#1kless

The touch extended up to your waist, pausing to admire as your knees straightened and toes curled into a blissful stretch. A pop emitted from your hip, briefly soothing the ache that had taken residence there. Deft fingers chased the soreness at your lower back, briefly curling into the muscles until a soft rumble fell from between your lips. 

“Good morning, love.” Your eyes fluttered, heart clenching at the boy gently smiling at you as if his world dangled between your fingertips. A stray curl dangled over his glasses, headphones resting at his shoulders and indicating he most likely just finished recording. 

His free hand raised to brush the hair from your eyes, briefly pausing to caress the rosy skin of your cheek. His gaze fell to the blanket that rest over you, a lazy smile brightening his features and his fingers slipping underneath the thick sweatshirt you wore. You made a soft sound, sending him an irritated look as his cold skin intruded your warmth.  

“Hungry?” His voice was soft, rumbling with contentment. 

You hummed, pondering over the possibilities. “You know better than to ask me that. I’m carrying a balloon here.” He caressed the swell of your belly then, a warm glaze crossing his eyes. When his touch went unanswered, his bottom lip puckered in a pout. “He’s trying to sleep, daddy. Just like I was.”

His responding grin could have lit up New York City. “She is sleeping.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop from smiling as his hands teased your heavy sweatshirt until your stomach was in full view. Goosebumps rose, drawing a lazy turn from the tiny gift you held. “Way to go, champ. You woke him up.” 

An amused chuckle fell from him, head lowering to be closer to the bump. A ringed hand stroked the revealed skin, smile erupting once more when a responding kick thumped against his skin. “Hey, Bean. What’s for breakfast?”

“French toast.” You paused, debating on the many cravings coming to mind. “...and pickles.”

He considered the combination for a moment, thumb aimlessly stroking your belly. “Not the weirdest we’ve had.” He placed a chaste kiss against your exposed skin, then quickly replaced your sweatshirt. “Don’t worry, Bean. Coming right up.” 

As he stood and moved to disappear out of the room, he paused at the sound of your voice. “Brad?” 

That caramel gaze met yours, concern drawing his brows together and his muscles flex. “Will you.. Lay with us for a little?” He instantly relaxed, visibly more than happy to grant your request. He settled beside you, arms curling around your middle and drawing you both close. Naturally, your fingers drifted through his hair, basking in the smell of his cologne and his warmth. After a moment, he began humming a delicate melody against your skin, smiling each time a tiny touch bumped against his cheek. 

He was silent as you belligerently looked through your drawers, only becoming more irritated each time you failed to find what you were searching for. “I get it, okay? You’re touring with her and whatever-,” You paused, roughly shoving the drawer back into place and your patience quickly dwindling. “But aren’t I something? What the fuck is the point of me coming along if I’m just another in the crowd?”

Brad’s silence persisted, though he took the time to stand from the bed, dig through your shared closet for but a moment and return with the exact item you’d been searching for. Despite your anger, you murmured your gratitude just loud enough for him to hear.

The gesture was enough to temper the heat that sparked in the pit of your stomach, only for it to snap back into place at the mere thought of his arms around her and smiling as if nothing in the world could have made him happier.

“Do you like her?” The words were bitter on your tongue, as was his reaction. He did nothing but meet your fiery gaze, lips raised in an amused smirk and reacting as if you’d just cracked a joke. “Are you—,”

Before you could even manage the words, Brad was on his feet and pressing a messy kiss just under your ear. His left hand lifted to caress your jaw, pleased as your words became nothing more than a breathless gasp. 

He straightened to meet your gaze, igniting each and every one of your senses into overdrive with nothing but a look. “You’re jealous.” He quipped, as if tasting the words on his tongue for the very first time. 

He tapped his index finger against your cheek, seemingly pleased with that little realization. He pressed forward then, his warm breath tickling the curve of your ear. “Why?”

Why? Why? Why wouldn’t you be?

You braced the palm of your hands against his chest, though did nothing to exert enough pressure to shove him away. “Because...” You paused to swallow, hoping the annoying itch in your throat would go away. He waited rather impatiently for your response, soft lips caressing butterfly kisses into your skin. “She’s beautiful...” 

He wasn’t pleased with the answer, resorting to offering a sharp nip to your delicate skin. He softly rumbled his displeasure, though said nothing more. You resisted the urge to rub at the mark that was no doubt blossoming red, all coherent thoughts melting away as he soothed the mark with those soft, barely-there kisses. 

