#hobie

“Very,” he chuckles, his laughter echoing through the quiet neighborhood. You roll your eyes and push off trying to catch up to Hobie’s distance. The street stretches ahead beneath pools of orange streetlight. Somehow he manages to look backwards just long enough to stick his tongue out at you. You nearly crash into the curb trying to glare at him.

“Focus on the road, sweetheart!” he snickers as you both arrive at the gates of the skate park that is technically closed. The chain-link gate has a lock hanging from it so Hobie starts scaling it, holding his board in one hand, swinging it over the top before sitting on top and offering you your hand. "Need help?" he asks teasingly. You deny him and try to copy his movements you just saw but you slip. 

His laughter echoes across the empty park. "Oh that's embarrassing. You looked confident too."

You eventually make it over mostly with dignity intact and many snickers from Hobie. The park is empty and everything feels still. Hobie drops his board onto the pavement. "Ready?" he asks.

You glance at your own skateboard before saying “I’m a bit nervous."

"If you want you can just watch before you start," he says before kissing the back of your hand then pushes off.

You don’t deny that you terribly enjoyed watching him skate because you thought he looked so hot while doing it but it was definitely unfair. Every turn is effortless and all his jumps are smooth.

When you do decide you want to try, you eat pavement three separate times. Your board shoots out from beneath you and you land hard on the concrete face first. 

"Ow," you groan in pain, wincing as you sit up from where you'd landed. Hobie rolls over and hops off his board, stooping beside you to help you stand.

"You alright?" he asks with care in his voice. 

"Yeah."

His fingers curl around yours, warm despite the cool night air, and with one easy pull he hauls you back onto your feet. He paused, taking a look at your face, and noticed a small scrape on your chin. 

He sucks his teeth before reaching into the pocket of his jacket

"What are you doing?" you ask curiously as he pulls out a slightly crumpled packet of bandages

"Being prepared," he replies softly.

"You carry bandages around?" you snort in surprise as he carefully peels a bandage from its wrapper. "That's ridiculous."

"Says the person actively leaking. Come here," he says pulling you a step closer, his hand lightly steadying your jaw. He presses the bandage over the scrape. The contact is brief but your pulse still decides to act ridiculous about it.

He decided to hold your hand as you skate, walking beside you to ensure that you don’t fall again. The two of you talk for hours and sit on top of ramps and complain about life. Eventually the two of you end up sitting on the edge of a half-pipe, holding your boards beside you. Hobie leans back on his hands, playing with your wristwatch.

“Hobs, what time is it?” you ask. 

“3:14,” he replies. “Why?”

"I need to get home," you sit up, taking the watch from his hands and placing it back on your wrist. The two of you pick your boards up and walk back over to the locked fence, Hobie ensures to keep his hands on you at all times so that you won't slip.

The walk back feels short like it did whenever you wanted more time with Hobie. Soon you're standing beneath your fire escape again. You look up toward your window and sigh. 

"Get inside before you get caught," he says, bringing you in a warm embrace, kissing the top of your head before letting you go. 

You nod. "See you tomorrow?"

"Probably," he smiles.

"Probably?" you ask while already climbing up through your window. 

He grabs his skateboard, disappearing down the street, skateboard rattling beneath his feet. As you climb back toward your window, trying not to smile like an idiot because you already know you'd sneak out again tomorrow.

His shoulders loosened slightly. You were sitting up in bed, blanket pooling around your waist. You had fell asleep waiting up for him, wine glass on your bedside table. You were still wearing white open front lingerie dress and a matching lace thong underneath that you hat put on in the hopes that he would make it home early. The sight of you felt unreal after the chaos he'd spent the day in.

"There you are," you murmured.

"Yeah."

You frowned at his tone. "Hobie…”

"I'm alright," he said quietly

"Liar,” you replied, crawling out of bed. You took his hands in yours and guided him to the bathroom. “I need to wash the streets off you,” you say teasingly.

He chuckled wearily, allowing you to guide him to the shower. He closed the door behind the two of you and you sat at the edge of the tub. 

