#evermore inspired

You met Cillian Murphy for the first time five hours before you kissed him. Despite being cast in the lead female role, you were a rather late addition to the movie. Issues had come up with the actress initially cast and you had gotten a phone call about two months before shooting started to get yourself to the studio to sign contracts and start costume fittings. This was an amazing opportunity, and regardless of the rush, you were excited to have it. You had been in movies before, of course, but this was your first lead role and if you did a good enough job, it could skyrocket your career trajectory. Aside from all the good things it could do for your career, you were simply excited to get to work, and to get to work with such a good cast and filmmaker. 

On top of all of that, you would be working closely alongside the Cillian Murphy. When you were told that he was to be your costar, you had been in shellshock for a moment before pressing an obnoxious kiss to your agent’s cheek. Cillian Murphy was one of those actors that only came around once in a lifetime. He was only in tasteful, and well done projects, playing a variety of the most interesting characters you had ever watched. You had seen Peaky Blinders, Inception, Dunkirk, and though you had no interest in superhero movies, you sat down and watched all three Batman movies just to watch him play a villain. In the few interviews you had done up to now, you had mentioned once or twice that you believed him to be the best actor of your lifetime, someone who was left unrecognised at awards shows but deserved all of them and more (as you walked onto set for the first time, you really hoped he hadn’t seen any of those interviews). So, to say you were a fan before the movie might have been an understatement, but you had worked with other people who you were fans of before, and Tom Glynn-Carney only had nice things to say about you afterward; you could be professional and a fan. 

You had been put up in a hotel the night before you were to be driven to the studio lot, your new home for however long you were going to be filming there, and in the morning a polite chauffeur arrived in a blacked out car to take you there. You felt a little giddy during the drive, as you always did before starting a new project. You hadn’t learnt the rhythms of the set yet, the director’s process, whether it would be a rush of technical work or a more relaxed set. You hadn’t worked with most of the other actors, you didn’t know how they approached the job, whether they were welcoming and friendly or preferred to focus on the job then return to solitude. It was all the unknowns that made your stomach feel swoopy, but you had come to like the feeling, viewed it as a challenge, the beginnings of an investigation to learn about your job and home for the rest of the duration of the project. 

You were deposited into the custody of one of the many assistants running around, and hurriedly walked to your trailer with a warning that you would only have five minutes to put your things down, change into your costume, possibly have a sip of water, before you would be taken to hair and makeup and given your costume. You smiled brightly at her, nodding and affirming her over and over that you understood. Your first actual job on a movie set had been as an assistant, you knew her job was hard enough without an actor giving her attitude, so you simply followed her. 

The area you walked through was like the other studio lots you had been to before, large buildings that looked like warehouses on the outside but probably held the coolest sets or the most intricate technology on the inside. People drove around in golf carts, some assistants sprinted while yelling down the phone, others hurriedly rolled clothing racks between buildings. You could see someone giving an interview in the distance but they were too far away for you to tell who it was. 

The trailer you were led to was in a wide space filled with other trailers, what you imagined the setup area for a circus looked like. It was bland and white on the outside, your name in big letters surrounded by the shape of a star (some intern clearly had fun with Canva) on the door, and you felt that bubble of excitement all over again. You let the assistant open the door for you, thanking her and shooting her a smile as if inviting her to join in on the excitement you felt before stepping in. It was exactly as you had expected it to be, and that made you happier than anything else. There was a small kitchenette area with cupboards and a minifridge. A counter separated it from a little seating area, couch seats against either wall, before a tiny hallway (which could barely be called a hallway) that had the door to the bathroom on one side and led into a little bedroom (which was just a bed with a little space on the side to walk and nothing else). Your clothes were hung up on a little hook on the bathroom door. 

You deposited your tote bag on the counter and went to the minifridge, pulling out a bottle of water and taking a big gulp. Ice cold and delicious. You scrunched yourself up and did a happy little jump and squeal because you were living the dream, and nothing could be better than that. You messaged your parents and friends that you had arrived, sent pictures and a little video of the trailer, before picking up your costume and getting into the little bedroom to change. 

It was a simple pair of mom jeans, well fitted and slightly higher than your ankle, accompanied with a plain white blouse that had blue detailing around the neck and off the shoulder sleeves that ended just after your elbow, something you could imagine a mum wearing on vacation in Greece. It was comfortable, and you made a little note to ask the costume designer where she got the pieces because it may or may not have been the best pair of jeans you had ever worn. 

You were able to take another big gulp of water before a knock and a voice at the door was telling you to get to hair and makeup. The trailer for hair and makeup was closer to the actual block of buildings you would be filming in, and a little golf cart was ready to take you there. You let out a little laugh as you settled yourself inside, chatting with the driver as he manoeuvred around people and other obstacles to get you there. 

It was quieter in this corner of the studio, more people walking than running, less things being shifted around in a hurry, and you felt a sense of calm in the air (or at least whatever semblance of calm one could get on a movie set). The driver stopped right in front of the doors and you thanked him, laughing at the parting joke he told you about a dog getting loose in the lot. You went up the first two steps for the trailer when the door swung open and you had to jump back to avoid being slammed into the wall with it. Someone came walking out with their head down, turning back to smile at someone else who had wished them goodluck from within the trailer. They paused when they finally noticed you, and you opened your mouth to say something but not a word came out. They smiled with a huff of a chuckle, and all you could think was that he was so much more beautiful in person than what any camera could capture. 

“I hope I didn’t whack you with the door,” he winced apologetically and you just took a deep breath in, shaking your head then breathing out quickly and laughing at yourself. 

“No, no, I just managed to avoid it,” you breathed out, giggling because your stomach was suddenly tingling and you couldn’t quite feel your hands (or maybe you could feel them too much). 

“Oh, good,” he nodded, “would not have been a good way to introduce myself. Cillian Murphy,” he held out his hand, smiling and polite, his eyes piercing through your skin. They were so bright, so blue. You blinked then kept staring into them as you brought your hand gently into his, hoping your grip wasn’t too limp nor too firm. 

“Y/n L/n, it is so nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I’m trying really hard to hide how starstruck I am and I think I’m failing,” you admitted, cheeks suddenly burning. You always talked when you were nervous, which meant you always overshared when you were nervous. But he just laughed, a deep chuckle that made his chest shake and drew your attention to it. He was broader than you, and wearing a cosy looking black sweater that you desperately wanted to push your face against and feel rub against your cheek. The sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows and you could see the round collar of a white t-shirt poking out at the neck. 

“Don’t worry, you were doing a good job so far, until you admitted it anyway,” he did that little huff-laugh again and you pressed a hand to your face, scrunching your eyes shut in shame at the bombardment of thoughts running through your head that made you feel brainless at the same time. 

“Alright, well then,” you laughed, shaking your head and stepping to the side so he could finally walk past you (which you thought he had wanted to do the entire time but was too polite to point out). “I’m sorry for keeping you trapped here, I’ll let you go wherever you need to go Mr. Murphy.” 

“Please, it’s Cillian,” he frowned in that way that said ‘don’t bother with such formality’, and waved the hand in the air that was carrying his script as if to bat the title away. 

“Right, sorry, Cillian,” and you smiled brightly because he was looking at you with those beautiful, beautiful, eyes, and watched him walk down the steps, wave back at you, run a hand through his hair that had been styled messily, and head for the door of the first building. 

When he had disappeared through the door, you slammed the heel of your hand against your forehead until it stung a little and made it feel like your brain had moved around in your head, grumbling “Mr. Murphy? Seriously? You’re an adult too, ya know? You can call people by their first names now, for fuck’s sake.” 

Cillian chewed on his lip as he sat in the foldable chair on set, waiting for everything else to be set up, his co-star to arrive, and the director to start dictating everything. He enjoyed these few minutes before filming, they helped him focus in on the set, get into the mind of his character, evaluate the situation and what would be needed from him. But he had a little extra time today, and he didn’t mind either because his mind was a little distracted. 

He didn’t think he had ever been called ‘Mr. Murphy’ by a co-star, and it made him laugh because it felt a little ridiculous, but it also made him wonder if you were just young or overly respectful. A quick google search told him you were younger, much younger, but didn’t necessarily answer the question. 

Regardless, he liked you, thus far anyway. He liked the way you looked, your hair was pretty and you had kind eyes, and you smelled nice, a soft flowery perfume. And he liked your voice too, a little loud sometimes, a little too quiet others, but it was nice. He hadn’t seen any of your movies, but he was feeling positive about you. Perhaps too positive, but he shut down that thought process with a snap. 

The makeup artist was best friends with the hairdresser and they were both some of the sweetest people you had ever met. They chatted with you the entire time, laughed at your story of embarrassing yourself in front of Cillian, comforted you that he was a nice, easygoing man who wouldn’t hold it against you, and offered you the little snacks they had lying around. Your hair was put into a simple braid, slicked down with pommade to control the flyaways you were plagued with, and the makeup was so natural you would question if you were wearing any if you hadn’t been there while she was rubbing and brushing the products onto your face. 

The costume designer had left some jewellery for you with them, and they helped you clasp the necklace and earrings while you rummaged in your bag for your script. The director had come in while your hair was being done and told you about some of the last-minute changes to the script and the scenes that were being filmed. The ‘first kiss’ scene was going to be filmed at the end of the day instead of in two weeks time because of scheduling complications and the intimacy coordinator would work with you and Cillian during the break at midday while they filmed some of the scenes that didn’t have either of you in them. You had simply nodded, you couldn’t have argued anyway, you didn’t have any authority here even if you had a lead role, and just told him you’d look over your script and mark it out. He had patted you on the shoulder with a smile and hurried back out and you had resisted the urge to press your face into your hands lest you ruin the makeup. 

Of course you were a little annoyed, you had been told to prepare for certain scenes and those were the scenes you had prepared for, but as you took deep breaths and rifled through the many pieces of advice your therapist had given you, you knew this wasn’t a problem to waste your feelings on. They would be lenient because of the last minute change, and if they weren’t originally then they would have to be because you weren’t a magician. A few deep breaths and reading your lines for the first scene you would be filming calmed you down and returned you to the necessary headspace for filming. 

You thanked both the makeup artist and hairdresser, then put in your headphones as you slowly walked toward the set. You needed to be in a sombre mood, needed to feel that apathy and sadness clawing at the edges of your mind. Your character was struggling, her life was falling apart and she felt like she had no solution, only minor escapes during her trysts with Jim, Cillian’s character. You tucked the script under your arm as you got to the set, taking out your earbuds and looking around for the director. You met eyes with Eva Birthistle who smiled widely and waved at you, excusing herself from the assistant director and walking over to you. 

“Hello, hello!” She hugged you tightly and you returned the greeting against her shoulder. 

Eva was the only member of the cast you had gotten to meet before filming began. One of your fittings had been at the same time as hers and you both had gotten to chatting about the movie. She was an absolute sweetheart, someone you could see as a mentor for yourself, and you were glad to see a familiar face on the set other than the director, a bonus that it was one as welcoming as hers. She wrapped her arm over your shoulder and led you over to the cluster of chairs behind the camera where Cillian was already seated, chatting with Andrew Scott. They both looked up and smiled at the two of you as you came and sat down on the remaining two chairs, Eva already engaging them in conversation. 

