#hard thoughts

Turning on the shower to 105°F, you strip yourself of your clothes and step into the hot stream of water. You never really locked your doors since it was just you and Chris in the house, an accident led to a well-developed habit. Much like Chris' well-developed habit of never seeming to knock, and using the sound of the shower as an invitation to sneak up on you.

However, this time—

You couldn't really focus on any sound from your sore muscles. The hot droplets of water rolling down your warm and smooth skin, and the steam rising to cloud your vision. When you're too busy holding back a loud sigh, Chris turns the knob of the door silently.

And much to your surprise, you don't really notice any of the sounds he makes when stripping his clothes off, and you don't seem to notice the sound of the shower door closing behind him either. The only thing you notice are a pair of calloused hands grabbing on the sides of your waist, letting out a gasp as you jolt slightly back into him. You felt how needy he was and knew this was more than one of his ways to startle you.

"Hey baby...surprised you, yeah?" said Chris, as he nuzzled his nose into the side of your damp neck. Feeling your breath hitch when you feel his hit your wet skin.

"Won't you let me take care of you?" His gentle tone turned into a slightly more desperate tone. You felt him behind you, hard and leaking as he pressed into your lower back—and all of a sudden you couldn't form words to object his actions. Even before you could form words with your lips, he turns you around in his hold, and puts his plush lips right on yours.

He's kissing you as if you're going to disappear into the steam, his tongue finding his way into your mouth. As he moves away to let you breathe, he wastes no time in using his lips to trail kisses to where you need him the most.

"Please". He pleads as if he needs it more than he needs to breathe, as his knees hit the shower tiles. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, so desperately, clearly yearning for you to the extent where you can see it in his eyes.

"Chris....please—" was the last thing you could get out of your mouth as his lips parted and he lapped at your clit as if he was hungry. As if he was starving, and you were the last meal he could consume. He never took his eyes off of you, reaching up to grope your tits with one of his hands while the other groped at your ass and thighs.

You bucked your hips into his mouth out of desperation, moaning and groaning in hopes that he could give you your release. Chris moaned into you while he was eating you out, while using his free hand to touch himself. His tongue working wonders on you, along with the vibration of his whimpers and moans, taking you little to no time to let go.

"Mmmmmhh C- Chris..." you mewl out of bitten lips. As he groans and cums all over the floor as the shower washes it into the drain. He stands up with his lips and chin glistening with you, and kisses you once again.

jake playing with your pussy <3

bouncing and squirting on sunghoon's dick while he cums inside you

jungwon just can't get enough of your boobs when you ride him !

jay fucking you from the back nice and slow

hee can't control himself, he has to cum inside you

ni-ki loves to wake up and finger you first thing in the morning

sunoo absolutely adores to shove his tongue inside you

Elvis hadn’t thought much about high school since he left it but he did think about you fairly often.

It seemed pointless considering how far removed he was from it all, an entirely different person now living a life style his graduating class couldn’t relate to in the slightest. He hadn’t gone to college like the majority of them, didn’t have daddy’s money to fall back on, and he definitely wasn’t working an office nine to five.

So whenever he thought back to the brick walls and skipping lunch to smoke below the bleachers, you came to mind.

Not because you and him were necessarily close, in fact he was pretty sure you’d only spoken to him a handful of times. You were simply somebody who was not easy to forget for a multitude of reasons.

It had been almost four years since he last saw you and he still had yet to find anybody he found as attractive as you were to him, so radiant in your beauty that he would go to classes just to get to stare at you.

His friends would tease him for being so infatuated by you but still refusing to talk to you but Elvis knew better even as a stupid teenager.

Girls like you did not bother with guys like Elvis.

You’d probably be really sweet about it atleast, like you always seemed to be regardless if you were interacting with the nerdier kids or giving pity laughs to teachers attempting to crack jokes and bond with disinterested students. He figured you’d be gentle when you rejected him, smile at him pitifully and tell him you just didn’t have the time for a relationship right now.

You wouldn’t mention the fact his jeans were a size too big after being handed down from his older brother, his shoes had holes in them that he’d duct taped over to keep his socks dry, and he lived on the side of town you weren’t even allowed to drive through in your friends fancy cars.

You were just as aware of all this as he was but you were just too good to bring it up.

Elvis thought about you occasionally, whenever he was at a party to sell and caught a glimpse of somebody with your hair color or watched a commercial that had a pretty girl on a beach somewhere tropical.