The fight melted from your shoulders, fingers raising to curl through his shirt as you gave in. “I never see you, Brad... She sees you everyday.” His touch rounded your waist, fingers slipping under the (his) shirt you’d slipped on. He paused at the band of your underwear, simply listening. “And I know how fond you are of her. She’s...”

It was odd. One moment you were on your feet and the next you felt velvet sheets beneath you. His body was warm as he slipped between the crevices of your own, hardly giving you a moment to catch your breath before he was kissing you. It was rough and sharp but fuck did it make your toes curl. 

Caramel skin and chocolate eyes met your own, one brow raised expectantly. “Brad?” You dropped the pen nestled between your fingers, turning to check the time. Seven o’clock flashed in bright red letters, a half hour past the time you were supposed to meet him at Dewey’s Pizza.

“Oh, damn. I’m sorry! I lost track of time and...” Brad waved a dismissive hand, dropping his jacket onto the foot of your bed as he sighed.

“It’s alright, love. You’ve got exams and,” he paused and motioned towards the markers, the pens, the clutter scattered about. “The like.”

“No, no— I want to go. I just.. I’ve got a handful of papers due by Monday and a speech I have to memorize and—,” You paused, eyes falling at the realization of the amount of work you still had ahead of you.

The words slipped from your mind, unable to ignore the bite of dread that gnawed at the edges of your mind. How were you supposed to sleep? Eat? Think?

“Hey, hey.” Brad surged forward, warm hands cradling your chin until there was nothing but him — his touch, his smell, his voice. “Forget about dinner. Forget about everything.” Your eyes followed as he swiped everything from your bed, hushing the soft pleas you mumbled as the materials crashed against the wooden floor.

“Brad, I can’t just—,”

He murmured a low, “nuh uh” and silenced your grumbles with soft pecks, gradually becoming a little more than soft caresses and touches. Your fingers snuck under his hoodie, fingertips caressing the soft skin as his attention fell elsewhere.

“Brad—,” A faint breath fell past your lips, head falling back against the pillow beneath you. “I’ve got a speech—I can’t—,” He nipped the soft skin of your earlobe, pleased with the squeak of surprise you offered in response.

He pulled away then, falling against his side and unable to hide a smile as you followed. You tucked yourself against him, hands slipping around his waist and nose nuzzled into his sweatshirt.

“You’re staring again.” Your fingers fluttered, blunt nails scratching against the cardboard around your drink. It didn’t aid in the slightest; the tips of your fingers burned from the heat radiating from the flimsy paper cup. “He’ll be here.”

“I know.” It was an itch – an urge one couldn’t scratch. “I can’t help it.”

“How long will he be in town for?” There was a shrug and a gentle smile in response, as if you weren’t explicitly informed of the two months and twenty-two days he would be home. As if you hadn’t dreamed of waking in the morning, sun peering through the shades and casting a pale light upon the boy you loved.

“A month or two.” As if unable to not, your eyes strayed and fell upon the stairway once more. It was impossible to know the exact number of times you had seen him descend those same stairs, if it still be in the hundreds or now the thousands. Either way, the simple sight of the dreary stairs were enough to release a quake of excitement through your heart.

“Have you thought about traveling with him?”

In an attempt to to do something – anything with your hands, you took the wrapper of your friend’s straw and twisted the fragile paper between your fingers. “A bit, yeah. We tried in the beginning, he said it was important to be around each other as much as possible in the beginning.”

There was a brief pause before they laughed, drawing another smile from you. “What?”

You nodded and laughed at the memory. “I’ve heard it for recently married couples but,” There was a shrug, “Either way, we learned traveling isn’t really for me. I love my bed too much.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

It was another twenty minutes before there was an announcement, revealing that Brad’s flight had finally, finally landed. As always, the nerves grew as “ONTIME” flipped to “LANDED”. Brad was home.

“You okay?” A nod, that was all you could provide. Your eyes never wavered from the second floor, heart ricocheting each time a new head of brown hair emerged. This, regardless of the circumstances, always happened to be the most stressful. The anticipation, the wait... everything led up to this very moment. 

From the corner of your eye, no more than a handful of feet away, something caught your attention. It was a man, pulling a large object from his bag and eyeing the same staircase as you.

“Babe—,” Your breath caught, eyes returning to the beloved staircase. He was there, hair messy and shadows beneath his eyes, descending the stairs as if he hadn’t possessed a care in the world. 

His eyes lifted then, catching your own. A smile tore from your lips, quite literally forcing your heels into the floor. It was a harmonious agreement — there was no need for the public to know of your relationship. You were happy, as was he. Why involve those who didn’t need to be involved?

