#borhap cute

A defeated smile crept onto your face as Ben walked past you. He plopped down in the chair in the corner of the room, smiling cheekily in your direction. You busied yourself with folding the clean laundry on the bed, humming the melody of whatever new catchy pop song was stuck in your head. 

It was overcast outside; a less than perfect day filled with rain and the musty smell that comes with it. The humidity was horrible; the kind that instantly puffs up your hair and sticks to your skin like a bottle of glue. 

You and Ben had worked to escape the shitty weather by resorting to an Original Disney Animated Movie Marathon (Ben made comments on how horrible the movies were, yet you swore you saw him get a little teary-eyed at the end of The Little Mermaid).

Now, after spending an entire day of binging the classic animated movies, you forced Ben off the couch to help you clean up the mess that is his room. There were dirty clothes on the floor, clean clothes on the floor, random packages of candy, and receipts from dinners Ben took you on covering almost every square inch of the room. It was a disaster.

“I didn’t even know you had this sweater... you should wear it more often,” you said absentmindedly, grabbing Ben’s attention from his phone. 

“I didn’t know I had that sweater either. The more you know!”

You laughed loudly, throwing the sweater directly at Ben’s face. He threw it back, and you let it fly past you and land back on the floor.

“You know, this whole ‘cleaning’ thing would go a lot faster if you helped.”

“But you just do it so much better, baby. And you look cute doing it.” 

You scowled at the blonde playfully, continuing what you were doing, “you’re so lucky you’re cute.” Ben stuck his tongue out at you as you grabbed the big laundry basket sitting on the floor.

You pulled out the clothes one at a time, folding them and placing them into piles according to where they went on the bed. As you went to grab one of your sports bras from the basket, you gasped at the sight of black polka-dot sock amongst the other clothes. 

“Oh my god! I’ve been looking for this sock for ages... I lost it a few months ago.” 

You rushed to the sock drawer and pulled out the matching sock, putting them together and holding them up in victory. After doing a few celebratory fist bumps, you put it back in the drawer and made your way back to the bed. You met Ben’s gaze, and he was gazing at you lovingly. You decided to ham it up a bit, for the audience of course. 

“Whew, what a rush. Can’t believe I found that fucking sock! First of all, I’d like to thank the academy, my mom, my dad, my boyfriend who refuses to help me do anything in this godforsaken house-” you were saying, pretending to be choked up before you were interrupted.  

“I love you.”

Your fake smile slowly faded and shock danced its way across your features. Did he really just? Are you hearing things? Why would he say it now? 

The disbelief in your body slowly dissipated as you met Ben’s eyes again. 

“Did you just say what I think you just said?” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. 

“You don’t have to say it back or anything, I realized just how much I loved you during that stupid cheesy speech thing and-” Before Ben could finish his sentence, you were on his lap and pushing your lips to his in a frenzy. He was shocked and didn’t respond for a few moments, but slowly melted into the passionate kiss. 

You pulled away, breathless, resting your foreheads together. 

Y/N works at a bookshop in the corner of a quiet East Sussex street, in a town called Rye. The shop is squished between a small deli and a bland boutique that sells flowy shirts she swears she’s seen her grandmother wear on a few occasions. 

The store itself is quaint and small; an absolutely staggering number of seven whole bookshelves filled to the brim with words, a lounging area, and her desk where she also had an old cash register. Y/N often worked alone, as the owner had other businesses and placed almost all her trust in Y/N. The girl was completely okay with working alone. 

Her routine was always the same; wake up at 6 am, get ready while dancing to whatever music she’d been listening to recently (you’d be surprised by how fast her music taste changes: just yesterday she was listening to Miley Cyrus and now she’s listening to various punk bands she discovered on the internet). She’d then walk to the café that was exactly 95 steps away from the stoop of her apartment (give or take a few) and she’d spend around 20 minutes talking to the old woman who runs the place. 

After stalling at the coffee shop, she makes her way across the street to the book shop where she works with one other person; the owner of the shop. 

Y/N’s life is very monotone, and to other people, extremely boring. But not to her. 

