This is day 1 of the valentine thing from the bbs server!! Delimoo is such an underrated ship.
what even is plot
Brock hadn't known what to expect when he's told that there's a “surprise” in his office. He finishes making his coffee (little creamer, lots of sugar) and quietly walks back to his desk. It takes quite a bit of effort to ignore the way some people (mainly Ryan and Luke) watch him the entire way there.
Sitting down at his desk, Brock sips his coffee and prepares to get down to business. He reaches over to turn on the computer and-
Oh. Who put this paper here?
Taped to his monitor is an envelope, a crudely drawn heart sitting in the center of it. Brock pulls it down and examines it. Besides the heart (which, now that he looks at it, is drawn in crayon, of all things), there's nothing of any interest. So… that means he has to open it, doesn't it?
Cautiously, Brock glances around. There's only a few people at the office today. Who could've left him this? He frowns. He really has no idea who did this.
His curiosity gets the best of him. He rips the envelope open and pulls out the paper inside. It's a letter of some sort, he realizes. At the very top is ‘Dear Brock,’ written in messy, blocky handwriting. Like an overgrown child tried to write it, almost.
Dear Brock,
I don't really know how this is going to get to you, but I hope it does. I don't know how to say to you what I want to- I just know that I really, really, do like you.
I've liked you for a while, actually. Then again, it would be weird if I didn't. We're dating.
This is from Jonathan, by the way.
(It's here that the handwriting changes completely- from messy, blocky scribbles to sharp, pointed letters all tiny and close together. He only knows one person with such peculiar handwriting, but he doesn't comment on it.)
Look. I love you. And I want you to get up and come out of the goddamn office, out to the park, and see what Valentine's day shit I have planned.
Love, Jonathan (your delirious boyfriend)
Brock chuckles. No doubt Luke (and maybe Ryan) helped him. He stands up, looking around the office. It's lunchtime, no wonder people are going in and out. He glances towards where Luke and Ryan are, watching him from their office with excited, hopeful gazes. He waves the letter in the air, and they grin.
He's dragged out of their crappy little building and out into the chilly weather.
“You see your boyfriend over there?” Luke nudges him, gesturing to the man standing in the parking lot.
Brock just chuckles. “How could I not?”
Really and truly… how could someone miss the giant mess of balloons and flowers standing in the middle of bland, grey concrete? He stands out like a rose in a patch of dandelions- there's no way someone could miss this.
He laughs a little at the sight. Did Jonathan really get all this together just to surprise him?
As Brock gets closer to Jonathan, he begins to see more and more of Jonathan's ‘plans.’ There's a large teddy bear sitting on top of the car, and big, heart shaped balloons all around, tied down by some candy bags.
“Hey!” Jonathan gives him an offended look, crossing his arms. “You.. you weren't supposed to be out here so soon! What the damn fuck, Luke?!”
He hears Luke laugh somewhere behind him. Brock smiles sheepishly, feeling himself blush lightly. “I can go back inside, if you-”
“No! No, just- just stay there!” Jonathan fumbles with something in his pocket, a determined sparkle in his eyes. “I think I practiced enough! Just, uhh… Fuck, hold on!”
Brock does as asked, sitting still and watching his crazed boyfriend run into his car, searching for whatever he lost. It takes him a few minutes, but he returns with a nervous smile on his face.
“Okay. So, uh…” Jonathan pauses briefly, glancing at Brock before turning his eyes downwards. “I…”
He pauses again, looking back up at Brock, his face oddly red. Brock just smiles warmly in response to all of this. If his boyfriend is nervous, then he'll be patient until he's ready.
“I really fuckin’ love you, okay? And… and these past two years were like, the best- the best ever. You're just so nice and sweet and amazing and…” Jon shifts in his spot, clearly uneasy. “I don't know, Moo. I'm sorry, I'm really bad at words and shit. I just want to ask you something, is- is that okay?”
Brock nods.
To his surprise, Jonathan pulls out a small, black velvet box. Brock gasps softly at the sight of it. His boyfriend, like the mature adult he is, opens the box and shoves it towards Brock, far too flustered to actually ask the question.
Is this really happening? He's… he's serious, isn't he? Is this where they start planning their wedding?