“Do you want a shower or a bath?” you ask. He rocked back on his heel before nodding to the shower. You stand and help him get out of his suit. “Tell me about your day,” you say as you peel the suit off his chest, running your hands over his body. 

Hobie sighed, leaning into your touch like a cat starved for affection. The suit was torn at the shoulder, smudged with soot and what might’ve been blood, slid off easily under your careful fingers.

“Long,” he admitted. “Some guy decided to rob a subway station wearing my mask.” He huffed a tired laugh, shaking his head as you peeled away the last of it. “Had to chase ‘em through three boroughs. Broke my favorite pair of boots.” He wiggled his socked feet dramatically before pulling them off too. 

“So are you okay?”

Hobie turned his face toward you, the tension in his jaw softening as he met your eyes. The dim bathroom light caught the bruise forming near his cheekbone and a fresh scrape along his temple. He gave a slow nod, reaching up to brush a thumb over your wrist where it rested on him.

“Just banged up,” he murmured. “Nothing that won’t heal.” His hands rose and brushed along your shoulders as he began unfastening the clips of your white lingerie dress. The front clip popped open, revealing your bare chest that was under the lace. He kissed between the valley of your breasts and another on your collarbone.

“Get in the shower,” you playfully slapped his ass and he yelped a high, indignant sound.

“Hey!” he protested, mock-offended at your teasing smile. Without another word, he turned on the shower faucet that steamed up fast in your small bathroom. He stuck out his tongue at you playfully before peeling off what remained of his clothes and stepped inside the shower. He reached for you again, hand outstretched through the curtain of water.

“C’mon,” he said. When you slipped into the shower behind him, you peeled the thong off leaving it on the floor outside the shower. His arms wrapped around your waist under the spray.

You lean in to kiss him sloppily. Hobie tilted his head, one hand cradling your jaw while the other pressed flat against your lower back, pulling you against him. A soft moan slipped out your mouth when he nipped gently at your bottom lip.

You felt his hardened dick rubbing your belly so you ran your fingers over his tip before gripping it. Hobie’s body jerked and a low groan rumbled in chest. His forehead dropped to yours as you started to stroke slowly. Hobie’s breath turned ragged with each stroke of your hand. He bit down on his lower lip hard, trying to stay quiet, but little whimpers came out.

You smiled at the sound of his moans before you got down on your knees, water cascading down your bodies as you continued to stroke. His hands flew to your jaw guiding you to his tip. You took a lick of the precum off his tip before rolling it on your tongue.  He looked down at you through half-lidded eyes, and when he saw the teasing look in your eyes he nearly came right then.

You took all of him in gagging a little at the girth of him. A choked gasp tore from his throat and his knees nearly buckled, his hand slamming flat against the shower wall to steady himself. His head tipped back with a shuddering groan as your head bobbed on his dick. You hummed softly as your tongue swirled around him. Your hands wrapped around the base. 

Each slow movement of your mouth sent sparks through his nerves. His hips twitched again chasing more. When you took him deeper his breath came out in broken little moans. “please… nyeahh… right there,”

You took him out of your mouth with a soft plop, saliva trailing from your mouth to his tip and you started stroking again. Hobie whimpered when you pulled away. He stared down at you through wet lashes, chest heaving. Every pass of your thumb over the tip made him twitch “Fuck… fuck…”

“Can you come for me baby?” The way you said it nearly undid him completely, he nodded fast in response.

“Yeah,” he breathed, voice cracking on the word. “God… yeah.”

His hips jerked forward into your hand chasing release and his breath came in short gasps as the coil inside him tightened. Hobie’s entire body tensed in a full-body shudder running from his toes to the top of his head. His mouth fell open and a choked, desperate moan echoed through the steamy bathroom. 

His knees wobbled and he had to slump against the wall for support as wave after wave crashed over him. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain. His cum leaked out in spurts on your breasts and face, you opened your mouth to also get some on your tongue.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, overloaded with the sensation of how good you always made him feel. He panted heavily afterward, dazed, smiling weakly down at you.

“Good boy,” you say as you stand to your feet. You playfully smack his ass again before turning to grab your body wash.