Looking at all of them sitting there, it hit you for the first time that you were the youngest person here, in both age and experience. These were all people who had done multiple movies in a variety of roles, had been acting by the time you were born, and had made names for themselves. A wave of shyness hit you that you scolded yourself for, your cheeks burning as you sat down and shook hands with Andrew. Thankfully, the wave didn’t last, because Eva and Andrew were chatty, and both ready to include you in the conversation. 

You were glad for this little moment, though it took you out of the headspace of the character you were trying to settle into. These were all people you would be acting closely with, yelling at or kissing on camera for the next few months, and the more comfortable you could get with them the better. 

Andrew was sweet, asking you questions about past jobs, the interview process, how you felt about your character, an endless supply of questions, jokes, and responses that made him an instant friend. Eva chimed in with her own stories and jokes, piling on top of his and making you laugh until your stomach hurt. Cillian was quieter, only speaking when directly spoken to or simply laughing along with the jokes, but his simple presence was enough for you to feel warm in your bones and excited at the prospect of acting with him. He was so nonchalant, so calm and focused but not deterrent or rude. While you seemed to learn a multitude about both Eva and Andrew, you learnt little about Cillian other than that he preferred living in Ireland to anywhere else. 

You thought maybe it was better that you didn’t get to know him too much. It would make the intimate scenes feel less personal, less intense. He genuinely was one of the most beautiful people you had ever seen and it was too easy for an actor to fall prey to the emotions of a scene in real life. You didn’t want to suddenly be sitting there after a sex scene wondering how similar it was to the real deal with him. You were here to do your job and nothing more. 

The conversation had quieted down as different checks were done on set and it was almost time for you all to convene with the director to get filming started. Cillian was reading quietly from his script, a pair of rectangular glasses with rounded edges and dark rims sat on his nose as he rubbed his index finger back and forth across his bottom lip. You watched him for a moment, the soft movement of his lips as he silently formed the words. Then the director was calling you all up and you felt like you were being snapped out of a trance you hadn’t known you had entered in the first place. 

“Alright, you guys have had a small dinner get-together at Jim and Danielle’s house. This is a sort of regular thing, every couple of weeks, maybe once a month, you have this dinner get-together. You’re all sitting at the dining table across from each other, picking at the final pieces of your meals. Jim and Danielle’s children are asleep upstairs and you guys are simply drinking wine and talking.” He walked you all over to the dining table and pointed out the seats, sitting you down first next to Eva before scrapping the idea and having you sit across from her and beside Andrew. Once you had all been assigned your seats, he turned to Eva and Cillian. 

“You two have been married for a long time, you have two children, you’re in a place in your lives where you believe you’re simply secure in your relationship, but if anyone pokes into this it’s fragile, and you’re not sure if you’re secure and still in love, or you’re just going through the motions of a life you have lived for a long time and don’t actually enjoy. You don’t question anything anymore, just go to work, come home, kiss each other, cook dinner, have a little chat before bed, and do it all over again, day by day.” Then he turned to you and Andrew. He looked at you for a moment before reaching out, pausing just before touching you and silently asking if it was alright. You nodded happily, and he gently pulled your braid to rest over one of your shoulders, moved the pendant on your necklace so it rested a little more to the left, and pulled one of your sleeves a little further down so just the edge of your bra strap was exposed. 

“You two have also been married for a while, but things are a little different. You married Chris right after graduating uni, most of your adult life has been married life. Chris is older, was already pushing forty when you guys got married. All of your friends are his age, mostly couple friends, and you’ve always felt pushed into this older, more mature role, that you don’t necessarily feel successful in. You lean on him quite a bit during these situations, deferring to him to answer difficult questions or when talking about your family life. Chris takes this in stride, it’s how it has always been in your relationship, even after years of marriage and a child. Chris is struggling silently recently, he’s easier to anger, feels a little distant, but honestly? You don’t even realise. You don’t know what he’s hiding, you don’t even know that he’s hiding anything. Andrew, the weight of the disease, hiding it from his family, all those private struggles, are always in the back of Chris’s mind, ok?” Both of you nodded and as you went to sit down at the table, he beckoned you and Cillian over to the side saying, “just a moment.” 

Cillian stood next to you with his arms crossed, the black sweater still pushed up to his elbows, and the edge just brushed against the skin of your arm. You shivered and stretched out your neck for a moment, a nervous tick, before returning your eyes to the director speaking in a low voice. 

“Alright, you two are sitting diagonally to each other at the table. You guys take the term ‘friends’ loosely. You’re friends because she’s friends with Danielle and you’re Danielle’s husband. You’re friends because you’re both couples who are friends, but you’ve never spoken to each other without your spouses in the room. Ok? But there is a little bit of intrigue, I guess. You glance at each other, not for long, just barely a look, or you meet eyes while one of you is talking to the group. I don’t want chemistry, I want the possibility of chemistry. Jim is laidback, especially compared to her husband. She’s pretty and young, especially compared to the other people at the table. I don’t want to notice anything between you yet, I want to come back and watch the movie one day in the future and suddenly notice that there’s something there, but too subtle to hint at the future affair. Ok?” You nodded as he spoke, feeling yourself settle into that focus you usually found just before filming, no more smile and twinkle in your eye. “Alright, break a leg,” and he was walking back to the cameras. You turned to Cillian for a second and he nodded at you, those eyes that you would never forget looking over your face for a moment before he headed for his seat at the table. You clenched your jaw for a second, staring at his back as he walked away, before shaking your head and holding it up high on your way to the table. 

“Alright, change costumes, change the lighting, we’re moving to the living room scene for the next couple of hours, I need the kids and Eva there, please. Cillian and Y/n, head down to studio three after changing, the intimacy coordinator is already there, you have a couple of hours to get it together before we start filming. Hop to it everyone!” 

You were happy to be moving on. Though you had been in films that took even longer for singular scenes, you were starting to feel stale in that environment and reverting to the exact same routine over and over. An assistant was quick to come up alongside you and direct you back to hair and makeup. 

“Your costume is already there, and once everything’s been changed, someone else will come get you to take you to studio three,” he told you, not once looking at you but rather at the clipboard in his hand filled with typed and handwritten notes. 

“Ok, thank you,” you nodded, watching the assistant nod goodbye before doubling back to find Cillian to relay the same information. You stood still and watched him for a moment, the glasses tucked into the neck of his sweater as he nodded at the assistant. 

The longer hair looked good on him, you thought. It was going a little grey in the places around his ears but you liked it more that way. His cheekbones cast shadows on his face in the dim light, but you could still see the faint freckles over his nose and the very light smattering he had on his neck. You could even see the freckles on his forearms and it made something warm bloom in your stomach. He looked up and directly at you. Those eyes… those eyes you could spend hours talking about, uncaring that you probably repeated yourself multiple times simply because of how beautiful they were. You smiled, something that could just barely be considered a smile with only the corners of your lips twitching up for barely a moment and your eyes fluttering, before turning away and walking out of the studio. 

You ended up changing in the corner of the hair and makeup trailer, both the women standing with their backs turned to you as they organised pins and palettes and chatted away. Your next costume was a set of oversized mauve-coloured pyjamas that felt a little too thin for your liking. You were a little relieved that it was only the first kissing scene being filmed. You had read the entire script twice over, and you knew about the other scenes to come that required a lot more of you. You had only ever filmed one ‘intimate’ scene before, and even that had only been a rather simple kissing scene. While this scene was definitely more than that, it didn’t feel as big of a leap on the first day simply because it cut off after the kiss. 

Your hair was let down from its braid, mussed up with the hairdresser’s hands and sprayed with hairspray. All your makeup was wiped off before they went to work again. Dabs of eyeshadow in strategic places made your eyes look slightly puffy, like you just woke up from a haggard sleep. Purple under eyes appeared out of nowhere and the faintest bruise was brought to life on your right cheekbone. Little dabs of red on your lips made them look bitten and your nails were chopped roughly to look like you had been chewing on them on and off. Again, you thanked the women and in a simple pair of slippers made your way outside to meet with the assistant responsible for guiding you to studio three. 

It looked like a school drama studio on the inside, with blackout curtains hung all the way around, a black linoleum floor and big wood blocks wrapped in fuzzy material pushed to the edges of the room. You would have taken your shoes and socks off outside the room out of habit if you had known what it looked like on the inside. You smiled to yourself at the thought, before quickly shuffling over to where Cillian stood talking to two women who looked like the opposites of each other. One was dressed in plain white pants, a white blouse tucked neatly into said pants, and a cream coloured cardigan. The other wore a poncho-style dress that fluttered as she moved her arms and was covered in dizzying bohemian patterns. Ten necklaces were draped over her chest, anything from chains to rope, and she had a bandana neatly wrapped to keep her hair out of her face. 

“Hi! I hope I’m not late!” You called, stopping just beside Cillian and smiling at the two women who looked old enough to be your grandmothers (the realisation that you would be making out with someone right in front of them was not a pleasant one). 

“Not at all, we were just talking about boundaries,” Poncho Lady told you warmly, reaching out to shake your hand. The one in the cardigan followed suit, though she was quieter, and you simply smiled brightly at both of them before waiting for instruction.

“Alright, give your scripts here and just stand in front of each other.” Poncho Lady gently pried the script from your hand, took your tote bag from your shoulder, and set them both down on one of the wood blocks Cardigan Lady had pulled over. “Ok, so we’re just here to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable doing this scene, that no one pushes past any hard boundaries, and to make it seem natural without being unprofessional. Now, before you get to it, is there any place on your body that you would be uncomfortable with your partner touching?” You shook your head and watched Cillian mimic the reaction. 

Awkwardness was cloying at the back of your neck and you desperately wanted to open your mouth and make a stupid comment about how it would just look weird in the movie if he grabbed you between the legs anyway, and it took every ounce of your willpower to keep your mouth shut. “Alright! Let’s get started then! We’ll interrupt when needed.” You turned to fully face Cillian, tilting your head back slowly when you realised how close he was standing. He was still wearing the same jeans and sweater, but the shirt underneath had been changed to a black one, the neck perpetually poking out. 

You dipped your head down again, pressing your hand to your face as you began rambling about how stupid you were and how insane it was for you to be asking him to have an affair with you. Your eyes were squeezed so tight you could see white flashes on the backs of your eyelids. Then, gently, he was interrupting you, voice low as he told you that it was fine, everything was fine, you did nothing wrong, he completely understood, you were tired, emotional after everything. But you kept berating, spitting out words about how he was so good looking and so loyal and you were you, a horrible friend and obviously never a second thought on his mind. And then he was cutting you off, rambling in return about how you’re a beautiful woman, and he can’t lie that he hasn’t thought about you, he’s a man who can appreciate beauty after all. But he could see that you weren’t calming down, could see you slowly folding in on yourself in your panic. Then he was grabbing your hand. Gentle, soft fingers wrapping around your wrist, skin warm and making your own feel tingly. You took a deep breath, your chest visibly shaking, and he brought his other hand to your chin, slowly tilted your head back up to look him in the eye with his fingertips. You blinked, eyes big and wide, and he pressed your hand to his chest, covering it with his own. 

The sweater was so soft under your fingertips, and you desperately wanted it for yourself. His palm was warm on top of yours, warm and firm and unrelenting. You tuned into the sensation of his heart, a wild beating, and your face changed to just hint at concern. 