He wondered what you were up to after graduation, if you’d gone to college far away or maybe worked in that fancy office your dad did. There was nobody in his life that talked to you either so he had no real way of finding out any of this, left to wonder forever and zone out thinking about what might have happened if he tried to talk to you back then.

That’s what he was currently doing, inbetween crooked shelves in a dusty liquor store that probably lost its license to sell half a decade ago.

Johnny preferred it here because they gave him discounts, most likely due to that slight fear on their face whenever him and his group approached the counter. Elvis didn’t really concern himself with things like that, keeping to the back of the crowd and waiting to speak when spoken to.

Somebody Johnny knew had come in about half an hour ago so now they were all stuck waiting for him to decide he was ready to leave, leaning back against the fridge doors and staring down at his dirty shoes.

The chime of the door bell ringing didn’t catch his attention, neither did the soft clack of heels against the peeling tile or the sound of perfectly manicured nails drumming against glass bottles in the next aisle over.

Elvis only looked up when he heard the guys around him whistling and hollering obnoxiously, the barbaric way they attempted to catch the attention of a pretty girl. His gaze shifted around the convenience store with curiosity and then froze when he landed on you.

You were already at the counter with a singular bottle of vodka, rolling your eyes at his friends catcalling you and paying them no further attention. He was completely stiff as he stared at you in a daze, taking in your appearance and trying to decide if you were really standing there or if his almost obsessive daydreaming about you had finally driven him fully crazy.

But you were real, he knew that was true when he saw you pop your gum in the same way you used to when you were bored in class.

He’d almost forgotten about the small habit until he saw it again so he knew he couldn’t have made it up.

He still hadn’t moved by the time you turned around and that same stupid feeling was hitting him again as you started to walk away, sending one more glare in the group’s direction before you were faltering as you passed by.

“Elvis?”

Your voice was just as soft and honey like as it had been back then although he’d never heard you say his name before so he had very little to compare that sound to. A wave of shock ran over him and he cleared his throat as he stood up straighter.

“Hey.” He couldn’t say anything else and it came out a little breathy, his friends around him half mumbling in confusion and half fully making fun of him out loud.

You didn’t seem to mind the noise anymore although it was far more disrespectful things being said now than they’d been spewing when you walked past. Elvis had half a mind to tell you that it wasn’t because of you, explain that they always made fun of him like that, but he figured letting you know how much of a loser he was probably wasn’t the biggest turn on.

“It’s been a while.” You’re smiling and tilting your head at him, almost everything he’s ever dreamed of yet he’s silently willing you to just keep walking. “You look different.”

Elvis doesn’t think he does, doesn’t think you even believe that either but he just gives you a small nod and purses his lips.

If he wasn’t surrounded by the people he is now then he’d probably have the courage to try to actually talk to you. He’s not a stupid teenager with a crush now and he’s imagined this conversation in his head a hundred times in the last few years but he can’t get himself to say anything personal in front of Johnny, definitely not anything that would make it obvious how much he thinks about you.

You stiffen for a second at his silence before you’re glancing towards the door and smacking your lips to break up the awkwardness, giving him a small wave and tucking your bottle under your arm as you leave.

Elvis feels the cold of the refrigerator against his back as he slumps down, running a hand over his face and groaning from the embarrassment of the encounter.

“You’re a fucking pussy.” Johnny shakes his head at him, surprisingly not as degrading as Elvis had expected for him to be.

He finally seemingly deems it time to stop loitering around the small shop as he heads to the counter, the entourage of idiots following behind him mindlessly. He knows it’s hypocritical to judge considering he’s normally right there alongside them, most likely the one having to balance all the bottles that they buy.

That exact thought stops him from moving anywhere, taking a few seconds to let the hot skin on his shoulders linger on the cold glass before he’s moving towards the exit.

You’re just opening your car door by the time he makes it outside, sun setting now but still perfectly complimenting the pretty tone of your skin and the shine to your hair as you push it over your shoulder.

“Hey.” His voice cracks and it’s a little too breathy, the accidental loud volume making you tense for a second before you whip around and see it’s just him. Your shoulders relax just as he makes it even worse for himself and almost trips off the curb.

He lands a little too close to you and looks up at your face to see your eyebrows raised in light amusement. He considers turning around and going back inside to avoid humiliating himself further but he’s already here now, standing in front of you and your car that’s way too fancy for this neighborhood.

“I’m sorry about that.” He finally manages to get out and your eyes lose the humor, softening at the apology. “Those guys are…”

“Disgusting?” You finish the sentence for him and lean back against the drivers side door, a little thrill going through him when he realizes you plan to talk to him for atleast a second.