With a pouty huff, he reached for his own soap and began washing off properly. 

“So are we gonna…” he starts and trails off. 

You glance at him and snort while washing his cum off your tits. “Are we gonna fuck?” you finish his sentence and he nods. “Hobie, wash the streets off you and maybe I'll give you some later okay?” 

He nods eagerly and gets to showering all while stealing glances at you like an idiot hopelessly in love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rights to any characters mentioned nor do I consent to plagiarism of any kind. Thankyou for reading loves ;) Tags: @strangeprincessblog  @cinnamongirlkisses  @amethyst09  @skyavyel @butterflygirlblogg @sophiabrown222  @b3rryb3t 

You blinked in surprise. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You remembered.” you say.

“Course I did.” A week ago, you’d mentioned offhand that you used to get shaved ice all the time as a kid but hadn’t had it in years. You hadn’t even thought he was listening.

“Pick one,” he said, nodding toward the menu.

“You’re paying?” you say in disbelief.

He scoffed. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

“I am shocked.”

“Rude.”

A few minutes later, the two of you were walking again with paper cups of shaved ice in your hands. Your tongue was stained blue and Hobie kept stealing bites from yours even though he had his own.

“You literally got cherry,” you complained.

“And yours is better,” he countered.

“Because you picked a bad flavor.”

“Nah. Yours just tastes sweeter.”

You looked over at him suspiciously. “That was corny.”

“Yeah,” he admitted before taking another bite of your shaved ice. You shoved his shoulder with a chuckle as you kept walking. Eventually the familiar streets started fading into quieter ones. There were less people, older buildings and rusted fire escapes and faded graffiti covering brick walls.

You glanced at him. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere,” he said mischievously.

“Hobie.”

He smirked a little. “You ask too many questions.”

“That’s because you’re weird,” you declare but kept following him anyway.

“True.” Finally, he stopped in front of an abandoned building squeezed between two taller ones. Most of the windows were broken, and the front gate hung crookedly open.

You stared at it in confusion. “Hobie.”

“What?” he asked.

“You’re definitely gonna get me murdered one day.”

“Nah,” he said, already stepping inside. “You trust me too much for that.”

Inside smelled faintly like dust and rain. The building was empty except for old paint cans, graffiti, and scattered junk left behind years ago. Sunlight poured through cracked windows in long golden strips.

“Okay,” you said slowly, following him up a staircase. “This is either incredibly romantic or the beginning of a horror movie.”

“You watch too many films,” he said critically. 

“You brought me to an abandoned building!”

“And you still came inside.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. By the time you reached the roof, you were slightly out of breath but the view made up for it instantly. The whole city stretched around you in glowing late-afternoon light, rooftops layered endlessly into the distance. Wind tugged softly at your clothes, carrying the sounds of traffic far below.

“Cool, innit?” Hobie said quietly.

You looked over at him. His eyes squinted softly in the sun, his tie loosened from school, sleeves rolled up messily to his elbows. He looked so comfortable up here. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Really cool.”

You ended up sitting near the edge, knees brushing together. At some point, your shaved ice cups got abandoned beside you, half melted. You talked about everything, school, music, what you wanted to do after graduation. Everything that scared you and what didn’t.

Talking to Hobie always felt easy and even when he went quiet, it never felt awkward.

“You know,” he said eventually, leaning back on his hands, “you’re different than I thought you’d be.”

“Oh? Is that good or bad?” you tilt your head to look at him curiously. 

“Good.”

You tried not to smile too hard. “What did you think I’d be like?”

“Dunno,” he admitted. “Thought you’d think I was annoying.”

“You are annoying.”

He laughed quietly at your response. The sound made your chest feel warm. The sun had started dipping lower by the time things got quieter between you. You looked out over the city while the wind curled around both of you and then you felt his hand brush yours almost hesitantly. You looked down at your hands for half a second before letting your fingers lace together.

Hobie glanced at you and your heart started beating harder.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” your voice came out smaller than usual.