“Can you feel that?” He asked, voice so low it was almost a whisper. 

“It’s racing,” you breathed out, flexing your fingers against his chest so they caught a bit more of the material of his sweater. 

“Yeah,” he huffed out with a smile, and you moved just a little closer, reaching down to grab his other hand and pressing it to your own chest. His fingertips were a little cold, and your entire body shivered, a small sound leaving your lips. Your fingers were slightly threaded with his, and you pressed his palm to the place where your collar split away and exposed your chest. His hand covered so much of your chest, his pinky and index dipping under the fabric, and was so gentle on its own that you pressed it more firmly against the skin. You wanted his fingerprints imprinted on your skin. He breathed out shakily, almost loudly, and your next breath mimicked it as you closed your eyes. It was so hot in the room.

Both of you stood there feeling each other’s heartbeats for a moment, his head dipped lower so your foreheads almost touched. You were standing so close you could feel each other’s breaths against your lips and the sides of your noses just brushed every so often. He gulped, licking his lips as sweat began to build on the back of his neck and the need to rip the sweater off was soaring in priority in his mind. Your lips just brushed each other, cupid's bows just grazing- 

“Alright, so that’s where you say ‘feel my breast’ and begin guiding his hand under your shirt,” Poncho Lady interjected, looking up from the script in her hands. 

You let go of Cillian’s hand and stepped back quickly. It felt like stepping into an air conditioned room from a hot sunny day outside. Your insides were still warm, and the heat that had been tinging your skin hadn’t completely gone away, but you were more awake, more aware. You licked your lips and gave a small smile that you hoped didn’t betray the sudden embarrassment falling upon you. 

You had been in the scene, you had been lost in it. There had been times before when you were acting and when stopped abruptly felt like you were suddenly reentering your body, like your soul had been extracted for a few moments into a different person and then quickly pulled back and thrust into its original form. But this was a different level. This had been you and not you at the same time. You had been doing those things, had wanted to do those things, but you were also being controlled by something outside yourself, being told to do those things. You quietly excused yourself, saying you had left your water bottle in the hair and makeup trailer and would just quickly run and get it. As you turned back one last time at the door, you watched Cillian run a hand through his hair and smile at Poncho Lady as if nothing had happened since he had walked into the room. 

After the door closed behind you, Cillian happened to glance at your tote bag on the block, and saw your water bottle peaking out. He laughed quietly to himself as he sat down next to it. 

He understood how you were feeling. Intimate scenes were always hard, regardless of how many times an actor has done it. Especially intimate scenes when two people have palpable chemistry. If Poncho Lady hadn’t interrupted, he would have kissed you right then. 

Usually kisses between actors were saved for only when they were filming, but he had been lost in that scene, lost in you. Your eyes, teary and pained and so big, were so authentic that it had been easy to fall into his role, the saviour, the anchor. And as you guys had stepped closer and closer, and his senses were bombarded so much, he had lost himself more and more. Your perfume from earlier had worn off, but your skin smelt so good, like cocoa butter body wash. 

From his line of sight, he could see a sliver of your neck where your hair had fallen behind your shoulder. In the moment a sudden, impulsive thought had flashed in his mind, the intense need to lean down and press his mouth to your neck, to kiss it and let his tongue just poke out and drag over the skin. He could even see it now as he sat and waited for you to return, the place where your neck joined your head and the skin went up to behind your ear. He closed his eyes and let himself linger there. 

Then the scene moved on and so did the little movie in his mind. Your hand in his, so soft and gentle as it settled against his chest. Then his hand in yours, your fingertips slightly sweaty and shaking. For a moment he had considered letting his hand stay limp, wanting to see how you would manage to drag the weight of his arm, but that was another intrusive thought that had to be pushed away. 

The skin on your chest was firm but with how firmly you held his hand against it he could feel the slight give of your flesh. His finger had just barely stroked your collarbone as his hand had rested there and he had wanted to move his hand so much more, to so many other places. Up to your neck to feel the soft skin there, to see if he could make you do that full-body shiver again. Down to your breasts, to the delicate skin stretched over them and then to cup them, to feel the weight of them in his hands. 

Cillian opened his eyes and took your water bottle in his hands, opening it and drinking from it as you came back into the room. You looked directly at him and he smiled at the wide-eyed, almost scandalised, look you gave him. He brought the bottle down and screwed the cap back on, putting it right-way up on the block for you to clearly see. He could see a little flush in your cheeks, and watched you rub the tips of your ears with a mischievous smile. 

Poncho and Cardigan Lady didn’t even notice that you returned without a water bottle. 

The intimacy coordinators only made you rehearse the scene two more times before letting you go. They said you both seemed comfortable enough, that you understood what the other person was and wasn’t comfortable with and you were left to your own devices. You left without a glance back and told an assistant you would be heading back to your trailer. She nodded, telling you that someone would come get you for touch ups on your makeup in an hour, and then you walked the entire way back to the makeshift trailer park. 

You only got about fifteen minutes on your own before someone was knocking on the door. You had washed all the makeup off, reasoning that you could simply head back early on your own and give them the time to do it all over again. As you walked, you tied your hair up in a ponytail, awkwardly opening the door with one hand. Cillian smiled politely up at you, arms crossed over his chest and you simply stared at him with wide eyes, blinking stupidly. 

“Hi,” his smile was jovial and infectious, but the one you offered in return felt forced. You felt so awkward around him now, as if you had violated some trust by being so caught up in the moment. “I thought we could walk around a little bit, get to know each other. I think it helps a little bit when filming roles like these.” You paused, fidgeting with the door handle. 

You had really wanted to take a nap, to reset yourself before filming the scene all over again. But this was such an enticing invitation. And maybe it would help you push past all this awkwardness. Maybe getting to know the other actor was better than not knowing. Maybe feeling connected worked better because you had more to think about, more defence in the moment. 

You nodded, holding up your finger for him to wait a moment so you could put your sneakers on and deposit your slippers in your tote bag. He waited patiently, leaning against the outside of the trailer while thumbing through the script. You hopped down the steps and waited for him to take the first stride before following alongside him, taking a winding path back up to the studios. 

“What do you keep in this all-important tote bag?” He asked, eyes squinting in the sun as he teasingly tugged on one of the straps. 

“Oh, heh, just little on-set essentials. Phone, headphones, little snack,” you paused, “my water bottle,” you added quietly, pursing your lips as you watched his smile widen. 

“That’s quite a nice idea, I should think about getting my own,” he nodded as he spoke, and you just smiled. Both of you walked for a little bit without saying anything, and just as the urge to open your mouth and spew out whatever comment happened to be on the tip of your tongue became almost unbearable, Cillian spoke again. “Have you filmed scenes like this before?” He asked, and you knew there were other questions behind it, insinuations. You felt embarrassed all over again, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking straight ahead to the path you were walking. 

“Um, once. And it wasn’t even this intense. I was working on this show, a supporting role with a romantic storyline. I was working with Tom Glynn-Carney?” He let out a little ‘ah’ nodding his head in recognition, muttering a ‘good lad’. “Yeah, it was really small, like a chaste ‘this guy has been my boyfriend for the past two years and I’m just leaving for work’ kind of kiss.” He laughed at that, genuine and melodic, as he looked at the floor and shook his head before looking up to the sky like he was exasperated with your silliness. “And Tom’s really sweet so it went really well, but this has a lot more expectation on it. It feels like going from the kids' pool to the deep end.” You chose to leave out the fact that his very good looks and insane acting abilities made it that much more difficult. 

Both of you paused for a moment, turning to each other in the late afternoon light. He stared at you and you wrapped your arms around yourself again, suddenly feeling like you were exposed to the elements. Slowly, he reached up and pressed the tip of his index finger to your cheek just under your eye. You stared at him, at his lips as he breathed in, and the moment was so slow, so natural, that for a moment you considered stepping forward and kissing him. But someone hit fast-forward again and he pulled back, holding up his finger to you. 

“I’m sorry, you had an eyelash,” he explained. “Make a wish,” he whispered, holding it close to your lips and you waited a beat, looking into his eyes as you leaned closer and blew the little eyelash away. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You turned and began walking quickly, a rain of dread suddenly drizzling onto your shoulders. Maybe it was a premonition, maybe it was delusion, but something told you that all these moments were leading to something and you wouldn’t necessarily come out of it for the better. 

You pressed his hand to your chest, breathing in slowly and looking into his eyes as if everything you’ve ever wanted was held there. His fingers flexed, just slightly, and you began to move it down, dipping it under the edge of the pyjama shirt. 

“Feel my breast,” you whispered, guiding his hand into your shirt until you could feel it searing the flesh of your breast. He was breathing heavily now, chest shaking as he pressed even closer to you, moving his head so his nose lightly brushed your nose. You tilted your head up further so your lips were aligned and only a little move was necessary to connect them. You looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, thoughts racing, trying to decipher what the other person was thinking but also knowing exactly the thoughts that rain through their head, peaking themselves out into their eyes. And then he was kissing you, mouth slightly open, pressing your bottom lip between his. You moved the hand on his chest up to cup the side of your neck, steadying yourself as he gripped onto your chest and devoured your mouth. And his tongue was in your mouth, delving in and pressing to yours, and you couldn’t breathe but you didn’t want to either and his thumb was pressing against your nipple and your entire body was tingling and- 

“Cut! That was perfect, guys!” 

You pulled away slowly, so so slowly. Your lips still stuck to his a little as you moved away. His hand was almost lethargic in its pace to snake out of your shirt, and you moved your own down from his neck to his chest before bringing it back down to your side. You were both breathing heavily, glancing away from each other then back, away then back before you finally turned away and walked off the set toward the chairs and cameras. You licked your lips as you walked, trying to savour the taste of him. 

The director let you all go for the evening, telling you he’d see you all bright and early on the other side of the studio lot for the ‘second meeting’ scene. You hauled your tote bag over your shoulder and practically ran to the golf cart. You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. 

You didn’t bother eating dinner, just did your night routine and lay down on the bed. There was a little window in the bed area covered with blinds that had been left unfolded. Yellow light from somewhere on the lot was shining in through the cracks but you couldn’t be bothered to move them. You lay in a state between sleep and wakefulness until midnight. Your brain was buzzing with too many thoughts but you were too tired to think through them. 

Five minutes past one, and there was a knock at your trailer door, three soft thuds. You shifted on the bed, lifting your head up slightly to listen for another one. It came, the person was trying to be quiet, and you slowly slid out of bed. You tiptoed to the door and only opened it an inch. Cillian stood directly in front of the trailer, so close to the door that if you opened it wider he would basically be inside. He was wearing a plain white round-neck shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, his hands shoved into the pockets. His hair was still relatively neat, which meant he hadn’t gone to bed yet, and you suddenly felt self-conscious, patting down the back of your head as you blinked up at him. He smiled, a small thing that didn’t reach his eyes, and you opened the door a little wider, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie down so they wrapped over your fingertips. 

“Can I come in?” He asked quietly, low and serious. You nodded, moving back and letting him close the door behind himself.

You both stood in the little space between the kitchenette and the door. You felt fully awake now, but everything in the world was still. There was pin-drop silence and you two simply looked at each other. Then he was moving forward, slowly, one step at a time, until he was standing as close to you as he was when you were both filming earlier, maybe even closer. 

