⁴ The Complete Short Stories (Scribner, 1987) | Ernest Hemingway

⁵ Selected Poems, 1965-1975 | Margaret Atwood

⁶ Not a direct quote but inspired by this clearly: Letters to Sartre | Simone de Beauvoir

⁷ Night Shift  Lucy Dacus

⁸ How Big, How Blue, How Beatiful | Florence + The Machine

.#####.

The phone falls down on his face. He groans again.

Maybe it was a dream, he thinks. The dream he had, had you starring in it as well but he's certain, he was dreaming about something else. He'll just live the day, or again, he's not sure yet.

The first thing on his to-do-list is walking to the band practice room to get one of his guitars, he needs at home, for a song idea he wants to work on, but last time he forgot to take it home. For some reason, he can't find it - maybe he's just not seeing the forest for the trees. If he likes it or not, he has to call Ethan again. Luckily Ethan can tell him exactly where it is, he asks him if he can do something for him but when he picks it up, something is falling out of the pocket of his jacket. He doesn't notice, it's rolling down to where Ethan's hoodie is laying on the floor.

The next stop after dropping his guitar off, is the local supermarket and a tiny wine shop. He gets everything he wants. Some good bottles of wine, some cheese and quince. He gets everything to make a lasagna - ticks everything off on his list he made before. He has a basic understanding of how to make a lasagna, has his nonna seen it make often enough, but otherwise he has to admit that his cooking skills aren't the best. Or better - not existent. The only way to survive is frozen lasagna, maybe he should be more ashamed of it but he could probably tell all of them apart, he has eaten them too many times. But tonight, he wants everything to be perfect, perhaps he even wants to impress, and he wants to make it himself. The only other thing he gets is some chocolates, they are shaped liked little eyeballs, bones, bats and vampires - he knows that you'll love them and it's a better option than flowers. He walks through the isle with the candles debating with himself. Is it too much, or not? He sighs and picks them up after all. It really has to be perfect, tonight he finally wants to ask for a date. A real date - more than your weekly movie night. A movie night you even have when he isn't in town, he always tries to make it work.

Victoria is calling him when he's in the wine shop but he doesn't pick up. He's having a conversation with the owner, picking wine and he knows that Vic will call him again if it was important. Vic was the one who was shaking his shoulders a few weeks back, told him that she can't kick his ass more anymore. That's why he's kicking his own ass now. Somehow this all feels familar.

Home he immediately starts cooking, chopping his ingredients, reading through the recipe again. It all works almost too good, until it doesn't anymore. He has pots on the stove and thinks he can do something else during that time, making his living room cozy, spreads the candles out, gets wine glasses. The smell of food is delicious, until it isn't. It smells burned, it is burnt. His sauce sticking to the pan. He wants to cry - of course he had to ruin it.

It wasn't on his list to go out again or to buy dinner somewhere, now there's no other choice. Sighing he takes his keys and goes out again. Finally he has everything when he's back. But now there's another problem - you should be at his place in a few minutes. And to Thomas' horror, you are.

You're standing in front of him in your witch costume. Thomas is standing there in his normal clothes he was wearing the whole day, he wants to bang his head against the wall next to him. Disappointment is what he's seeing in your face, your smile a tiny bit fading.

"Where's your costume?"

"I'm a music lover," he points to his guitar that's leaning against the wall. He's in a bandshirt and jeans - it's stupid.

"Thomas? You look like this everytime I see you."

"Sorry."

Great, nothing isn't going to plan right now. It makes him want to tear his hair out. You do him the favour and don't mention it anymore. Thomas marvels over your costume, he genuinely loves it, the black dress - the make up. Especially the hat, he is in love with the hat. Thomas can see how you're taking it off your head and is putting it on his own, he smiles.

The evening goes great after the start. He sees your eyes going wider when you're seeing all the candles. It makes his heart beat faster. Dinner is perfect, you're both laying on the couch satisfied and wine drunk. Mullholland Drive playing. He's happy - and cuddly. He's definitely cuddly, but so are you. Your arms are around his middle, your head on his chest. Thomas puts his chin on your head. He loves cuddling with you; content, loving, joyful and so much trust. His arms sneak around your middle, he can hear you hum.

"I'm in a time loop," it simply bubbles out of him.

You look at him and laugh, what a funny joke. He can't laugh, it's not funny to him.

"Do you have a pen?"

Thomas looks for the pen he had in his jacket earlier, but he can't find it, it's gone.

The ringing door bell is interrupting. He knows it's just some kids asking for sweets, in some toothrooting cute costumes, looking at him with big eyes. He loves it, but he loves cuddling with you on the sofa more. He doesn't want to get up for anything, you're always getting affectionate and he almost gets clingy when drunk, it's the perfect combination. You both ignore the door.

"Want to watch another movie?"

"Yes, please." It's a faint mumble against his shirt.

"I also have dessert!"

He wasn't planning on it but when he got out to buy dinner because he ruined the lasagna experiment, he couldn't resist the tiramisu or the raspberry panna cotta. He still doesn't want to get up but he has to pee and some things he can't ignore. Both of you are sitting on the floor to eat. Laughing loudly, feeding each other from the others spoon. Thomas getting some of your sweet panna cotta - he wonders how it would taste from your lips. You getting some of Thomas' tiramisu. It's the perfect moment, he knows. But then some things happen at once. Some panna cotta sliding down your spoon. Thomas in turn is close to knocking over a candle, almost setting himself on fire. He startles, the witche's hat falling down from his head, actually catching fire. Luckily you can put it out quickly. But the moment is gone, Thomas knows. He desperately needs a cigarette.

Later when you're sitting on the couch again, you cuddled close to him, he clears his throat.

"Do you think we're friends in every universe?"

The look you're giving him, has him melt: "Yes! There's no universe where I could live without you silly boy."

A tiny kiss is pressed to his chin, a yawn following. He's tired as well and it doesn't take long until you both fall asleep, cuddled up together in each others arm.

.#####.

There's a vibrating sound next to his head. He's in his bed. Blindly he's fumbling for his phone.

Good morning, Sunshine

He groans, turns and the phone drops on his face. It wasn't a bad dream then, or a joke. It's still the 31st of October, still Halloween. Or rather, again.

This time he gives up at the beginning of the day already. Just take defeat, he's telling himself. He cancels, says he's feeling sickly and goes back to sleep. If there's nothing that he's doing wrong because he's doing nothing, this might end. It's the only Halloween night he's skipping on you.

.#####.

Good morning, Sunshine

"For fucks sake!" Thomas groans. The phone is dropping down on his face.

.######.

Good morning, Sunshine

The phone drops down.

Day 36 of Halloween. He went through the day 36 times, he didn't change anything, he did everything the same. It's time to change some things up or maybe learn some new thing, upskill himself. Chuckling to himself, he picks up his keys and walks to the practice room but instead of picking up his guitar, he wents for Ethan's drum sticks and then he plays, there's enough YouTube tutorials out there. In the evening, he picks up food and comes home just before you are at the door. The cuddling is his favourite part of the day, like it was 36 days before already.

He spends five years with learning the drums, 1825 days, he didn't knew he could be this purposeful just to be annoying. He chuckles, he can't wait to see Ethan's face.

.#####.

After he tries to somehow turn around the evening, there's a few things he knows have to go differently. The first time he tries it without candles, he isn't buying them. It doesn't look as cozy, maybe the reason why the cuddling isn't as cuddly. Thomas doesn't like it, and in the end it doesn't even work. Instead of the candle, he's knocking over his tiramisu which lands on his jeans and almost smashes his elbow into your face. Not successful, he writes it down.

Then he tries it with candles but without the desserts. It doesn't work, the witche's hat is still catching fire. Another day, another chance. He puts the candles everywhere but on the table where you're eating, it still doesn't work - the tiramisu lands on his jeans again. He tries no candles, no desserts and he isn't in costume - definitely the worst day until now. He tries ordering food, still not working. The lasagna has to work, he figures out. And he has time to make it work, he learned how to play the drums - he can learn to cook. There's several things going wrong at first. Burnt pasta, burnt sauce, he uses sugar instead of salt, one time he can't figure out what went wrong but it tastes terrible. Horrible, not eatable. On the side, he learns to cook other things as well, it gets easier and tastier with every day.

It's day 2500 of Halloween. The lasagna turned out perfect, he even made some desserts himself.

"This is soooo good, Thomas."

He's proud of himself, a little to proud. He's so excited, wanting to hug you, that he himself almost catches fire.

Trying it again the next day, he gets his compliments again but contains his excitement this time.

"I made desserts as well, you want some?"

"Yes, but can we share. I have date for breakfast tomorrow with this guy I met. But, god, Thomas, this is so good. When did you learn to cook?"

He doesn't answer. Date. It makes him sad, not how he wanted this to go. The witche's hat still catches fire. He isn't saying anything until you're back on the sofa.

"I'm in a time loop, that's when I learned to cook." Thomas wants you to believe him, badly. You just smile at him amused.

"Do you have a pen?"

He hasn't. Where on earth did he lose it?

"Could we. . .cuddle?"

"Sure."

He cuddles closer - he needs touch, his hair played with, soft kisses on his forehead. Who knows, how long he's still getting them. He's sure, he will wake up on the 1st of November when he falls asleep.

.######.

Good morning, Sunshine

He couldn't be happier about his phone dropping on his nose, he's getting another chance at this. Now he can't blow it, it has to work. There are things he's overlooking. He's going back to the start. By now, he knows where his guitar is but he still calls Ethan, he wants to ask him something.

"What would you do if you were stuck in a time loop?"

"Learn the guitar just so you can't be that annoying about it anymore."

He smiles, maybe Ethan and him aren't that different in the end.

"And when you already learned the guitar?"

"Maybe I would go to a fortune teller? Maybe they would know how to get out of it?"

Could be a good idea, he has to find a fortune teller, usually he wouldn't play into it but he's already stuck in a time loop, there's something weird going on.

"Oh, and Thomas? Could you please take my hoodie with you?"

He does, and under it, he finds his pen. Another mystery solved.

.#####.

The next day he spends with finding a fortune teller - he's lucky. He finds someone with a little shop, in an alley he has never seen before, or heard of. He shrugs.

It's a tiny house, the woman who answers the door - a tiny woman who reminds him of Vic - she barely reaches Thomas' nipples. He has to pull his head down to fit through the door frame, he feels like a giraffe in a doll house. Even the tea cup he gets is tiny, he is afraid to break it between his huge hands.

"I waited for you," she says.

Oh.

"I don't know what to do," Thomas says, "How do I get out of this time loop? What am I doing wrong, I can't figure it out."

She smiles at him, sadly: "I can't help you with what to do, you have to figure out how your future is going to be the future you want yourself. What I can show you however, is how it will look like if you don't figure it out and how it looks like when you do figure it out. You have a bit more time. Which Halloween are you on?"

"Day …" he thinks for a second, "Day 3321."

"Don't go over day 5000, my dear!" It's a warning - he'll write it down later.

"Close your eyes," she takes his shaking hand - he doesn't know what to expect. "Come with me."

They aren't going anywhere, his head just spins and then they are standing on a foggy graveyard. There's a hunched over figure standing in front of a grave, the man is old but he looks familar. A reflection he knows, he'll see in the mirror one day.

"Is that … me?"

It is, he's stepping closer. Has a closer look at the tombstone.

"No, no, no."

The lady takes his hand again, squeezes it: "You are both old, it's gonna happen to the future version of yourself soon as well."

There's your name engraved on it, but you're having another last name. It isn't ringing a bell.

"What happened?"

"They went to their date the next morning, it was on and off and then they married seven years after meeting, till death do us part." She looks at his face. "They stayed together. You only told her when it was too late, just before you ended here."

"What did she say?"

"I can't tell you."

"What?" The scene crumbles in front of his inner eye. "No, no. Please tell me, I have to know."

They're sitting in the tiny house again. And then he's somewhere else. It looks like his flat, but it isn't. It's new, but it is his flat, he's sure - there are photos scattered around. Halloween decorations up, he gets caught in a fake spider web.

He can see himself again, he also sees you. You are both in costumes, you're leaving a kiss on his nose. His future self blushes slightly, he's sure he blushes as well right now, he can feel his cheeks heating up.

"Why do you love Halloween so much again?" Future Thomas asks.

"You know exactly why." There's another kiss, on the corner of his lips. A hand on his cheek, he can spot a wedding ring on your finger.

"But I want to hear it again." He can still make puppy eyes and pout.

Before there's an answer, the picture is gone and holds the tiny tea cup in his hands again. The tea is cold.

"What happened?"

"I can't kick your ass more," she says - it reminds him of Vic again, "You have to do that yourself now. I showed you two versions, I can't tell you if the second one is the one you want, but I could show you that the first one shouldn't be an option."

He leaves the tiny woman with the tiny house behind, he won't see them again, he's sure. He has to figure this out. He has to.

.#####.

He goes over his notes again. The cooking works, his lasagna is perfect by now, better than Damiano's, maybe even better than his nonna's. He can tick it off his list. The candles have to stay, he tried only fairylights but it still turned out wrong, fairylights and candles - perfect. He ticks it off his list as well.

He needs a costume, he figures. The times before he didn't have time because the things before didn't work, now they are. Another thing he figured out and he has time to dress at everything he wants to. Thomas is taking photos every evening, just for fun. You both making silly faces, but his favourite is always the one where you kiss his nose and he has a huge smile plastered all over his face.

The costumes range from weird to sexy - at least he has to say so when he looks in the mirror - to everything in-between.