His thumb brushed against your knuckles once before leaning in just slightly, enough for you to feel his breath before anything else. His eyes flicked down toward your lips briefly before back up to your eyes again, almost asking. When you leaned closer too, that was all the answer he needed.

The kiss was soft and careful, short enough to make your stomach flip the second he pulled away. For a split second, the both of you just stared at each other.

“You’re smiling,” he murmured.

“No I’m not.” You tried to hide it by ducking your head, laughing quietly, but he caught your chin gently before you could fully look away.

“You definitely are,” he said before he kissed you again, ensuring to make it last longer than last time. He wanted to cherish the moment. The city blurred around you, everything except him faded out completely.

You fell a little in love with him when he cupped your face to deepen the kiss. When Hobie finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, breaths uneven, the wind curling softly around you both. You let out a tiny nervous laugh, and Hobie smiled a small and crooked and warm smile in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” you mumbled.

“Nothin’.”

“You’re looking at me weird.”

“You just kissed me,” he said quietly, like you were the surprising thing here.

“You kissed me first.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Good decision, I think.”

You laughed softly again, cheeks warm. Without really thinking about it, you leaned into him, laying your head on him. Hobie shifted until his back rested against the low wall behind you, then gently tugged you closer by your hand. You settled against his chest, your legs stretched out beside his while his arms wrapped loosely around you.

The sunset had faded into early evening now, the sky painted in deep oranges and soft blues. Below you, the city buzzed on without caring that your whole world had just changed. You could hear his heartbeat if you focused hard enough. It was steady and strong.

Your fingers absentmindedly played with the rings on his hand while he rested his chin lightly against the top of your head. Neither of you talked for a while.

After a few quiet minutes, you felt him shift slightly.

“What’re you doing?” you asked lazily.

“Hang on.”

You lifted your head just enough to see him pulling at one of the bracelets around his wrist. It was worn-looking, black threads braided together with little metal charms tangled into it. Something he clearly wore all the time.

You frowned slightly. “Hobie—”

“Hold still.”

Before you could argue, he carefully took your wrist in his hand and tied the bracelet around it. His fingers brushed your skin as he tightened the knot gently.

“There you go,” he murmured. He shrugged like it was nothing, but you caught the slight nervousness in the way he avoided your eyes afterward. “Wanted you to have it.”

“But you wear this all the time.”

“Not anymore.”

“Why?” you asked softly.

“Cause I am yours.”

Your heart nearly stopped. You swallowed hard, fingers curling carefully around the bracelet now resting on your wrist.

“That’s…” you laughed quietly, “that’s ridiculously sweet.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“You made it weird!”

“Nah,” he said, pulling you back against him again. “You’re making it weird.”

You rested your head back against his chest, staring out at the city lights beginning to flicker on one by one. Your thumb brushed over the bracelet carefully.

“You know I’m never taking this off now, right?”

“Good.”

You stayed tangled together on that rooftop until the stars started appearing overhead, your hand still resting over the bracelet on your wrist while Hobie absentmindedly traced shapes against your arm. And you were sure you loved him.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rights to any characters mentioned nor do I consent to plagiarism of any kind. Thankyou for reading loves ;)

“I’m kidding, sweetheart.” His grin softened the sharpness of his teasing. That was the problem with him. He could say the most irritating thing imaginable and somehow still make you want to hold his hand afterward. You sighed and looked back at the wheel, fingers tightening nervously around it. The car suddenly felt too small and dangerous.

“I can’t do this,” you mumbled. 

“Yes, you can,” he assured you softly. 

“I literally stalled the car.”

“Everyone stalls the car.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely did.” Hobie snorted. “First time I drove, I mounted a curb outside a Tesco and nearly cried.”

You blinked at him. “You cried?”

“Oi, don’t spread that around.”

A reluctant laugh escaped you.

“There we go,” he said quietly. “That’s better.”

You looked down at your lap. “I just feel stupid for learning this late.”

“No, you don’t.”

You shrugged helplessly. “Most people learn at sixteen.”

“And most people are terrifying behind the wheel.” He waved a hand dismissively. “You learn when you’re ready. That’s normal.”