Every breath you took made your chest brush his. You could feel your nipples tightening and pushing against your hoodie. He brought both of his hands up to cup your head on either side, then leaned down and kissed you firmly. It was slow, a little pull back and then he was pushing in, kissing you again. Everything inside you was slowly heating up, like a saucepan set on a low fire. Your limbs were filling up with it, there was a lump at the back of your throat, and your core was slowly tightening into itself. Your hands shook and you lifted them to press into his sides, clenching your hands into the soft material of his t-shirt. He kissed you again and again until you were heaving your breaths in and leaning your upper body onto his. 

Cillian pulled away and looked at you, a pause as if waiting or asking, and you simply pointed behind you at the little hallway that led to the bedroom. He nodded, just one little movement of his head tipping down, then he pulled away, grasping your hand in his and walking you both to the little bed area. 

The blinds were still spilling orangey-yellow light into the room, and he simply sat you on the bed before turning around to adjust them so they were closed a little tighter but still let small slits of light into the room. Then he got on his knees right in front of you, pushing himself forward so he was between your legs and your knees pressed into his ribs. You were taking deep breaths in, staring at him with parted lips as he brushed your hair away from your face and kissed you once. 

Everything felt so… small. The room was only the space you two inhabited, your breaths were his breaths, your eyes only looking into his eyes, your lips only existing to kiss his. His fingers gently burrowed under the fabric of your hoodie and began lifting it up. He waited for you to raise your arms then slowly removed each of your sleeves, dropping it into a heap next to himself. You were only wearing a bra underneath it, and he lightly caressed your stomach, watching you shudder out breaths at the sensation. He reached up with his other hand and slid one of the bra straps down your shoulder, touching the little mark it had left behind before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to it. Then the other strap was shifted down, another kiss on your shoulder. Your mouth was dry, your hands shaking. You wanted him to consume you. 

You reached out and lightly tugged on the collar of his shirt. He instantly leaned back and took it off, exposing pale skin and softly defined muscles. Each ridge was gentle, like the artist had painstakingly smudged out any harsh lines. You wanted to feel his body pressing down on top of you. 

He gently tugged your shorts down your legs, waiting patiently for you to lean back and lift your hips up so he could get them off. His right hand moved to splay over your stomach, gently pressing until you were laying flat on your back while his left hand lifted your legs to rest over his shoulders. He slowly pulled you forward until the small of your back was curved to the edge of the bed and all the weight of your lower body was on his shoulders. He looked up at you once, bright blue eyes so shiny in the dim light that you wanted to stop and take a picture. But you only breathed out a little shuddering moan as he pressed his lips against your pussy, poking his tongue out and gently licking between the folds. You clenched your eyes shut, one arm thrown carelessly above your head as you bit down on your other hand. 

It was warm and wet and hot. The room felt humid and your skin burned. His lips were so soft, his tongue skillful, and your hips rolled with every movement, warm tendrils of pleasure moving in waves through your body. He licked until your thighs were messy and you could feel his cheeks stick to the insides. He pressed the tip of his tongue inside you until the pressure at your entrance was making you convulse and the sounds leaving your lips were a little too loud for your own liking. You bit so hard into your hand that you were sure your teeth marks would be there the following morning and let your body quiver on the bed as he pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You could see his chest heaving up and down and you pushed up to lean on your elbows, watching him push the sweatpants off his hips before draping himself over you. You closed your eyes and fell back onto the bed, letting him spread your legs and drape them over his hips. When he pushed into you, you curled around him. Your legs tightened around his waist, your arms wrapped around his torso and you pressed your face into his shoulder, muffled sounds spilling from your lips and into his skin. You could hear him panting directly by your ear, feel the wet breaths against the shell of your ear as he turned his head to nip at it. He began moving, backwards and forwards, pull and push, drag and rub. You pushed your hips up against him, a little ‘unh’ sound pushing from your chest when the little space below his belly button pressed perfectly against your clit. 

You lost yourself in the pleasure. Time didn’t exist in that space, only the feeling of your insides climbing up, reaching for something that would make stars burst behind your eyes. It was the feeling of the bed sheets rubbing against your skin, the clasp of your bra pressing into your back. It was his skin sticking to yours, your hands digging into his back, his lips on your cheek, behind your ear. It was the sounds of your hips meeting, soft consistent thumps that slowly began to increase in speed. 

And then you were there. The moment where everything was just right. When the weight of him inside you and the press against your clit lined up perfectly. When his lips were pressed against your cheek and somewhere a star aligned in the universe. It was like warm flowers blooming inside your stomach, so brightly it was almost painful. You clenched around him, pressed your knees to his ribs as tight as they would go. You clenched your teeth tightly together but pressed your mouth to his shoulder so all the sounds came out muffled and weird, high pitched from the back of your throat or deep from the pit of your stomach. 

He groaned when he finished, hands gripping your hips so tightly you felt them even after he let go. His eyes were scrunched shut and when his hips convulsed a few times he almost hissed at the sensation. He quickly pulled out, falling down right beside you. Neither of you moved for a long while. 

When your joints finally felt like they would no longer fall apart if you moved, you slowly turned to lay on your side. He was already looking at you, eyes soft and tracing over every feature of your face. He reached out, blunt fingertips gently brushing hair off of your forehead and cheeks. He stroked one with his thumb, then moved forward to press the gentlest, most loving kiss against your lips. You kept your eyes closed even when he pulled away. 

He was gone when you woke up in the morning. You thought you dreamed it for a moment, the most vivid dream you had ever had in your life. But you were naked under the blanket, and you never remembered pulling it up from the edge of the bed so someone had tucked you in. Your hoodie and shorts were folded and placed on the tiny nightstand beside the bed, and your blinds were fully closed. When you shifted to get out of bed, you could still feel the way fingertips had pressed into your thighs and a soft soreness throbbing between your legs. Not a dream. 

But then everything felt weird when you left the trailer. You didn’t see Cillian until you were on set for filming and he was busy with the director until ‘action!’ was called. You followed him after ‘cut!’ but he only sat and watched the scene over or read from his script. He smiled politely at you, gave you a wave when he caught you looking, but made no special effort to come over to you. 

You felt off-kilter the entire day, like a joke was being pulled on you but you couldn’t figure out what it was. But then, as you curled up in your bed after sunset, watching the sky darken through the window, he knocked on your door again. And you let him in, let him kiss you and take you to bed. And in the dead of night he wrapped you up in the bed sheets, whispering little jokes, telling stories, watching you like you were precious. And then the cycle started all over again the next day. 

You reasoned with yourself. You guys were still at work, you needed to be professional on set, and it seemed to explain everything away. He snuck into your bed at night, wrapped his arms around you and kissed you, coaxed you into sleep eventually, but never in the daylight. Not even a touch other than the ones on camera. 

You couldn’t feel yourself getting attached, couldn’t see yourself manoeuvring your life around him until you knew you would beg for him to just take your hand in the daytime once, let you call him your man. You came when he called, followed where he went. You didn’t realise until you were devoted, didn’t realise until the willow had bent to the wind.

"It's good to see you too, James. I was just nipping over to the market for a few items to make Christmas cookies while I'm home for the holidays. Wait, wait, wait…" Lily paused, not even noticing that they had picked up their paces, walking towards the market as if on autopilot together. "What are you doing here in Bamburgh?"

James peered down at her, shoving his hands into his pockets as he pondered over his answer.

"My parents passed away about eight years ago now. Usually I spend the holidays with the lads, or with Remus' family, or just with Sirius, but with the two of them finally getting their shit together and coupling up, it felt a bit more like intruding. My parents always had a little cabin out this way on the coast, but we never visited much. I remembered coming here as a young boy and thought I'd try to clean it up and just have a solitary Christmas."

"Oh." This was the only thing Lily could think of to say, her mind going blank as she tried to process the fact that James Potter's family had owned a home in her small town, and yet the two had never run into one another until that day on the Hogwarts Express, his little body barrelling into hers at lightning speed. Her mouth quirked up at the memory and she peered up at him now. No, he was no longer that little boy. He was not even that boy of eighteen, the one who had whispered sweet nothings into her ear and promised her the world if they could just find a way to make it work.

She had always assumed that if he had meant what he said, he'd have found a way to make it work. Her own insecurities had interfered in her own efforts, causing her to wait patiently until she had to finally accept that James hadn't truly felt as strongly as she had led herself to believe.

And that was okay. Lily had moved on after a little time licking her wounds. The rejection had only stung for a short while.

"Hey, I have to head back but… you should stop by later if you've got some extra Christmas cookies," James told her, his hand reaching up to gently hold her elbow, guiding her to face him once again. "And just because I'd really like to see you again."

"A-alright," Lily stammered, surprising herself by her own quick agreement. "I'd really like that too."

"Great, hold on. Let me just…" James maneuvered and dug around in his pockets until he found some scrap of paper in his wallet, his mouth moving silently as an address slowly etched itself on the little white scrap. He handed it over with a cheeky grin, his impressive display of wandless magic completed.

"I'll be by later this evening," Lily told him, fingers grazing his own as she took the slip of paper, pocketing it slowly. She hadn't been expecting the warm zing of pleasure that shot up her arm just from their fingers brushing together in the cold.

James backed away, grinning brightly as he rounded the corner once more and she was able to head towards the market once more, her mind now cloudy with thoughts of what ifs.

______________________________

"Hello?" Lily called out as she trudged up the driveway, the keys to her mom's car jingling in one hand, a plastic-wrapped tray of various cookies held in the other. One upside to being muggleborn was definitely the additional travel options, Lily thought to herself. "James, open the door! My hands are full!"

"Hey there!" James' voice rang out from the left side of the house, appearing just a second after she registered where he was. "Sorry, I was doing some work clearing out the weeds in the garden. Hard to do with layers of snow covering the area, but luckily for me, my parents got this place knowing it was set away from the muggles so I can still use my wand." James wiped his hands off on his dark jeans before gesturing for her to follow him inside.

Lily was having trouble wrapping her mind around this grown up version of James. He came across as so responsible and mature, though what else should she have expected? She scolded herself for expecting that he would still be that same eighteen year old she had started to envision a life with.

"These look incredible," James complimented as he gently slid the tray out of her hand and carried it into the kitchen.

"James, it smells incredible in here," she breathed out as the scents of various spices filled her nose. She could see the small pot on the stovetop and the oven light was on, indicating that there was a dish being kept warm inside.

"I just made us a spiced carrot and lentil soup, and a small roast chicken and vegetables. You brought the real goods though," James informed her, a wide grin on his face as he silently waved his wand, conjuring two table settings, the bottle of wine already uncorked that poured itself two healthy glasses of wine. "I'm sorry, I assumed you'd join me for dinner. I hope that's alright."

"It's perfect. It really does smell good. I'm sure it tastes great too," Lily reassured him as she slid her coat off, peeking around before hanging it on a small coat hook by the side door. "It's so cozy in here, not what I would have expected from a Potter family vacation home."

James laughed softly at the joke, offering her the glass of wine before shrugging. "It's not big at all. That's probably why we didn't come here often. Mum loved the extravagance of the larger homes and resorts. Dad was the one who liked the quiet bliss that the coast offered. I think this was one of his ideas. I didn't get it when I was little… but I do now."