First evening, he goes for a costume, he's going as Medusa, exactly like he planned for the Halloween when all of this started. Their make-up artist helped him to come up with some look weeks before, one he could easily recreate himself. It's black, golden and with a touch of green, it looks good on him. A crown of golden snakes on his head. He wears a black lace body that's holding together behind his neck, a big golden belt, a golden cape and a wavy dark green skirt that reveals most of his legs. He wears golden heels with it, he has to laugh, it's not like he isn't used to a heeled boot by now but this are high heels and he has problems to keep his balance. He can take them off later, he tells himself.

"This is stunning," Thomas hears when he opens the door. "Like what the fuck? This looks so good on you, I'm in love."

He blushes.

Then more costumes follow, it's fun. He goes as a priest which has you gasp a little bit. Cher from Clueless which also has you gasp. A witch - which is funny because you're matching, you're both laughing. Tony Montana, he has to show his affection for his favourite film - you're just shaking your head at him. A devil - a witch and a devil is a good match you decide together. He dresses up as a vampire - still a good match and you're having the time of your life with the fake blood Thomas bought for it. The next day he's a bat - That is too cute, look at your little wings flapping. He dresses as Daphne, then the next day as Shaggy - it has you watching Scooby Doo together, cuddled close on his sofa. He dresses like Audrey Hepburn in a Roman Holiday, a fun costume - and you are having fun playing with the neckerchief around his neck, he swallows when you kiss him there, his adam's apple bobbing. He tries going as David Bowie - it works but isn't his favourite. Cruella de Vile from 101 Dalmatians which sends you down a rabbit hole of childhood memories and kid's movies. Another day he's a plague doctor, the mask not really being convenient or comfortable to wear, you laugh at him most of the evening, the beak gets stuck in your hair when you two hug. He dresses as the past decades from 1920 to the future, it's a fun project for a few days. Then he goes as a spaghetti which has you giggle and screaming, it is funny he has to admit. The next day he's Jack Skellington, as always these days he's looking for a make up tutorial on YouTube, it works out better than he thought but when you kisses his nose for a photo the white make up sticks to your lips, it adds to your witch costume he says. Then he goes as shrimp, he's making fun of himself - it has you giggling again. He has a silly idea for an alien costume, green and silver, too much make up in his face, he has his own built ufo around his hips. One day he's too lazy and he shows up as a pool boy at the door, it was just something silly but he can see your face when you see him, eyes lightening up - when he has to be honest, he wanted to show himself a little bit, it's not like a lot of clothes are covering him - he's only in his scantiest pair of swim shorts, a sunhat, sunglasses and has a landing net - he can see you staring, he loves it. Cuddling is an experience that evening, he's close to drag you into his lap but he doesn't. The next day he's more in the mood and dresses as the universe - it's silly again - little planets and stars sticking out of him. One day he goes for Britney Spears and laughs to himself, Damiano would love it, but so do you, it's the Hit me baby one more time version and he can see - or maybe he imagines it - how your gaze is lingering on his tummy in the crop top.

In the Britney costume, it finally happens, gets him back to concentrate on what this is about. Your both drunk on wine, cuddling together, your head on his stomach. You blow on it and he shivers. After the horror film you watched, he turns on Groundhog Day. He takes notes on his phone.

Don't try the dying thing.

Thomas sees you looking at him, then back at his phone: "Yes, please don't try that, I still need you. What are you doing anyways, why are you taking weird notes? Why are we watching this even instead of a Halloween appropriate film?"

"I'm in a time loop. I'm trying to get out of it, I don't know how."

"You're silly." He hears you laugh again. "Do you have pen?"

This time, he has a pen. He took it every day but the question was never asked again, because he didn't bring up that he's in a time loop again. He's an idiot. When he's giving the pen to you, you are taking his hand and doodling a little bat on it, it's eyes are hearts.

"When you're still in it tomorrow, you have to tell me that you're still in it and give me the pen. Maybe I'll believe you when I see it's already there."

The next day, he does everything the same as the day before. When you take his hand, he can see you startle. The bat with the heart eyes is still there.

"How? What?" He sees the confusion on your face. "This is a joke you're pulling on me, right?"

"No!"

Your look at the bat looks unsure, he can tell. He takes the pen, takes your hand and writes See you tonight, my little witch on the palm of your hand.

The next day, when he opens the door, he can see confusion on your face already.

"How did you put this on my hand?" More confusion. "And how did you know, I'm going as a witch."

They have the same conversation again. There's a bat on his hand, still.

"So, it's true?"

"Yes. I'm stuck here." - But at least I see you every night.

"Sorry, I didn't believe you." Then your gaze is turning sad. "I missed so many Halloween movie nights with you? I can't remember them."

He goes for his phone, he hopes the photos are still on his phone. His costumes are always gone when he wakes up again. But they are still there. He shows them to you.

"I missed all that?"

Thomas tells little stories from every evening, how he learned to cook, how the witche's hat always caught fire, how he's still excited when you taste his homemade lasagna the first time. How he learned the drums, countless movies you watched.

"How many times are we going to keep meeting like this?" You are asking him.

Until it ends, he isn't saying it. He doesn't want it to end, he's running out of time. He has a little less than two years worth of days left. There's a pumpkin on his hand, next to his bat, the next morning - the phone still drops down on his face, he isn't figuring it out.

.#####.

He ends up telling you every night, you believe him now. He can see the difference, but he can also see that you're sad that you can't remember. Sometimes, after a few weeks, he gets you to the point where you do remember things. There are more doodles turning up on his hand, his wrist, his arm. A little pumpkin, devil's horns, a ghost that smiles, a witche's hat, a cauldron, a glass sphere, a tarot card. But the favourite stays the little bat with the heart eyes - he wants to have it tattoed.

"Can we do something else tomorrow?"

"How do you mean?" He could use a distraction from trying to figuring this out.

"I guess, this gets boring? Doing this over and over again." His hair is being played with, he purrs. "We wanted to go this autumn festival, you remember? We could do this, just write me in the morning and we can go there."

Sounds like the perfect distraction. He's still doing something wrong in the usual day. He should try opening the door when the door bell rings next. But first you have some other plans.

You fall asleep before him. He cards his fingers through your hair, the moon illuminating your face, it's beautiful. He craves touch, wants to pull you closer when you kiss, bury his hands into your hair. Wants to hold your hand when walking down the streets, he wants to feel warm when hugging and cuddling. He hides his face in your neck, then he falls asleep as well.

.#####.

Good morning, Sunshine

He changes plans, they are meeting at the the little festival instead. Before he gets up to get ready, his phone drops on his nose. Today he's going as a scarecrow, he thinks it's fitting and he looks funny.

The festival is a full success. It's fun. Everywhere you two step, it smells like caramel apples and cinnamon, sweet crisp air, Thomas even dares to take your hand. His nose turning red, he says it's the cold.

They go apple picking, his long arms being an advantage, some of them he can just pick out of the tree. While you're sitting in the tree, he gets you down and it would be the perfect time to kiss, he thinks. He doesn't dare to do it. He should learn how to bake an apple tarte. There's bobbing for apples as well, he looks silly, his fringe getting wet but he's having too much fun to care - the best thing is that you're holding his hand and not letting go until he's finished.

He tries to carve a bat into his pumpkin but he isn't good as carving, absolutely not. Yours however looks great, a scary face carved into it. It has sharp teeth devilish eyes and looks like it could chase after someone in a horror movie. There's a walk through the forest, drinking wine and cider, both cold and hot. And you're sharing cotton candy that is way too sweet, sticking to his lips and once again he's asking himself how it would taste on your lips.

The last thing, you're going to do, is a little stand where you have to shoot cans. You start and you aren't particulary good at it. He can hear the disappointed noise you make.

"You okay?"

"Yes," it should be assuring but Thomas' sees your gaze fixed on something, "It's childish, don't worry."

"It's not. You say it like it's a bad thing, but I can see you eyeing that gigantic bat plush. Don't kid yourself."

He goes for it, and he wins. It's childish joy he sees on your face when he points at the huge bat and puts it into your arms, there's a kiss left on his cheek. He takes photos of you and the bat, of all three of you together. It's not like the bat will stay, sadly.

"Can we fly kites tomorrow?"

.#####.

He is flying kites with you, it's fun and at the end of the day, you are both laying in the cold grass. You're in Thomas' yellow checkered flannel, he gave to you earlier. He loves seeing you in his clothes, he decides.

Another day, you are having a picnic in one corner of his living room. Snuggled together, eating apple tarte he figured out to make - it didn't take him too long, some risotto, and listening to Thomas' vinyls. It's nice, your head in his lap. Thomas' head on your stomach.

Yet another day, he has the idea that he wants to roast marshmallows on his balcony. You do, it's funny and some marshmallows end up burnt. Some of them down on the street, almost raining down on people. When they look up, you hide together - pulling your heads down - close to each other. It's joyful.

There's a lot more you did and one thing he still wants to do but then he has to go back to the actual day. He can't be in this forever, the days he has are limited.

The last thing, is going to a haunted house. You almost jump into his arms when a fake spidernet is grazing your arm, Thomas is enjoying it. But you're the last one who's laughing when Thomas clings to you, when he's scared of a skeleton that floats down the wall. In front of the building is an enormous pile of leaves. Thomas eyes it - it looks inviting, he never did it but when is he seeing such a pile of leaves ever again? Never. He takes your hand and then you both jump. It's satisfactory, he feels like a child, and that you're next to him makes it even better. He gets out of the pile, he can here the You’ve got leaves in your hair but it isn't getting registered until you pick the leaves out of his hair.

He could do this forever. But he isn't getting another chance than this, he wants to get it right.

.#####.

Good morning, Sunshine

The phone drops down on his face. He sighs.

He gets dressed as Medusa again, it was the original costume, it has to be the end. This time, he opens when the door bell is ringing, with you in tow. There's a small group of children with two woman behind them in the background. He startles when he sees it's the fortune teller that still reminds him of Vic. She winks at him.

"That's a pretty costume," the other woman says to him.

"Yes, it is." He can feel your arm sneaking around his waist, "and this pretty boy is with me!"

There's silence. It takes Thomas a moment before he gets it: "Oh, I'm pretty boy?"

"Yes, you are!" A kiss is left on his cheek, he's blushing. One of the girls makes a sound that sounds like she's disgusted by the show of affection while one of the boys gasps looking up at him. "The prettiest!"

"What a pretty couple you make." The fortune teller says.

"We …" There's a deep breath, "We are not, just friends."

"Maybe you should think about it then."

And then they are gone.

.#####.

Good morning, Sunshine

It didn't work, he wants to throw his phone against the wall but once again it ends up falling down on his face. Great, it's one of the last days he has. If not the last - it's most likely the last. He doesn't want to think about it.

He goes through everything again. From the morning, he goes to pick up his guitar, gets the pen - it's not really needed anymore but the doodling became a ritual, he even calls Ethan - it's nice to hear his voice.

Then his next stop are the local supermarket, he gets everything for his lasagna, some shaped chocolates, candles. A woman is staring at the doodles on his arm and hand. Then the next stop his local wine shop, gets some good bottles of wine. He talks to the owner when his phone rings.

Oh.

This time, he picks it up. It's Vic.

"Just wanted to remind you, that you can do it," she says, "I believe in you, caro. You'll ask for a date and it'll be the best evening for both of you."

"Thank you, Vic." Maybe he needs someone hyping him up - he still needs her to kick his ass. "I could spent 4999 Halloween nights like this, I know all of them would be perfect."

Vic sighs: "You should tell her then, you bastard."

He prepares his lasagna, then his desserts. All tastes good. So good until now. His Medusa costume is ready, his make up looks great. You're eating together, opening the door for the trick and treaters. He's giving you the pen again after telling you that he's stuck in a time loop. You know now, there's no reminder needed anymore, you just can't remember what happened the days before, you take the pen out of his hand. There's no new doodle this time, now there's an I love you written down in the wings of the bat. He wants to cry. He's getting the desserts and you are saying something about your date the next day.

"Are you okay?"

"I i was sort of … hoping you needed me." He looks at you "That is selfish, right?"

"Thomas, can you look at me?" He does, he does look, even he doesn't want to, "I'll always need you, okay?"

He nods, he can't do more. The words are getting stuck in his throat, he says something else instead, it feels right to say them. Victoria told him to say it.

"I could spend another 4999 Halloween nights with you."

He gets a forehead kiss.

Cuddled together, you both fall asleep hours later. The Muppet Haunted Mansion film is playing in the background.

.#####.

"Good morning, Sunshine."

He fucked it up - he knows. Thomas groans. It feels like someone is sitting on his chest, his neck hurts, his mouth is dry and he's tired. He just woke up. He fumbles for his phone and then he startles. He didn't read a text, your voice woke him up. You're cuddled up in his arms. You look at him.

Now he gets his phone to check the date. It's the 1st of November, you're still in his arms. He doesn't know what's going on. It drops down on his nose. 5000 days his poor nose had to go through this.

"Your date," he says, "You're a late."

"No, I cancelled it yesterday." You're smiling at him, kissing his nose.

"Why?"

"The woman who said, I should think about it, I did." He can see you swallow. "And … you said, you would spent another 4999 Halloween movie nights with me and … I would love that too. I don't need anyone else. I'm just sad, I don't remember them."

"Do you think, we could also be lovers in every universe?" Thomas whispers against your lips, you're both shivering. It's so intimate - he made it.

"I think, we already are."

Thomas laughs and giggles, he's so happy.

"That's my favourite sound." He's still getting hugged. "I won't stop hugging you until I get my kiss!"

Floating. That's how it feels like, maybe he is floating. It feels like gravity stopped working and he would crash down when you both let go of each other. His whole body tingles, and then something strange happens, it feels like when he was at the fortune teller and she showed him the future. But this is different, he's sharing and transfering his memories with you. He wants you to remember.