“Yup.” He agrees easily, wincing a little at the bluntness of it. He wonders if that’s what you thought about him too when you saw him standing there like that, surrounded by their hungry looks and gross calls.

He wasn’t a saint, he’d been twenty and trying his best to fit into a crowd that didn’t see him as anything but a joke. There’d been half a dozen times he’d yelled something obscene at a girl on a sidewalk and some things Johnny had asked him to do in private that he still didn’t like to talk about but Elvis didn’t think he was a monster.

And he especially didn’t want you to think that about him.

“So those are your friends now?” You ask curiously and he’s distracted for a second by how pretty you are.

Either he had somehow forgotten the full extent of your beauty or you had just gotten prettier and prettier with age. You were practically radiant and he knew for sure he had never been so stricken by somebody before, barely able to think of the words he needed to respond.

“I wouldn’t call them my friends.” He replied and he was a little shocked by how true that statement felt.

He could call Johnny in an emergency but he’d only end up throwing it back in his face later on, making him run a risky errand or adding on to his debt for his help. They didn’t have anything in common other than the mutual blackmail they had on each other and Elvis could barely stomach the rest of the guys at all.

You hummed softly in contemplation, eyeing him for so long that he started to feel hot around the neckline of his shirt.

Loud voices behind him made him sigh, knowing the others had finished up and were seconds away from being back in your proximity. You looked over his shoulder at them and clearly made the decision you wanted nothing to do with that, opening your car door and getting in.

Elvis felt the defeat hit him hard and clenched his jaw, taking a few steps back so you didn’t accidentally run over his foot and mentally cursing himself for somehow fucking it up so bad twice in a ten minute span.

Then your window rolled down right as he was about to start walking away fully, your pretty polished hand sticking out at him with a paper between your fingers.

He hesitated for a second in confusion, long enough that you impatiently shook it in his direction. He moved quickly to grab it, feeling your skin brush his and send a shockwave up his arm as he glanced down at the scribbled down numbers.

“Call me?” You said softly so the others didn’t hear and he was nodding immediately, earning a small smile from you as you rolled up your window and pulled away.

Elvis didn’t have much time to bask in the amazement he was feeling, hands on his back and shoulders shaking and slapping him obnoxiously as they mimicked his voice in a higher pitch and called him unrepeatable words for fumbling his chance with you.

A part of him wanted to shove the sequence of digits in Johnnys face just to tell him to fuck off but he didn’t, stuffing the paper deep into his jean pockets and shoving them off of him as he rolled his eyes.

-

Elvis hadn’t expected to even keep communication with you let alone to be where you were at.

You’d hung out a few times casually after he finally worked up the nerve to make use of the number you’d given to him, going out to eat together a town over or walking your dog in a park closer to your house after the sun had started to set.

It progressed naturally from there into something more and he figured he must be the luckiest guy alive to have caught your attention somehow. You were perfection to him, his sole focus was on making sure you knew how much he liked you and doing whatever he could to prove he was willing to be the person you needed him to be.

You were sweet and gentle with him always, kissing him softly outside his beat down car and clinging to his warm skin when you’d go to the beach together.

He knew it was obvious he was distracted to anybody else, barely spending any time at Johnnys place and only ever picking up his phone calls when the messages started to get threatening. He still had a debt to pay off and he wasn’t stupid enough to try and skip out on it considering Johnny knew where he lived but that was as far as their relationship went now that he had you.

You hated everything about his life style and you made it clear, scolding him constantly whenever it interfered with your plans and begging him to find alternatives that didn’t involve him breaking the law.

Elvis would do anything you’d ask, similar to the hold Johnny had over him but coming from a much warmer place.

You were currently in his apartment, somewhere you hadn’t come for the first few months of hanging out. Both because he didn’t invite you often out of embarrassment and because you didn’t like the side of town he lived on.

The other week you had ran into one of your friends while leaving one of the fancy grocery stores near your house, your hand that had been holding onto his arm falling down to your side immediately. You didn’t introduce him, didn’t even address him at all even when your friend was sending curious looks in his direction.

You started to ask to come over more after that and Elvis tried to convince himself it wasn’t a big deal, figured you were just private with your relationships.

It was hard to feel any type of hesitance when you looked the way you did, laying on your stomach on his small twin sized mattress while you flipped through a magazine. You were just wearing one of his old band shirts and your underwear, smooth skin of your legs on display as you kicked them back and forth in the air.

He was drying his hair with a towel as he left the bathroom, tossing on a tank top and crawling up beside you, nearly on top of you as he softly kissed the side of your face.