“We're having a chocolate wedding cake,” Brock suddenly chokes out, taking the ring and slipping it onto his finger. He quickly realizes what he's done and blushes intensely. “I mean- I just- You… you're proposing to me,” he stutters, embarrassed. “And, um, I'm totally marrying you. And the love letter was adorable. Also, our cake is still gonna be chocolate.”
(He knows for a fact that Jonathan doesn't even like chocolate cake.)
Jon grins regardless, rushing forwards and wrapping him up in a tight hug as he babbles giddy, happy nonsense. Brock laughs, holding on to Jon for dear life. He's covered in little kisses, all over his face and neck.
“God, I fucking love you,” Jonathan announces, holding Brock's hands tightly. “And you're the best, you know that?”
Brock laughs. “Not as much as I love you.”
"That's a damn lie. You're gonna be my husband, and we're having a cake that's only part chocolate. Everyone knows that chocolate cake sucks."
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yo if someone knows how to do the read more thing fuckin tell me dude!!!
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Tyler stays still, staring straight ahead at the drunken man before him.
Evan Fong, the one and only, is in front of him, holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He sways from side to side as he holds up his phone. “You.. you never answered any of my calls, man…”
He's sure Evan meant to show the list of calls sent to Tyler, but all that's on Evan's phone screen is the calculator app. Evan doesn't seem to notice, and is clearly anticipating some excuse or answer.
Tyler shrugs, his words getting caught in his throat at Evan's presence. He's been crushing hard on this man ever since he first met Evan in an unfortunate seating accident in their physics class. And now, like the stupid college children they are, Evan is drunk off his ass and Tyler is struggling to come up with something to say.
“I was asleep. Sorry,” is all that comes out, and it makes him feel stupid, so, so damn stupid because this man is drunk, and Tyler's still acting like some teenage girl.
Evan laughs. It's a warm, charming, comforting laugh that, despite being super loud and reeking of alcohol, makes Tyler's heart pound erratically and his chest tighten in all the right ways.
He doesn't even know how Evan got his number. They've never spoken, and Tyler knows this for a fact. If they had spoken in the past, Tyler's sure he would've remembered it.
A hand reaches out and grabs him. Tyler, despite being the bigger, stronger man, stumbles forwards and has to jog to keep up with Evan as he's led down the hall. The faint thumping of bass becomes louder, along with one of the latest hip-hop singles that Tyler couldn't bother to listen to. The door opens to reveal a large mass of drunken, excited college students, some of them looking up and cheering as Evan walks in.
Evan grins proudly at Tyler, cheeks flushed and some lipstick stains on his neck. “See? It's my birthday party! Come join the fun!”
Tyler doesn't get a choice. Evan hands him the bottle of vodka and looks up at him with those big, beautiful eyes of his, sparkling with excitement and a spark of something else Tyler can't dare name. They make his heart melt, and he can't bring himself to say no. He allows Evan to bring the bottle to his lips, and drinks his worries away.
Two hours later, and Tyler isn't even sure why he let Evan drag him over here. He doesn't know why he even likes Evan in the first place, he realizes, gazing around the room dejectedly.
His eyes land on Evan from across the room. He's dancing away with some other guys to a song Tyler can't recognize, all red jackets and beautiful, beautiful smiles that Tyler can't resist. It's that one glance that sends Tyler back into his little world of self-pity and romantic failures, and it's that one glance, that also sends another beer down the hatch.
Parties aren't really his thing. They never were, and they never will be. Parties are more of an Evan thing, along with crowds and music and dancing and… well, really, it's pretty much everything Tyler isn't good at or likes. It feels like they're total opposites at times. Why did Tyler have to fall in love with someone so much better than him?
Evan must've seen him staring, because he wobbles his way over with a big, excited cry of, “Tyler!” It's a wonder how Evan can even walk at this point.
“Hey,” Tyler says. The alcohol is giving him a false sense of confidence, and Tyler plans on using every last bit of it.
Evan gives some slurred, giggly response to Tyler, his words easily drowned out by the music. Still, his hand grabs onto Tyler's shoulder, and then Evan's directly in his face.
Tyler's heart is pounding wildly. It makes him feel trapped and afraid, though he's not sure if he wants to escape. He takes a risk, reaching out and gently placing his hand on Evan's hip. There's no real reason for it, but Evan's body is nice and his skin is smooth and warm under Tyler's hand.