Y/N’s entire life exists in a 5 block radius of East Sussex. She goes to the grocery store sometimes, but that’s about as far away she gets from her apartment and she’s completely okay with that. She eats takeout a lot, anyways.

As pathetic as that sounds, this is probably the happiest Y/N has been in her entire life. Besides when she adopted her cat. That was a very close second in her book. 

Y/N was completely satisfied with her life. She’d talk with the woman who owned the book store she lived in, would greet her mailman with a cheery smile every morning. She knew everybody and everybody knew her. She was friends--scratch that, acquaintances-- with everybody who was around her. And that’s how she liked it. 

In fifth grade, Y/N was bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to find a love like she saw in the movies her big sister watched on the TV all the time. While other kids her age were watching Finding Nemo, Y/N was watching Pretty Woman. 

Then one day, Dale Erdelac, otherwise known as Y/N’s crush, asked her to be his girlfriend during lunch. She stood there with her mouth full of sharp metal braces and her heart full of adrenaline and butterflies. She said yes all too quickly. 

Needless to say, Dale wasn’t serious. Y/N found out a few hours later that it wasn’t, in fact, a serious proposal. It was a dare from his snotty little friends. Y/N cried a lot more than she’d like to admit that day. 

It would be completely immature and nonsensical if the only reason Y/N’s love life was so disappointing was because of a dumb mouth-breather in fifth grade. It’s not, but that’s definitely part of it. 

Y/N has never truly been in love. 

Her mom tries to tell her she has, but she knows she hasn’t. She dated a guy in high school for two years just to pass the time. She told him “I love you” and he said it back, but she didn’t feel love. She didn’t feel the speeding up of her heartbeat when she saw him, or the warmth that spreads across your chest when they laugh like the pretty girls talk about in the movies. 

Her older sister, Peyton, tells her to move on a lot. “That fairytale love doesn’t exist,” she’d say, “it’s a creative outlet for fictional writers to display their nonsense dreams and desires. It can exist in your head, but never in real life.” 

That’s what she said every time. 

Y/N ignored her and kept on living her life in the small bubble of 5 blocks in Rye. 

She was happy. She told herself that. No, she knew she was happy. She was secure! What else could she want in life? 

And then he showed up. 

The tiny bookstore in the corner of the block didn’t get a lot of visitors (although that could be easily inferred due to the description of the little community there). Y/N pretty much knew the name and story of every single person who stepped foot into the shop. 

Until one day, she didn’t anymore. 

It was a cold January day; not the kind where the wind pierces your skin like daggers. It was the kind of cold that felt dry; like it was sucking the water out of your body through your skin and leaving behind a red numbness in its wake. 

A man walked in. He was tall and blonde, muscular and carried a chaotically calming energy. His eyes raked over the book store slowly, as if he was trying to imprint the old wooden rocking chairs and chipped bookshelves in his mind forever. 

It was like every move he made had a perfectly logical purpose. 

Y/N watched him intently from across the room, hidden by a pile of books she’d been meaning to put away for more than an hour now. She was so intrigued by him it made her stomach do a backflip. This was unusual for her. 

As soon as the man started looking her way, she looked down into the book sitting open on her lap, scrambling to pretend she was deep in thought over the passage she was reading. 

Her pupils glossed over the same paragraph three times, but she couldn’t comprehend a single word knowing he was in the same room as her. 

“Excuse me?”

Y/N’s body jolted slightly due to the sudden sound of his deep voice. She was the only one in the bookshop at the moment, as the owner had gone home for the day and it was her turn to close up. The store was never populated by more than six people at a time, and it would be especially dead considering New Year’s Eve was two days ago. 

“What can I help you with?” she spoke, mentally slapping herself for the way her voice sounded. It was pinched and sounded like a squeak. She cleared her throat desperately to return it to its normal sound. 

“I’m looking for a book.”

“What kind of book?”

“Well... that’s what I need your help with.” 

She smiled as an involuntary blush made its way to her already rosy cheeks, “I think I can help you.” 

She stood up and walked from behind the desk, beckoning the tall blonde man to go with her. The pair made their way to the bookshelves in awkward and palpable silence. The girl was panicking- she had no idea what to say. 