You smiled at him and set down the magazine, rolling onto your back so he could kiss you properly.

Elvis had imagined a million different scenarios with you in high school, a lot of them involving a lack of clothes, but actually being with you was so beyond anything he could possibly make up.

You were the most beautiful human he’d ever seen in his life and for some reason you wanted him, soft noises leaving your mouth when he started to really kiss you the way you liked. His hand smoothed over your calf until he could hook it under your knee and hike your leg up near his waist, shifting so he was slotted down between them and pressed against you.

Your hands were in his damp hair, mouths moving eagerly as the wet sounds of your tongues drowned out the humming from his run down fridge and the static of the TV playing in the living room.

It was easy for Elvis to forget the unfortunate state of his life when he had you here with him. He didn’t care how hard things got financially, what kind of trouble his debt brought in his direction, as long as he got to have you like this for just a little bit longer.

He slowed down the kisses so he could look at your face properly, pecks here and there that made you giggle softly as you rubbed his bare arms.

Your face was overwhelmingly fond as you smiled up at him, nose rubbing against his soothingly.

“I was thinking.” He says quietly and you raise an eyebrow and hum in anticipation, slightly interrupted when he can’t resist kissing you again for a moment. “Maybe we should go out on a real date. There’s this place downtown I think you’d like.”

He’s pressing his lips down against yours as soon as he finishes the thought and you respond enough that he doesn’t notice the way you’ve stiffened up. It’s only when he pulls back to breathe that he registers it, the confusion on your face and the fact your hands have stopped rubbing him.

“What?” He falters at the expression and shifts on top of you.

“Elvis you know we can’t go on a date.” You say and you sound so casual about it that his stomach turns, eyebrows furrowing as he goes to sit up so he can focus better.

“Why wouldn’t we be able to?” He questions and now it’s your turn to furrow your brows.

You also sit up, leaning back on your palms with your legs still straight out across his bed, head tilting in that same cute way you did back in school. You’re watching him for a long few seconds like you’re trying to decide if he’s serious before your lips part in realization.

He tries to ignore the way his heart is racing when you shift closer to him, kissing him softly and being patient when he doesn’t immediately reciprocate.

It doesn’t take long for him to fold and start to move with you, deepening the kiss and letting his hands slide back over your waist so he can tug you closer. Your shirt had ridden up while you’ve moved around and he takes advantage of it, palms under the fabric to rub against your ribs and back.

He’d be stupid to ever deny you anything, especially when it involves getting to taste your tongue in his mouth and feel your hands tugging him back over you as you settle down against the pillows again.

You’re desperate, more than he’s ever seen you be despite the fact you can barely go half an hour without touching each other when you hang out.

His leg slides back between yours as he hovers over you again, pushing your shirt up until it’s bunched around your chest so he can rub the span of your stomach with his rough palm.

You’d told him before how much you liked the feeling of his calloused hands all over you, compared them to the boys you’d been with before him that hadn’t worked a single day in their lives.

He had laid there in bed quietly while you kissed each of his scarred knuckles and asked him to tell you the stories behind the marks on his body. You didn’t shy away from any of the scary parts, kissed his jaw lightly when it was hard for him to get some of it out and stayed the night for the first time when you realized his mood was a bit heavier after saying it out loud.

Elvis had never had anything like you in his entire life and he was terrified to ever be without you again.

The thought made him tense on top of you, kissing you for a few minutes longer until he was slowing it to a stop. You frowned and cupped his jaw lightly but didn’t try to force it, eyes darting all over his face as you rubbed his stubble with your fingertips.

“Why?” He breathed out again, a little airy after the make out session. “Why can’t we go on a date?”

You sighed like this conversation was just an inconvenience to you and his stomach turned uncomfortably, like his body knew something was wrong before his heart could accept it.

“Because we aren’t dating Elvis.” You finally broke the illusion with the simple statement, voice casual like you weren’t shattering his entire world. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

He was already getting off of you before you could even get the second part of it out, standing off the bed and dragging a hand down his face roughly like he was trying to wake himself up.

You stared at him blankly while he paced in front of the foot of the bed, sitting up with your back against the wall. You waited patiently for him to get his shit together but the sight of your impassive face only made him spiral more.

“I don’t think I understand.” He said suddenly and you sighed again at how hurt he sounded, bringing your knees up to your chest. “What are you even talking about right now?”

“You know we aren’t dating Elvis.” You scoffed and gestured in his direction like it was somehow supposed to be obvious.