Evan giggles softly, batting his eyelashes innocently and leaning in closer, having to stretch to reach Tyler's height. “I think you're really cool, you know,” he whispers.
“I think you're pretty cool too,” Tyler whispers back. Evan's so close that Tyler can feel his breath fanning out across his face, and hair brushing against his forehead.
Evan slides his free hand down Tyler's chest, a daring look in his eyes. “You know… I think you could show me a good time.”
“Do you want it that badly?” Tyler can't believe this is happening. They're drunk, and they're going to regret this tomorrow morning. And yet Tyler's hands move down to Evan's ass, giving it a light squeeze as he pulls the other closer.
Lips are suddenly against Tyler's, and the feeling of someone as beautiful as Evan kissing him, even if he's drunk as hell, makes Tyler feel almost euphoric. He can feel the alcohol coursing through his body. It tells him that this is a terrible idea, and that he should stop immediately.
He doesn't. He allows Evan to pull him into a bedroom that belongs to neither of them. He lets Evan strip him down, and he gladly lets Evan lead him through the night, and through all the activities that followed.
The next morning Tyler wakes up to the smell of sex, a pounding in the back of his head, and a body moving besides him. He glances over to see Evan getting out of bed.
Evan grabs his shirt off of the desk in the room, slipping it on. He grabs his phone off the desk too.
Tyler decides to speak up. “Hey…”
“Oh, hey,” Evan says. He smiles sheepishly and laughs nervously. “Uh, about last night… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, you know…”
Tyler feels a wave of dread come over him. He wishes he knew why.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, blindly going along with what Evan’s saying. What else was he expecting? Why does he feel so upset?
“Thanks for coming to the party, I guess. I kinda gotta go, Jon and I had a breakfast date planned for today."
He has no idea who Jon is, but he does know that the sudden surge of pain going through him is nothing more than envy. It makes him clench his hands into fists around the sheets, and his headache is lost in his thoughts.
He's such an idiot. Why would Evan, who's literally never spoken to him until now, just spontaneously want to go have some drunk sex? It's just a stupid one night stand. Nothing more and nothing less.
Tyler can do nothing but sit and watch as Evan leaves. He even has the nerve to give Tyler that stupid, charming smile of his, as if nothing happened and everything is normal.
He hates the way his heart still pounds furiously in his chest at the sight of such a smile, and he hates the way hot, angry tears begin to fall the moment Evan closes the door.
Woah.... i wrote something. Does it make sense? No clue. No beta, minimal editing (because tumblr hates my laptop rn) and also no sleep.
Moocat!!! Because i love tyler and i love moo and i wish them a beautiful life.
Tyler had taken all of Smitty’s advice. He had gotten a good rest the night before, he had shaved, brushed his hair, he had even decided to wear the ugly cat shirt someone bought him. For fuck’s sake, he's even got his stupid pig helmet on.
All this is to, by some, unholy means, make him look less scary than he usually does. It's not like he can help it! Why's it his fault if genetics decide to fuck him over? He didn't ask to be so freakishly tall, or to be built like a tank like he is!
Admittedly, the (supposedly) angry faces he has are, well, sort of his fault- so what if he looks angry when tired? Everyone does!
Point is, Tyler is used to looking scary. It's just something he's gotten used to over the years; a defense mechanism of sorts. Nobody tries to mess with you if you're 6’5 and basically a brick wall.
Of course, now that Tyler actually wants to approach someone, he's going to have to look like a normal human for once. And if wearing this forsaken, horrendous pink shirt means he might (might) not scare off the man of his dreams…. Then so be it. Ugly pink shirt it is.
He drops the cheap novelty helmet to the ground. He's not wearing that. Tyler wants to look normal, not idiotic.
The time is ten ‘till noon. That's good. He has time to get to their usual meeting spot and prepare himself. Tyler takes a deep breath, checks himself in the mirror one last time, then is off.
Smitty meets him at the usual coffee shop at the same time as always. Evan arrives a few minutes late, as per usual. Smitty takes one glance at Tyler and snickers behind some ugly smoothie he bought. “You look great, man. A bit stupid, but great.”
Evan chuckles softly, leaning back in his seat. “Oh, come on. He looks fine.”
“You're only saying that because he's finally wearing the tiger shirt you bought him,” Smitty argues, gesturing to the pink monstrosity on Tyler's body.