“I was wondering if you had any recommendations?” The Brit added to the nonexistent conversation. 

Y/N thought for a moment, “...well, I’m not sure what kind of person you are, but I recommend any classic literature to people who ask.” 

“Does the type of person I am happen to determine the type of books I like?”

“It’s the only thing that determines what type of books you like.”

The girl turned around, her fingers lightly dancing over the spines of the books as she walked. The tall man was on her heels, seemingly just as intrigued by her and she was with him. 

“Of course we have Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird, Wuthering Heights, and of course, my favorite of all time, The Great Gatsby.” She was picking out the books from their places on the shelves that she had memorized over her six years of working here. She knew the placement of books and authors like the back of her hand.

The man gazed at the pile of books in her arms thoughtfully, before meeting her eyes. “I’ll take it.” 

“Which one?” 

“All of them.” 

She grinned at his eagerness. 

--

After ringing up his books and a slight burst of confidence, Y/N was able to discover the man’s name and his reason for suddenly buying four books two days after New Year’s Eve. 

Ben (a name she thought suited him particularly well) was starting a New Year’s Resolution; read one book a month. He confided in her his self-doubt on his ability, but with a small grin, she said she believed in him. His smile grew as he picked up the bag and left. 

Y/N could’ve cursed herself into oblivion for not getting his number. 

--

The girl walked across the street that next morning, balancing a coffee and a copy of the newest book that had arrived at the store. 

That was one of the best perks of her job, she thought. Access to the newest stories. While she pondered the last chapter she had read of her book, a blonde head of hair in the distance caught her eye. 

“Excuse me?” a very familiar voice spoke. Y/N’s cheeks almost immediately flushed at those two words. Deja Vu. 

“You’re back!” she spoke, almost as to question why. It’s not often someone new comes back twice, much less is standing at the door before she even gets there.

“I am,” he spoke breathily, scratching the back of his neck, “I wanted to come back to... well...” he trailed off, eyes dancing to the floor. 

Y/N waited patiently for him to say what he meant to (she knew that’s what she’d want if she was in his shoes).

“I needed to get your name, at least. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.” 

The girl bit the inside of her cheek to stop her mouth from stretching into a grin that was a mile long. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she stared at her shoes for a moment. 

She made direct eye contact with Ben’s hazel eyes and smiled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose slightly. 

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes going hazy as he thought about it.  

Ben followed her inside and sat down next to her desk quickly, almost as if he was afraid he’d run out of time. 

“I read The Great Gatsby yesterday... you said that one was your favorites, right?” 

Y/N nodded, taking a delicate sip from the paper cup of coffee still in her hand. 

“Right. Well. I have a few questions.” 

Y/N nodded vigorously. She could practically feel the twinkle in her eye, “I’m all ears.”

--

Y/N went home that day with a swarm of butterflies making a home in the pits of her stomach. Ben had spent the better part of four hours with her, discussing the book he read and many, many other things. 

When Ben left the shop that day, she had learned that his favorite color was clear (he thought it made him quirky) and he had a dog named Frankie. Y/N saw quite a few pictures of Frankie that day. She was a cat person, but she couldn’t tell if it was the dog or the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he talked about her that made her heart swell. 

She also learned that Ben hated reading, and that he was mildly confused as to why he seemed to enjoy the Great Gatsby so much. 

“It’s got to be because of you,” he mused, “I’ve never enjoyed reading a book until this one.” 

Y/N also learned that Ben was an incredibly smooth talker. 

He made her blush and giggle like a school-girl almost all day. It physically pained Y/N when she had to leave him alone to help a customer. She wished she could sit there and bask in him and all that he was. 

Y/N wasn’t positive if love at first sight existed before, but now she hadn’t been more positive of anything in her entire life. 

--

Y/N hadn’t had anyone new to talk to in years (she wishes that was an exaggeration). 

So you could definitely imagine the girl’s surprise to see a young British man with a shared admiration for the Great Gatsby at the book shop again before opening time. 

The day prior seemed to repeat itself. And then, every single day after that. 