Lily let the words settle in, taking a small sip of the wine.

"I was bored the few times we came here as a child. I had so much energy, y'know? I needed a friend to play with and something to keep me entertained at all times. Now that I'm older I crave the quiet sometimes. Everything gets to just be so loud and I can manage but I just need a few minutes to catch my breath sometimes."

James' words kept Lily quiet, letting the thoughts flicker through her mind as she imagined this new James and tried to merge it with the James she knew. "Yeah, I get that," she finally said.

He set about serving the soup and then carving the chicken and plating some of that as well. She watched in fascination as he did things the muggle way, a small smile on her face as he flitted around the kitchen expertly.

"I lost my wand at Sirius' for a week about six years ago. It was a nightmare," he explained as if answering a question she didn't ask. "I couldn't conjure anything, couldn't just make food in an instant, but I think I learned how nice it can be to get your hands dirty and make something on your own. I still use magic to help me out now, though."

Lily laughed at her cheeky grin and assisted him with refilling their glasses just before settling into the seat he pointed to. Settled across from him at the table, Lily had a brief flash of what life could have been.

The two passed through their meal, casually chatting and checking in with their current status. James was between "experiences," trying to find the right next move in the wizarding world that would fulfill his desires to do something good. Lily was working with some of London's most skilled healers, researching a new potion that would cure effects of dark magic that had never been explored before.

"See, that is something I've always loved about you, Evans! You could do anything you want in this world, make enormous amounts of money doing private materialistic work, and instead you want to make a true difference. Just brilliant!" James complimented before shoveling in a mouthful of chicken, finishing off his meal.

Lily's cheeks flushed, choosing to ignore the first part of his compliment. "Well, thank you. I think I'm a little selfish though. The notoriety if we can pull it off means I'll be guaranteed a job anywhere I want in the future. But thank you."

James boldly reached across the small table and took her hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He didn't drop it after squeezing, instead just holding it across the table. "You can stay, can't you? For a bit longer?"

Lily nodded quickly, not wanting this night to end. She wasn't entirely sure what they were going to do, but just being in James' presence was a warm balm on her soul. Being around her family could be draining, especially her sister and her sister's husband, and their preteen son. Ever since their father had passed, Lily's mom worked overtime at the holidays to smooth things over between her girls, trying to keep her family together.

James was offering Lily an escape from the constant stress and darkness she felt visiting her childhood home. It was the reprieve she didn't even know she wanted until it had been offered.

"I have nowhere else to be," she explained before realizing how cold that sounded. "Nowhere else I'd rather be."

James grinned at this, using his free hand to wave his wand and clear the dishes from in front of them, the tray of cookies suddenly appearing unwrapped on the small table. She grinned up at him before reaching for a peanut butter ball, his own settling on a gingerbread man.

He used his grip on her hand to ease her out of her seat, guiding her towards the little sitting area that he had near the back of the house. It was a small room, two bookcases settled on either side of the large window that framed the lake. There was a small couch and coffee table, a rug underneath that made the room feel warmer somehow. The fireplace sat on the left of the couch, a small blaze already going, built up by a flick of James' wand to warm the room just a bit more.

Lily was unsure what to do with herself before deciding that she wanted to just enjoy this space with James for a short while, so she let her feet carry her to the couch, curling them beneath her as she sat. Her body was aimed towards the empty space beside her, waiting patiently for James to take the hint and fill the seat. When he did so, her grin grew that much brighter.

"If you had asked me earlier what my plans were for tonight, this is the last thing I would have expected," he admitted, his cheeks tinged pink, though she blamed that warmth on the fire. His eyes met hers and she felt her own cheeks flush, though that warmth could be blamed solely on James' burning gaze.

"Me either," she told him softly, a shaky hand bringing the wine glass to her lips. "But I'm glad that we're both here."

Lily licked her lips and she watched as James' eyes dropped to her mouth as her tongue poked out just slightly. She heard the hitch in his breath and felt a slow burning in the pit of her stomach mixed with anxiety, wondering if this was going to end up being a mistake.

"I... '' Lily stopped herself with a shake of her head, glancing up at James nervously. His hand reached up to push back a lock of hair that had fallen out of her long braid, letting his fingers tentatively trail down her cheek, thumb tracing along her jaw. Her breath was caught in her throat and for a split second she wasn't sure if she would ever breathe again. "I'm leaving on Tuesday. I have to leave immediately after the holiday to return to work. I… I can't stay."

"I know," he breathed out, face inching closer to hers. "I know you have to be back, but we could… this could be just a thing we do. Right?"

The husky tone of his voice was driving Lily mad. She wanted to lean forward and accept whatever was about to happen, but she stopped herself and tried to let rational thoughts process in her mind. She knew the hurt she had felt last time they parted, but she hadn't been prepared for that rejection. This time she could protect herself, and her heart. Lily would know exactly what was happening this time and could stop herself from getting in too deep.

Yes, it would be just fine this time. They both knew this was just for the weekend. Something to get them through the holidays until they returned to their individual lives.

Lily leaned forward the rest of the way, feeling the way that James' fingers clenched against her jaw in response to her lips meeting his. They hadn't kissed in almost ten years and yet it was like riding a bicycle with how easily she fell back into a rhythm. Her head tilted just slightly to avoid nudging his glasses, her mouth opening beneath his for only a second before James pulled away.

She felt her mouth forming a slight pout, but James just smirked as he took the wine glasses and set them onto the coffee table before letting his hands slip down her waist until he was gripping her hips tightly.

"Only for the weekend," Lily spoke firmly, her fingers itching to touch him again. She had memorized his body at eighteen, let it be a memory of hers that lingered in the back of her mind for those nights when she felt so lonely and wanted to conjure up a dream that would keep her warm at night, hand shoved into her pants as she frantically tried to remember what it had felt like to be so cherished.

Over the years, the memory of him had faded and felt icky to use as she grew older. Lily had always tried to imagine what he would look like now, but as her hands slid beneath his shirt, nothing had prepared her for this adult James.

His own hands slid beneath her shirt, his thumbs stroking at the ridges along her spine. "You're too skinny, I'm afraid you'll shatter in my arms."

Lily pulled away to laugh at his comment, her face lighting up as the tension between them broke. There was something about James that made her feel at ease, even when he was being serious.

"I'm not that fragile. You can be rough with me," her voice was breathy as she leaned in once more, a groan falling from James' lips as she spoke.

"You can't say shit like that to me, Evans," James muttered darkly, his fingers pressing roughly against her spine to bring her closer. Lily took it a step further, climbing into his lap so that her thighs were framing his own. Their bodies aligned tightly together, faces only inches apart.

"And why not?" she whispered, lightly kissing his lower lip, allowing a faint smile to spread across her mouth. A sound that Lily could only describe as a growl came from him as he fervently kissed her, hands now sliding down to grip her arse. This was the answer to her question. A passionate, anxious, feverish kiss.

Her own hands slid from his biceps to his shoulder to his hair, gripping it tightly as if it were an anchor, not allowing him to move away. Though, it didn't seem that he had any intention to.

Lily felt like her body was on fire everywhere his hands touched. They were roaming over her frantically, like he was afraid that she would slip away at any given moment. They finally settled back on her bottom, giving it a firm squeeze before guiding her hips to slant over his just so. She could feel the hard press of him against her core, feel the way that her body ached in reaction to that gentle cant of his hips, lifting slightly to meet her own subtle thrusts.

"Lily, please," he begged, letting a hand slip to the hem of her thick sweater, tugging at it gently until she nodded, allowing her arms to lift up so he could tug it over her head. A few wisps of hair fell from her braid at the sudden friction of material, though her body felt cooled off by the slight chill in the air. Lily peeked over and realized the fire had died down again, though she was distracted once more as James' fingers unclasped her bra from behind and the straps slid down her arms with his guidance. His hands quickly replaced the cups, her nipples hardening beneath the rough texture of his palms.

A soft moan slipped from her lips as his fingers began to stroke in even circles, slowly tightening until they were tugging at her nipples in that way she liked.

"James," her voice was a harsh croak as she leaned forward, capturing his mouth in another kiss, letting her hands slip beneath his own shirt. She pulled it up, separating from his mouth only to pull it off. Her tongue probed at his mouth, wanting to taste every inch of him. If he was desperate to feel, she was desperate to taste.

James hands' never stopped their assault on her breasts, palming and tugging at her nipples until she was squeezing her thighs together, only his own were getting in the way. Instead, she began to slowly press herself down against his length, needing to feel something more than what he was doing. One of his hands moved from her breast up to cup the back of her head, his fingers probably messing up her braid, but she didn't quite mind.

Lily felt the groan that he let out, not just against her mouth, but beneath her hands that were pressed to his own chest. That firm chest that had only strengthened over time. A shiver ran down Lily's spine as his mouth pulled back from hers with a tug to her bottom lip using his teeth. Those teeth that scraped down her neck, sucking gently and peppering kisses until he reached her chest. His tongue poked out and circled once, twice, around the flesh until he sucked at her nipple. She gasped, both hands gripping the back of his head, keeping him pressed there as she arched up towards his mouth.

"James, please," she whimpered, her voice hoarse as she straddled one of his thighs, trying to press herself against it through her thin leggings. She knew that she was soaked through, desperate for his touch.

"What do you need?" he asked after pulling away from her chest, letting the hand that had been in her hair travel down her back and around then around to her stomach until it reached the waistband of her leggings. His fingers moved just beneath it, slowly inching towards the one place that was taking up all of her focus.

"Please," Lily breathed out, lifting her hips up to try to make room for his fingers, but he insisted on teasing her, letting them just stroke against the front of her pelvis, not even sliding beneath the thin silk of her underwear. "James, please. I need to feel you inside me."

James choked on a moan, bringing a smile to Lily's lips that quickly turned into a soft "oh" as his fingers slid lower and pressed against her through the fabric, index and middle finger rubbing in small circles. It wasn't enough, but it was more than she had a minute ago and that was progress.

"Oh," she breathed out again, clutching the back of his head once more as she tried to move her hips, though he steadied her with his free hand, keeping her in place. Lily hated how needy she felt, how much her body craved the feeling of his own.

James pulled his hand out suddenly, her face falling once more at the loss of contact. He only kissed her, distracting her long enough until he was suddenly standing, hands holding onto her arse for support as he began to carry her towards his bedroom. Lily began to pepper kisses along his jaw and neck, too distracted to notice which way he was walking them.

She squealed in delight as he tossed her down onto the bed, his own laugh bouncing off of the walls before he grew serious once more, climbing over her on the bed. His body encased hers, providing a shelter from the cold as he let one hand slide down to her hip, pushing her pants lower until she took the hint and assisted him in getting them off. Her own hands then went to the button on his jeans, pulling it open so that she could push the material down his legs, letting her feet finish the job until they were on the floor somewhere by the side of the bed.

Their breaths were heavy as he leaned down and kissed her once more, left hand sliding beneath her panties once more until a single finger was pressing inside of her.

"Fuck, Lily. You're so wet." He sounded incredulous as he began to slowly curl that finger and then pull it out before pushing it back in. His finger moved in slow strokes as she began to pant, lifting her hips in time with the pushing, lowering them with the pulling.