It's a magical kiss. Spellbound.

.#####.

END

.#####.

Oh. It’s Valentine's. Which explains why Thomas is up too early for his own good.

“I thought the other two wouldn’t complain about food … but it could still be … romantic.” 

The other two, Vic and Ethan, are laying next to you in Thomas’ bed. Which was one of his only requirements when he looked for a place for himself, a bedroom to put a bed big enough for all of you in there and a roof terrace. Ethan is hugging his pillow and Vic is snoring at his side.

“You’re cute, Thom.”

“Well, knowing all of you, I’m the only one who thought about it,” he says but he still has a smile on his face.

“Maybe.”

You’re smiling as well and yawn before you fall asleep again. Only rummaging around you, is waking you up again. Victoria bickering, Ethan laughing. The clattering of plates against each other, liquid filled into glasses. Thomas’ lips on your forehead.

“Breakfast is ready!”

The bed turned into a minefield to get up, it’s hard not to put your hand somewhere or into something, Ethan has the courtesy to help you while Vic laughs at Thomas’ shoulder and Thomas beams at you. For Thomas’ standards the food looks good, there’s some fruit, some scrambled eggs that only look a little bit off, some absolutely burnt sad looking toast, some pancakes that are only burnt at the edges, some sausages, some cheese and there’s a little heart shaped box of chocolates on everyone’s plate, next to a flower.

“Thank you, caro.” You give him a kiss on the cheek. Vic just rolls her eyes, it’s just another day and Thomas is trying to make everything as special as possible all the time but all of you three know that this day is still important to him. 

Vic and you both know better, but you still try the toast and the scrambled eggs while Ethan sticks to the least burnt pancake and carefully bites into a sausage. The toast isn’t palatable, and it’s hard to swallow, while the eggs are mushy, salty and something else. It’s a taste experience you wish you wouldn’t have had, you’re sure Vic’s face mirrors yours. Thomas is still smiling, so is Ethan who seems to have made the better decision. 

“Please tell me, you also have something to drink for us?” Vic looks at him, grimacing.

“Oh, I forgot, yes. What do you want? Tea, milk, hot chocolate, juice, tomato smoothie, water, champagne?”

Vic and you both flinch at the mention of a tomato smoothie: “Something which makes me forget that I just ate this out of love for you. So maybe give me the champagne, the bottle should do.”

“That was horrible,” Vic says after Thomas skipped out of the room to get drinks. “Please tell me this is edible.”

“It’s not too bad, a bit burnt, a bit sugary, there’s some kind of vanilla in there?” Ethan looks at his plate. “And some … orange juice, I believe? You can eat it though, maybe it would be actually nice without the burnt bits and much less sugar. And the sausages taste like sausages.”

“You already had me at it’s not too bad,” you say, “This was not good for my stomach.”

Thomas is coming back with the bottle of champagne, something that looks suspiciously like the tomato smoothie and something you hope will be juice, normal juice. Vic and you both put the rest of your food on Thomas’ plate, shaking your heads. He pouts but when he looks at the plate he carefully scraps the scrambled eggs to the side. 

“I actually have something as well.” You get yourself out of bed and shudder, it was warm and cozy next to the others in bed and you’re just in your panties and one of Thomas’ shirts. You get the box from your bag and put it down between them. 

Thomas, looks at the box first. It’s in the shape of a heart, you handpainted it with some flowers and little things that remind you of each of them. Then he looks at you wide eyed, excited. Ethan and Victoria are sighing, annoyed. You even catch Victoria how she rolls her eyes at Ethan, who tries not to laugh but he fails when Thomas is squealing.

“God, this will break him.” 

“Thank you!” “You don’t even know what it is yet.” Victoria reminds him.

“And? At least I’m saying thank you,” Thomas says, “Are you gonna say thank you for the breakfast I served you in bed?”

“You want me to say thank you for burnt toa-” You whack Vic over the head and he beams at you. “Thank you, Thomas.”

“Can I open it?”

Thomas opens the box carefully, almost as if he doesn’t want to break it or afraid he will have paint stick to himself again. Like the last time when you painted and he touched it before it was dry.

“Oh no, that’s a never ending box of bullsh-” Vic says when she sees the little envelopes in the box. This time it’s Thomas who whacks her over the head.

“Hey, you can’t read them yet, that’s not how it works.” You lightly slap Thomas’ hand when he greedily wants to open one of the envelopes. “I thought one of you could pick one out of the box every few days?”

“God bless tour life,” Victoria mumbles.

“Maybe we could take some and take them on tour with us?” Thomas looks at you, pleading eyes. “Use them when we want to? And the rest we can pick when we are here?”

“Okay,” you sigh - you can’t say no to the pouting, “I’ll give each of you three for tour, but I’ll give them to you.”

“That sounds great and then we c-”

Victoria interrupts him mid-sentence, slapping his ass. A small yelp comes from Thomas’ lips but nothing else.

“You can talk somewhere else now, caro, like here.” Ethan and you laugh, but Thomas obediently crawls between Vic’s spread legs, his head disappearing under her nightgown. “That’s better.”

Ethan sits behind you, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your shoulders, your neck. There’s no urge for him to do anything else, just leaving soft kisses all over your skin. Meanwhile you can hear Victoria moan, the wet noises Thomas’ tongue makes. Little whimpers coming from him and Vic getting louder. You know Vic is giving him exactly what he needs, she always does. While you often give him everything he wants - and more. You couldn’t just interrupt him in the middle of a sentence, you love him talking, hanging on every word coming from his lips. But he needs it. And Ethan somehow always finds a balance. There’s one more loud moan from Vic and then she lets him go. He looks a bit like a deer in headlights when he’s rolling himself together in your lap not even a minute later, you can see that he’s hard. Ethan is still kissing your neck when you card your fingers through Thomas’ hair. 

“Sleepy.”

“I know, babe, I know.” You press a kiss to Thomas’ forehead, he blinks at you when you put him into Ethan’s arms. “Vic and I are gonna clean up and do the dishes, you can sleep.”

“Your boyfriend has the most talented tongue, almost makes up for that box of horror.” Vic says when you’re both in the kitchen, she is sitting on the counter while you're discarding the scrambled eggs into the bin. “I’m glad that you’re sharing him, and I know Ethan is really grateful for that as well.”

“It’s not like I’m not getting anything out of this,” you smile at her and kiss her. It’s tame but not unpleasant. “And I love seeing Thom with both of you. It’s what he wants, it makes him happy and I am glad that he’s sharing this with me.”

“Do I have to participate in this?” Vic changes the topic.

 “There’s not only romantic stuff in there, also some other things.”

“Please say dirty stuff,” Vic is crossing her fingers, “please say dirty stuff.” 

“If you make the fill out the blank cards dirty then maybe.” 

“Oh god, he will be even more insufferable.” 

“These tokens are Thomas' proof. I’m planning on taking them out before it’s his turn.” 

Victoria grins at you: “So even you have your limits?”

Your answer is just a sigh when Thomas comes barging in, looks at you without saying a word, grabs a bottle of water and then vanishes again without looking back. It’s bizarre, he’s behaving weirdly. Victoria doesn’t notice, or she decides not to mention it when you clean up. Back in the bedroom Ethan and Thomas are cuddled up together. Ethan spooning him from behind, his arms around his waist. If you wouldn’t know him as well as you do, you wouldn’t notice but you can hear the soft purr, the tiny little whimpers, coming from Thomas. With one hand he’s twisting one of Thomas’ nipples, the other one sprawling out over his stomach, just over where he’s still bulging his briefs. You know it’s not what he wants, but Ethan knows it’s what he needs. Thomas’ little noises speak for themselves.

.#####.

“Can we open one before tour starts?” Thomas asks one evening, and you can’t do anything about it, he smiles at you sweetly, and you can just give in. Before he can take the box from you, Vic already took it out of your hand.

“Ladies first,” she says and grins at a confused Thomas. Takes an envelope, looks at it and then at you, “This isn’t too bad. Create your own Cocktails.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ethan says. You can see Thomas taking the little envelope of Vic and pocketing it. “We could make it a challenge and only use things we already have here.”

In the evening you’re all in the kitchen, looking at different bottles of alcohol, other bottles, fruit, some random boba pearls in too many flavours Thomas has stacked away in his cabinets, juices and mixers, edible glitter you used for baking a while ago, some random stuff Thomas puts out with a shrug. It’s fun, seeing what everyone else is doing, trying random stuff for yourself, Ethan and you both drawn to the boba pearls, and everyone laughing at Thomas and the monstrous thing he creates. 

By the end of the evening, you have four cocktails. Some are more enjoyable than others but no one is saying it. There’s Ethan’s coffee cocktail - you laughed earlier when he was brewing coffee, cooling it down, trying to find the perfect mix of coffee and Kahlua and finishing it off with some tapioca boba and milk. You saw him sniffing the milk that came out of Thomas’ fridge longer than is normal, Thomas looking at him offended in return. It tastes nice, but Vic announces it is nothing special. There’s your own cocktail, it shimmers and it’s way too sweet, especially for Thomas who’s wrinkling his nose. It’s prosecco, jasmine tea, rose syrup, too much glitter - your hand slipped for a second, lychee bubbles and strawberry boba that’s shaped into little hearts. Ethan seems to enjoy it more than the other two but Thomas’ finger poking you is getting you out of your thoughts. He delicately has one of the strawberry hearts between his teeth and you’re happily kissing the sweetness off his lips, taking the heart off him with your tongue.

Then there’s Thomas’ cocktail that looks intimidating to everyone, even to Thomas himself. No one wants to take the first sip until you show mercy. You don’t know how Thomas always does it but the texture has you shuddering. If you would take another sip, you are sure you would go off the walls or won’t sleep. It’s the mix of the coffee he stole of Ethan, the vanilla coke and the chocolate liqueur. There’s something alcoholic you can’t place and a slight hint of banana as an aftertaste, you shudder again. And there’s the misplaced popcorn, that should have gone on Ethan’s cocktail you think, on top of the drink. When you try to pass it on to Ethan, he shakes his head but Vic is brave enough once again.

“This is disgusting.”

“I have done worse,” Thomas smiles at her. Nipping at his straw and slurping his cocktail, all three of you watching on in disbelief.

And then there’s Vic’s. Which just is tequila, some ice, Corona and topped off with a lime.

“I won,” Victoria says. Ethan scoffs at her. “Simple, but at least you can drink it.”

“I didn’t know this was a competition,” Thomas says.

“It’s not like you would have won against me, if I would have told you about it beforehand.”

.#####.

Tour starts again, somehow comes earlier than it felt like a few days ago, and you’re back home alone, once again. They all received their tokens from you before leaving, Thomas kissing you goodbye and Vic mumbling something that sounded like And here I was hoping you forgot about it. First you just wanted to give them at random but too many tokens you would like to be part of crossed your way, which is why you selected tokens for each of them.

It doesn’t take long, a few days, and Ethan is posting a photo of a token in your group chat - One uninterrupted afternoon nap, whatever happens.

I am cashing this in, I’m tired!!!! Don’t annoy me.

Later Ethan is sending you a photo from bed. He has a cup of tea and the book he packed to read on tour. 

Thanks for giving me a break from the chaos these two are causing! 

A few hours later, Vic is sending you a photo. It shows Ethan snoozing, sleep mask over his eyes, but there’s also Thomas next to him, rolled up as small as possible in Ethan’s arms. Slumbering blissfully as well.

.#####.

“Thomas,” Ethan sighs, “you really have to clean this. I can’t clean up after you in every hotel we step foot in.”

He looks up from his phone, isn’t saying anything but then wanders over to his suitcase and puts a tiny envelope into Ethan’s hands. 

“Any household chore done for you,” Ethan reads and he sighs. Thomas picking the little envelope out of his hand again. “You want me to clean here and pack your suitcase, don’t you?”

He still isn’t speaking, smoking at the window, but nodding his head. It doesn’t take Ethan too long, Thomas is chaotic and it looks shit but most of it just needs folding and some things have to make acquaintance with the bin but nothing worse than that. 

“Are you okay?”

Thomas just mumbles a Thank you against Ethan’s shoulder when he hugs him and Ethan leaves it at that.

.#####.

Vic puts a token into the chat on a concert free day.

One day of no complaints or reminders.

Ethan and Thomas both text you, upset and displeased. It’s quite comical to witness and a reason why you handed it to them. Funnier when you aren’t involved in this one.

Boys, it’s just for a day! You can make it!

By the end of the day, you yourself aren’t sure if you will make it through the whole day. Instead of complaining to Vic, the boys complain to you. A lot, and you understand. Vic is using her power with them not being allowed to talk back or complain about her demands. Ethan loses it when she asks him for a foot massage, he isn’t doing it, Thomas doesn’t mind and takes over. But he loses it a few hours later when she demands to deal with some stuff for her, and to listen to her for the evening when they’re going out. 

“Can you believe that?” Thomas snorts over the phone. “She called me a kitty and told me to behave in that sweet voice, all while she was scratching me behind my ears.”

You have to cackle, you’re sure he purred, but Thomas groans - he doesn’t sound happy. 

“What was the problem, Thom?”

“She did it in front of Damiano and Ethan…. In a car with someone driving who I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “That wasn’t okay of her. The day is over soon, Tho and tomorrow you can tell her to piss off.”

“I don’t want to go out now,” he admits. Something else is behind this statement, at least you have the feeling but he isn’t saying more.

After you hang up, you call Vic.

“I know, no complaining,” you start and once again you sigh, “but … You’re taking it a bit far, don’t you?”

“But it’s so fun to see them suffer,” she laughs.