However, as Brad dropped from the last step, it was obvious that was no longer at the forefront of his mind. He was before you in seconds, belongings dropping to the floor and warm fingers enveloping your jaw as he smiled. Breathlessly, “Brad, there are cameras—,” 

His response was simple. “I don’t care.” Then his lips were on yours, the tips of his curls tickling your skin and the taste of honey at the tip of your tongue. You found your fingers in the thin cloth of his shirt, wrinkling it between your fists and clutching onto him as if the world depended on it. 

When he pulled away, he whispered a soft, “Hi”.

There was a pause, just to swipe a thumb across his bottom lip. “You know what you just did, right?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t help it.”

Though the knowledge that your relationship was no longer private was heavy, it was difficult to mourn. When he watched you with those soft eyes, gently smiling and just there, how could you complain?

It was an odd experience, to say the least.

Names and greetings were thrown at him every which way and damn, did he try to remember them all. It was a fruitless goal but an attempt nonetheless.

There was a nudge at his side, only to discover Tristan pointing at one of the many in line as he turned. It was obvious the blonde was trying to be sly, even when combined with the semi-to-very-obvious head jerks in that general direction.

It was as if he was breathing for the very first time. His lungs contracted painfully, as if momentarily forgetting how to function properly.

You were… Intoxicating.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was the “star”, the person who smiled and posed for a picture. Instead, as his eyes met yours, he could feel his fingers shaking and the drum of his heart echoing in his ears.

You were smiling, cheeks flushed crimson and apprehension in your eyes as you stepped closer.

You went to James first. As you greeted him, Brad couldn’t look away. He barely even blinked as you moved to hug Connor.

He sucked in a silent breath. He was next. What would you say? Would you introduce yourself? Would you say anything?

As your eyes met, it felt similar to the way a flame felt when you got too close. It was painful, but released adrenaline into your veins nonetheless.

“Hi.” He might have been smiling, or possibly even scowling for all he knew. He was too absorbed in the sound of your voice to care.

There was a nudge at his side, drawing him to the fact that he had yet to respond. Shakily, “Hi”.

You moved to Tristan then, which left him to introduce himself to your friends. It was difficult, especially with the faint trace of vanilla still teasing his nose.

He didn’t know why this was. This had never happened before, nor had he expected it to ever happen.

He was well aware of the beauty his fans possessed — he wasn’t stupid. However, it was rare to find time to truly get to know a person, much less to have something serious with someone. With that in mind, what was the point in even trying?

“Mind if I—?” He nodded instantly, nervously smiling as you slipped into the space between him and Tristan. He smiled for the camera, unconsciously bowing his head in your direction just the slightest. When the flash was off and he was offered the opportunity to actually speak to you, he didn’t waste a moment.

“I’m, uh, I’m Brad.” It felt odd to hold out his hand, considering the circumstances. You smiled once more, slipping your hand into his with the reply of your own name.

“It’s nice to meet you, really.”

He swallowed and forced a smile despite the anxiety building in his throat. How was he to go about this? This wasn’t a regular thing, he had no pre-planned method. “You too. How are you?”

“I can’t complain. Meeting you doesn’t happen every day, y’know?”

“Well, I could say the same thing about you.”

You laughed, a soft sound no instrument could compare to. It was beautiful, especially when he was the one that caused it. “Quite the charmer, are we?”

“Well, I am English.” He replied, smiling a bit to show he was joking. He had had more than enough misunderstandings through the years. “This may be a bit... Hasty, but considering the circumstances...,” He paused and released a breath. “Would you mind going out for a drink later? Or perhaps dinner? I mean, this is lovely don’t get me wrong... It’s just it’s a bit rushed, yeah?”

Slowly, enough to have him quaking in his shoes a bit, you nodded. “I’d love to. Um,” Your eyes flittered over to the people running the meet and greet, well aware of their frantic ushering to move on. In a rush, you took your marker and dotted the digits into his palm. “Don’t wash your hands.”

Four years later, now sharing a home and planning the rest of your lives together, you came across those photos. They had been forgotten in a dusty box in the highest shelf of the closet, distant memories that suddenly didn’t feel so distant.

The first photo happened to be of him, so similar yet so different than the Brad you knew today. His hair was long and unruly, cheesing goofily at the camera with stupid finger guns. The picture tugged at the strings of your heart, reminding you of the warmth you felt for the curly-haired boy.

Little did you know, it was only the beginning.

The next polaroid was of you both, revealing Brad obnoxiously smashing a kiss against your cheek as you laughed. It was still the very beginnings of your relationship, everything still so beautifully nerve-wracking and new.