"It's for you," Lily whimpered, clutching onto his shoulders as she tried to get him to give her more. She just needed more of him. "James, please. Stop teasing me!"

"Anything for you, Evans," his cheeky grin made her giggle as he slid his briefs down his body, kicking them off somewhere before kneeling before her, spreading her legs with both of his hands. "Fuck, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Lily keened at the compliment, her lips already flushed from activity, though she was sure they'd be red at his words.

"I'm - I take a contraceptive. You don't need to… We're covered," she finally admitted, tugging him back down by wrapping her spread legs around his waist so that their bodies were aligned once more. Lily let her hips lift until the tip of his cock was gently pressing inside of her, slipping out as she lowers her hips again. James seems frozen for a moment and this scares her, but he must see the look on her face because he lowers his mouth to hers and just kisses her until that anxiety is quelled.

When it's obvious that she's putty in his hands once again, nerves calmed down by the soothing action of his lips and tongue, his hips press forward until he's filling her. It's agonizingly slow until their hips are tight together and he breaks their kiss to let out a loud groan against her mouth.

"You're… Fuck, I… You…" James is speechless and this makes Lily giggle fiercely until he's pulling out halfway and then pressing back in, as if he can't bear to even be separated from her for that much. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you, Evans."

"Oh, gods, James," Lily moans as she pressed her hands into his shoulder blades, wanting his body to press into hers completely. She wants to feel every inch of him against her, wants to memorize the way he feels as he's inside her fully. This ache that she's had since seeing him again feels like it's starting to be sated.

As if something has broken inside his body, James begins to thrust in and out, his hips moving at their own pace. Lily feels like her body is connected to his by a string, because everytime he goes to move, her hips are there to meet his at each thrust.

"Nobody but you, Evans. Nobody has ever felt this good. Fuck, nobody. Fuck," James rambled, each thrust feeling like it's not enough and too much all at once for her. Lily wants to come, wants to feel her world fall apart, so she slips a hand between their bodies and reaches down to where their hips meet. Before she can accomplish this, his hand is there, pushing hers away.

"No, this is mine to give," he whispered, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth as he let his fingers find where they met, rubbing small circles against her clit as she felt a tidal wave of pleasure wash over her body in waves, that pit in her stomach tightening as she tried to just reach that point of pleasure.

James seemed to understand what her body needed because he continued to thrust in a way that was getting her to that point until her toes curled and her heels were digging into his hips harshly.

"James, oh, oh," her voice was like a siren's call because within an instant he was meeting her in a wave of pleasure, his back arched as he groaned and spilled inside of her.

"Lily," was the only thing he whispered before giving her another kiss, pulling out of her body in one smooth motion, using wandless magic to summon a warm towel and a wet washcloth. Just as he took care of her during the act, James made sure to take gentle care of her in the clean up, just enough, before allowing her to use the bathroom to finish up.

Lily took one look in the mirror, her braid now half pulled out of its form and eyeliner smudged beneath her lids. She giggled to herself as she used the toilet and then wet another washcloth to wipe under her eyes. Lily dug around until she found a comb and was able to brush out her hair into soft waves, letting them fall down her back.

She felt self conscious reentering the room, though the wide grin on James' face as he gestured for her to join him in the bed washed that feeling away, replacing it with a warmth that his grin always seemed to bring.

"That sure was something, Evans," James teased, leaning over once she had joined him again to press a soft kiss to her mouth. "You sure are something."

Lily could only let out a breathy giggle as she laid on her back for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around what the fuck had just happened. Sure, she knew what was going to happen, but somehow they had ended up naked and in bed together much faster than she realized. There hadn't been any time for thinking, and that was honestly the best feeling.

"Hey, you okay?" James' voice broke through her ocean of thoughts. She felt the corners of her mouth tilt up and she nodded quickly, a glow overtaking her as his hands slid down to her hips, bringing her closer to his body until she could tuck her face into the crook of his neck. Lily cocooned herself into his body, letting him lift a sheet over her.

"I'm okay," she finally responded, the index finger on her left hand circling around his nipple, though she wasn't fully paying attention to her actions. "I'm good."

"You looked like you regretted it, for a minute there," James sounded nervous as he admitted to this and she peeked up at him from her hiding spot, watching the nerves in his eyes disappear as she offered up a genuine smile, letting her mouth press gently to his jaw.

"No regrets, it was good. You were good." Lily's voice sounded assured and it was a surprise to her how comfortable she felt laying here with James.

"Not even one?"

"Nope, not a single one. It was good, James."

James seemed content at that, the hum he released vibrating against her cheek which had returned to his solid chest. The pair laid contentedly for some time before James broke them out of their reverie. His hands had been sliding up and down her back, fingers tracing along the ridges of her spine until she was almost ready to fall asleep.

"I regret that we never made it work. That we didn't try harder. I should've tried harder for you," James told Lily, letting his hands continue in their soothing patterns on her skin. His voice sounded pained and Lily wasn't too sure how she wanted to answer.

I wish the same? It's fine, don't worry about it? I should've tried harder but my crippling anxiety and insecurities got the best of me until I gave up on the idea of us?

No - definitely not that last one.

Instead, Lily settled for an uncommitted hum instead, just letting him interpret what he wanted from that.

"I'm serious, Lily. You're the one person I've never been able to get past. Everyone dims compared to you. I meant what I said back in those days, and I should've tried harder to show you that."

As if dipping her head into a pensieve, Lily was taken back to the last time they had been curled up in bed like this:

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, Lily." James' words captured her heart as he slid his fingers down her body, tracing the curves of her thighs before pulling them around his waist so he could have her body wrapped around his own.

"Stop it," Lily admonished, cheeks burning from the compliment.

"I mean it. I've loved you for years, probably since the day I met you. Maybe even before we met. I was made to love you. I can't imagine a world without you in it. I can't imagine my life without you in it, Lily Evans."

"James, you're just saying that because I let you have sex with me."

"No, that's not true! I mean it," James pouted as he spoke, only smiling once Lily kissed the pout away. "When we leave here, wherever we go, I want to make this work. I want to marry you one day, have you take my last name, become a family. I want to be a dad and have kids with you. I want a life with you, Lily Evans. You're it for me."

Despite his words, James had never sought her out after that final encounter. They had never even spoken after that day, separated by time and space and people who wanted to keep them apart. An impending war, one that was completed just a month after graduation. One that James had been ready to throw himself into, and one Lily had been scared to join but knew it was the only way to move forward.

The day she had met with Dumbledore and he told her that the fight was over, that they had won, he provided her with a top notch recommendation to one of the world's most well-renowned potioneers. That month had been a rush of emotions as she prepared to battle (and lose her life) only to come to terms with the fact that she no longer needed to. She had an entire future ahead of her and yet there she was, trying to figure out how she was supposed to spend a life she never thought she'd be entitled to have.

"Where'd you go just now?" James asked, stroking through her hair until he let his hands fall down to her lower back, slowly inching until he was gripping her bottom, pulling her tightly to him.

"I was just thinking about how long it's been since we last saw each other. How much you've changed." Lily's words were a lie and for a minute she thought he'd call her out on it, but he chose not to, instead letting his mouth move down to her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly, fingers combing through his hair.

"Pulling you out of your own thoughts until you can think of nothing but me and you. Here. In this bed." James sounded firm as his mouth slowly kissed down to her chest. She moaned softly as he nipped the soft flesh on her breast before lapping at the mark, as if he was going to heal the pain she felt. His lips wrapped around her nipple, but Lily was still trying to get herself to think straight.

"I can hear your brain starting to smoke," James whispered before blowing over her breast, the peak hardening under his cool breath.

"Shut up," Lily muttered uselessly, having no brain power to think of something more insulting.

James just grinned and continued his assault on her body, moving lower and lower until her fingers were tangled in his hair and his mouth was working wonders.

Later, his cheek was pressed to her stomach, hand pressed to her hip so that she wouldn't go anywhere. Her fingers combed through James' hair slowly, trying to muster up the strength to ask him to move so she can get dressed and go home.

"Stay for the night," he whispered, as if reading her mind. "I miss holding you. Even if it's only for the weekend."

"Okay," the word was out of her mouth before she even realized that she wanted to agree. Lily knew that she was just complicating things, but the thought of leaving this warm bed and, more importantly, leaving James just hurt to think of. It was a problem that future Lily could deal with. This Lily wanted to bask in the afterglow of climaxes and cuddling with this James.

Somehow through the night, James and Lily shifted until their legs tangled together and he was spooning her against his chest. She woke up to the light shining through the windows, unclear of what time it was. Lily thought back to last night, the amount of kissing and touching that they had done. The thought made Lily's toes curl and she pulled his arms tighter around her body as she nuzzled into the pillow.

Her movements must have woken James because she felt chapped lips pressing little sucking kisses to the back of her neck and shoulder, fingers slowly gliding down her body until James was gripping onto her hips, pulling her back so that their bodies stayed connected where it counted. Lily let out a breathy sigh as he slipped his other hand in between her thighs, stroking at a lazy pace as he woke them both up. They stayed in that sleepy state, hips undulating against one another, fingers stroking inside of her until she had soaked his hand thoroughly.

James finally rolled Lily onto her back, climbing over her with a satisfied smile on his face despite the fact that nothing had truly happened yet this morning.

"Hi," he whispered, lips hovering just above hers.

"Hi," she murmured back, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

"I missed this," he admitted as he pressed the tip of his cock against her, slightly thrusting his hips as he teased her, letting the tension build. "I missed you."

"You missed the sex, you mean," Lily teased, fingers slowly climbing up his body as she spread her legs just that fraction of an inch, indicating she wanted him to move things along. He did as she silently requested, sliding inside of her at an agonizingly slow pace, wanting her to feel him as they connected.

"Well, duh, but I missed this. I missed waking up to you and spending time in this half dozed state where I can just appreciate you and it's just us two in the world." James' voice held a tone of sincerity that caused a chill to run up Lily's spine, her fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as she tried not to let the emotion completely take over.

"I-" she broke off, just pressing her lips quickly to his.

"I want a do-over. I want to do this with you every morning. There's nobody else for me, Lily," he breathed against her mouth, picking up his pace just a bit as he moved his mouth to her ear. His hips continued to move slowly in and out of her at a stuttering pace as James whispered all of his filthy thoughts into her ear:

"You're so beautiful like this."

"I love the noise you make when I push inside of you just here.. Yes, that's it."

"Fuck, moan my name. That's my girl."

"I want you to feel me. I want you to know it's only me who can make you feel like this."

"I want to love you like this forever, Lily."

Despite James' chattiness, Lily can do nothing more than make keening noises for him. She is a mess of whimpers and purrs, moans and soft cries. James has whittled her down to this voiceless void, craving only the pleasure that he can bring her.

Finally, a single cry please comes from her lips and he is right there with her, sliding a hand down between them to rub her clit in small, erratic circles until she is riding the wave of her climax, mouthing at his neck as she holds back until she feels that he is also coming, and his name falls from her mouth in a helpless cry, one of her hands tangling up in his hair as she feels tears fill her eyes.

The thought of never getting this again just may be what breaks her.