“Fair enough. But could you … could you not do that with Thomas again without asking him first. Or not in front of people, that’s his limit and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t cross that.”

“Yes, okay, sure.” Victoria’s voice is small. “He looked fine, he could have told me.”

“Vic, we both know when he isn’t allowed to do something, he won’t if he can avoid it and …,” you smile, “You know his brain stops working when you’re scratching behind his ears.”

“I don’t want to make him uncomfortable with it,” Vic admits. “I know he likes it when it’s only us, I won’t do it again in front of people. I … I somehow never think about Thomas’ limits, I need to change that, I know but he also never talks about it, I know that isn’t making it better, I should know better. You don’t have to tell me, I know that’s bad, actually it’s horrible, thanks for calling me out on it.”

Vic apologised to me

It’s what Thomas texts you a while later and you finally feel like you can go to bed without everyone ending up in a fight.

.#####.

The next morning there’s another picture in the chat, it came from Ethan. It’s the blank token you gave him.

I would like Thomas to tell me why he’s upset lately 

You would like to know as well, you feel relieved that you aren’t the only one thinking something is off with him. 

Nothings wrong

It’s only two words but it’s two words and you know he’s lying. He only picks the phone up after you try to call a third time, he rejects the video.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Can you turn on your camera? I just want to talk, we can talk about something else if you want to.”

He looks dishevelled and tired. A bit too tired, even for Thomas’ standards.

“Did you sleep well?”

He shakes his head: “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Did you sleep the night before?” You’re worried about him.

Again he shakes his head, he doesn’t look at you. 

“Thom?”

“I can’t sleep,” he bites his lips, “I don’t want to sleep alone, it sucks.”

“Honey.” You know Ethan and Vic would be there but you also know they wouldn’t just climb into Thomas’ bed. It’s the first tour after you figured things out between the four of you, after Thomas admitted that him staring at Ethan and having thoughts beyond friendship and the one time he dreamt of Vic holding him down might deserve an honest conversation. They are part of it when you want but he’s yours, they respect that. It must be tough for Thomas, he struggles. And it must be even harder having them with him and still staring at the ceiling not having anyone next to him. “You can tell them, you don’t have to sleep alone.”

During the evening Ethan asks you, if you’re okay with them sleeping in Thomas’ bed, without you. You are, there’s nothing you could have against it when it makes him feel better. There’s just one rule you set, no sex with Thomas in any way, you don’t care what Vic and Ethan do with each other. Ethan asks if he can cuddle. You imagine that he laughs when he reads your I am not a fucking monster. Just no sex, not with Thomas on top or as a bottom, especially not the second. It makes you squeezy, you are open to renegotiate at a later time but now you don’t feel comfortable. But cuddling, he can have all the cuddles he wants to have.

Victoria and Ethan both end up in Thomas’ bed. They are watching a film, while you’re out for wine with a friend. Ethan sends you a pic of Thomas sleeping in Vic’s arms after midnight and your heart is a little bit lighter again.

.#####.

The Italian leg of the tour comes around faster than you thought. Thomas catches you when you jump into his arms. You took the time to go to two concerts, there’s nothing better than to see them live. To see Thomas doing what he loves, what brings him joy and how it puts that huge grin on his face. There’s nothing better.

“It’s time to redeem this token,” Vic says after the show in Milan, “Night at your favourite nightclub, maybe this box isn’t a box of horrors after all.”

You’re all getting ready in Vic’s hotel room, Vic having fun doing Thomas’ and your make up, she puts glitter eyeshadow on Thomas’ eyelids and you might love her a little bit more for it. Ethan already opened a bottle of prosecco while Victoria tells you which club she wants to go to, she puts some pink-coral-toned red lipstick on Thomas’ lips. 

“Are you for real?” He furrows his brows at her. “That’s the best club you can choose?”

“My token,” she grins at him, “my choice.”

Ethan and you roll your eyes while they bicker like a couple that has been together for the past twenty years, married, divorced and remarried again. They are still having a go when you reach the club almost an hour later. You take Ethan on the dancefloor with you.

“A day without them having a quarrel with each other,” Ethan laughs - putting his hands on your waist, “And they would die.”

Thomas turns up behind you, kissing your neck: “That’s not the best club,” he grumbles into your ear.

“You can still have fun and now you’re dancing with me, doesn’t matter where that is,” Vic is squeezing herself between Ethan and you, “Usually you don’t care, you can always have fun.”

Ethan sighs and gets something out of his jeans pocket, you can see it’s a token and you have to laugh. You know what he’s going about to do. 

“You leave me no other choice,” he clears his throat and reads: “You win the argument. Wanted to keep this to for one of your fights but it’s enough, I win the argument, clubs are shit, no matter what. And now behave and have fun.”

You dance the night away, you watch Vic dancing with Thomas, Thomas climbing on a table, Ethan kissing him. He dances with you, the glitter looks adorable on him when he leans down to kiss you. And you only stumble out of the club when they kick you out hours later.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Vic asks. 

Thomas kisses her while holding Ethan’s and your hand.

.#####.

Thomas sends you a voice message when you’re back home again.

“We noticed something. Did you take any of the tokens?” You press pause, you’re surprised. You made the tokens, they aren’t for you. “We know you made them, but you should take some as well, just some. It should be fun for you as well and we’re insufferable, I know, but it’s fun, even with all the complaining, really. I don’t think any of us said that yet. And I just want you to have some for yourself. I am gonna give my token to you, you can use it whenever you want. You get some flowers. You can’t say no by the way, it’s yours now.”

He’s the sweetest, you think. And you love flowers, he knows, which makes it even sweeter.

I would love some flowers, Maso!

The next morning there’s a little ivy plant in front of your door. A bouquet of white and rosa flowers with some green eucalyptus twigs strown in. And a lovely bouquet of dried wildflowers. It has a note on them: Love you! I know you like to keep them but the other one was catching my eye as well. Thom

.#####.

You can’t wait for Thomas to come home, for them to come home. It's been two months since Milan and now you are the one who can’t sleep alone. When they are all together in bed with you again, Thomas hugging you close, it’s better again. You missed them. 

“I still have this token from tour,” Vic says in the morning - you almost forgot about it, “One day without the others most annoying habit. Finally I can have a day with all of you but Thomas is shutting up.”

Thomas and you are both looking at her, you furrow your brows - Ethan looks at you with a little bit of concern. 

“But …”

Vic shakes her head: “No talking, Thomas.”

During the morning it works, you’re in bed, he cuddles up to you, bumps his nose against your skin. He gets his head scratched and scratches behind the ears before he starts purring happily on your stomach and then on Ethan’s chest. He avoids Vic, he looks at her carefully from time to time but if any of you looks at him then, he turns his head back.

“Hey,” you try to get his attention when Vic is leaving to have a shower, “This isn’t a punishment, okay?”

He only shrugs, pretending not to care but you know he does. He watches something on his phone, while Ethan reads a book next to you - glasses low on his nose, and you write in your notebook. The next time you look, Thomas fell asleep.

When you’re all sitting for dinner in a restaurant, Vic is the only one talking. Ethan is too busy studying the menu to care. You’re too distracted looking at every little gesture and facial expressions Thomas shows and when she asks you something directly, you just shrug. Vic snorts, but you can see the tiny smile appearing on Thomas’ face. 

“Anyone?” Vic looks at all of you.

Thomas raises his hand and Vic looks at him expectantly but he isn’t saying anything.

“God, please talk. Please!”

He takes his phone from the table and types:

I’m sure you can beg better and a bit longer

Ethan and you have to laugh, so loud that some people look at you.

“Thomas, please. Everything, just talk, god that was a shit idea.”

Everything?

“Everything. Just talk, please.”

“Okay,” he grins, “My turn to talk and you can shut up and I might have another idea.”

He winks. And Ethan and you laugh again.

Later Victoria follows you when you go to the bathroom: “I fucked up again, didn’t I?”

“Not talking out of context is like a punishment for him.” You look at her through the mirror. “He needs context, Vic. And we need to talk, all of us actually, we need some ground rules and limits. I don’t want him to think, he can’t share a bed with you on tour again or Ethan thinking he can’t touch him when I’m not around, and I made this box to have fun.”

“Okay. Ground rules and limits.”

.#####.

Thomas is the next one who draws a token out of the box.

Movie marathon - Your choice of films

“I’m getting the snacks and drinks,” Thomas says and looks at you, “But you can choose the movies.”

In the end, you can’t decide. You’re overthinking it, Thomas tells you to chill, no one will judge you for your choice of films. That’s why you go for your favourite childhood movie, Thomas’ favourite film and after snooping around the favourite films of Ethan and Victoria. By the end of the evening, you’re picking popcorn that Vic threw at him out of Thomas’ hair.

.#####.

“Thomas,” you aren’t annoyed but you’re running around like a headless chicken cleaning around him, “Could you at least vacuum?”

“Hmmm.” He gives you something and you groan, you almost forgot that you gave that to him. “Next time.”

Any household chore done for you.

“It’s our turn to clean up,” Ethan says a few days later after dinner. Vic helped you cook pasta earlier, and the boys will clear the table before you move to the couch for a lazy evening in. “Thomas?”

You furrow your brows when he gives a token to him, Ethan also raises his eyebrows. But Victoria is the one speaking up: “You used that on me three times already.”

“On me as well,” Ethan says.

“And you only gave that to me not even a week ago.” 

He looks at you sheepishly and pouts. 

“Oh, you’re in trouble,” Ethan comments.

Thomas still smiles, there’s a blush creeping up his throat for being called out but then he turns over another token to you.

Get out of trouble, no questions asked.

.#####.

“What is the token?” Vic asks him. “You went a bit pale.”

Ethan takes it out of Thomas’ hand: “One wild fantasy fulfilled.”

“Thomas' wild fantasy is probably having dinner under the eiffel tower or some shit,” Vic jokes.

You can see how he swallows heavily. And you know it’s nothing like what Vic imagines at this moment.

“No … no panties for you,” he steps closer to you and you just nod, “when we go out.”

“Uhhhh, interesting.” Vic’s eyes light up.

The day comes sooner than you think it would arrive. One morning you’re already dressed when Thomas comes out of the shower, only a towel around his hips, and looks you over. That he puts one of his hands down your tights isn’t too surprising, that he rubs you through your panties until you can feel yourself getting wet isn’t either. But then he’s getting you out of your tights.

“Thom, we don’t have time to fuck.” You’re supposed to meet Vic and Ethan for a shopping trip and a day out, and you’re already running late, thanks to Thomas’ talent for oversleeping.

“Oh, don’t worry, we aren’t fucking.” He frees you from your panties as well. “Open your mouth for me.”

When you woke up a few hours ago you wouldn’t have thought that today is the day where Thomas would use your own panties as a gag on you while he feels you up and then starts fingering you without warning. You grab onto his hair to have some kind of stability but your legs are violently shaking. Just before you cum, he stops, it’s almost a ruined orgasm and you mewl around the panties in your mouth. Sometimes you forget that he can be much more cruel than Ethan and much cruller than Vic expects him to be.

“Don’t think you will need them today.” He takes the panties out of your mouth and kisses you sweetly. You put your tights back on while Thomas rummages through the wardrobe naked and then gets dressed, you try not to stare too obviously. “You ready?”

You aren’t ready at all.

Thomas and Ethan are in the seats in front of the car, while Vic is in the back with you. She’s almost sitting on top of you, letting her fingers wander. Over your knees, up your thighs, Thomas is smiling at you wolfishly through the rearview mirror. And then Vic’s hand is in your tights before you can stop her, there’s no obstacle of more fabric in her way and you whimper.

Vic smiles: “You already got her wet.”

“No touching,” Thomas scolds her, “That goes for both of you and for you.”

Whereas you nod obediently, Vic and Ethan try to question his authority but Vic pulls her hand back and lets the elastic of your tights snap back onto your skin, you yelp.

Shopping always is a blast with them, you almost forget that you aren’t dressed appropriately and about the wetness between your legs. Sometimes, when Thomas puts his hand a bit too low on your hips, you have to swallow. But then Vic puts a silly hat on Thomas’ head and you have to laugh instead.

Somehow Thomas shoves you into a fitting room, all three of you. It’s cramped but before anyone even has the chance to complain about it, Thomas already pushes you against Ethan and both of you against the wall and then he’s on his knees. He deliberately pushes down your tights and he looks at you with big eyes before his head ends up under your skirt. You can’t stop the moan that follows when he starts to lick and Ethan heavily breathing into your ear. Your consciousness tells you that you’re way too loud for such a tiny space but you can’t bring yourself to stop. On the contrary, it feels like you are losing your mind when Thomas licks through your folds and presses his wet lips to your clit now and then. You’re only getting louder - until Ethan puts his hand over your mouth and you can just pant.

There’s someone clearing their throat in front of the fitting room: “Everything okay in here?”

“Yes,” Vic answers happily and to your shock even pulls back the curtain a little bit to pop her head out. Your only comfort is that the curtains are floor-length, so the store assistant can’t see Thomas on his knees, you still blush furiously and gasp into Ethan’s hand when Thomas sloppily presses his tongue deeper. “My friend has a busted arm, I’m just helping her with some tops. I hope that is okay?”

“Sure, please let me know if you need any help.”

As soon as you hear how the footsteps are getting more distant, you cum all over Thomas’ face. You can hear him laugh under your skirt. When he emerges again, he cleans his face, Ethan cleans his hand but when you take the tissues from Ethan, Thomas takes them away from you again. Maybe Thomas looks more fucked then you when you leave the store, he’s dishevelled, lips swollen, and a clear outline in his tight jeans which he partially tries to hide under his coat and partially doesn’t give a fuck about. You’re only ruining your tights and your mind is racing, maybe you don’t look any better.