It continued as so, occasionally coming across photos with the boys or your friends, until you came across a photo that jerked tears from your eyes. It was another photo of the two of you, only it appeared as if someone else had taken it. As you were in the middle of a laughing fit, Brad watched you with one of the most sincere gazes you had ever seen. There was a little smile on his lips, so unquestionably and deeply in love.

People always gushed over the way Brad looked at you. You had never seen it firsthand but now that you had, you understood. He loved you the same way you loved him — boundlessly. It was no secret how in love you were with each other. The picture only reiterated what you already knew; you missed him.

Despite the warning in the back of your head, you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

Upon coming across a picture of Brad recording, you felt a weight against your leg. As you blinked through the blur of tears, you saw blonde fur and a little nose. She released a gentle whimper, dark eyes staring up at you with worry in her eyes.

You smiled and traced a hand through her fur. “Hey Jesse. I’m okay. Just missin’ daddy a little extra today.” She seemed pleased enough with the response, releasing a heavy breath and relaxing against you. “Maybe I should have waited and made him clean out the closet.” You laughed, only becoming more amused when she gave you an unimpressed look.

She remained with you through the remainder of the photos, even when you got a little too excited when you came across a photo of her and Brad. Though Brad was smiling, Jesse looked just as unimpressed as ever in the picture.

It was a rather bittersweet moment. While it was incredible coming across so many memories, some forgotten and others that had become blurry over the years, it hurt that you couldn’t share this moment with Brad. You were going to send him a special of the few and show him the remainder once he was home, but this moment was one you should have shared.

A moment later, your phone was pressed against your ear. Much to your surprise, he answered. “Hello?”

The sound of his voice was enough to have you smiling. “Hi.”

“Hey, is something wrong? I thought we were going to FaceTime in a few hours?”

“No, no — are you busy? I can call back. It isn’t important. Just wanted to talk, s’all.”

“No, you just sound like you’ve been crying.” Leave it to him to know that by only your voice. “We’re sitting around right now anyways. Are you alright, love?”

You nodded, momentarily forgetting the small fact that this was a phone call. “I’m fine, I promise. I came across some old photos. You know, the ones we took with the camera you bought me?”

You could hear the amusement in his tone. “Really? I thought we tossed those ages ago! Are any of them… You know…”

“Bradley, are you asking me if we took any nudes and saved them?” His silence was enough to draw a laugh from you. “No, baby. The worst we have are with us in our underwear.”

“What a shame.”

“Bradley!” He laughed, which you promptly shook your head at. You could only imagine his pleased expression. “You’re terrible.”

“What?” He asked, his tone rising a pitch. “As if we’ve never—,”

“Brad! There are other people in the room with you!” Which definitely knew more about your sex life than you cared admitting.’

“It’s only the boys and Joe.”

“Yes because I’m sure they want to know every little detail about your sex life, Brad.”

Under his breath, “At least I have one.” A moment later, after Tristan’s obnoxious disagreeing, he whispered, “I miss you”.

“Hey, aren’t you with the curly-haired one?” You almost didn’t acknowledge them. As much as you wanted to believe that every fan was just as sweet as the last, you weren’t stupid. You’d been with Brad long enough to know not every fan was a particular fan of you.

Nonetheless, you turned and hesitantly nodded.

“So you are one of those people who are only pretty in pictures, huh?”

The comment struck something deep inside you. This may not have been the first time something like this happened, but it didn’t mean you were immune to it. “What?”

Her delicate features turned upwards and suddenly resembled Bellatrix Lestrange. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I speak too fast? Or were the words I used too big for you? I said, ‘You’re not very pretty’. How was that?”

“Are you serious?”

As if she hadn’t heard you, she continued. “I guess it makes sense you’re with the short one. He’s the singer and all, but I’m sure there isn’t much to.. Hold on to. Of course,” She paused, eyes falling to your toes and then back up. “You don’t seem to have much either.”

The crowd lurched and as a pair of hands tugged at your own, some of your panic settled. As you turned, you had to stop from gasping. It was difficult to make Brad annoyed, much less angry — and Brad was furious. “I think you should leave.”

Her pretty features slid back into place effortlessly, as if nothing had happened. “Oh, hi. I was hoping to get a picture—,” Brad didn’t let her finish.

“You think I’ll take a picture with you after that?” He laughed but it lacked any humor whatsoever. “You might as well turn and go home. I wouldn’t bother with the other lads either.”

He turned towards you then, warm hands touching your hips as he attempted to guide you away. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, turning as you spoke to make it easier to hear. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Who cares? Wasn’t like she was an actual fan.”