Tyler finds himself tuning them out almost automatically, instead gazing around the all-too familiar coffee shop. It's small and quaint, with big jars of coffee beans up on shelves for decoration, and the occasional pot of flowers sitting in corners or against walls. There's a wall full of photos from around the world, all scattered across a big board.
That's where he likes to sit. Tyler doesn't know his name, who he is, or anything else of the sort. He just knows that he, whoever he is, always sits by the wall full of photos and spends his time sipping some sweet-looking, sugary drink loaded with whipped cream as he gazes up at the pictures.
Now, is it normal to stare at a stranger for that long, to where one picks up all the little details of said stranger? God no.
Tyler will gladly admit that, yeah, it's weird. Really fucking weird. But he'll be damned if that man isn't the prettiest thing in existence. He's cute, with the way he gazes up at the pictures with such awe in his eyes, as if he's never seen such pretty places before, and honestly? Tyler would totally change that if given a chance.
So, as stupid as it sounds (and it's gonna sound really fucking stupid), Tyler's gonna give it a shot and see if the pretty boy will give him a chance.
The thing is, the pretty boy has to arrive in order for anything to happen. It's been nearly half an hour, Tyler realizes, and there's been no sign of his boy anywhere. He looks around almost desperately, trying to find some sign of the man. He's usually very easy to spot because he wears some kind of light yellow or red, sometimes even blue.
Tyler finds no sign of him. He tries not to let his disappointment show, but Smitty catches on quickly. Apparently he isn't as subtle as he thinks he is, because Smitty laughs at his misery. “What, can you not find your man?”
He huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at the wall. “He's not my man yet, Smitty. That's why we're here- to try and make him my man. The least you can do is not make fun of me for this.”
“Well, you blind bitch, if you'd angle your head ever so slightly to the left…” As if Tyler is incapable of moving his own head, Smitty grabs him and rotates his body to face out the windows of the coffee shop. Tyler gasps at what he sees.
His mystery man is there. In a very flattering button-up shirt, right outside the doors to the coffee shop, is the one person Tyler's been looking for (probably) his entire life.
And god, does the sight of him drive Tyler crazy. He just looks so pretty in that stupid shirt, all nice shoulders and toned arms and holy fuck is light blue a nice color on this man.
His heart is now pounding wildly in his chest. Tyler briefly wonders if this is how he dies- a heart attack from seeing a cute guy in an equally cute outfit. It would be awfully hard to explain to the doctors, not to mention Smitty and Evan would never let him live it down.
“Are you gonna talk to him this time, or did you make me get up early for nothing?” Evan shamelessly calls him out, not bothering to look away from his phone as he speaks. There's the soft sound of Evan typing something out, and then he glances at Tyler with mild amusement. “And you say I'm bad at romance.”
“You are,” Tyler grumbles. He begins to prepare some bitter, snarky comeback to continue their little banter game, but doesn't get to. Smitty, with zero warning, shoves him to his feet and begins to pull him towards the door of the building. Tyler panics, mindlessly cursing his friend out.
Smitty laughs, shaking off all the insults thrown at him. “Come on, your man's getting away! Go talk to him, dude! Then come back and tell me all about the wedding you'll be planning! I know a guy who runs a bakery, so I'll take care of the cake!”
“W- What?! The fuck, Smitty?! I can't- oh shit,” Tyler sputters out. He stumbles as Smitty gives him one final push forwards, and nearly slams into the very man he's been thirsting after for at least a few months now. He doesn't fall onto the poor guy, thankfully.
No, Tyler, in the process of trying to not hit the man, falls backwards onto his ass like the idiot he is.
The man- bless his pretty, pretty soul- just gasps softly and immediately reaches a hand down to pick him up. “Oh my god, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Tyler says, albeit a bit loudly. “I'm fine, I'm fine! I, uh… Shit man, I'm sorry for-”
“No, no, it's okay!” The pretty man cuts him off with another gasp and shakes his head vigorously. “You didn't hit me, I'm okay! But you fell, and you scraped your arm, so I'm just trying to make sure you're okay!”
Tyler looks down at his arm. Sure enough, there's a scratch across it from where he hit the concrete. It's nothing major- no blood, no torn skin, just a red mark from where he must've tried to stop his fall. Nothing life threatening. He's sure he'll live.