You’re grateful that the restaurant you go to later isn’t anything fancy. The waiter doesn’t look at any of you twice, just wants your orders, a photo with Vic while ignoring Ethan and Thomas and then he pisses off again. Waiting for food is a test of patience for you, you’re hungry, and Thomas dipping his fingers under your skirt from time to time almost has you jump. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom but when you look at yourself in the mirror Vic is standing behind you, she’s dragging you into one of the cubicles wordlessly. 

The kiss you’re sharing has you gasp for air. Vic easily guides your hand into her underwear, she doesn’t have to tell you what to do or what she wants. Your fingers find their way into her pussy easily, finding a rhythm, you moan into her mouth when she slips her hand into your tights in return.

“No … no touch-,” you moan again, “Thomas said no touching.”

“Can’t see him anywhere,” she laughs but she seems to see your pleading eyes, “Don’t worry, he was really happy about the idea. Just be good and make me cum, honey.”

You know how to touch her, you know how to move your fingers in her, how deep you have to go for her, which rhythm she likes - you know how to get her off. How she will always moan loudly when someone sucks at her collarbone - Thomas, Ethan or today you. She only needs soft pressure to her clit and then she cums, moaning into your mouth. Her fingers are still playing with you when you try to pull back.

“Vic,” you whimper, “please let me cum.”

“No,” she smiles at you sweetly, “Thomas said no.”

“Pleeease,” you beg, “please, Vic.”

“That isn’t my decision.” But she gets out her phone and you can hear Thomas’ voice not even a few seconds later. “Someone has a question for you.”

“Please.” Vic is moving her fingers in you faster. “Can I cum, please, god, I need to …”

“No.” You know he says it with a smile even when you can’t see him. “Only when I want you to.”

“I love when he is like this,” Victoria whispers into your ear after hanging up.

Thomas kisses your nose sweetly when you’re sitting back next to him.

For some reason Ethan is the one who wants to go dancing, it’s so suspicious that you think it’s Thomas’ idea after all. The club is dark and you’re dancing between Ethan and Thomas, Thomas lightening himself a cigarette without care. The beat is vibrating through your veins, it’s loud, Ethan has his lips against your neck. They both take your hands, dragging and pushing you at the same time until you end up in a small room with a couch on which Ethan takes a seat. It’s not like that they were people all around you making out a few seconds ago, and doing worse than fucking. You wouldn’t have had a problem for Ethan showing you off like this, but this is Thomas’ game. Not Ethan’s, and certainly not yours. 

Thomas is undressing you slowly and to your surprise fully. He kisses along your neckline up to your ear, leaving sloppy kisses on the shell. His hands caressing your hips, then your thighs and you whimper.

“I think it’s Ethan’s turn.”

You don’t need another invitation, Ethan is sitting on the sofa, his jeans and his briefs partially pulled down. He’s soft with you, helps you getting on top of him, kisses your hair. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear while Thomas watches your every move. You whimper even more when his dick stretches you out, how he finds a slow but no less torturing rhythm. You moan into the kiss he gives you. For the thousands time your head spins today and it spins even more when you think about Victoria and the girl she vanished with, a girl she will make cum, while you’re still going to be denied. 

“Please,” you whimper again but you lose your train of thought when Ethan bucks his hips up into you and Thomas steps behind you, pinching your nipples. “Please.”

“No, honey, no.” Thomas coughs sweetly and pinches your nipples harder. “I promise, I’ll make it hurt when you cum. I’ll ruin it for you.”

Ethan cums with a loud groan and you lose your mind completely. 

“I’m gonna clean you up when we’re home,” Thomas says and kisses you between your shoulder blades.

He does make good on his promise when you’re home, Vic in tow again - her smile satisfied. Your eyes roll back on their own accord when Thomas cleans you with a warm wet washcloth. It’s too much, but at the same time not enough. You’re already overstimulated but you still can’t cum. It doesn’t help that Thomas has you in front of the bathroom mirror and that you can see yourself.

“Please … let me … please.”

He laughs, you can hear, you can see it through the mirror. How are you this in love is the only question in your mind for a few seconds until Vic and Ethan enter the bathroom as well.

“No,” he still laughs, “I told you, if you’re even thinking about it, I’ll ruin your orgasm.”

Almost you say fuck it, you want to see what happens, you want to know how it feels. Thomas sometimes threatens you with it but you never misbehaved as much to have him do it. The thought comes and goes when he presses himself against your body and you realise that he cleaned you up just to fuck you again.

Your brain is in overdrive, there’s no way to calm yourself down. Thomas isn’t letting you. Ethan and Vic are watching, he has her in his arms. Your sanity suspends when Thomas enters you. Your fingers tighten around the bathroom sink, just to anchor yourself to something. His groan is loud and too close to your ear. And Ethan and Vic make it their challenge to make you cum while Thomas still tells you no. Vic is going down on her knees, licking over your clit, Ethan is kissing you. And everything drives you crazy. But in the end Thomas’ no still rings louder in your head than anything around you. He holds you up and then everything stops, Thomas cumming over your thighs, he kisses you behind your ear. He cleans you up again and Ethan carries you to bed, you are sure your legs wouldn’t have worked.

Thomas caresses your back, kisses you, just holds you in his arms until he falls asleep. You can hear the evenly breathing of all of them all around you. His heartbeat under your ear. But you still … You still want to cum. If you wouldn’t be so sure to wake him up from it, you would use Thomas’ thigh. You yelp in surprise when Thomas catches your hand between your legs and looks at you out of wide eyes. 

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Please.”

“Come here,” he gets his thigh between your legs and you rub yourself against him without thinking, “When you cum, you’ll cum as many times as I want you to, okay?”

“Yes, just …” You whimper and it just washes over you. You crash and then you crash down on Thomas who holds you close.

“And now again.” 

.#####.

“Your turn,” Thomas shoves the box in front of Ethan’s face.

“Oh, nice.” He turns it over - it’s blank.

“Why is he getting all of them?” Vic is looking at you.

“Luck?” You shrug.

“I want to plant a fig tree.”

You doubt that any of you has a clue how to plant a fig tree but Ethan looks happy with his choice. You already see yourself washing dirt out of Thomas’ hair.

.#####.

“How about we all get a token for the weekend and try to combine them with each other?” Thomas says one Wednesday evening. They are off for the weekend and it’s the perfect opportunity. 

Thomas picks an envelope but Vic takes it out of his hand before he can open it: “My one, thank you. Uhhhhhhh, massage night. I’m up for that.”

Ethan picks next and reads it to you: “Weekend getaway to a destination of your choice. That’s nice, we will take my car, and I’ll drive, that’s my only condition.”

“Shotgun, I’m sitting in front!” Vic looks at him. “No way, I’m putting my legs in the back of that convertible.”

“Okay, now you.” Thomas passes the box to you. You want to protest but they all shake their heads at you.

“Back kisses.”

“Wonderful, and now me.” Thomas picks the last envelope before putting it back where it lives on the windowsill. “A post sex snack. Nom, that’s better than a massage.”

“You’re just greedy for food,” Vic laughs. “Where are you carrying us off to?”

“Alberobello.”

“Albe-what?” 

“Alberobello, Thom,” you say, “I want to go there. I said I want to see the trulli houses and I want to go to Lecce to the botanical garden and I want to see Martina Franca.”

Thomas blinks at you: “Okay, how about we start tomorrow, go to Alberobello, stay there for a night and then stay in some town?”

That’s what you do, the next day all four of you scramble into Ethan’s car. You marvel over the architecture, take photos of the houses and silly photos of Ethan who seems the only one to care. Victoria and Thomas are sitting on a bench in the sun, drinking Aperol. Someone carefully approaches them and asks for a photo. You stay for the night and Vic gets her token out.

“Massage time.”

“I definitely have to massage Thom’s nose with suncream.” There’s a sunburn blooming on his face. “Or at least some aftersun, you will look like a crab by Sunday otherwise.”

“You can nurse him,” Vic laughs, “Ethan can take care of my back.”

Ethan is sitting on Victoria’s thighs, massaging her shoulders, sometimes dipping lower to her waist, she’s blissfully sighing. On the other side of the bed you’re taking care of Thomas’ nose and his face, there’s no blissful sighing, he looks like he’s being tortured. His mood changes when you scratch behind his ears, his eyes flutter shut and he hums. After a while Ethan and you switch places. You massage Vic’s back, Ethan massages Thomas’ shoulder. Vic is pushing you down between her legs after a while, you can hear Thomas’ breath hitch before there’s a loud whimper. You can’t see, Vic holding you down, but the next morning there’s a massive bite mark where his throat meets his shoulder.

Friday you spend in Martina Franca, this time you put suncream on Thomas before leaving the house. Ethan and you are restlessly wandering around the city, ancient walls around you. There’s too much to see, too many photos to take, food to try, you stopped counting the amount of drinks Thomas and Vic already had. They giggle when you’re visiting a Basilica and at Ethan and you looking at the ceiling. Too many narrow streets to walk, Thomas finds some traditional cured ham that he’s munching next to you while you take a photo of Ethan who is leaning down to Vic. You just fall into bed when night comes.

Lecce is a beautiful baroque town. More narrow streets, another Basilica that took 200 years to build as Ethan and you learn, more food, more drinks, the botanical garden you want to see. At one point Thomas just sits down and refuses to walk another step, you can only coax him with the promise of getting lasagna for dinner. You took a photo of an angel on one of the walls. Another one of Thomas kissing it hands, and Vic jumping his back. Ethan is immersed in the tourist guide book but you can hear him laugh.

“I want my back kisses now,” you say even before your head hits the pillows of the hotel bed. Waiting isn’t your strong suit, and luckily you don’t have to wait, Thomas’ hands are freeing you from your dress and then your bra. His lips on your shoulders, Vic’s on your lower back, Ethan’s somewhere in-between. Thomas sucks a love bite into your skin, Vic biting and Ethan licking over the skin she bit mere seconds ago. You don’t know who initiates it but you end up on your back, Thomas on top of you - between your legs, Vic playing with your nipples and Ethan’s hands on Thomas’ hips. Everything's a blur, even when you cum, until he crashes down on you, panting and heaving, still in you.

“Snack?” You can hear Ethan whispering into his ear and Vic giggles.

“I want chicken nuggets.”

“That’s not a snack,” Vic reminds him but Thomas doesn’t care.

“That counts as a snack for me.”

He rolls you around until he can kiss your back again.

.#####.

“I would take one, if that’s okay?” Ethan looks at you and Thomas. You’re sure Vic would raise her eyebrows if she were there. You nod your head. “One Knock-Your-Off-Your-Feet Kiss. Exactly what I need right now, can I cash this in with everyone of you?”

“No.”

Thomas immediately shuts up when you both look at him: “I don’t think, you have any right to say that, Mr. I’m using this token until I drop dead.”

“Good,” he gets closer to Thomas’ face, “I’m starting here.”

You have seen them kiss before but it’s breathtaking. Thomas leans into every of Ethan’s movements, his hands tangled up in Ethan’s hair and Ethan pulling his hair in return. Thomas’ eyes are closed, there’s a tiny bit of spit on his chin and you can hear him moan into Ethan’s mouth. It would be a lie to say that it doesn’t get you hot and bothered.

Your kiss happens a few hours later when you’re both on the balcony. Ethan is smoking and then he’s pulling you close, cigarette still in hand. Where with Thomas he was still careful to not scare him aware, he isn’t with you. His tongue is everywhere where you want it and you finally kiss back. You know, Thomas isn’t busy with his phone anymore.

Ethan gets his kiss from Vic a few evenings later. And Thomas and you are both staring.

.#####.

Your choice of date night.

Thomas is delighted when he reads it to you. You step on Vic’s foot when she says something that sounds like You should’ve taken this one out as well. Somehow she thinks it’s the worst thing to have Thomas plan a date night, but you know it’ll be nice and still chill, he just puts more thought into it.

You kiss his cheek when he gives you some flowers on the evening of the date. 

“Giving you some flowers, would be like throwing money out of the window,” he says to Vic but gives her a bottle of wine before he gives some flowers to Ethan as well. “Looking at you, I am hilariously underdressed.”

It’s as chill as you thought it would be, he takes you to a small but not too fancy restaurant. He doesn’t complain when it’s time to pay, he gets Vic some gelato when she’s whining. And you’re watching a film in some outdoor cinema, hidden in the back, so no one of them is drawing any attention, before heading home.

.#####.

Vic takes a token out of the box without anyone bullying her into it one weekend. Which earns her some comments out of Thomas’ direction.

“Paint something together.” She smiles at you and wiggles her eyebrows, “You could have just asked, this doesn’t involve body paint by any chance?”

Ethan rolls his eyes and Thomas giggles.

“No,” you smile back, “painting on a canvas.”

“Can I just fling paint at it?” Thomas asks but he looks interested.

You should have known that he would fling paint at everything that moves, including you, as well.

.#####.

Spend a whole day in bed.

It’s almost funny that Ethan draws this one as well. It would have been the perfect one for Thomas but he didn’t get this or the one for a nap. You aren’t sure if he really pouts or if you imagine it. Luckily Ethan is taking everyone to bed with him, he reads, immersed into another world. Vic is listening to music, scrolling her phone, poking Thomas’ side when she gets bored. You’re listening to the video Thomas is watching on his laptop while embroidering but you’re thinking about knitting a beanie for Thomas - like a grandma Vic would say. And not even ten minutes into the day, Thomas is out. He falls asleep on Ethan’s stomach, Ethan mindlessly scratching his head and playing with strands of his hair.

“Does this include dinner in bed?” Thomas asks yawning when he opens his eyes again.

.#####.