For three months, Ben would come to the book store and wait outside for Y/N to come and open up. And Y/N spent three weeks barely getting any sleep and talking to her cat about how excited she was to see Ben the next day. 

Y/N and Ben got very close. 

Insanely close. 

So close to the point that Ben knew every single secret she had kept to herself. He knew the name of her first pet and childhood address (which she realized Ben could easily use to change the passwords on innumerable online shopping accounts). 

Ben knew about the one time she had an allergic reaction to a medicine she was on when she was younger, and he even knew about fucking Dale. That was a story Y/N kept to herself. But she told Ben. 

But this relationship was definitely not onesided. Y/N knew just about everything there was to know about Ben. 

She knew the names of his childhood best friends and his favorite flavor of ice cream. She knew about the one time he got arrested when he was a teenager because he was lighting off fireworks in the street at 3 am. She also knew that Ben was an actor that was currently working on a new film. But she wanted to know even more. 

Ben left every day at around 11:30. Y/N had no idea where he went or what he did, but he was never more than five minutes late before he stood up, gave her a big smile and left. 

Y/N had never been in love before but she knew with every fiber of her being, with every bone, muscle, and cell in her body that she was in love with Ben. 

And almost as soon as she realized this, there came some news. 

Earth-shattering, heart-wrenching news. 

He was leaving. 

“I have to go back to the states to finish this film in three days,” he muttered into the quiet air of the book store he had grown so familiar with, “and I won’t be back for at least two months.” 

Y/N could physically feel her heart drop in unison with the butterflies in her stomach. He was leaving, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. 

She had given him a sad smile and taken a thoughtful sip of the tea sitting on her desk. 

“Oh well. Guess I’ll see you in two months, right?” 

"Yeah,” Ben said with a grimace, “right.” 

--

The two of them spent those last few days talking quickly; trying to fit as many words into as little amount of time as possible. It felt like they were suffocating with how fast they were talking and how fast the conversation was moving. Her head would hurt at trying to process so many conversations and stories and little peccadilloes the pair were hurling at each other. 

It was like they were making up for the time the two of them knew they were going to lose. 

On Ben’s last day, Y/N told him of her fear of love and the lack thereof in her life. She told him of her strong desire to be able to relate to the John Green quote. He didn’t say much to that. 

She was so in love with him. And she didn’t think he was in love with her. 

His flight was at 1:00 that day. He left at noon instead of 11:30. Y/N felt her heartbeat increase as the seconds passed by for that last half hour, almost like she was genuinely frightened of him leaving. 

He said goodbye with the first hug the pair ever shared and a light kiss to the top of the head. Y/N’s face was comparable to a fire hydrant. 

Ben swore he would keep in contact, but with the differing time zones, Y/N knew deep down that wouldn’t happen. 

So, with a heavy heart, she caught up on some things around the shop she had been slacking on these past few weeks. 

She blinked away the tears in her eyes a few times, mentally shaming herself for being so upset this man she met three months earlier was leaving. She should’ve known. Or even better, she should’ve said something. 

The girl watched in agony as the clock hit 1:00 that afternoon, and felt a pang in her chest as she thought of him jetting far, far, away from her. 

He would never remember her. She was a quiet girl who worked in a quiet bookshop that was located in a quiet corner of an even quieter town. There was nothing she could do. 

She started sweeping lazily, letting the broom lightly drag across the floor. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she wasn’t sweeping anything up. 

She almost peed her pants, though, when a loud noise sounded throughout the otherwise empty bookshop and the door was thrown open the fastest it’s been in its entire life. So fast, in fact, that it fell off its hinges and onto the floor, simultaneously shattering the glass panes that made up the middle.

The girl stumbled backward in shock, her heart pumping not only because of the loud noise, but also because of the person who broke the door. 

Ben. 

The widest smile to ever adorn her pretty face was stretching across her lips. In an adrenaline filled moment, she was off the floor and in his arms. He was stiff and shocked at first, but almost immediately melted into her strangely warm embrace. 

“What are you doing? Your flight was supposed to leave 15 minutes ago!” Y/N exclaimed, the confusion finally finding its way to her intricate brain. 