He stopped pacing to stare at you in disbelief, eyebrows furrowed and body frozen in shock.

“You’re here all the time, we talk all day long on the phone, and I fuck you like I’m your boyfriend so please explain to me how I should know we aren’t dating.” His volume is louder now, something he would never even consider around you on any other occasion, but the slap of reality is so harsh that he can’t even think clearly.

Elvis figures for a second that he should have expected this, could have prepared himself if he had just realized that this was clearly too good to be true. He’d known since he was a preteen that girls like you didn’t fall in love with guys like him and he wasn’t sure why he had somehow convinced himself things were different now.

Even now, looking at you and how beautiful you were as you sat surrounded by his mess and sorry excuse for a life.

You looked ten times more expensive than anything he could even dream of owning, simply sitting in one of his shirts and staring at him with those eyes of yours.

Elvis had been saving up for weeks to even take you to that restaurant he had tried to casually mention, studied the menu and the prices based off of what he knew you liked to eat and slowly took from the amount he would give Johnny so money wouldn’t even be a thought when he finally took you on a real date.

“Elvis.” You were sitting up on your knees and scooting down to the end of the bed so you could reach out and grab his arms, tugging him towards you and wrapping yourself around his middle.

Your face was buried against his stomach that was heaving from the breaths he was taking, the embarrassing urge to cry hitting him hard.

It takes a few minutes for him to relax enough to make any sense of things, sinking back down on the end of the bed beside you. You’re still sitting on your knees and frowning as you lean against his side, kissing his jaw softly while he stares blankly ahead at his crooked dresser drawer.

He has a hard time feeling upset with you, he actually can’t remember a time he’d ever felt anything negatively about you in his entire life. Not even the same jealousy and stomach turning bitterness he’d get towards the other rich kids at school, never for you.

You deserved every bit of easiness in your life and he’d willingly live the same sad existence over and over if it met you got to have a warm house with a full fridge and two loving parents.

But Elvis was hurt.

And embarrassed because realistically, he should have known this was what was happening and maybe he did deep down.

You never let him meet any of the friends you talked about constantly, kept the polaroid photos of the two of you at the bottom of your magazine pile, and you’d practically thrown yourself away from him that time you bumped into your friend at the store.

He hadn’t seen you during the day in weeks, you snuck out before he woke up whenever you slept over and you’d been conveniently busy whenever he had tried to see you during a time you hadn’t decided.

Elvis had decided a long time ago that he would take whatever he could get from you so he couldn’t really blame you for only wanting him in private.

“Talk to me.” You whispered softly, rubbing his chest as you spoke and still kissing his skin like you’d be able to coax the words out of him.

“Why?” He tried not to sound so hurt and bitter but it laced the word, shaking his head and starting to shift away from your touch. “I don’t even think there’s a point in talking about this.”

You make a sudden dejected noise when he tries to move so he stops immediately and leans against you, his heart burning even more at the thought of upsetting you even though he’s seconds away from asking you to leave just so he can cry without feeling pathetic.

You cup his face with one hand and turn it so he’s facing you, kissing him softly as soon as he’s looking in your direction.

He can’t resist you, never has been able to, so he’s eagerly returning the gesture.

The kiss is heated and desperate despite the mood of the conversation, your leg sliding over his so you’re sitting in his lap instead. He sighs against your mouth and holds you tightly as he flips you both over so you’re back in the middle of the bed with him on top of you.

Your tongues in his mouth, hands tugging at the bottom of his tank top like you’re about to rip it off and you’re making these sweet little sounds that drive him crazy.

The combination of it all makes him inclined to tell his feelings to fuck off and just keep letting you use him in whatever way you need. He debates his choices and imagines a future where he only gets to see you when you decide, in the dark of night where nobody has to know you’re screwing around with a scum bag like Elvis Schmidt.

He wishes so desperately that the idea was less appealing to him but the alternative is somehow bleaker, to not have you at all and to go back to living by himself without the warmth and light you brought to his empty life.

“I love you.” He breathes it against your mouth without meaning to, wanting for you to know it if this is the last time he’s going to have you like this. You don’t stiffen or push him off of you and he figures it’s because there’s no surprise on your end.

You know Elvis loves you because of course he does.

You don’t say it back but you don’t stop kissing him and he decides right then and there that that’s enough for him.

It’s pathetic and he is well aware of that but he’s madly in love with a woman universes out of his league so he figures that’s pathetic within itself already.

You stay with him that night and come back again the next, almost every day for three weeks while he tries to forget about the idea of a real future with you.