Thomas and you are both alone when he picks another envelope out of the box. There’s one with a bend, you’re sure you know which token it is but Thomas isn’t getting the hint when you put it directly under his nose.

“Ugh,” he says, “Can I take a different one?”

You shouldn’t allow it but he looks at you with puppy eyes. You want him to get the bend one, you choose it with Thomas in mind from the beginning. That’s why you take the envelope from him and give him the other one: “Here, that one is better.”

“Is this because you’re keeping the blank ones from me?”

“You …” 

“Yes, I know,” he shrugs, “I … The only funny thing is that Vic isn’t getting them either.”

“Mysterious,” you smile at him. The truth is, you trust Ethan to be responsible with them. “Open your token, Maso. I’m sure it’s a good one.”

“Watching the sunrise and sunset on the same day,” he reads - his hands shake a little bit, “Oh my god, that’s perfect. Can we do that somewhere at the beach?”

“There’s a token for a beach picnic somewhere in here.”

He looks at you pleadingly again, you skim through the envelope until you find the token.

Picnic at the beach.

“You know this is cheating,” Thomas laughs at you. You don’t care, as long as it makes him happy. “Can we do this alone? I want to spend some time with you, without the dickheads.”

Victoria is happy to get out of the whole thing, no questions asks, only the plea to Thomas to not send her pictures of the fucking sun. Ethan doesn’t complain, somehow he still ends up in the supermarket with you when you have a grocery run for your beach picnic. Thomas goes crazy, it’s on brand but Ethan still looks confused.

“Is he about to buy the whole place?” Ethan asks you.

You don’t even have time to answer: “Do you think I could afford that?”

“I guess?” He looks around. “It’s small, so they don’t have that much inventory but … before I give you silly ideas, that’s a lot of perishable food, Thom.”

There’s no doubt that you’ll have enough food for the next week when you step out of the supermarket again. 

For once Thomas is awake when he has to, yawning but vibrating with excitement so much that he doesn’t care about the tiredness. It’s still dark outside and you’re happy that he agreed to driving, you fall asleep for most of the ride.

You’re happy that Thomas knows his secluded beach spots, you’ll be alone for most of the day. You’re still half asleep when the sun rises, you don’t stop him when he sends a photo to Vic and captions it with The fucking sun. By the evening you have the second bottle of wine between your legs, Thomas smokes and you couldn’t be happier when you lean your head on his shoulder and the sun goes down.

.#####.

Vic is crinkling her nose looking at the token she got out of the envelope: “This sucks.”

“Why?” 

“Can I put it back and take a different one?”

No one answers her, but Ethan takes the token out of her hand: “That isn’t bad,” he says, “One screen free evening - no phones.”

“That is hell,” Vic corrects him, “I can’t do that, I’ll miss something.”

“We could go out for dinner,” Thomas suggests - he might be feeling bad for her drawing the token he put back, “or have some drinks, go out for the night, go to a concert. Fuck, if that helps.”

“Can we do all of that?”

After the third time Vic is reaching for her phone, Ethan takes it away from her.

“But I’ll miss something,” she complains.

“Yes, you’re missing what’s going on around you,” he says, “Believe me you can have a conversation with us without clinging to that.”

“But what is the time? We’re gonna be late to ....”

Ethan looks at his watch: “It’s quarter to eight.”

“Good that we have someone sophisticated enough to wear a watch in our midst,” Thomas jokes and Ethan pockets Vic’s phone under loud protest coming from her.

When you’re laying next to her in bed, heavily breathing, hours later, she fumbles for her phone again. Thomas catches her wrist: “What do you possibly need your phone for now? Do you want to tweet how much you love my dick?”

“You would love that.” Ethan and you snort, but Victoria doesn’t stop there. “Next time you can blow yourself.”

“I might just do that.”

“Careful,” Ethan interferes in the conversation and puts his hand on Thomas’ throat - you can see him swallow, “Don’t promise me anything you can’t deliver. You know how that ends, kitten, don’t you?”

Thomas swallows again and nods.

“That might be more interesting than my phone.”

.#####.

The seasons are slowly changing from summer to autumn when Ethan picks the next token, and this time he’s delighted while Victoria and Thomas already roll their eyes and high five each other.

“Antique market and thrift store shopping,” he reads, “I decide how we use this, right? I want some decor and have a look around for some books.”

“Some weird lamps again, perhaps?” 

Thomas laughs about Vic’s joke but Ethan’s gaze is shutting him up.

“You’re all going to accompany me,” he announces and Victoria rolls her eyes once again.

“It can’t be that bad, right?” you whisper to Thomas.

He looks at you amused: “You clearly are underestimating the amount of weird shit Ethan is into.”

You know hours later when Thomas is carrying around some of Vic’s purchases and Ethan is still looking at some antique clothes racks. Thomas seems to give up on life when you enter a shop for antique clocks. His hands are shaking, and you suspect it’s the cut off of nicotine as he chain smoked the whole mid-morning. It doesn’t surprise you when he wanders outside to light another one.

“How many clocks can he look at?” Vic asks when she joins you outside.

.#####.

They are releasing a new single, you know that they’re excited but that means a few weeks on your own again while they are on a promo tour. It eases you that you talked about stuff like this a few months ago. 

“You should take one,” Vic says and gives you the box.

Board Game Night.

Not the best thing to do on your own, you think sarcastically. Thomas seems to see the annoyance on your face.

“We can have one online when we’re gone,” he says, “and then we can have another one when we’re all together? You can choose all the games.”

When the time comes, they are all on their laptops in their own hotel rooms - you’re grateful for it, that you’re all on your own and it isn’t only you. You play Monopoly for hours and Vic is the first one to accuse Thomas of cheating when he wins. He does that when you play at home, taking money out of the bank when he thinks no one looks at him, somehow having a house or a hotel on one of his streets where the last time you looked was none. It got so bad one time that Victoria announced she would rather piss herself than leaving Thomas unattended or even out of her eyesight with the board. Board game nights were usually them bickering and Ethan and you picking up the pieces afterwards, but after every night they swore that they loved it. Sometimes the competitive aspect just turned their heads in. You can’t wait for the game night in person after everyone says their goodbyes and Thomas blows you a kiss.

Could we puzzle?

No!

No!!!!

You didn’t expect anything different from Vic and Thomas. He lacks the concentration for it and Vic admitted it drives her insane. At least they can hate something together, you giggle to yourself.

YES!

On the other hand Ethan was always up for a night in with a puzzle.

You two think puzzle mats are the best invention of the century. You shouldn’t have a vote in this.

Somehow Vic seems to have forgotten that you can choose every game you want, and you want to puzzle.

It’s the best, go die mad about it. Anything in mind?

You send a link to a puzzle with 42.000 pieces. It’s more of a joke but at the same it’s a dream.

Noted 

Wait what? That’s against the geneva convention and my human rights!!!!!!

You’re a bit dramatic, Thomas.

Do you want me dead or something?

Victoria and Thomas try to argue that a puzzle technically isn’t a board game but they both take defeat when you remind them that Thomas said everything you want, their opinion on the matter doesn’t count. It’s fun, for once Vic and Thomas are helping each other without noticing it. Vic takes Thomas’ hand when she sees that he’s getting frustrated with himself and how he loses focus. Thomas helps her looking for the piece she’s missing when she groans. And Ethan and you are looking at each other knowingly, smiling.

.#####.

The next is one of Vic’s token again, and this time she’s happy about it. 

“Dress up for dinner and dancing or a movie at home,” she grins, “This is gonna be a party, you’re all gonna dress up pretty for me and we’re going to decorate this place. I want a mirror ball.”

You don’t question it but Ethan gets her the desired mirror ball, he goes so far to order some buffet style catering and turns up in a fancy suit. Vic is dressed in a fancy short dress, your dress isn’t showing as much but it’s fancy enough. Thomas is dressed in wide suit pants, for some reason he’s barefoot, and in a shirt that’s mostly unbuttoned showing off his chest hair. If you could, you would be on your knees for all three of them but you’re sure that’s a different kind of party.

“Here,” Thomas blushes furiously when Vic puts a collar around his neck. His fingernails are digging into the skin of your hand he’s holding, “You should be thankful that I’m not putting you on a leash.”

You can see how the blush deepens.

“Say thank you.”

“Thank you.”

You can hear how she whispers to him, you’re sure that you can hear her asking if this is okay, and the grip he has on your hand loosens.

All four of you are dancing, drinking, kissing, your hand wanders into Thomas’ trousers while Vic and Ethan are whispering into his ears, he blushes and moans and then you dance again. Thomas looks a bit lost and wobbly on the legs when you get him to dance again. Until one of Thomas; neighbours threatens to call the police on you as the music is way too loud. 

When you clean up a little bit, so you don’t have to do it the next day with a horrible hangover, you see that Victoria really brought a leash. It surprises you but out of fun you ask Thomas to give it back to her. He swallows, hard. But he’s still doing what you asked of him.

“Oh,” you can hear Vic laugh, “You want me to leash you?” 

“Or I can spank you with it,” you see Thomas squirm on the spot when Ethan speaks, “Your choice.”

“No-none,” he almost chokes on his words, “None, please. Please. Red.”

And then you’re all three all over him, you’re kissing his face, Ethan and Vic hugging him. 

“I’m proud of you, Maso.” He looks at you confused, he’s sniffing. “For knowing it’s enough and using your safeword.”

.#####.

After the party at home, you should have known how serious Ethan can take some things when he’s allowed to do so. It turns out that he can still surprise you when he gets the token Have a tasting party with a box of chocolates.

The box of chocolate is some quality chocolate but you all thought you would eat it, joke around a bit and otherwise enjoy the evening. Somehow Ethan has other plans. Every chocolate is on a tiny plate, with some tiny plagues on which he wrote what it is, some tasting notes on the side and he serves wine with it. He’s in a waistcoat, when he starts a speech which he’s reading from a handkerchief, Thomas sitting next to you loses it and snorts the wine almost through his nose. Vic is biting her lip so hard it almost starts bleeding.

“Silence,” Ethan claps into his hands, “Your undivided attention on chocolate number one, please.”

.#####.

There’s some confusion the next time around. Thomas tells you that Vic took a token but when you ask her she denies it. Problem is, you know Thomas is right, as there’s a token missing out of the box. After closer inspection you know why, someone doesn’t want to go stargazing - it’s the token missing out of the box.

Spend an evening stargazing.

“Would it help if we take a bottle of wine?” You ask her when you’re all on the couch, Thomas caressing your feet in his lap.

“We could use mine,” Ethan shrugs when you look at him, “I took someone earlier, it says Champagne and strawberries on it. I don’t know if that would help.”

“Does that somehow make stargazing more appealing to you, Vic?” 

“Only if I can watch Thomas lick that champagne from your nipples.”

You sigh but Thomas all of a sudden is way more interested in the conversation than before, even stargazing didn’t have him pique up like this.

“As long as we can do that after and not in the park.”

.#####.

Thomas is next up for a token and he already blushes when he reads it, and even more when he shows it to the three of you.

You get a compliment every day for a week.

“Oh, you will blush a lot the next seven days,” Vic laughs.

There’s a range of compliments from, you’re the loveliest clown - Vic, you have the prettiest eyes - Ethan to you’re the best person to wake up in the middle of the night to go on a walk with me - you. But there’s also the compliments that make him blush like Vic predicted. All the pretty noises you make - you, the way your blush starts on your chest - Vic, the way you look when you come - Ethan.

You can see how he gets more and more flattered day by day but there’s something else. And he breaks one night when you cuddle up to him and whisper against his lips: “You’re the best and loveliest chaotic idiot to me. God, I love you.”

He squirms, he’s getting uncomfortable, he looks like he isn’t believing you.

“It’s true, I -”

You kiss him instead.

.#####.

As soon as Ethan is smirking at Vic, you’re sure that she isn’t going to like whatever he has planned.

“You choose who is boss for the day.”

“Oh, you’re choosing me, right?” 

“No, I’m choosing Thomas.” He’s still smirking at her.

“What?” She looks at him. “Are you serious?”

“I thought you’re into Thomas being more bossy?” You have to laugh as well.

“In bed,” she looks at you, furious, while Thomas laughs, “With you.”

“We can arrange that,” Thomas says, “I can boss you around both.”

To no one's surprise Vic has to suffer the most under Thomas’ regime and you have to try not to giggle when she groans at him for the billionth time. 

“He deserves that,” Ethan whispers to you.

.#####.

“Recreate your first date. Does that mean ours?” Thomas gestures between you and him, “Or does that mean ours?”

“What was your first date?” Ethan asks.

“We went to a museum, Thom took me to a wine bar,” you smile at the memory, “And then I fell asleep on him drunk a few hours later.”

“Yes, and we had pasta,” he smiles at you.

“What was our date again?” Ethan asks.

“We fucked,” Vic laughs, “First Thomas confessed a lot of kinky shit to us and then we fucked for like two days.”

“Oh,” Ethan grins, “How could I forget that?”

“How about both?” 

.#####.

“I’m gonna already start arguing that I think this should translate to sex,” Vic says before reading the token to you, “Dessert only dinner.”

“You have a problem,” Thomas comments, “I am not getting reduced to dessert.”

In the end, Vic is outvoted and Thomas isn’t getting reduced to anything but he’s patting his stomach by the end of the evening. You all had too much food and somehow Vic managed to eat the most. You had cheese and grapes, cake, tiramisu, dessert wine, cannoli and florentines.

You pass out in Thomas’ lap while he smokes. Overindulgence.

.#####.

Ethan takes one of the last tokens, it’s a blank one once again.

“How is that possible?” Vic looks at Ethan, then at you. “Why am I not getting one of them?”