But then Tyler looks up at the same guy, and sees the worried, almost pitiful look he's giving Tyler, and then his heart melts on the spot.
He's worried. Tyler isn't even hurt, but he's worried. That's… that's really sweet of him, actually. Tyler really likes this guy. He also really needs to learn his name, or else he'll be doomed to call the guy “Mr. Nice Ass” for all eternity.
That'll be really awkward if they try to get married.
Tyler then realizes that him not getting up must imply that he's critically injured or something of the sort. So he takes the guys offer and lets himself be pulled to his feet. It is now that Tyler learns that this man, whoever he may be, is actually much taller up close.
(Of course, tall means nothing compared to Tyler. It's not easy being ridiculously tall, you know.)
He might even be too tall, because his mystery man takes a small step back as Tyler stands up fully. Out of habit, Tyler also takes a step back, in an attempt to calm whatever was going through the other's head.
“Holy shit, you're cute,” Tyler blurts out, completely disregarding any kind of rational thought. It's a ridiculously dumb move on his part, and the flushed face of the other man only further proves this.
“Uh… Thanks?” The other speaks quietly, almost shyly. He turns away, face growing redder by the second, and laughs nervously. “I mean, uh… Thanks. You… you don't look too bad yourself.”
Tyler feels his chest swell with a warm kind of pride. His ego is big enough already, but with someone like this complimenting him? He might as well be dreaming.
“So… do you wanna get, like, coffee or something? I assume you haven't had any because-” Tyler cuts himself off here, because he's not sure where he was trying to take this. He clears his throat then tries again. “Uh… I've been meaning to ask you out. For a while now. And… I know you like coffee, ‘cause I see you in the shop a lot, so maybe you'd wanna go get some?”
The stranger is somehow getting redder than before. It's kinda cute. He shifts in his spot, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Um… right now?”
Tyler shrugs, mindlessly picking at the hem of his shirt as he looks the other over. “I mean, it's a good time as any. Are you busy?”
“No, well, I mean… Technically, yes?” He laughs again, this time a lighter, more giddy giggle that makes Tyler's heart flutter in his chest. “I, um… I promised a friend I'd help him out with something today. So I can't- not that I don't want to! I just… can't. At least not right now? But, uhm.. I'm free like, any other day.”
Much to Tyler's surprise, he's not as disappointed with his response as Tyler thought he would be. He does his best to look smooth and charming and attractive, he needs this man to think he's good-looking and hot and total boyfriend material and-
Right. Speak to him, dumbass.
“So, Saturday work for you?” He grins down at the other hopefully, and prays that his wild heartbeat isn't as loud as it feels.
“Yeah! Saturday sounds great!” The poor guy seems to be caught off guard by his own enthusiasm, for he quickly shies away and begins to blush once more. “I mean, yeah. Saturday would be nice. Afternoon, preferably. I don't really like mornings.”
Tyler wants to scream. This man is perfect.
“Yeah, me neither. Can't bother getting up before ten,” he says casually.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. Tyler doesn't have to look down at it to know it's Evan texting him out of desperation- nobody's safe when left alone with Smitty and his reckless tendencies. Especially Evan, who's probably just as stupid as Smitty on the inside.
“Hey, before I go, give me your phone.” Tyler takes the phone that's handed to him and begins to save his own number in it. He holds in a laugh at the cute cat set as the lock screen. It seems fitting that this guy would have his own pet saved on his phone.
He glances up at the pretty stranger, who's been oddly quiet while Tyler had been saving his number. For some reason, the other is just staring at Tyler, his eyes flickering up and down Tyler's body. The two make eye contact for a few seconds, before they both look away.
“You- you look good in pink,” he sputters out, cheeks red all over again.
Tyler feels himself flush as well. He doesn't think he looks all that good, but if he's being complimented on it by such an attractive man….
He'll have to buy more pink shirts, he decides.
“Thanks… I'll be sure to wear it more often.” He winks for emphasis. “Before I go, though, seriously this time… What's your name?”
“What? Why…” He trails off for a second, before gasping in realization. “Oh! Oh, my name's- my name's Brock!”
Tyler feels his heart skip a beat. That's… that's a stupidly fitting name for this ridiculously awkward man. He has the sudden urge to pull Brock closer and never let go. Of course, he can't. That would be a little weird.
He smiles as politely as he can. "Well, Brock... I'll call you, yeah? And we can plan something for Saturday."