He subtly adds the money he’d stolen back to his payments to Johnny, figuring he might as well keep working off his debt if he can’t take you on a date like he had planned.

Everything goes back to normal, or whatever normal was now, and you seem relieved that he doesn’t bring up the concept of being together again.

Elvis thinks he’s just beginning to get used to it too when a silent rule is broken between you.

He hadn’t known you’d be at the party because you called him hours ago saying you couldn’t come see him until later tonight because you were helping your mom with something around the house.

Maybe if he had some warning then he would have asked Johnny for a different task, gotten himself stuck in some shady apartment packing up inventory instead of strolling into a nice house on the good side of town with a backpack full of party favors.

Johnny didn’t typically send Elvis to deal and especially not at parties, telling him he scared off the customers or didn’t have the necessary social skills.

They were short handed enough that the job fell in his lap and he was so determined to get his mind off of you that he had accepted.

Except there you were.

Standing in the corner in an outfit straight out of his dreams and laughing with a girl he didn’t recognize, carefree and at home surrounded by other trust fund kids and the knowledge of a safe neighborhood outside the walls of the house.

His jaw tenses and he makes a mental note to be in and out as fast as possible, plan immediately halted when one of your friends locks eyes with him.

He vaguely finds her familiar and then sighs when he realizes it’s the girl from the grocery store who had eyed him suspiciously after you dropped his arm like he was diseased. Clearly she remembers him too because her lips curl up into a smirk before she’s nudging you and the other girl you’d been laughing with.

Whatever she says makes you freeze and you’re clearly hesitant to look in his direction.

He’d seen you with a lot of different expressions.

Soft and teasing was the most common one, sometimes irritated when you scolded him about his life style, and lost in pleasure when he was on top of you or between your legs. There was a handful of times he’d even thought he’d seen something more on your face, something closer to love than was probably true.

This one you had now was completely foreign to him. Your eyes were wide and your mouth parted in shock, panic going over your features when you met his eyes and only worsening when your friends started to drag you over.

“I know you.” One of the girls was speaking in a slurred voice, presumably the one from the store but he wasn’t sure because he was staring at you blankly.

You looked almost embarrassed, another new emotion and he felt the low heat of anger building in his stomach.

“Yeah?” He waited a few seconds after speaking to finally look at the girl next to you. “And how do you know me?”

She giggled obnoxiously, nothing like the soft one you’d give in his ear when he touched your sensitive skin or told you an embarrassing story to get you to laugh.

Her glassy eyes went to the backpack hanging off one shoulder before she was touching his arm. You tensed at the movement and he almost scoffed at the ironic reaction, the light show of jealously like you hadn’t given up any type of claim on him when you practically broke his heart a few weeks ago.

“You run with Johnny.” She said in a softer voice and he figured it was her attempt at being seductive. His eyes went back to you and found them to be pleading now. “I heard you’re a good salesman.”

He was confused for a second before she glanced at you and burst into a fit of giggles again.

Realization hit him hard and he felt like he was about to throw up when he understood what she was saying, why you were looking at him like that.

You’d clearly lied to her after being caught with him in the parking lot that day and the thought that you’d rather her think he was selling you drugs than just admitting to being with him made him nauseous.

It was more believable for you to be using hard drugs than to be actually enjoying his company, reducing him to a low life dealer so easily just to save your own reputation.

“So can we get some?” Your other friend was speaking up when he didn’t reply, tone bored and drawn in that strange way the wealthier girls all did (you as an exception).

“No.” His voice was flat and rough and surprise was passing over your face when he finally got the nerve to look at you again, never hearing him speak so sharply.

“What?” The grocery store girls high tone was back, eyebrows furrowing at the denial like she’d never heard the word before. He figured she might not have and got a little satisfaction from potentially being the first one to deliver it.

“Come on Elvis.”

Any smugness he was feeling was immediately sucked out of him at the sound of your sweet voice, a little more detached than normal like you were playing the part of somebody who didn’t know him as well as you did.

A painful pit in his stomach tightened at how desperate you looked, clearly wanting him to just go along with it and give you guys the drugs so he could leave and not make this turn into something more complicated.

He didn’t have a way to reply to you, couldn’t get himself to pretend he didn’t know you and definitely wasn’t going to hand you anything that could ever harm you. He tightened his grip on the backpack strapped and turned to push back through the crowd.

There was a thought in the back of his head about how Johnny would react to him bailing on the party, wasting the opportunity to sell to a bunch of dumb rich kids who didn’t know the difference between good shit and overpriced dirt.