“Maybe they don’t like you,” Thomas winks at you, “They don’t like me either.”

“Back to my token, I want a night in a honeymoon suite.”

“Okay?” Thomas looks interested.

“I want room service, a pool or a whirlpool,” he looks directly at Thomas, “a bed big enough for us and where I can tie up Tho.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think they have beds where you can tie him up,” Vic says - her phone is already out, “And can you compromise on having a butler but no hot tub?”

“Can you look for a room with a terrace then? I can tie him to the railings as well.”

“Would that be okay, kitten?”

Thomas only shamelessly moans and then hides his face on your shoulder.

The suite Vic chooses in the end, does have room service for food that’s too fancy for your liking (who pays 12€ for blueberry juice you ask but Ethan just looks at you and deadpans me) and a terrace, just as he requested.

Thomas adam’s apple bobs, he already whimpers.

.#####.

There’s only two tokens left and one you kept hidden for last.

“Last one,” Vic says before opening the envelope, “before I can forget about this box of horrors.”

She squeals - it’s a blank one.

“Oh no.” As if Thomas already knows what’s coming his way.

“I could do with some new lingerie,” she muses, “A lot of new lingerie actually and Thom is going to pay for it.”

“Anything else?” he groans.

“Hmmm, I could do with a new strap,” she sticks her tongue out at him, “You know … to fuck your girlfriend.”

.#####.

“The last one is yours,” Thomas says and gives the envelope to you.

Swing on the swings at a nearby playground.

“I want to give that one to you.”

“No,” he protests, “you barely took any. It’s yours.”

“You should have it. I know it’s cheating, but …,” you smile at him, “I want you to have it and you can use it with me whenever you feel like it.”

“That means I can take you tonight?” He looks at you as if he doesn’t trust what he just heard. “We can take a bottle of wine and when I feel like it next week or next month we can repeat it?”

“As often as you want,” you assure him.

That night you end up drunk on a swing set with Thomas for the first time.

.#####.

“I have one last one, just for fun.” You feel like making an announcement. Vic is blinking at you confused but Ethan takes the envelope from you.

“Gift hunt. At the shopping centre everyone is getting 15€ for each partner and an hour to buy something for the other.”

“That sounds like fun.” You’re surprised to hear that from Vic but you’re happy about it, she seems excited.

The array of gifts and your reactions is cute to look at. Vic gives her presents to you first. There’s a pair of nicely padded handcuffs for Thomas, he blushes and you suspect that she used more than her 15€ she had to spend. There’s a beautiful strappy bra with embroidered flowers she gives to you, and then you’re sure she used more than she should have. Ethan grins when she gives him a leather paddle and your head spins. There’s something else everyone gets: It’s a little V on a keychain.

“Are you trying to mark me?” Ethan asks amused and gives her smack on the thigh.

“Yeah, I sure feel pissed on,” Thomas says and she wiggles her eyebrows at him suggestively, “No, no, no, no. We talked about this, Victoria!”

She shrugs and you laugh but Thomas looks at you terrified: “If you ever change your mind …”

The next round of gifts comes from Ethan. It’s little portraits, a bit bigger than a business card. After closer inspection you can see that they differ slightly. Ethan has the “original” of the four of you for himself, he is carrying it in his wallet. On Vic’s version she makes bunny ears behind Thomas’ head. On Thomas’ version you’re kissing his cheek, there is a headband with kitten ears on his head. On your version Thomas is kissing your cheek.

There’s no theme to the gifts you got for everyone. You have a poetry collection of Rainer Maria Rilke for Ethan. There’s lipstick in a deep burgundy red for Vic. A coffee table book of sunsets for Thomas and a little box - it has love tokens written on it.

“You gotta be joking?” Vic looks at you in disbelief.

“It’s not for you,” Thomas says and kisses you on the cheek like he does so often, “That’s for me only.”

And lastly there’s Thomas, you hope that you didn’t stress him too much, you know he takes his buying presents for people business really seriously. You can imagine how he was biting his nails because of the time restraint. He gives his present to Ethan first. It’s a notebook with a matching pen and a small puzzle that shows a Roman alley. For Vic he got something that looks a lot like lube and a book titled “Getting Off: One Woman's Journey Through Sex and Porn Addiction” - Vic only rolls her eyes at him. And then there’s the one for you, it’s a little flower press.

“You know that the place will be plastered in flowers?” 

“Good,” he smiles at you.

.#####.

A few evenings later Vic and you find Thomas sitting on the floor, hunched over. He happily hums to the vinyl that plays in the background. When he hears you, he tries to hide what he’s doing but Victoria steps behind him.

“That’s why all the tokens were puzzle pieces?” she laughs, “And why you pocketed them all? Are you going to betray me and enjoy puzzling now?”

“I’m missing one,” he tells her.

“I think, I can help with that,” you give him the chore token you took off him.

And he puts the last piece in place.

.#####.

END.

"Sorry."

Thomas just laughs and kisses you again. Deeper this time, for longer, more lipstick left behind on his lips. Enough to see the contrast against his skin. Again he kisses your forehead, leaves a lipstick mark of his own. In his eyes you can see a glimmer of wonder and surprise.

"Oh, it sticks."

"Of course it sticks," you laugh again, "You know that, silly boy. Or how do you think it got onto your lips?"

"Because I kissed you."

A pleased sigh escapes him when you kiss his throat, leaving a dark lipstick stain behind. He kisses you again, more bordeaux lipstick sticking to his lips.

"It looks so good on you."

"Really?" He looks at you surprised.

"Yes, really." You get your phone and open the camera app. "Dark lipstick is made for you."

He looks at himself in the reflection, tilts his head from side to side: "You really think so?"

It's not like he looks uncomfortable, he just looks unsure. You leave him alone with your phone and wonder if you will find a selfie or two later. He's still looking at himself when you come back with the lipstick in hand. 

"Let me show you."

Thomas pouts at you after you carefully applied the lipstick to his lips. 

"Brou de Noix," he reads from the bottom of the lipstick tube - butchering the French a little bit. "You really think this looks good on me?"

"Thom," you take a photo of him and give your phone to him, "Why do you think you don't? Who told you this?"

He sighs but this time he sounds frustrated: "One of our latest make-up artists, she said I'm too pale for anything too adventurous."

"They are talking shit, you look incredible."

There's a red stain on his teeth when he bites his lips, you reach out for his cheek and get the colour of with your thumb. Thomas pulls a face at you.

"It sticks, I thought we established that much." You smile at him. "That means it also sticks to your teeth."

You peck his lips, only for a few seconds but he grins at you and holds you in place, close to him.

"And now you're kissing it off of me, because I look so irresistible?"

"Yes, I'll completely kiss it off you." 

He smiles when you kiss the corner of his lips. 

.#####.

It happens more often, it’s a slow progress of Thomas getting more comfortable with that pop of colour on his lips. First it’s colours you almost can’t see on his lips, inconspicuous, a little pink, a bit of nude here and there. Sometimes you only notice when he kisses your cheek, looks at you for a moment too long and you will have to rub some lipstick off your face.

Gradually he’s getting adventurous. One of your dark red lipsticks is missing first, you’re looking for it everywhere one night when you’re going out. Only weeks later it turns up again - you find it in Thomas’ suitcase buried under some shirts.

Then there’s a wonderful plum colour you have had your eyes set on for quite some time but you never dared to pay more than a certain amount for any makeup and this certainly was over your budget. Until one day Thomas gives you a small box with the plum coloured lipstick inside. It looks marvellous on you, your friends tell you so, Thomas tells you so and you can see it yourself. But when you catch Thomas in the bathroom one evening, you can just think stunning and stare at him. He tries to hide the lipstick in the sink behind him whilst rubbing it off his lips. 

“Please don’t,” you say. “It looks amazing on you, Thomas.” 

“You think so?”

“Yes,” you smile at him, “I already said that last time. You look stupendous, too good to be real.”

.#####.

The next time, he isn’t hiding it. One evening he just sits down next to you on the couch, colour on his lips that looks like he just drank a glass of red wine but didn’t lick his lips afterwards.

“So beautiful.”

He smiles at you before he puts his head in your lap and you can play with his hair, twirl strands of his blond hair around your fingers, comb them slowly through his hair. You see how he bites his red lips and how he closes his eyes. He presses his lips to the skin on your thigh where the fabric of your pyjama shorts end.

“You have a favourite yet?”

You can feel how he shakes his head: “No, I only tried about four but I really like this one.”

Thomas looks up at you confused when you get up but when you come back with your makeup bag that holds all your lipsticks and makeup wipes his eyes grow wider.

“Then let's try some more,” you smile at him. He sits up which gives you the opportunity to straddle and sit on top of him. A tiny whimper escaping the back of his throat, always so sensitive to your every touch. “Pick whichever you like.”

His hands shake slightly when he picks up your bag full of treasures and opens it. The little sigh leaving his lips doesn’t slip your attention. Overtaken by something almost like greed he rummages through it. 

“There are so many shades,” he looks at you, “Oh, dark red. Brick red ... plum. Oh, this has a funny name, Tea and Cookies. Pink, more red. Oh, wait, what the fuck, is this blue!?”

“Yes, that’s blue. I have some green as well.” Thomas raises his eyebrow at you and you laugh. “Halloween is a thing that happens.”

“I want to try the green.”

You look for the label that says Serpentina. A dark shimmery green you know will look lovely on Thomas’ lips. Stark contrast to his skin and the light blush around his cheeks and his nose. He squirms under you when you do his lips and his eyelids are fluttering when you take a photo on your phone to show him. 

“I look … good?” He looks at you questioningly. 

“Insanely good.”

He kisses your throat. It doesn’t leave a mark on you, doesn’t stick, and he looks at you confused. 

“It’s smudge proof,” he pouts at you - looking at you like you betrayed him out of a reward he was craving, “And kissproof.” 

“That’s not fair,” he says but doesn’t elaborate when you take a make-up wipe to get the lipstick off.

The next one is a berry shade that you also deem gorgeous on Thomas. Even he marvels over it when he sees himself on your phone camera. He’s rewarded with more satisfaction than before when he presses his lips to your throat again, the lipstick sticking to your skin. It does stick but not enough for his taste. 

There’s the darkest shade of plum next, it’s matte. It’s so dark that he laughs when you show him: “I’m too much of a loaf of toast for this one but I love how it feels and this … matte thing?”

“I think, I have the perfect one for you,” you dig into your bag again until you find the brick red matte lipstick Thomas looked at earlier, “I wanted to test if this one is smudge proof.”

It isn’t, you know. It’s the reason why you bought it in the first place - for it to smudge. Stain Thomas’ sweaty sticky skin. To leave marks on your own skin, colour transferring from Thomas’ lips to yours. After you’re done with the lipstick, Thomas bites his lips, the red sticking to his teeth. Carefully you wipe it off his teeth with your thumb. Instead of going for your throat, he pulls up your pyjama shirt. He leaves a lipstick mark around your nipple and looks at it in awe.

“I want to tie you up,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “And leave all those marks over you, so I can see every kiss I left on you when I’m done.”

Thomas puts his hands in front of him, looks at you expectantly: “Please.”

“Here?” you smile at him. “Kitchen table, bed or floor?”

You can see how he tries to find an answer, slightly whimpers when you stroke your fingers over his hip bone. 

“Bed.”

You take your make-up bag and then take his hand to lead him to the bedroom. It doesn’t take much to push him into the sheets, his fingers getting tangled in them.

“Cuffs or rope, bunny?” 

“R-rope.” You can see how he swallows heavily. “Please.”

The berry colour of the restraints in your hands reminds you of the colour Thomas had on his lips earlier but you’re digging deeper, getting the mint green rope. The rope lands next to Thomas on the bed, he plays with it, while you look for the scarlet red lipstick. 

“You’re allowed to get naked, Thomas.” 

He only blinks at you and you put the lipstick aside. It isn’t much to get him out of, you pull the old band shirt over his head when he raises his arms and then you pull down his joggers, there’s no underwear to get rid off and he whimpers into your ear quietly.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Get on your tummy.”

He almost stumbles over himself, almost gets caught in the sheets, before he turns around. You laugh, but it’s lovingly, not condescending. 

“Are you excited?” You take the rope from his hand. 

He nods into the pillow, his cheeks almost as scarlet as your lipstick pick. A quiet sigh falls from his lips when you take one of his hands and tie the rope around his wrist twice, there’s enough room for two fingers you can wiggle under the rope. Then you cross the rope over the ends you just worked on, reach under the bind to make a loop and pull the rope through it, Thomas is still happily sighing. You create another loop and pull again, before you take the end and tie him to the bed. 

“This okay?”

You can see how he pulls on the ropes, how he wiggles, how he gets a couple of fingers of his other hand under the rope.

“Feels good.”

He looks beautiful when you’re done with his other wrist and he lays in front of you - tied.

“Ankles as well?”

He shakes his head on the pillow. Thomas still tests the pull and give of his restraints when you apply the lipstick, you just look at him for a while until he whines and strains his neck uncomfortably to look at you.

You press the first kiss to his right ankle, then the left, you leave kisses all over his calves, his thighs - leaving an ocean of right behind. He moans when you leave kisses on both of his asscheeks, squirms under you, shamelessly pushes his ass closer to you.

“Hey, hey,” you pull away from him. “Only kisses.”

“Not even a finger?”

“No, not even one,” you smile, “And it’s pretty red already, believe me, so no slaps either.”

It’s not that you don’t want to give it to him at all but you aren’t quite sure where you left the lube last time and you wouldn’t leave him alone to go and look for it. The other problem, you don’t really see as a problem, but would leave Thomas too embarrassed would be that he would cum. Doesn’t matter if one finger, or two, or three. He would fuck himself back on them and cum, faster than he would like, embarrasslingy fast and he might not be happy to continue after. You don’t want to end this so soon. 