Brock is still blushing. He nods, smiling and looking up at Tyler excitedly. "Yeah! I'll see you tomorrow!"
Tyler's off, jogging back into the coffee shop and sitting where he had been before. Smitty is giving him a smug grin, and Evan is gazing dejectedly out the window. He grins back at Smitty with full confidence. "His name is Brock, and he thinks I look nice in pink."
"Oh, really now? And who do you have to thank for this?" Smitty leans across the table with a sadistic smirk. "It's not like I was the one who dressed you this morning or anything, you know. I only pushed you towards the love of your life and forced you to actually approach him for once."
Tyler huffs. "Shut up. You're making Evan sad."
"I'm not sad," Evan grumbles. "Just heartbroken."
"He saw a cute guy go past the shop across the street and is sad he couldn't go out and get his number," Smitty says casually. "It's fine- he'll get over this like he did the last cute guy."
Tyler watches as Evan mutters something under his breath, then turns back to face ahead with a sigh. He decides that watching Evan mope is hopelessly boring, and that they need something more interesting to discuss over their coffee.
That's why Tyler grins proudly at them, sips his coffee, then begins to speak.
"Okay, you lonely fucks. Let me tell you all about what happened when I went to go talk to Brock."
It's not angst i promise :D another day of the thing, this prompt is bouquets! it lowkey fits into my shitty high school au tbh.
(And yes, i am ridiculously late with these. Shhhhh. Nobody has to know >:) )
It's quiet in this part of town. That's probably the first thing Luke notices as he drives through the neighborhood, gazing cautiously at the passing houses and street signs.
He won't lie- he has no idea where he's going. He just knows that Ryan lives somewhere on this street, and that his house is the one with the broken truck sitting in the driveway.
Did he ever bother memorizing his boyfriend's address? Fuck no. He can barely remember his mother's name sometimes. How is he supposed to remember some four numbers and a random street name? Ryan's house is a light brown and has an ancient truck sitting in the drive. That's all he knows.
Luke scans the street for Ryan's home. He spots the same, old ass truck and smiles. He parks in front of the house (and mentally curses the man who told him he'd never learn to parallel park) with excitement growing within him.
He can't wait to show Ryan all the stuff he has planned. It's not much, but he knows Ryan will like it regardless. Luke reaches for the bouquet of flowers and gift bag he placed in the passenger's seat and…
And he feels nothing. There's nothing on the seat, he realizes. No bags on the floor beneath it, and no flowers sitting in the back seat either. This isn't good.
He double checks, triple checks even, and still no flowers. No present, either. That can't be right, though! Where's the present? He could've sworn he put the bag into the car, and he distinctly remembers buying a big, fat bouquet of roses and, what was it, baby's breath? Tiny white flowers that smelled like gentle, if that even makes sense. Whatever it was, he bought it just this morning and swears he left it in the car so he wouldn't forget it.
(It is now that Luke will silently confess that he does not understand how flowers work. He just knows that they looked pretty, smelled nice, and were exactly what would get the passive-aggressive florist off his back. She wouldn't stop nagging him about flower choices and “hidden meanings,” whatever she meant by that.)
The front door opens, and Ryan is standing in the doorway suddenly, looking out at Luke's truck with curiosity. He feels himself flush brightly. There's no way he can sit in here and panic without looking like an idiot, is there? He's already sat here for too long, considering that Ryan's actually walked outside.
He takes a deep breath, and tells himself to wing it. His perfect date will just be a little less perfect, that's all. It's no problem, no big deal.
Luke checks his hair in the mirror one last time, strokes his beard overdramatically (for fun, and totally not because he thinks his beard is sexy), then gets out of the truck.
“Ryan, babe! Happy Wednesday!” He calls out cheerfully, a big grin pulling at his cheeks. His arms are held out wide, and Ryan runs into them almost instantly.
Hugging his boyfriend is probably one of Luke's favorite things to do, along with kissing Ryan, holding Ryan, playing games with Ryan, and sleeping with his cat. Anything to do with Ryan, in general, is easily a favorite of his.
(Though, as much as he loves Ryan, he hogs the blankets, and Luke needs his blankets when he sleeps. He enjoys being warm.)
Speaking of warm…
“Yes, this is your jacket,” Ryan says with a small, cheeky giggle. “You left it at Jonathan's place and he gave it to me.”
