πππππππ ππππππ ππππππ pt.2
SUMMARY β amber can't handle the fact that you don't talk to your parents because of her, so she's out here trying to fix everything herself.
WARNING β small age gap (18&26)
WORD COUNT β 5K (i think, don't know really)
The drive back to the apartment was quiet.
The kind of silence that comes after emotional exhaustion. After too many things said out loud. After too many feelings still bleeding open.
City lights swept through the car in brief flashes, lighting up Amber's profile for a second before fading back into dim darkness.
You stayed curled into the passenger seat, arms wrapped around your stomach like maybe you could physically hold yourself together that way.
You kept crying on and off.
Just constant tears that never really seemed to stop.
And every time you wiped your face, more showed up.
Amber didn't pressure you to talk.
She just drove with one hand on the wheel while the other kept reaching for you every now and then. Brushing your knee. Lacing your fingers together for a few seconds. Quietly reminding you she was still there.
That almost made it worse.
Because after everything that had happened... she was still taking care of you first.
When she finally parked outside your apartment building, you realized you didn't want to move.
The idea of getting out of the car felt impossible.
Your whole body was exhausted.
Amber slowly turned the engine off.
The silence rushed back in immediately.
Then she turned slightly toward you.
"Do you wanna go upstairs, or do you wanna stay here for a bit?"
Even that she asked like you actually had a choice in any of this. Like your emotions weren't some burden. Like she hadn't just survived the worst family dinner imaginable because of you.
Something inside you finally cracked.
You covered your face immediately.
Your voice came out muffled.
The words started spilling out through tears again.
"Everything was awful. They treated you horribly. My family treated you like you were, I don't know, like you were doing something wrong just by being with me."
Amber unbuckled her seatbelt immediately.
Because if you looked at her, you'd cry even harder.
And that happened anyway the second you felt her gently grab your wrist and pull your hands away from your face.
Tired too, now that you could really see it.
But unbelievably patient.
"You are not responsible for other people's reactions."
You let out a broken laugh.
"Yeah, well, they're my family."
"Didn't exactly feel like it today."
"It felt more like they were scared."
That pissed you off instantly all over again.
"And that somehow makes it better?"
The answer came immediately.
"But I think it makes it more complicated."
Because of course Amber would find the most compassionate way possible to look at all of it.
Even after they spent hours making her feel watched.
Even after all the uncomfortable questions.
Even after your dad practically implied she was too old for you.
"They shouldn't have treated you like that."
Amber held your gaze for a few seconds.
Then she smiled a little.
"It's not the first time people have questioned a relationship with me."
That hit you right in the chest.
Because of course it wasn't.
Amber was famous. Older. Visible. Openly queer in a world that still treated that like some kind of debate.
How many times had she dealt with looks like that.
How many times had she been "too much" of something for someone?
"But I'm supposed to be the first person protecting you from that," you whispered.
Amber's expression changed immediately.
Now her voice was firmer.
"You didn't bring me there to hurt me."
Amber stayed quiet for a moment.
"You know what the worst part of today was?"
You instantly braced yourself for something awful. Something that would confirm every fear you had.
But Amber shook her head slightly.
"Watching you think you had to choose between them and me."
That completely shattered you.
Because that was exactly what you'd felt all afternoon.
Like loving Amber automatically meant disappointing somebody else.
The tears came harder again.
Amber moved closer immediately.
"How am I not supposed to? Did you see the way they looked at you?"
"And I also saw your brother hug me. And your grandma kiss me goodbye."
That only made you cry harder.
Because even now she still found the good parts.
How the hell did she keep doing that?
Amber wiped away one of your tears with her thumb.
"Come on. Let's go upstairs, okay?"
The first few days after the barbecue were awful.
Not in some explosive way.
Your family stopped calling you nonstop after that night, but that didn't mean peace. It just meant distance. Half-written texts getting deleted. Dead silence in the family group chat. A weird emptiness where there was usually always noise.
And you replied with nothing but:
Not total silence, technically.
Your little brother kept sending you stupid memes and random gaming videos like the world wasn't partially on fire. Your grandma left you a voicemail saying you looked too skinny and needed to learn how to cook something besides pasta. Your aunt Laura reacted to one of your Instagram stories with a heart.
And honestly, at first you were too angry to care.
The anger stayed alive in you those first few days like a fresh burn.
Every time you remembered the way they looked at Amber.