______________________________

It's only later that evening when they're curled up on the loveseat together, despite the large couch settled just to their right with almost double the space, that Lily realizes how late it's getting. He had plied her full of food and distracted her with a leisurely walk around the lakeside, before Lily was fully able to recognize just how late it had gotten.

The clock has just chimed out eight little bells, and Lily wonders how much longer she should stay.

"Stay with me for the night. There's no need for you to rush out of here," James told her, his fingers stroking down along her spine. Despite the years that separated them, he still seemed to have the ability to read her thoughts when it counted, when she wasn't consciously trying to hide them.

"I really should be going home soon," she responded, sitting up so that she could actually look into his eyes, trying to figure out how she was going to pull herself away from his embrace. James had his calves hooked around hers, and his arms were wrapped around her lower back so that she was able to lay against him almost entirely.

"Why?"

The question surprised Lily more than she anticipated, mostly because she had expected an argument in response from him. She hadn't expected to have to rationalize her own thoughts, mostly because she didn't agree with what she was saying out loud.

"I have things to get done before my parent's Christmas dinner party. I know it's not until Tuesday but I have some work I planned to attend to even though I'm supposed to be enjoying the holiday. Up until now there wasn't much about it that was enjoyable, so I figured I'd at least be productive. And this is anything but productive."

"Those all sound like things that can wait. You just said it yourself, you don't have to do it but it was something to do. Just stay here. Relax. Enjoy your holiday." With each sentence, James placed a kiss along her neck, moving lower until he was at the juncture where her neck became her shoulder. "I want another night with you. I want you in my bed, with me."

"James…" Lily breathed out, though her hands were steadily climbing until they were settled into his hair.

"I don't want to wake up alone on Christmas Eve. Stay with me for one more night, Lily." The pleading tone to his voice would have been what did her in, had she not already been trying to convince herself to stay minutes ago. Between her own convincing, and his begging, she knew that she was giving in to his request.

"I don't want to wake up alone, either." Lily admitted, not specifying that it was more than just Christmas Eve that felt lonely to her. Lily was tired of feeling alone, and if James was offering a brief respite from that feeling, who was she to deny that?

______________________________

If Lily had to put a word to her concerns, she would use the word doubt. There was so much doubt running through her head. At every little touch James left as they ate dinner or nibbled on cookies or sipped at coca. At every compliment he threw her way while they walked around the lake shore or cooked dinner or laid in bed.

The only time she felt confident in what he said was when he was buried deep inside of her in the middle of the night, the stars twinkling in the night sky as they erased the outside world and focused on one another. This was the only time he mentioned a future with her, wanting to spend a life together. She wished he had the courage to mention these things in the light of day, when their bodies weren't pressed together beneath covers and hands desperate to feel soft skin beneath their touch.

They stayed up late into the night, relearning each others' bodies. Lily was committing James' new body to memory, her hands hungry for more of him. She wanted to remember every freckle and mole, every curve and sharp plane. These memories would need to get her through the next decade.

______________________________

Late the next morning, they both awoke slowly and lazily, their bodies still curled together from the heat of the previous night. Lily had woken just moments before James and took the time to appreciate his sleepy state before his eyes blinked open and a smile formed on his face when he registered what she was doing.

"G'morning," he whispered softly, pressing his thumb to her cheek and stroking it gently until it was tracing her full lower lip.

Lily pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb before sucking it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it gently. That teasing effort brought a groan to his lips before he was pulling it back, pressing a heated kiss to her mouth.

"You little minx," he growled, tickling her sides playfully.

How could he be so pleasant when she was leaving in just a short time?

"James," she whispered, and the tone of her voice had his body going numb, freezing up above her as his smile fell and she watched him shake his head.

"No," he replied, pressing his hips against hers, as if trying to remind her of what she could have if she agreed to stay.

"I have to go."

"Please," James pleaded, but she knew by the look on his face that he understood her mind was made up. This was a last ditch attempt at changing her mind. At trying to change the course of their separate lives.

"I have to."

The two of them stared at one another, noses brushing as their breaths mingled together in the morning sun pouring in through the window.

"I know," James finally admitted, letting his lips just barely brush over hers before standing up and helping her out of the fortress they had built with his blankets.

The two dressed silently, searching for garments and items that had been haphazardly tossed about over the weekend. Lily only smiled once when she found her underwear tucked beneath a pillow on the couch, shoved there by James at one point when he was trying to convince her to join him in the shower.

______________________________

Soon enough, her items were packed into her purse and there was no more delaying the inevitable.

They stared at one another from across the room, taking slow steps towards each other until they were both just by his front door, standing an awkward length apart. All weekend their bodies had been desperate to connect, and now it was as if they were two sides of the same battery, repelled by a single touch.

"So…" Lily finally let out, looking past James to the lakeside cabin that had been her saving grace for this solitary weekend.

James said nothing in response, just studying her face. Her eyes darted down to her feet, trying to figure out what else she could say. How could they change this?

She looked up again, hoping to see a hint of warmth in his gaze, but all she could see was a steely gaze that looked back at her. She saw no hint of the James that she had just spent an entire weekend with. Once more, her heart was cracking as she saw this potential future she had dreamed of falling to pieces right in front of her eyes.

It had been real enough just to get her through.

Lily was internally begging for James to take her hand. Squeeze it tight once more. Just once. Let her know that this wasn't just a one-sided thing. He felt it too, he had to feel it too. If he just reached out and grabbed her hand, she'd cancel her plans. She'd stay. She'd claim him as hers.

But he didn't. His hands stayed shoved into his pockets, the same as that first time she saw him again, walking in the same direction towards the market.

Had she fooled herself once again? Thinking that it was something more than it was. Lily pleaded with herself to just make the leap, damn the insecurities, take his hand and jump over the ledge. All she had to do was cross that line. Instead, her own hands hung loosely in front of her, fingers idly tangled together with her purse hanging at her hip.

She could almost envision it, the creaking of the cabin floor as she stepped forward and begged him to come with her, to join her in London where they could create this world together that had the both of them in it. The way his arms would slowly wrap around her waist and keep her pressed against him while they whispered about how stupid they had almost been to let each other go for a second time.

She could almost see it.

"I guess… I guess I should go. I have that dinner party at my parents' tomorrow and I promised to help mom prepare for guests."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense." James whispered, looking like he was conflicted for a moment before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Despite the warmth of his lips, her body ran cold as it was the only place their bodies met. His hands, usually desperate to touch her, stayed tucked deep into his pockets.

Lily was frozen in place for a second before realizing she would have to be the one to leave. Once again, Lily mustered up every ounce of strength she had and walked through his door, away from James and his warm bed, the cocoon they had built together that felt like a safe haven. She wiped her tears away slowly, only once that heavy door had closed behind her.

Maybe one day they'd find a way to get the timing right.

Maybe one day she'd find that Gryffindor courage she was supposedly blessed with.

You pulled the desk chair out and sat down on it before rolling yourself back toward the desk. The sky was beautiful outside your window, an ombre of orange, grey, and blue as the sun set. You looked down at the plain piece of paper you had set on top of your desk and the pen sat just beside it, waiting for you, beckoning you to pick it up. You did so, hesitantly, as if it was dangerous, and held it over the paper. You paused for a moment, looked out the window again, running your eyes over the trees that began the grove at the edge of the property, the beautiful green leaves and the spaces between that began to get darker and darker as the night crept in. You looked back down at the paper, and the urge to cry pressed at the backs of your eyes. You took a deep breath in, splaying your hand out on top of the desk to steady yourself, then you put the pen to paper. 

Dear David, 

We held your funeral yesterday. I felt like throwing up the entire time. I don’t know if you’ve ever felt that kind of sick, when you’ve cried so much that instead of feeling better your entire body just gives up on you. I’ll never know if you’ve ever felt that way, I can’t ask anymore. That might be the worst part of this, that there’s so many little things I still don’t know and will never be able to know now. 

The funeral was in the morning and I met your parents at the door to the church. Your mom seemed out of it, like she wasn’t actually in her body, and your dad… your dad didn’t seem like he had lost a son. He was sombre, but he’s always been sombre, so I couldn’t really tell the difference. They kinda brushed me off, though I think that was more your dad than your mom. She seemed to be a little more alive when I hugged her, seemed like she wanted to hold my hand, but your dad kinda ushered me along so he could say hi to someone else from town. At least I got to sit in the front with Kevin, Kerry, and Michael. 

I think you would have hated it. You used to smile all the time, and said you wanted everyone to have fun. I remember, we talked about it once, late at night, when I was trying to be all mystical and philosophical. All the lights were off, but the sky was clear so we could see the full moon and all the stars from your window. We were snuggled under the covers because it was getting kind of cold, but you were still only in your boxers because you always said - even in winter - that you couldn’t sleep with all that restriction. It always made me laugh, without fail. 

Anyway, you had me all cradled up in your huge arm and I was basically talking into your chest because you also couldn’t let me go when you slept (another sleep essential of yours apparently) and I asked you what kind of funeral you wanted. You laughed at first because you thought it was an insanely morbid question to ask, but when I pestered you, you just smiled gently and shrugged while stroking my hair. You said “I want everyone to be at peace. I don’t really care about the specifics, you know? The flowers don’t matter, the coffin doesn’t matter, none of that fru-fru stuff really matters. I just want everyone to talk about all the good things, all the things that I did that made them happy or whatever. And like, people can be sad and all, it would be kinda stupid to say I don’t want anyone to be sad at my funeral because… it’s still a funeral, duh. But, I guess I just want everyone to feel ok with it too, maybe smile about something I did.” 

Well, there was a lot of fru-fru stuff. There were flowers everywhere, and they got you a fancy coffin and the church was all done up and everything. Kevin gave the eulogy, and it was probably the best part of the entire thing. I think that’s the only part of it you would have loved anyway. And you probably would have made fun of him for crying but I think you can let it slide, just for that. 

Kevin asked me to come up and speak after him, and it took a minute. Even though he told me I should prepare something to say in the days leading up, I hadn’t. I couldn’t really sit down in front of a piece of paper long enough to think about you so deeply, it scared me a lot. But I went up there, and I told them a couple stories about you that would make them smile, because I knew that was what you wanted. I told them about the time you carried me two blocks back to the car because I wore my heels for so long I literally couldn’t walk another step, how you just put me on like a backpack and ran and all the people who looked at us all weird. And I told them about your little habits, how you always put your hat down facing upward so none of the luck would fall out, how you always put your right boot on first, how you liked to sit at your window and count the wild bunnies you could spot in the yard at sunset, and if I was there, you would give them little names and stories, and how you always kissed me on the forehead before your matches. 

I cried too, and they all just watched me pressing the tissue to my face up there before I nodded and thanked everyone in a teary voice and walked off. When it was time to put your coffin in the ground, I almost wanted to tell them not to. If your body went underground, then it was real, you were gone. If we could have kept you up here with us just a little while longer, just for a bit, maybe everything would be ok. But that would just delay the inevitable and there was no point anyway, so I watched them lower you and the parade of people throw a handful of dirt before they started filling it in. I didn’t throw any, I didn’t even look down into the grave. I couldn’t. 

Then we all went to the house after for drinks and a little food. I almost didn’t go, I wanted to curl up in bed again and sleep to forget everything, but it would be horrible if I didn’t go so my mom drove me. She’s kinda kept me going this entire time, since that day really. She’s been carefully holding my pieces and slowly gluing me back together. You’re probably urging her on from heaven. I wanna think so anyway. 