Luke huffs, faking a hurt look. “That's so unfair. I don't fit into your clothes, so I can't retaliate.”
He feels something nudge his leg, and glances down. Buddy is there, and is whining at the lack of affection. Luke reaches down and lifts him up, trying not to cringe as the dog licks his hand happily.
“Take your son,” Luke begs, gently placing Buddy into Ryan's arms.
Ryan gives a loving, heartwarming chuckle, one that makes Luke's heart melt, and takes his dog with an exaggerated sigh. “You know, this isn't what I expected to be getting for Valentine's day.”
“You said you didn't want anything,” Luke points out smugly.
Ryan smirks, easily matching Luke's expression. “And I know for a fact you got me something anyways.”
This makes Luke go silent, his grin vanishing instantly. He's right, and he knows it. Smartass.
“So maybe you're right,” he confesses. “But I left it at home, so I win.”
“Well, at least you're honest,” Ryan chuckles. He goes off to take Buddy inside, and blows Luke a kiss from inside. “Come in. It's cold.”
Basically some weird attempt at wedding angst :O!!! Theres panic attacks too so b careful <3<3!!!
Ryan can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and an excited grin spreading across his face. He turns to the mirror, adjusting the tie around his neck, then steps back to admire how he looks
With his light grey tuxedo on, he can't help but notice how good he looks in it. The color has always been a favorite of his, and the thought of Jonathan getting to see him dressed so nicely makes him ecstatic. Then again, the mere concept of Jonathan as a whole was enough to get Ryan giddy with excitement.
And the idea of them getting married? It makes him fucking euphoric.
Today is gonna be the best day of his life, he's sure of it. The preparations had all been taken care of, and he can't wait to see how wonderful Jonathan is going to look.
A small wave of nervousness washes over him, but he shrugs it off as something normal. He's about to get married! Who wouldn't be nervous? Ryan makes his way out the door, for their wedding began in less than twenty minutes, and he would hate to be late to such a big event.
When he arrives at the wedding, at a cute, old church by the park, he can't help but smile at the thought of what's to come. In less than an hour, Jonathan will he his husband. They're going to be married, and they're gonna go off on their honeymoon together, and everything will be absolutely wonderful. Today feels like a dream, almost, and Ryan is practically high off his own happiness.
When the time comes for Jonathan to come walking down the aisle, Ryan's excitement is through the roof. And as Jon begins to walk down the aisle towards him, he swears that he's falling in love all over again. In a dark blue tuxedo, his hair as messy as ever, and with that big ol’ grin of his on his face, Jonathan is completely perfect in Ryan's eyes.
Jon gives a small giggle as he finally comes to stand in front of Ryan, a happy sparkle in those beautiful eyes of his. He winks at Ryan, making him chuckle and shake his head, a fond smile on his face.
The next few minutes were a whirlwind of emotions, but mostly anticipation for the two words Ryan's been waiting to say all day. And when the time came, Ryan had only smiled, looked Jonathan in the eyes and spoke.
“I do,” he says, doing his best to keep his voice level. He was so happy he could die.
“Jonathan… do you take Ryan-” The priest is cut off by the sound of the doors bursting open, and an all too familiar voice screaming out, “HOLD THE FUCK UP!”
Turning to the source of the noise, Ryan can't help the confusion that comes over not only him, but everyone else too, as he looks at Luke, a friend of theirs, who's now standing in front of Ryan and Jonathan with a determined look on his face. Luke completely ignores Ryan, and instead turns to Jon. “Jonny… Don't do this. You know who it is you love, and I'm beggin’ you. Don't. Just… come with me. Please,” he requests, holding a single hand out.
Ryan stares at the two for a moment, unsure of how to react. All he can do is stare ahead in horror, unable to move or act or even think as he watches his man reach out and grab Luke's hand, tears falling down Jonathan's pretty face.
Jonathan gives a small laugh, shaking his head. “I thought you weren't coming back,” he whispers, stepping towards Luke.
Luke, his best friend, has the audacity to glance over at Ryan for a split second. He then grins back at Jonathan. "You always said you liked dramatic," he says with a chuckle. "So... I brought you dramatic."
Ryan can't think straight. His head is spinning, his whole world is suddenly crashing down around him, and god does it hurt. He reaches out weakly, a small gasp coming from his lips, small and broken like the rest of him.