But he knew he had to get away from you, so brainwashed by his love for you that he didn’t want to slip up and make your friends suspicious for your sake.

He was halfway across the lawn and back towards his car when he felt himself tugged back, defensiveness hitting him hard and then immediately fading when he turned to see you.

You had followed him, friends left behind inside and a guilty look on your face.

“Since when do you do drugs?” He snapped and you sighed at the sound of his voice, frustrated and hurt.

“I don’t okay?” You took a step closer to him and he immediately shook his head and put his hands out to stop you. “They wouldn’t shut up about it and they thought I had a hook up with you but I wouldn’t have done anything.”

He glared at you for a few seconds, almost unable to recognize the person in front of him.

“Don’t do that.” You moved closer again and this time he let you, folding the second your hands touched his face and pulled him down for a soft kiss. He knew you were only doing it because you were hidden in the shadows of the trees around you, far enough away from the party full of drunk people who wouldn’t pay any attention to two silhouettes kissing.

There’s a tense silence when you pull away and for the first time, he thinks you feel it too by the way you keep holding him like you know it’s the last time. The roles have reversed for once with you being the one who’s afraid you’re losing him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He says it as softly as he can and tries not to backtrack the second your breath catches. Your hands tighten around his skin where they’re resting on his arms, forehead pressing against his shoulder as you start to shake your head when he tries to pull away.

“Elvis don’t.” You’re almost begging and he feels even more confused at the sound.

He knows you like being around him, you clearly enjoy the sex, and he’s seen parts of you he’s pretty confident you don’t show to anybody else but you’re still the one who refuses to let this be more.

So how can you stand here and beg him not to leave you when you’d just pretended he was a stranger like he wasn’t the one who knew you best in that house full of people.

“Tell your mom I say hi.” He knows it’s a little more than petty to throw your lie back in your face, both of you fully aware your mom has no idea he even exists, but his hurt has turned into anger at least for a brief moment and he’s using the momentum of it to make a decision he’d never be able to push through any other day.

Your face falls as he moves away and you go to grab for him again but he’s already out of reach, getting into his car and trying his best to not look out his mirror and run back to you as you stand there in the yard and watch him drive away.

—

The two weeks without you is torture to him.

He doesn’t even remember what his life was like before running into you again because there was nothing ever worth holding onto.

You’d been the only good thing in his life and now he was wrapped right back up in bad habits, passing out at Johnnys parties and waking up just to go on another bender in an attempt to drown out any thoughts of you that managed to creep through the haze.

He dreamt of you every night and he couldn’t even stomach the smell of your shampoo on his pillowcases, resorting to sleeping on his shitty couch and dealing with the pain in his back it would bring.

It’s even worse to sit there and think about the fact you probably aren’t bothered at all, maybe a little lonely now that you don’t have him at your every beck and call but he decides there’s no way you’re as destroyed by this as he is.

He only starts to rethink this when he wakes up to hard knocks at his door, a groggy glance at the clock on his living room coffee table tells him it’s far past midnight and he feels a sense of dread wash over him.

“Elvis?”

Your voice yanks him out of his sleep, pleading and breathy from behind the wooden barrier.

He’s on his feet immediately, getting tangled up in the small blanket he’d had thrown over his leg and nearly tripping over some empty beer bottles as he rushes to the door. You’re turning to walk away once he rips it open, both of your eyes wide as you look at each other.

“I’ve been coming for three days.” You breathe out and push past him to enter his apartment. He stands there for a second, still a little dazed from sleep and from seeing you outside his door. “Where the hell have you been?”

Elvis doesn’t want to explain the fact he’d been sleeping at Johnnys, too drunk or high to get himself home and not really wanting to be surrounded by reminders of you anyways. He stays quiet as he locks his door to turn and face you, staring at him as you wait for him to answer.

“You could’ve called.” He says calmly, voice a little too soft as he moves to go and sit back on the couch.

He buries his face in his hands, rubbing at his skin to try and get himself to wake up fully.

“You blocked me.” You accuse and his head shoots up at that, searching the messy coffee table for his phone and grabbing it once he spots it.

He goes to search for your contact but finds the answer sooner than that, the lack of service making it obvious what the issue was. He knew he had been out of it since you split up but the fact he hadn’t even remembered to pay his phone bill makes him feel sick, sighing and setting it back down without saying anything else for a long moment.

“Why are you here?” He sounds a little hopeless, definitely defeated and you come and join him on the couch although keeping your distance.

“I just… I needed to see you.” You whisper and your eyes stay locked on him.