Your dad telling you you were acting like a child.
Your mom talking about Amber like she was some inevitable disaster waiting to happen.
It all came rushing back.
And every time it did, you shut down a little more.
You refused to call them.
Ignored your mom's longer texts for hours before replying.
Even hearing the word 'family' made your body tense up.
Amber never pressured you.
And maybe that was the most dangerous part of all.
Because it would've been easier to stay angry if she'd said:
"Your parents were awful."
"You shouldn't talk to them."
But Amber never said any of that.
She still asked if you'd eaten.
Still left coffee ready before your early classes.
Still wrapped her arms around you from behind when you studied too late into the night.
Still stayed careful whenever the subject came up.
And after a while, that started hurting too.
Because you could see the effort.
The way she avoided saying anything bad about them even when she clearly had every reason to.
The way she changed the subject whenever she noticed you getting worked up.
Like she was scared of taking up too much space between you and your family.
And slowly... the weeks kept moving.
The new semester started.
And life, cruelly enough, kept going.
Your classes started eating up your time again. Professors handing out impossible syllabi on day one. Packed libraries. Cheap coffee somehow still keeping your body alive. New schedules taped to the apartment fridge.
You went back to complaining about group projects.
Went back to falling asleep on top of your notes.
Went back to living in that constant mix of academic stress and physical exhaustion.
Amber went back to training seriously.
The next season was getting closer, and you started noticing the gradual shift in her.
More ice packs on her knees at the end of the day.
There were mornings when you'd stumble out for class half asleep while she was already awake stretching in the living room as the sun came up.
She always made time for you.
She stayed awake waiting for you some nights even when she was obviously exhausted. Texted you during training breaks asking how an exam went. Automatically kissed your forehead every time she walked past you.
It was ridiculously easy to keep falling in love with her.
And maybe that was exactly why the silence with your family started scaring you a little.
Because eventually the initial anger started fading.
But enough for other feelings to crawl up underneath it.
Your mom sending recipes you never actually made.
Your dad asking about classes while pretending not to care.
Chaotic FaceTimes with your little brother showing you horrible drawings.
All of it started hurting quietly.
She always noticed everything.
The first time was on a random night.
You were eating Chinese takeout straight from the cartons because neither of you had the energy to cook. You were sitting on the living room floor going over notes while Amber was sitting next to you.
Your phone buzzed on the table.
You looked automatically.
Your body tensed immediately.
Amber noticed that in silence.
But a few minutes later she asked softly:
"How's your brother doing?"
You looked up, surprised.
"It's been a few days since he talked to you, huh?"
But after that, the subject started coming up more often.
Like Amber was approaching a wounded animal.
"Your grandma commented on your last photo."
"Your mom sent another text."
"I think your dad watched yesterday's interview."
But never ignoring the growing emptiness either.
Until one night, almost a month after the barbecue, you woke up and Amber wasn't in bed.
The clock read two-thirty in the morning.
You found her sitting in the living room in complete darkness except for the faint streetlight coming through the window.
She was wearing an oversized hoodie with her knees pulled up against her chest.
"Can't sleep?" you asked, voice rough with sleep.
Amber lifted her head immediately.
And smiled a little when she saw you.
You shook your head as you walked over.
She automatically made room for you on the couch.
You curled up half on top of her, still sleepy, resting your head against her shoulder.
For a while neither of you spoke.
You just listened to Amber's slow breathing and the distant sound of cars outside.
Then you felt her absentmindedly running her hand along your arm.
"I've been thinking about something," she finally said.
Your body tensed slightly.
Because that tone usually meant important conversations.
Amber took way too long to answer.
"I don't want you losing your family because of me."
You lifted your head immediately.
Her voice stayed soft. Calm.
But you could hear nerves underneath it.
"I'm not saying you should pretend nothing happened. Or accept things that hurt you. I just..." she exhaled slowly. "I don't want to become the reason you stop talking to the people you love."
"You're not the reason. They are."
"And still, you're the one suffering right now."
Because some awful part of you knew she was right.
Amber brushed a piece of hair away from your face. "I don't think they're bad people."
"They didn't act like good people that day."
She admitted it instantly.
"But I think they were scared and reacted badly."
You pulled back slightly so you could look at her better.
"Why do you always understand them?"
Amber let out a small tired laugh.
"Because I've spent a long time being the person who scares somebody's parents."