“I won’t …,” he starts and whines before continuing, “cum. I promise.”

“Good boys don’t lie.” You wet one of your fingers with spit and let it catch on his hole, he only tries to muffle his noises. “That wouldn’t even take you two minutes.”

You withdraw your finger and start kissing him again, the small of his back, his sides, some moles and freckles. Up his lower back. You do notice that he’s biting the pillow, rolling his hips into the mattress but you only stop him when he's seriously starting to rut into it. 

“What are you doing?” You hold his hips still.

“I’m hard,” he mumbles when you gently pull him off the pillow by his hair, lipstick bleeding into the white pillow case. An ear shattering mewl comes from him when you reach around him but before he has the chance to buck up into your hand, you pull away.

“Yes, my bunny is hard,” you whisper into his ear, “But I want you to hold your hips still. No getting off, okay?” 

He would - get off. Rubbing himself against the mattress, against you, furniture, your pillow. You can still remember the one time he was dry humping the pillow next to you. You didn’t ask him to do it, Thomas so horny and desperate to get off that he didn’t realise what he was doing, the only thing that was important was that you didn’t stop him. There wasn’t a no coming from you. The wet spot in his underwear gave him away before the humiliation reached his eyes and spit on his chin before he looked away ashamed. You moan thinking about it, you want him to do it again but you have to store the idea away for another day.

You still hold his hips when you kiss his shoulders. Then his neck, you stroke sweaty strands of his blond hair out of the way. You kiss the shells of his ears softly, Thomas shivering under you. For what feels like the fifth time already you reapply your lipstick again.

“Turn over.”

He’s careful to turn, slow, the ropes crossing and you can see how his dick is straining against his stomach, pre cum on the tip. 

This time you start kissing on the bridge of his foot, then the ankle, repeat your movements on the other side. Before kissing up his calves, his thighs, again. You kiss into his prominent pubic hair, pushing his dick a little out of the way to kiss his belly, his hips, up his happy trail, around his navel before you lick into it for only a second. You leave red marks on his ribs, around his sensitive nipples - on them. On his collarbones. You kiss his arms, his tattoos. His armpits, for a little bit longer, when you lick there he moans and pulls against the rope. You move on to kiss his tied wrists, his hands, his fingers. 

There’s a sniff. And then another. Some heavy breathing.

“Thom?”

“Hmmm?” He looks at you teary eyed.

“You are crying.” You put your hands on his wrists to untie him quickly if he wants to, if he needs to, stop. “Are you okay?”

“‘S good …,” he sounds drowsy and his eyes flutter but he still cries, “good tears, promise. More?”

You press the last kisses to his fingers and then move to his throat. You kiss up to his chin, you kiss the stubble, his cheeks, his forehead under his sweat drenched fringe, you kiss some tears away. You leave a dozen kisses on his nose before you stop.

“You forgot something,” he says sheepishly.

“True.”

And then you kiss him on the lips, his tongue lazily pushing into your mouth. He breathes heavily when you pull away.

“You said everything,” he whines and he pulls on his restraints even more than before.

It possibly feels like hours for Thomas when it only takes a few minutes to kiss your way down again. You take your time to kiss his scrotum, a bit too long for Thomas it seems, because he cums. His leg is kicking into the mattress, and then there’s only a low whimper. You can feel how he’s in a fight with the ropes around his wrists while you kiss and lick up his length and then you place one last kiss on the tip, some cum dribbling out of him and a pitiful whimper coming from the back of Thomas’ throat. You move up quickly to untie his wrists, to pull him close, sweat and lipstick covering him. He just sinks into your embrace.

“Are you okay?”

He nods at your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still floaty,” he looks at you - cuddles even closer to you, makes himself a home right where your heart beats, “but … I feel loved.”

“Good,” you kiss the top of his head, “Let's get you some water, and then I’ll clean you up.”

Thomas makes a grumpy noise at that.

“I’m gonna wash your hair and massage your shoulders, I promise. And after we can cuddle.”

“Chocolate?” Thomas asks.

“Yes, sure.” It’s some habit he developed, you already have forgotten how it started. But Thomas who usually isn’t too fused about chocolate would ask for it after subbing. After you put him in a fluffy bathrobe, he would slowly nibble on his chocolate while being hugged. “Of course you’re getting your chocolate.”

“And next time,” he smiles, “I can kiss you.”

.#####.

You shouldn’t be shocked, or surprised, but somehow you are both. It’s the fact that you didn’t expect it, when you should have seen it coming.

There’s red letters on your bathroom mirror. Lipstick sticking to the glass.

Love you!

There’s a heart around it, a lipstick mark next to it.

You can’t even be mad that he used your expensive one.

.#####.

How are there so many shades of lipstick?

That’s what Thomas writes to you one evening. 

How come you kept the liquid matte ones from me?

You laugh.

The next evening Vic texts you, looking for her lipstick, she thinks it might be with you. You have a look in the bathroom before you realise that the most likely suspect is right under her nose.

Ask Thom. And tell him, he has to give it back, he can’t just take what isn’t his.

He’s out but I found it in one of his pockets. Since when does he steal lipstick? 

Slight obsession.

You can imagine how Thomas’ cheeks heat up when Vic will tease him with it later.

Can you show me the colour?

Vic sends a photo of a lipstick tub with red roses on it. Another one, where you can see the colour, a raspberry red - a little pinkish. Another one that shows you the name. It’s matte and liquid. 

.#####.

“I got something for you.”

“Shouldn’t I bring presents from travelling, or something?”

“You will like it,” you smile at him. He will, you’re sure. But there might be a catch he isn’t expecting when you look at his excited face.

His face slightly drops when you give him the lipstick tub. Red roses on white background. The Dolce & Gabbana sign on it. The Dolcissimo name. He swallows.

“You know what this is?”

He nods.

You wait.

“Vic’s … lipstick.”

“No, this is your lipstick. I bought it, it’s yours, you can wear it.” He nods again. “And what do you have to say?”

“Little bunnies don’t take what isn’t theirs?”

“Exactly,” you say softly, “Come here.”

You apply the lipstick to his lips, he looks beautiful. Pretty.  

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you apologise to Vic?”

“I did.” Thomas blushes deeply.

“Good, and now bunny can make it up to me.”

He nods.

“You can get yourself ready,” there’s excitement sparking in his eyes, “And then you can get my harness, choose a size and take one more toy. Then you can get me, I’ll be in the kitchen cooking for later.”

At some point it made click in your head, that the biggest punishment for him is deciding on it himself and some other small thing. Rack his pretty head if he can and wants to take what he chooses for himself. It takes him longer than you anticipate. When he comes into the kitchen, he’s naked. Except for his collar, his cheeks are reddened. He isn’t saying a peep.

“Did you choose?”

He nods.

You eye his collar, you didn’t say anything about it, you aren’t displeased, you almost let it slide completely. You put a finger under it: “Next time you ask, okay?”

“Yes,” he gets out quickly, “Yes, I will. Thank you for letting me wear it.”

Thomas put everything on the end of the bed. He kneels next to it on the floor. You have a closer look. There’s your harness, lube, a condom, a dildo that’s slightly bigger than what you thought he would pick. But the biggest surprise are the nipple clamps he got out. With every passing second he blushes more. You pick the clamps up and let them dangle in front of his face.

“Are you sure about them?”

“Yes,” he looks at the floor.

“Babe, you hate them.” He really does, his nipples are sensitive, he always yelps and looks at you as if in agony. “You can choose something else, you can choose something you like.”

You’re surprised he didn’t go with his usual choice of rope. Or his second choice of a cock ring - there even is a vibrating one that he actually loves somewhere in the nightstand. 

“Can we try?” His voice is small. “Please.”

“Sure,” you get your hand under his chin, “but if this is too much we will change to a ring, okay?”

“Yes,” he smiles, “I would like that.”

You get your harness to step into it. Thomas stretches his hand out before he stops himself.

“Am I allowed to help?”

“Of course.”

He readjusts a strap that twisted, then he adjusts the toy to the o-ring of your strap-on harness. He stays on the floor until you tell him to get on the bed.

“Did you finger yourself?”

He looks at you out of wide eyes. Surprised. It just seems to hit him that this was included in getting yourself ready. 

“No,” he closes his eyes. “Bunny is still good?”

“Yes, you’re good.” You take his hand and squirt some lube onto his fingers. “You can do it now.”

You kiss his thighs, you know that he slid one finger into himself when you hear him moan, and then another one a few minutes later when you hear him mewl. You put some lube on your own fingers, one of them slips easily into Thomas, joining two of his own which he scissors slightly.

“You think that’s enough?”

“Ye-,” a moan rips through his throat, “Yes, I’m ready, please.”

“Good, keep your fingers there a little longer.” He sighs when you pull your finger out. You get the clamps and put them on his nipples slowly and carefully. He whimpers and moans and whines. “Should we take them off?”

You tug on the chain gently. There’s a little silent cry tumbling from Thomas’ lips. 

“Let’s take them off, okay.”

But Thomas shakes his head.

“No?”

“No,” he whines, “I want them, please. I want this, it feels nice … but no tugging harder than this.”

“Okay,” you shush him, “Not harder than this. And when it is too much we will still take them off.”

He watches you when you rub the lube onto the strap-on. Obediently he spreads his legs and he bites his lips when you stretch him out slowly. After a couple of inches you stop, only continuing when Thomas whimpers for more. You go slow on him, and his whimpers turn into moans when you slide in with the whole length. Thomas’ breath goes heavily and he bites his lips when you stop moving, just keeping him full. 

“You’re ruining your lipstick.”

He stops biting, but when you pull out completely, he bites his lip again to muffle his frustrated voice.

“I want you on top.”

You change places. He is over you, and you sitting against the back of the bed, waiting for him. To lower himself down, to get the dildo inside again. You’re waiting for him, he lets it slide back in slowly. He’s betraying his own impatience with how slow he’s going. Before the impatience takes over and he starts to bounce up and down. Hands around your neck. He hisses when you still his hips. It’s the other small thing he hates so much. 

“No bouncing.”

“But …” 

“Don’t move.”

For a minute you both stay still. He’s soft, and whimpering. And sososo desperate. You can see it on his face, it takes him a lot not to move. 

“That’s it, just like that,” you press a kiss to his lips - then to his nose, “such a good boy for holding still.”

“Just wanna bounce.”

You laugh a little: “I know, you’re such a bouncy bunny. But you have to hold out a bit longer.”

He grits his teeth together, everything to just stop himself from moving. He’s impatient, he wants to move. There are whines and growls coming from the back of his throat. You know it’s all he wants to do, just bounce up and down. Have the tip bump against his prostate. 

“You’re pretty when you’re blushing.”

His face and his throat get even redder, the teasing getting to him. He’s trying so hard not to move, to bounce, to wiggle, to grind against you. 

“You’re doing great.”

He loves the praise, his eyes rolling back. The blush isn’t going down, it only gets more, travelling down his chest. The look of his eyes is pleadingly, and he grabs your hand, squeezing it to think about anything else than moving. 

“Now you can move.”

There’s a breath he probably doesn’t know he was holding. He moves, his hips moving up and down. He’s a bouncing mess on top of you, lipstick getting smudged. He’s panting. And he’s so close. His thighs are quivering, his face lit up in pleasure. You tug at the chain from the nipple clamps just a tiny bit, he whines, but he still moves his hips.

“Stop.”

He makes the craziest sound you have ever heard. Alluring. Absolutely pathetic little noise. Still, he stops moving.

“Not fair,” slips out of his mouth before he can think about it. You tug on the chain again. You know that he can’t think straight anymore. 

You give him a short break: “Move.”

He moves, this time quicker, more uncoordinated. You give him a couple of minutes, not enough for him.

“Stop.”

“No …”

He whines, he bounces for a couple more seconds which is why you slap his thigh lightly and then he stops. He flares his nose. You know it’s all so much, too much. 

After the fourth round, you praise him, he isn’t moving. But he’s begging, drooling, the spit running down his chin. 

“Please, pl-please, just, bounce, please.”

Everything coming out of his mouth is a broken cry. His hair is everywhere, his bangs clinging to his forehead, sweat on his chest.

“I’m …,” he shivers, “Please, I’m so desperate. Bunny needs …”

He doesn’t finish. He sloppily starts sucking on your fingers when you hold them out for him. His red lips look beautiful around your fingers. 

“You were so good today,” you smile at him, “You can move.”

Thomas starts moving and this time you don’t stop him. His thighs are quivering harder than before. His breath hitching, his movements uncoordinated. You raise your hips a little bit to meet his movements. He cums with a loud moan when he bounces down and you take one of the nipple clamps off just to have the little teeth snap again. Thomas only slowly calms down.

“Ouch,” he whimpers.

You take them off carefully, Thomas still mumbling. 

“You are fantastic, we will put cream on your poor nipples,” you whisper into his ear, “Such a good boy, I love you.”

He doesn’t make any move to get off you, wanting the feeling for a bit longer. You’re grateful that you took a glass of water and some chocolate from the kitchen earlier.

“Love you too.”

.#####.

Thomas sends a photo of a lipstick to you just before a show. 

Vic’s?

NO

You can see the pout in front of your inner eye. 

Ethan got it from the mua. He said, I’m eyeing it, so I should wear it

It’s a lovely shade of merlot.

Do you want to wear it?

Yes

He sends you a selfie. Thomas in front of the mirror. Lipstick on his lips. He’s beautiful, and he doesn’t rub it off. Only when the stage lights are out again.

.#####.

END.

.#####.

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