He finally really looks at you, taking in how tired your eyes are and the messy state of your hair. You were still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen but you were far less polished than normal, maybe a bit more affected than he had assumed you’d be.

“Are you sleeping with someone?” You ask suddenly and he freezes at the question, sending you a sharp glare that doesn’t ease your curious eyes. “You haven’t been home.”

“And that’s what you jump to?” He scoffs and you roll your eyes, scooting closer to him until your knees touch his thigh. You lean the side of your body against his couch cushions and only just now seem to notice the pillow from his room on the arm rest and his throw blanket on the floor.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“Did you come here to ask me twenty questions about my sleep habits?” His voice is sharper than he’d ever taken it with you and you flinch a little at the sound of it.

He falls silent from the guilt of snapping, sinking further back into the pillows and wishing they’d just swallow him whole at this point.

“I said I needed to see you.” You repeat and now you’re even closer, dangerously so considering he feels himself immediately and instinctively leaning towards the sound of your voice and the warmth of your skin.

Relief wracks through him when you’re finally touching him, just a soft hand on his chest as you rub it gently but it’s all he needs for the excruciating pain of the last few weeks to melt away. You’re like a calming palm to both his heart and the actual physical anguish he’d been feeling in your absence.

“I miss you Elvis.” You’re whispering but it lands like a scream and his eyes flutter shut just in time for you to lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. You’re like a siren and he is so beyond willing to drown if it means you don’t leave his couch just yet. “You miss me too right?”

“You miss getting fucked.” He assumes and he wants to open his eyes just to see your reaction to that, to know if there’s any truth to the statement or if you’d be offended by him thinking that way.

But he can’t handle both looking at you and feeling you kiss his mouth lightly again so he keeps them closed for a few more seconds.

“That’s part of it.” You agree with a hum and he hates how easy this all seems for you, feels like he might be wrong judging by the state of you but wishes you’d just say it. “No one makes me feel like you do.”

He tenses at that and you stop kissing him so you can stare at him, eyes meeting when he finally opens his again.

“You tried with someone else?” He makes no attempt to sound less hurt than he feels at the idea.

Thankfully you immediately frown and start to shake your head, holding his face in your hands and pressing a soft kiss to his lips like an apology.

“Of course not.” You say and he relaxes at the quick answer, nudging his nose against yours until you kiss him again. “I wouldn’t do that Elvis. I… I do care about you.”

“You care about me.” He repeats it and you nod, holding eye contact. “I love you and you care about me.”

You sigh now and let him go, shifting away so you’re both sitting with your backs against the couch as you stare ahead at the muted TV.

“Does it make it any easier if I tell you I love you?” You ask blankly and he doesn’t really have a good answer. He selfishly feels his heart start to race at the words even leaving your mouth even though the context isn’t exactly romantic. “Because it makes it worse for me.”

“What can be worse?” He says back and he can feel you staring at the side of his face, only turning to meet your eyes when you don’t respond for a while.

You look sad, the first thing he notices after he has the looping thought about how beautiful you are. You even look pretty like this, eyes full of something he doesn’t understand and a small pout pulling your lips downwards.

“I don’t want to not see you Elvis.” You whisper and turn your body back in his direction, knees pulled up to your chest and looking so small and vulnerable as you finally have this conversation for the first time. “It kills me to not see you.”

“That’s exactly my problem. You see me and I don’t get to see you.” He isn’t sure how to explain it and all he can do is hope you understand what he means, judging by the way your face falls he thinks you just might have grasped the gist of it.

Elvis sits around like a dog waiting for your attention, comes when you call and sulks back to his cage until the next time you decide he’s worthy of praise again. Even now, weeks passed and he’s the one who walked away this time but he still is fully aware he’d do anything for you.

He would fall right back into the same cycle that was killing him before so you didn’t decide he’s wasn’t worth the effort anymore.

You’re shifting again and he lets you crowd his space, holds you gently when you rest your head against his chest and curl up in his lap. Your body relaxes to the point you let out a deep breath of relief, one that makes it seem like you’ve had just as many sleepless nights as he has.

He tries to not let himself hope that’s true because he doesn’t know how much more disappointment he can take from this.

“I want to see you okay?” You finally whisper, hands clenching into fist and bunching the fabric of his shirt up in them. He rubs your back and sighs, lets the words seep in and continue to foster that love for you he can’t get to die down no matter how hard he tries to stop nurturing it.

Elvis doesn’t need to hear you say that you love him back, will live the rest of his life in the shadows with you and never dare to complain again.