That cracked your heart open a little.
Because she said it too easily.
Like it was already accepted.
You sat up completely now.
"I hate when you talk about yourself like that."
Amber raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Like you're some problem people have to learn how to tolerate."
Her expression shifted slightly.
"Then stop acting like it's your responsibility to make everybody comfortable."
Amber opened her mouth to answer.
And right there, you knew you'd hit exactly where it hurt.
The silence stretched for a few seconds.
Then she took a slow breath.
"I'm gonna talk to your parents."
"Not to convince them of anything. Just... talk."
You pulled away from her completely now.
"I can't keep watching this destroy you."
"It's not your responsibility to fix it."
But the way she said it made it painfully obvious that wasn't going to stop her.
Anxiety hit you instantly.
"What if they say something awful again?"
"I don't want you to have to."
Something warm and sad flickered across her face at that.
She took your hand slowly.
"Baby... I've spent my whole life surviving people's opinions about me."
You hated how much pain she managed to hide inside one calm sentence.
You shook your head quickly.
"You don't have to do this."
Amber traced her thumb across your knuckles.
She held your gaze for a long moment.
And when she answered, her voice was so honest it made your chest tighten.
"Because I love you way too much to sit here comfortably while you're breaking yourself apart between me and them."
Thursday started like any other day.
Amber awake before the sun.
The smell of coffee filling the tiny apartment while you tried to convince yourself that an 8 a.m. class should legally count as a human rights violation.
Nothing seemed different.
And maybe that's why you didn't notice anything weird at first.
Amber was especially quiet that morning. Not distant. Not cold. Just... thoughtful.
You found her in the kitchen already dressed for training: black leggings, an oversized dark hoodie, and her hair pulled into a messy bun still damp from the shower.
She was leaning against the counter scrolling through something on her phone while waiting for the toaster to pop.
When she looked up and saw you dragging yourself into the kitchen, she smiled immediately.
That softness she saved only for you.
"Morning, struggling college girl."
You grunted something completely unintelligible while collapsing onto one of the stools.
Amber let out a low laugh.
"Too early for human language."
She slid a cup of coffee toward you.
She watched you take the first sip and smiled faintly, clearly pleased with herself.
"You got a long practice today?" you asked.
But later, replaying the conversation over and over in your head, you realized it.
Because she knew exactly what you would've done if she'd told you the truth.
You looked at her over the rim of your mug.
"What about you? A ton of assignments today?"
You rolled your eyes immediately.
"I have this horrible sociology presentation and I'm probably gonna die in front of thirty people."
Amber set her phone aside.
"That's easy for you to say."
She walked over to where you were sitting and automatically placed her hands on either side of the stool, leaning toward you.
"You're gonna walk in there, talk for ten minutes, and then come back dramatic as hell telling me it was the worst moment of your life."
How did she still smile like that?
Even after all the chaos with your family.
"See you tonight," she murmured before kissing you.
Nothing about that kiss prepared you for what she was gonna do a few hours later.
The morning went horribly, exactly like you predicted.
Your presentation was a disaster in your opinion and totally fine according to literally everybody else.
You sent Amber a three-minute voice message complaining the second you walked out of class.
She replied almost immediately:
"You survived. Very proud of you."
And then a second text right after:
That made you smile involuntarily while walking across campus.
Until it suddenly wasn't.
Because around twelve-thirty, you got a call from your mother.
You hadn't really talked in weeks. And lately every interaction had been reduced to short, emotionally tense texts.
You stopped outside the library staring at the screen vibrating in your hand.
Your stomach tightened automatically.
You answered after the fourth ring.
Then your mother's voice.
That did not help at all.
You started walking again, slower this time.
You heard her exhale slowly.
And then she said the words that made your heart drop straight into your stomach.
You stopped dead in your tracks.
The entire campus disappeared around you.
Your whole body went cold.
"Amber is at the house with you right now?"
"She's talking to your father."
The anxiety hit so fast it almost made you dizzy.
"Why the hell is she there?"
Your mother went quiet for one second too long.
She'd hidden it from you.
Because she knew you would try to stop it.
Your voice came out much sharper now.
"Honey, she just wanted to talk."
You immediately started walking faster toward the parking lot.
That only made everything worse.
You pulled your car keys out with shaking hands.
"She should not be doing this alone."
"It was her decision to come."