“I-I couldn’t do it. Not without telling you something first.” 

Y/N’s heart was beating so hard she swore he could see it pounding out of her chest like it does in the cartoons. 

“There’s really no easy way to do this, but here goes nothing,” Ben spoke, clearing his throat, “Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long but I really, really, really like y-” 

Before the beautiful, perfect man could finish his sentence, Y/N was pushing her lips against his in a mad frenzy to release a tension that had been palpable for months. 

Ben melted into the kiss faster than he melted into the hug, his lips moving against hers oh-so-perfectly. 

It felt like they were made to be together. 

It felt like Y/N had been searching for the final puzzle piece to her life for 27 years, and now here she was, standing in the middle of the bookshop on the corner with the glass door shattered on the floor, finally finishing her life-long puzzle. 

“I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too,” she whispered into the quiet that had again settled over the bookstore. 

Maybe Y/N didn’t fall in love while watching Ben read, as John Green said one of his characters did. But she did fall in love like she fell asleep. 

You turned back over to look at your sleeping boyfriend, whose peaceful face was deep in dreamless sleep. The honey-like sunlight rolled across his stark white skin like the water rolls through a river, completely and totally engulfing him in its glow. 

His eyelashes were curved upwards dramatically; almost as if they were reaching for the sky. His beautiful mouth was hung open softly, just inches away from a barely stubbly chin. His pink lips and perfect teeth, like a flower growing in the crack of a sidewalk(those flowers were always your favorite; because they simply had to grow! They demanded to exist!)

His lips looked as plump as slices of tangerines(and just as sweet. You would know, as you were the one suckling the love from them just hours ago). His body would rise and fall with his deep breaths, and you looked at him in awe. He was a piece of art.

Moving slightly closer to him, you brushed back a few of the curly blonde locks that were previously dangling in front of his forehead, and you leaned forward to press a kiss to his temple. Your fingers delicately traced down the side of his face and neck, causing the man to stir slightly in his sleep. 

You pressed your lips to his jawline, reveling in the leftover smell of his expensive cologne and just the smell of him. A smell so perfect it was impossible to describe with words. 

You brushed your thumb over the skin under his right eye until his eyelids fluttered open. His piercing eyes bored straight into yours, with love and exhaustion bleeding from the edges of his pupils. 

“Good morning, love,” Ben sighed, slowly wrapping his muscular arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. He let one of his hands drift upwards to play with the ends of your hair, while his other hand drew circles into the skin on your back. 

You pulled away slightly and pressed your lips to his, placing your hands on either side of his face to deepen the kiss. When you both finally pulled away for air, you admired his swollen mouth and brushed his bottom lip with your thumb before trying to get out of bed.

“No,” Ben mumbled lightly, holding a firm grasp on your waist as you tried to wiggle out of his embrace. 

“Ben, I’m gonna wet the bed if you don’t let me go,” you spoke, only half-joking. Apparently, the half-joke was enough to convince him to let you go.

“Hurry up, I’m already getting cold,” the man-child whimpered. You laughed at his neediness. After a quick pee, you practically ran back to the bed and leaped into his arms, and he immediately enveloped you in another hug.

This was how most of your Sunday’s went with Ben. Friday’s and Saturday’s were for going out with friends, but Sunday’s were for you and Ben to lay in bed and recuperate. And you were both okay with that. 

“What's on the agenda today?” Ben spoke through a yawn. You looked up to meet his eyes.

“I was really hoping we’d be able to stay in bed all day...” you spoke, playfully biting your bottom lip. This really wasn’t a surprise to either of you. 

“I think that could be arranged,” Ben laughed, flipping you onto your back. He hovered over you like a highway overpass, his hair dangling from his head like telephone wires. He slowly lowered his weight onto you, resting his head gently on your chest. You wrapped your arms around his head, twisting his curls around your fingers and playing with the small hairs at the base of his neck.

“I love you, Benny,” you whispered, the only sound heard was the birds chirping outside your bedroom window.

You bit your bottom lip as you walked up to Ben, kissing his cheek and leaving a bright red stain right below his cheekbone. Your heels clicked as you walked across the tile floor in the ridiculously large penthouse you were staying at, and you fluffed your hair up in the mirror. 