After another long, torturous ten minutes, the two of you were shoved into a car and locked inside until the rest of the boys were safely inside. “I’m serious, Brad. It was fine. I can handle it. It isn’t as if that’s the first time it’s happened—,” He shushed you then, lips pinched in a distasteful frown.

“You shouldn’t have to go through that. If they really are a fan of ours, they should respect our choices and well, I choose you.”

You smiled. “I’m not a Pokémon, Brad.”

That lovely smile of his made an appearance then. He laughed, actually laughed and pressed a kiss against your lips. You basked in the feeling of him — his laugh, his touch, his warmth. If need be, you would undoubtedly walk through thousands of mobs if it meant being with him.

With a mischievous smile, you rested your hand on the inside of his thigh. “I guess she’ll never know, huh?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Know what?”

It had become habitual to drown Tristan and James’ snoring out, something you had perfected during the first week of tour. Tristan had only began to break off into a conversation about butterflies mid-snore moments before Brad emerged from his own bunk.

Considering you were occupied with ignoring Tristan and engrossed in a match of Angry Birds, it wasn’t a surprise you hadn’t noticed him. “It’s three a.m, love.” His voice was croaky with sleep, something that contrasted so well with his usual tones. “What are you doing awake?”

Thoroughly entranced, you didn’t even bother to look his way. “Couldn’t sleep.”

You heard his necklace jangle as he sighed. “Alright, c’mon.”

“I’m fine.”

“You need sleep.”

You shrugged, softly biting your tongue in concentration. “I can sleep tomorrow when we’re driving. Don’t worry about me. You guys are the ones who need the sleep.” When your phone was abruptly ripped from your fingers, you immediately swiped to take it back. “Brad, give it back! I was about to beat that level!”

Someone suddenly groaned rather obnoxiously. “Just shut up already!”

Connor’s lighthearted voice quickly followed. “Don’t ruin the moment Tris!”

Brad watched you with an impatient gaze, clearly not about to hand the confiscated device back. With a defeated grumble, you stood and moved towards his bunk. It was easy enough to slip inside, especially with Brad’s warmth caressing your cool skin. He followed suit, almost crushing you against the wall in the process.

When his movements finally ceased, you effortlessly tucked yourself against him. With your head against his chest and your legs tangled together, it was difficult to see where you began and he ended.

Softly, he asked, “Good?”

You nodded, unfazed as he slipped an earphone into your ear. You smiled as his fingers ghosted past your cheek, peering up to catch him smiling himself. Though his eyes were heavy with sleep, it was impossible to name another who was more lovely than he.

A moment later, your playlist began.

While the music was soft and dulcet, it wasn’t what always seemed to lull you to unconsciousness. Rather, it was the boy at your side. Perhaps it was his scent, one that reminded you of early, raining mornings. Or perhaps it was his warmth. As much as he liked to complain that he could never seem to get warm, it was as if his body was a constant furnace.

As the song ended and another began, he gently hummed along.

As you lost yourself between the melody and vibrations resonating from his chest, you began understanding that there was no one thing about Brad that calmed you. It was simply him. It was his fingers tracing lines down your arm, his breath fanning into your hair as he tucked his nose against you, his breaths mirroring yours as you breathed.

Sometimes sleep was a difficult thing to come by — except when Brad was around.

Halfway through a bowl of Fruit Loops, Tristan emerged from his bunk. With the shades now open and the sunlight peering through the windows, it was no surprise he had tugged the hood of his jacket over his head.

Beside you, with your feet in his lap and busy tapping away on his phone, Brad grinned delightfully. “Good morning, love.” Tristan merely grunted as he began fishing through drawers, surely searching for his precious cereal.

James emerged from the bathroom then, setting up camp beside Brad. “Is Con still asleep?”

“Don’t blame him. Had to listen to the sweethearts over here all night.” Tristan mumbled through his munching. Your cheeks suddenly felt warm, something that always seemed to happen whenever Brad’s and yours relationship was ever at the front of the conversation.

James looked your way, grinning cheekily. “Oh, were they at it again?”

Tristan turned to lean against the counter, dipping his spoon into his bowl to retrieve another bite. “Oh? You didn’t hear them?” He scoffed and smirked. “As loud as they’ve ever been.”

“We weren’t doing anything!” Brad, clearly unaffected, merely smirked and remained quiet. “He stole my phone and wouldn’t give it back!” The boys merely watched you with unconvinced looks, smirking and exchanging knowing looks.

James brought up something to do with an interview then, pulling the attention away from you. Once the color faded from your cheeks and you continued with your cereal, you felt a tug at the hem of your sweatpants. When you looked up, eyes meeting his, you smiled.

As much as the boys loved teasing you, you knew it was out of love.