"J- Jonathan?" Ryan is surprised he can speak. He's surprised that this is happening in the first place. They've been through so much together! Five years they've spent holding hands and snuggling, five years of dancing in the rain and getting coffee every Sunday morning. It's been five whole years of puppies and hugs and love, and it's five years of their lives that Ryan is now begging Jonathan to not throw away.
Enchanting blue eyes glance back at him, not the slightest hint of remorse or sympathy in them. “I'm sorry,” he says, though it's evident that he doesn't mean it at all.
Ryan says nothing. He has no words to say, and even if he did, he's sure he wouldn't be able to say them anyways.
Their friends and family are also silent, all eyes on the intruder and Ryan's fiance. Jonathan jumps up into his arms, a big grin plastered onto his face.
Luke carries Jonathan out, the two whispering and giggling to each other. Luke carries Ryan's fiance right out the doors, and away from their wedding. As soon as the two are out the doors, the crowd bursts into a hushed murmur of comments and gossip, and Ryan can already feel the pitiful stares from all over.
"He was just left at the altar. How sad."
"Jonathan ran away with Ryan's best friend? What a whore. Ryan was too good for him anyways."
"Poor boy. Who runs off like that on their wedding day?"
He hates pity. It's a horrible feeling. He doesn't want to be some charity case, he just wants to marry the love of his life.
Of course, that's not gonna happen anymore. He stares blankly at the spot in front of him, where Jonathan should be standing.
The stupid engagement ring on his finger suddenly weighs more than his entire body, and it may as well have dragged him straight to hell. He's pretty much there already, though, because where else would Jonathan leave him for someone else so casually?
His chest hurts. Why does it hurt so much? The room is blurring into big spots of color. That's no good. Why can't he breathe? He's dying. He has to be. He has to be, he absolutely, positively must be dying because everything is closing in and the whole world is losing color and depth and-
"Jonathan..." He manages to choke out the only thing that can calm him down.
Nobody says anything to him as he falls onto the floor, tears flowing freely as he shudders and gasps to himself. He's having a panic attack. What is he supposed to do?
Jonathan is the only one who calms him from these things. He's gone now. Did Jonny ever really love him? Did Ryan just waste the past five years spoiling and doting on a man who couldn't care less?
He's crying. He can't breathe. Ryan claws at his suit, trying to get some grasp on reality. He feels twitchy. His suit is too tight and uncomfortable against his skin, everything is too hot and itchy for his liking and his whole body is too shaky.
Everything is going wrong. Nobody's around to help him.
Ryan collapses further into a heap of cotton fabric and tears. Someone wraps their arms around him. He leans into the embrace, sobbing helplessly.
They stay like that, him and whoever happens to be hugging him. They stay in an embrace, until Ryan catches his breath and his shaky, shuddering sobs are reduced to nothing but sniffles. The two of them remain like this, sitting on the floor in front of the altar for quite a while.
The priest who was to marry them leaves soon after Ryan stops crying. Then the guests begin to leave, little by little. Their families also leave, mixed in among the crowd.
Even Ryan's friend leaves, patting his back and telling him that he has to go home to attend to his son.
The sun goes down, and Ryan is asked to leave. Someone offers to take him to get some help. Ryan's stubborn self declines harshly, turning around and storming off.
He doesn't need help, he tells himself. He's fine. He's absolutely fine, even if he begins to cry again when he gets home. Ryan somehow cries harder when he realizes Jonathan's taken all his stuff with him.
He doesn't know what to do anymore. All he knows is that the ring on his finger means nothing, and that this house is far too empty without Jonathan and his crazy laugh. Ryan falls onto his bed, still fully dressed, and stares up at the ceiling blankly.
There's no more tears. He's too tired to cry. He's too tired to do anything, actually. All Ryan can do is lay there completely motionless, with nothing to do or say.
It's going to be a long night. There's nobody to hold him close or kiss him goodnight, and tomorrow morning he won't have any reason to wake up early and make breakfast. His whole life is thrown off balance and he has no idea how to fix it.
Ryan's eyes eventually drift shut from exhaustion, and the last thing he remembers before falling asleep is the soft glint of his ring in the moonlight. The ring holds no meaning behind it anymore, it's just here to remind Ryan of what could've been.
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