"Well, you shouldn't have let her!"
You heard movement on the other side of the phone.
Your mother lowered her voice.
"I didn't want you two staying like this."
That made you stop for half a second.
Because there was something tired in the way she said it.
But you were too nervous to really process it.
You hung up before she could answer.
And then the panic really started.
Because you knew your parents.
And the combination of both of those things without you there in the middle felt dangerous as hell.
The drive to the house turned into a horrible spiral of thoughts.
What if your dad implied again that Amber was taking advantage of you?
What if your mom accidentally said something cruel?
What if Amber finally got tired of all of it?
The constant fear that one day somebody would wear her down enough.
Because Amber was patient, yeah.
You parked so fast in front of the house you barely even remembered turning the car off properly.
The front door was closed.
Everything looked weirdly calm from the outside.
That did not reassure you at all.
You practically burst inside.
Your voice echoed through the entryway.
You heard movement in the kitchen.
And when you walked in, the scene stopped you cold.
Your mother was sitting across from Amber at the kitchen table.
Two cups of coffee sat between them.
Amber looked up immediately when she saw you.
Her hands too still around the coffee cup.
And something inside you cracked a little when you realized she'd probably been feeling like that all morning.
"What are you doing here?" you asked too quickly.
"Your father stepped out for a minute."
That answered absolutely nothing.
Your eyes snapped right back to Amber.
The anger and fear collided violently inside you.
Her name came out almost like a plea.
Because you didn't understand how she could've done this without telling you.
Amber slowly set the cup down on the table.
And when she spoke, her voice was unbelievably soft.
"I knew you would've tried to stop me."
That hurt because it was true.
You walked closer immediately.
"Of course I would've tried to stop you. What if they said something horrible to you again?"
And for one second she looked so emotionally exhausted it hurt to breathe.
"I don't want you having to deal with it!"
Your voice was rising again now.
Your mother watched silently from the other side of the table.
Amber, meanwhile, kept looking only at you.
"I didn't come here for me."
"That doesn't make it better."
"I came because I love you."
The ease with which she said things like that still destroyed you. And worse: she sounded completely sincere every single time.
Your breathing came out shaky.
"You don't have to fix this."
Amber shook her head slightly.
"I'm not trying to fix it."
"Then what are you doing?"
And then Amber answered with something that made you go completely still.
"I'm trying to make sure that someday you can come home without feeling like you have to leave a part of yourself outside."
The words hung in the kitchen.
And suddenly all the anger you'd carried with you from campus started mixing with something way more painful.
Because Amber hadn't come here to defend herself.
She hadn't come to convince your parents to approve of her.
You just stared at her, not knowing what to do with the pressure building in your chest.
The afternoon sun streamed through the kitchen window, lighting part of her face. And now that you were closer, you could really see her.
Not physically. Not the way she did after training.
Like someone who'd spent hours having difficult conversations while carefully choosing every single word.
And still, when she looked at you, she did it with that impossible softness she only ever saved for you.
Your mother slowly stood from the table.
"I'm gonna give you two a minute."
She hesitated briefly before leaving the kitchen.
And the second you were alone, the silence changed completely.
You walked closer slowly until you were standing right in front of Amber.
"How long have you been here?"
Your eyes widened immediately.
A ridiculous mix of guilt and desperation hit you all at once.
"And you've been talking to my parents this entire time?"
"With breaks. Your mom forced me to eat something."
That almost made you laugh out of pure nerves.
But you were still way too overwhelmed.
"Why would you do this alone?"
Amber looked up at you from her chair.
There was something so painfully honest in her eyes right then that it was hard to hold her gaze.
"Because I didn't want you feeling like you had to protect me."
That hit you straight in the chest.
Because you had been doing exactly that.
Protecting her from comments.
Like the entire world could wear her down if you weren't constantly standing between her and everything else.
You slowly dropped into the chair across from her.
And for the first time since you arrived, you actually noticed the atmosphere in the kitchen.
It didn't feel like a war zone.
There wasn't explosive tension.
The coffee cups were half empty. A plate of cookies sat open in the middle of the table. Even Amber's jacket was folded over another chair like she'd been there long enough to settle in a little.
"What did you talk about?"
Amber rested her forearms on the table.
"That answers literally nothing."
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Your mom cried a little."
"I think she expected me to get angrier."
That sounded painfully believable.