Ben was behind you in an instant, his hands wandering your body gently while he peppered soft kisses to your neck and shoulders. 

“Keep doing that and we won’t make it to our dinner reservation,” you sighed, pulling away from the British man and walking out the door and into the hallway of the hotel. 

You held the door open for Ben, as he walked out and smacked you on the ass as he walked by. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.” 

You giggled as you interlocked your hands and entered the elevator. Tonight would be interesting. 

–

Unbeknownst to you, due to Ben’s shenanigans in the hotel room, he was shitting his pants.

Tonight was the night he was going to be proposing to you. 

The two of you had been dating for just shy of two years, but Ben claims to all of his guy friends that he knew he was going to marry you the day you two met. 

Ben was never a nervous person. He was calm, collected, cool-headed. But he’s been a nervous wreck for the past three days. 

Deep down, he knows you’ll say yes, but there’s still a few inklings of doubt left in his mind. Even after countless trips to the jewelry store with Gwilym and his fiancee to make sure the ring was perfect, and about three thousand hushed phone calls with Joe while hiding in the closet, Ben still felt like he wasn’t ready. 

It was a little late for that now, though. 

Now he was sitting across from the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on who happened to be wearing the most beautiful red dress he had ever seen and he’s starting to doubt what your answer would be. 

He laughs at some comment you made about the couple a few tables down, but it was forced. He was so deep in thought he didn’t even hear her call his name. 

“Ben?” you asked, very nervous at Ben’s stiff mood. You knew it was unrealistic, but you were very nervous Ben was going to pull a Warner Legally Blonde and break up with you at this very expensive restaurant. 

“Benny?” you asked again, hand shaking slightly as you put the glass of red wine down on the white table cloth. You caught his attention this time. 

“Hm?” he hummed while spinning his pasta around his fork. 

“You okay? You’re acting… weird,” you spoke, biting the inside of your cheek in nervousness, one of your bad habits. Ben noticed. 

“Yes! Yeah, I’m great I just…”

“Oh no. You’re breaking up with me. I knew it.”

“No! No, hell no. Damnit, I don’t want to screw this up.”

You bit your lip in nervousness, trying to command your eyes to block the production of any tears. Ben took a deep breath and reached into his pocket, pulled out a black velvet box and stood up. 

He knelt down next to you and opened the box to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring you had ever seen. 

Before he could even say anything, your hands flew to your mouth and tears were streaming down your face. Everyone in the restaurant had turned to witness this, some were getting emotional themselves. 

“Y/N…’ Ben swallowed thickly, “I knew from the day I met you that you were going to be the most special person in my life, and you’ve yet to prove me wrong. I’ve had the most fun I’ve ever had the past two years with you, and I was wondering if you’d like to seal the deal and have fun with me forever.”

You were sobbing at this point, tears and mascara rolling down your cheeks. 

“Yes! Yes. Yes!” you screamed, jumping up and launching yourself into Ben’s arms. He laughed in relief, his gut bursting with so much joy he could melt. 

And let’s just say you definitely let off some steam. 

Rami, Lucy, and Gwilym were walking near you and Joe, although their whereabouts were not your top priority at the moment. You were in Paris, France; one of the most beautiful places you’ve ever been to. 

When Joe asked you to go on tour with him, you had jumped at the opportunity to travel and see the world like never before. And you were so glad you went with. 

The sky was gleaming with the lights emitting from the stars and the Eiffel Tower, and the group of you were heading back to the hotel after a nice dinner and fun night of partying. 

All of you had a bit too much to drink, but you and Joe had it worst. 

You were stumbling and giggling like children, always having your hands on each other in some way, shape, or form. You were both a mess. 

The cobbled streets were almost completely empty due to the time of night. It was just you and your friends, as well as a few stragglers who were also out partying. It was quiet and peaceful.

The stars were glimmering in the sky like crystals, and the moon was airbrushing your skin gently with its glow. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked goods from the bakeries that happened to be at every corner, and it was brisk. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right.