I snuck away from all the people for a little while and went to your room. It still looked exactly the same. I don’t think your mom let anyone touch it. I sat on your bed and it still smelled like you and it made the pain even worse because soon there would be nothing in the world that smelled like you. We only have so much time left before it goes. 

I wasn’t in there for very long but then Kerry and Michael came in and found me. I think they had the same idea as me, to just escape everyone and sit with you for a bit. They sat down on either side of me and we didn’t say anything, but it was nice to have them there. They’re the only people who might have known you better than I did. They both put their heads on my shoulders and just sat there and if nothing else, they’ll always be my brothers too because of you. 

Eventually we went back down. It wouldn’t be right if all of us disappeared for too long. I went to get a drink first, and of course they had your favourite beer stocked up, but in the corner, someone had put a couple cartons of your favourite brand of apple juice too. It made me laugh a little looking at it, I probably looked crazy. I think Kevin did it, he knew you the best when it came to small things like that, even when you didn’t realise it. 

While I was pouring it for myself, Jeanie found me. Do you remember Jeanie? She went to school with me and we went out for milkshakes with her and her boyfriend once. She came and said all the same stuff everyone else had said, the ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ and ‘if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know’. But then, just before she left, she turned back and told me about how I should try writing letters to you. She said she did it when her mother died, and that even though her mother couldn’t say anything back, it kind of felt like talking to her again. 

So here I am, trying this whole letter thing, because… I’m terrified. I miss you so much that I feel sick with it all the time. I wake up and I feel cold because you’re not there to smother me in your arms anymore. I eat breakfast and it tastes like nothing because you’re not sitting in front of me, almost falling asleep into your cereal and holding my hand ‘just because’.

My entire life has just become this whirlwind of pain. Everything reminds me of you, and when I sleep I dream only of you. And I’m scared because it feels like I will never get past this pain. I’m scared because it feels like this pain will be forevermore. And all I want is to have you back. 

I love you with all my heart, 

Y/n

One month later 

Dear David, 

Your mom came by today. I was in the front garden, and I saw her car pull up into our driveway. I was a little surprised, I won’t lie. Only Kevin and Michael really come to see me now. Kerry’s gone off to fulfill your dad’s dream and even Michael is starting to pull away. Your dad puts too much pressure on him, just like he did to you. It hurts too much to see it happen to him too. I guess in a guilty way I’m glad he doesn’t come around as much anymore so I don’t have to see it. 

Your mom said she was finally cleaning out your room, and she found something for me hidden under your bed. It was all wrapped up, clearly done by you because of how messy it was, and there was even a card taped to the front. She gave it to me then said she had to run some errands and was gone again. I don’t think she likes seeing me anymore. Maybe I remind her of you. Maybe I’m just more evidence of what she’s lost. I used to think she liked me, you said so yourself. At least more than any other girlfriends you’d brought home before. But I guess that ship’s sailed. 

I took it upstairs and debated unwrapping it. I was desperate to know what was inside, what kind of present you had been hiding from me when you left. But I also didn’t want to open it because it was the last thing I would get from you. I thought about saving it, maybe for my birthday or Christmas, but I couldn’t do that either so I just opened it then. I think I was just desperate to have you in anyway, to keep you close to my heart now while everything was still fresh. 

I opened the card first and I laughed as soon as I did because your handwriting was as messy as it had always been. I’m glad I got used to reading it because I don’t think anyone else could even if they tried. Then I started crying because you would never write anything again. I think all I do now is cry about you and the things I’ll never get to have with you again. 

The card was beautiful: 

“Dear Darling, 

I made this for you the week before I left for Japan, and the day after I bought the ring that is hopefully on your finger now. I’m gonna give you this the night I propose to you, which will also hopefully be the night I get back from Japan with that belt. I’m not a sap, but I love you a lot so I’m alright with being sappy for you. I hope you like it. 

Love,

David” 

And I cried horribly after reading it. Like full on sobbing and snot. The way I cried when we watched The Champ at the cinema and you just had to sit there holding me in the car because I kept seeing that little boy’s face. 

I tore open the wrapping paper through the tears, and found a big box of a picture frame. It was one of those thick wood ones that are getting more and more popular now, and inside it was a huge collage of… us. There were pictures, old film and polaroid glued in different places, and little mementos from all our dates and special moments. You had all the tickets from every movie we had ever seen together, every theme park visit, everything. You even had the parking ticket from the time you double-parked the truck near the restaurant on our six-month anniversary. There were even tokens I didn’t remember, dates that I had no idea you remembered because I didn’t remember them. 

I sat there staring at it for a long time, just looking at you in all the pictures, how happy you always were. I used to describe you as sunshine personified whenever anyone asked about you. Whenever I looked at you, you seemed to glow from the inside out. You were full of life. No, you were life itself. You were shiny and beautiful and made everyone around you feel warm and good. You deserved life. 

Fuck, I’m crying again. You used to hate when I cried. You always got so uncomfortable because you didn’t know how to handle it when someone cried, but you were also so sweet. You would hug me and shush me and do this awkward smile while trying to convince me there were better things to be doing. But you’re not here to do that anymore so all I do is cry and cry. 

I was right before, in the first letter I wrote. This pain will be for evermore, because a month on and I still feel it fresh in my heart like a dagger. And nothing I do soothes it. 

I love you with all my heart, 

Y/n 

One year later 

Dear David, 

It’s the first anniversary of your death and I spent the day doing all the things we used to love doing together. I haven’t written you a letter in a long time, so I thought I’d fill you in first. 

A couple months after your funeral, I got an amazing job offer out of state and I took it. It was really hard making the decision and moving away. Thinking about being so far away from you tore me up inside, but my mom told me you would have been the first person to push me to go for it and I knew she was right. I also knew I needed a fresh start away from that town full of so many memories if I wanted to live a life eventually. So I packed everything up and got a little place of my own and I love it here. The job is amazing, the house is amazing, and my life is… pretty good actually. 

Of course it would be even more amazing if you were here, that was never in doubt. I felt really guilty being happy for a while actually. I thought I was betraying you by being happy without you, but eventually enough people told me that it was exactly what you would have wanted and I think I started to believe it too. You only ever wished for me to be happy, so why would it be any different just because you were beyond the grave? 

Anyway, I moved here and got my life set up and for the past week I’ve seen that big black circle on my calendar and thought about what I would do. I took a sick-day and woke up a little later than I usually would, around the time when you and I would wake up on a lazy Sunday. Then I made your favourite breakfast and ate it with the radio on in the background. It was probably a coincidence, but they played your favourite song and I danced along to it. 

Even though I’m not in the same city you and I shared, this one has a nice creek just outside of town too, and I went and sat by it for a little while. I took my walkman and the tape you made me like the month after our first date, and I just sat there listening to the music and thinking about all the afternoons we shared there. It was pretty deserted but the day was beautiful, exactly the kind of day you would have said was perfect for a day out like that. 

A beautiful white bird came and landed on the water near me, a crane maybe, and I watched it for a while. It just walked back and forth slowly in the water right in front of where I sat, and it watched me back sometimes. Did you send it? I bet you did. It feels like something you would do from heaven to try and comfort me. 

I went and got ice cream after that, two scoops on a cone, exactly how you used to have it. And I just strolled down main street imagining it was ours back home and thinking of all the comments you used to make about the different storefronts. I was laughing to myself and I think people probably thought I was crazy but that’s ok. 

In the evening I went to watch a movie at the cinema, The Breakfast Club. It was great, I think you would have loved it. I got a huge bucket of popcorn and I felt kinda sick afterward but I didn’t regret it a single bit. As I was leaving, I accidentally bumped into this guy and he started talking to me about the shirt I was wearing. It was one of your old merchandise ones, it said ‘Yellow Rose of Texas’ on it and I stole it from you back when we first started dating. 

It made me really happy that the guy was asking, and he said he had watched a little bit of wrestling when you were still alive. We talked for a long time, about wrestling and about you. He listened to me talk about you for a while and he seemed happy to listen. He was really nice… He said his name was Harris. He had a really nice smile, kinda reminded me of yours in a way. It filled his face but his eyes still had this clear open look the entire time. It made me miss you a lot too. I’m gonna see him again next week, dinner and a movie. I’m actually really excited. 

I read back the letters I wrote to you before and they made me smile (and cry a little too but I don’t wanna be too sad just now). I could feel the pain I felt back then, soft and nestled in a little corner of my heart like a sleeping cat. And I realised I was right back then. The pain is for evermore, and I will always carry it with me, but so is the love you gave me, the love I felt for you. That love will also last for evermore, and I think that matters more than anything else. The love and happiness that I felt with you can never be taken from me, and that’s all I need. 

I love you with all my heart, 

Y/n 

Two Years Later 

Dear David, 

I’m getting married today. I still can’t believe it, even though I’ve been planning this wedding for months and it’s staring me in the face. I woke up earlier than I needed to, I still have a couple hours before I need to be awake, and it just felt like there was something I had to do. I sat and stared out the window for a while, just thinking and watching the sunrise and the first birds begin to fly, and my eyes fell on the little stack of letters I had written to you. And that’s when I knew I needed to write to you. 

I always imagined doing this with you. For such a long time it was always you in my dreams, getting down on one knee, standing at the end of the aisle, kissing me after our vows. I always thought about how you were definitely the kind of guy who would rub a bit of cake on my face and choose some corny country song for our first dance. And I could always picture it so clearly. I could see your face so vividly like it was actually happening every time I dreamed about it. I think it still feels a little odd, despite how long it’s been, that this day is without you. 

I still have the present you got me, the picture frame with all the mementos. I keep it on my desk so I can see it all the time and sometimes my eyes will fall on it and I’ll notice a new detail here or there. It still hits me how much time and effort you must have put into it, how much you cared all along to even keep those little things that other people would have thrown out . 

And I still read that card sometimes and think about how you imagined me too. How you imagined doing it all with me, the wedding and the family and the whole nine yards. Sometimes, while I was planning the wedding, I would pause and imagine what ours would have looked like. I would have forced you to help me with all the planning, and you would have acted like you didn’t want to help, but I would have known that deep down you enjoyed being included in it. You probably would have teased me about wearing that suit you wore for Kevin’s wedding and I would have scowled because I hated that suit beyond belief. And you would probably have chosen a lot of yellow and I would have told you to stop helping after that. I chose yellow roses for my bouquet today, though. 

I’m happy with Harris, I promise I am, but I felt a little bit sad earlier when I first sat down to write this to you. I didn’t get to do this with you. We didn’t get to do this together. I didn’t get to scream and shout after the engagement or feel all bubbly and nervous and excited the morning of with you. And I wish I had. I wish I had gotten to have this with you. It feels so unfair and wrong that we didn’t. 

But it’s ok. More and more I’ve been trying to only focus on the good things, all the things I did get to have with you were perfect. We had a lot of anniversaries, even if they weren’t for a wedding. We had a lot of love, even if we weren’t married. And that’s all that really matters at the end of the day. 

I still love you, more than anyone or anything. And I know I will love you for evermore, until my death and beyond, but I’m happy I got to find even more love to give. 

For evermore yours,