Your mother was used to defensive arguments. To people reacting with anger when they felt judged.
Amber had probably sat there listening patiently all over again.
That made you frown immediately.
"Did she apologize to you?"
She raised a hand gently.
"Hey. I didn't come here demanding apologies."
Her eyes softened instantly.
And for a second she looked like she was debating whether to answer honestly or not.
Finally she spoke more quietly.
"I think your parents were expecting someone completely different."
Amber let out a short breath.
"I don't know. Someone arrogant maybe. Or controlling. Or somebody trying to pull you away from them."
The idea made your stomach twist.
Because some part of your parents had probably built this monstrous version of Amber in their heads before they'd even met her.
The older famous athlete dating their college-aged daughter.
All of that was easy to turn into a threat when fear got louder than logic.
It frustrated you how she still found compassion for everybody.
You rubbed your face with both hands.
"God... I can't believe you came here alone."
Amber watched you silently for a few seconds.
"Your dad asked me if I thought I'd marry you someday."
Your head snapped up so fast it almost made you dizzy.
This time Amber actually laughed a little.
Still slightly shocked herself.
"Yeah. Pretty direct too."
For the first time since you got there, Amber looked genuinely nervous.
You saw it in the way she glanced away for a second.
In the way she absently played with the edge of her coffee cup.
"I told him we've been together less than a year."
That answered absolutely nothing.
She knew it too, because she slowly looked back up at you.
"I also told him I've never wanted to build a life with someone this quickly before."
Because Amber didn't say things like that lightly.
She wasn't dramatic about feelings. When she said something serious... you knew.
Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard it hurt.
She smiled a little seeing you emotionally wrecked all over again.
"The 'I'm about to cry at any second' face."
Your eyes were already burning.
Amber slowly held her hand out across the table.
Always waiting for you to decide to move closer first.
You intertwined your fingers with hers immediately.
"Did my dad say anything else?"
Amber stayed quiet for a few seconds.
Clearly thinking carefully about her answer.
"He asked me if I understood why he was worried."
That made you tense up again.
You let out a frustrated breath.
Amber squeezed your fingers softly.
"No, it's just, you always do that. You always understand everybody."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Understanding doesn't mean I think they're right."
And maybe you'd been too hurt to see it.
Amber kept speaking softly.
"Your dad isn't worried because he thinks you're stupid."
"Because he loves you a lot."
That made the anger inside you wobble a little.
"And because he knows what the world is like," Amber added more quietly. "He knows people can be cruel. He knows an age gap makes people talk. He knows my public life complicates things."
It hurt hearing her say it so calmly.
"I don't care about any of that."
Amber smiled sadly this time.
"I know. But sometimes parents care about pain that hasn't happened yet."
You understood her way too well in that moment. Because you were constantly terrified of future things too.
That one day she'd get tired.
That public pressure would become too much.
That someone would eventually hurt her.
Fear was love in its ugliest form sometimes.
Then the front door opened.
Your body tensed automatically.
Your father's voice calling from the entryway.
And before you could emotionally prepare yourself, he appeared in the kitchen doorway.
He stopped completely still when he saw you there.
The tension came back immediately.
Your father slowly set his keys down on the counter.
And then he looked at Amber first.
Your chest hurt instantly.
Because the question sounded genuinely concerned.
Your father exhaled softly.
Like he'd been worried she might've already left. And then something even stranger happened.
And suddenly he seemed way more tired than angry.
"Your mother said you were coming over."
Nobody really seemed to know what to do now.
Your father finally stepped farther into the kitchen.
The distance between you and him felt enormous even though it was only a few feet.
And then he said something you'd been needing to hear for weeks.
"I never wanted to make you feel like you couldn't love who you love."
Because your father wasn't someone who apologized easily.
And even though it wasn't exactly a full apology... it was probably the closest he knew how to get.
Your eyes started filling again.
Your father stayed standing on the other side of the kitchen like he didn't really know what to do after saying that.
And honestly... neither did you.
Because for weeks you'd been feeding the anger. Holding onto it tight so you wouldn't have to think too hard about how much you missed your family. About how badly that afternoon had hurt you.
But now, looking at him standing there with exhaustion written all over his face, he looked less like the terrible villain you'd built up in your head and more like... your dad.
Clumsily trying not to lose you.
That didn't erase the damage.
But it made things more complicated.
And complicated was a hell of a lot harder to hate.