After a little more walking, you stumbled upon an extremely intricate fountain. You and Joe stopped for a moment to admire it, letting your friends start to walk ahead of you a bit. 

After a moment of silence, Joe sighed softly, “I’m gonna jump in the fountain.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head as you whipped around to stare at your psychopath boyfriend, “You can’t!” 

“Watch me!” 

Joe stripped off his dress shoes and jacket, leaving him in an undershirt and his dress pants. You watched in awe as he clambered into the water, dancing around and getting completely soaked by the water gracefully falling from the fountain. 

“Joe… we could get arrested for this,” you scolded your boyfriend, as you were suddenly conscious of the very open space the fountain was located in. 

Joe finally clambered out, dripping in dirty fountain water, as he attempted to squeeze the water out of his shirt. You tried to help, but you ended up getting your outfit pretty wet too. 

“Joeeeeeee! Now my dress is wet,” you pouted, staring up at Joe with puppy dog eyes. 

“Well, guess there’s no going back now!” Joe yelled, as he hoisted you over his shoulder and started walking towards the fountain. 

“Put me down! Joseph Francis Mazzello III, I swear to God and all things holy if you don’t put me down I’ll-”

And suddenly, you were underwater. 

You came up gasping for air, gazing down at your dress that now resembled a wet towel. You turned around to see Joe still standing outside of the fountain, and you yanked him into the fountain by his still-soaked undershirt. 

He let out a yelp as he came up for air, splashing you aggressively. You returned the favor, and next thing you knew, the two of you were in a splashing fight with the clear water in the fancy fountain. 

You were giggling and stumbling in the water before you heard a deep French voice yell from across the street. 

“Hey! Get out of there!” 

You and Joe glanced at each other and started running as fast as your legs could take you. You hopped out of the fountain and grabbed your items of clothing on the road, and just started sprinting. 

but he’d see you at a queen concert or club and just be fascinated by you. 

he wanted so badly to just walk up and talk to you like he did with most other girls, but to be honest, he was really intimidated.

after downing some alcohol he made his way up to you and tried to strike up a conversation. 

spoiler alert: it worked.

he got your number and you guys were texting and facetiming each other nonstop.

after a few successful first dates, ben was completely smitten!

he’d talk about how fucking cool you were to all his friends and your eyeliner, crazy colored hair and absolutely insane taste in music. 

ben would literally try to soak up every little bit of information he could about you and what you liked/didn’t like. 

after dating for a while, when things got serious, you two would move in together. 

and mark my words there was a ton of heavy metal music played in your shared place. 

ben would listen to all of your favorite music and learn the words just to have something in common with you.

he’d also beg you to take him to your favorite concerts, as well as surprise you with tickets to go see your favorite artists.

I can picture him asking you one day really shyly to do his eyeliner and he’d think it was so fucking cool.

You were working on some Shakespeare project for your English Lit class, and you truly couldn’t be bothered to try and decode Shakespeare’s weird ass way of speaking. You never quite understood what all the fuss was about with him. 

“If you want to be a stripper, you can do that here for me. But I definitely think you need to finish university, love.” 

You huffed in annoyance, slamming your books shut and sliding them across the counter you were sitting at. You stepped down from the stool, cracking your neck and padding your way gently over to where Ben was sitting. 

You plopped down on the couch, burying yourself in his side as he wrapped an arm around you. 

“I thought you had a project due tomorrow?” 

“I’m just going to skip class and say I was projectile vomiting every time I stood up. I don’t care. I’m not finishing it tonight.”

Ben let out another loud snort at your response as he flicked on the TV. “Alright, good with me. Let’s watch some Netflix, shall we?”

You nodded gently as you opened your eyes again to see Ben putting on your favorite TV show. Looking up to meet his eyes, you tapped his nose gently with your pointer finger, causing his entire face to scrunch up in response. 

“Let’s get some snacks and some blankets before we really start binge watching.”

You and Ben made your way to the kitchen where you made some popcorn and, of course, grabbed a variety of different candies to munch on. This, of course, took way too long due to you and Ben hugging and kissing each other quite literally the entire time. 

“Thanks for always being here to make me feel better, Benny.”