“I just kept putting it off.”

“So what?” He shrugged.

“So now I’m scared.”

He tilted his head toward you slightly.  “Being scared of driving makes sense. You’re operating a massive metal death machine. Fear’s healthy. Means you’ll actually pay attention.”

You laughed again as Hobie reached over, tugging one of your hands off the steering wheel and squeezing it.

“You trust me, yeah?” he queries.

“Obviously.”

“Then trust me when I say you’re doing fine.” His thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles.

“You don’t gotta become some perfect driver today. We’re just driving around an empty car park listening to bad music and not dying.”

“The music is not bad,” you scoffed.

“The Clash are overrated,” he states with a shrug 

You gasped dramatically. “Get out.”

“Nah. My car.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Alright,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Try again. Slowly this time. Ease your foot off the clutch.”

“I am easing.” The car lurched again and the both of you bounced in your seats.

“Oh my god.” Hobie burst into laughter beside you, loud and unrestrained.

“You’re actually evil,” you muttered.

“You should’ve seen your face!” He snickered. 

“You’re supposed to encourage me!”

“I am encouraging you. You didn’t hit anything this time.”

You glared at him while he cackled. Then, because he was unfairly pretty when he laughed, your own smile betrayed you again.

“There you are,” he murmured.

The laughter faded from his face as he looked at you softly but you looked away first.

“Okay,” you mumbled. “Again.”

This time the car rolled forward smoother. Your eyes widened in surprise at yourself. 

“There you go,” Hobie said. “Keep going. Nice and easy.”

The car crept across the parking lot slowly. You were moving. Hobie looked over at you instead of the road proudly. 

“See?” he said softly. “Knew you could do it.”

A few minutes later, after several messy turns and one very questionable attempt at parking, you finally stopped the car and exhaled hard.

“I think my heart’s going to explode.”

“You did great,” he assured you. 

“I almost drove us into a shopping cart.”

“But you didn’t.”

You dropped your head back against the seat dramatically. “I need a cigarette after that.”

“You don’t even smoke,” he chuckled. 

“I need something.”

Hobie laughed softly before leaning over the center console and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You know,” he murmured, “you are adorable.”

“You’re annoying this whole time.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” Unfortunately, he sounded entirely too confident about it.

You huffed. “Maybe a little.”

“A little?” He placed a hand over his chest. “Cruel.”

Then he reached for your hand again, absentmindedly tracing his thumb over your skin. “Proud of you, though,” he said quietly.

“You were scared and did it anyway.” He squeezed your hand. “That’s proper courage, innit?”

Disclaimer: I don't own Rights to any Characters mentioned nor do I consent to plagiarism of any kind. Thankyou ;)

Still, he doesn’t contact you. At first, he tells himself it’s timing, then exhaustion, then bad signal between dimensions. Eventually he admits the truth to himself, he doesn’t know what to say after the kiss. Kissing you had cracked something open that Hobie had spent years surviving by keeping himself sealed shut.

The longer he’s gone, the more you sit in the back of his mind. Your hand brushing his wrist during arguments, the look on your face when he challenged you too hard and the memory of you kissing him back without hesitation because choosing him was easy.

Hobie watches Miguel hunt that kid down like a threat. That isn’t what this is supposed to be. So Hobie makes his choice quietly, like always, and helps Miles escape before making his own disappearance.

The first place he goes afterward is to you. Even exhausted and irritated and still trying not to think too hard about what you are to him. Somewhere during all this chaos, you became the person he looks for first. He rampantly searches through HQ for you.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asks the first person he recognizes.

They hesitate nervously. 

“What?” Hobie insisted.

“Uh…” The other Spider-Person shifts awkwardly. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

Apparently, while Hobie was gone, you left too, just stopped showing up, turned in your transporter watch and walked away from the Society sometime after the Miles incident started escalating.

“She left?” he repeats slowly.

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“A day ago? Maybe two.”

You’d been gone two days and nobody told him. A sudden anger rises in his chest, but underneath that is understanding. He can’t stop wondering if that’s his fault. Maybe disappearing after kissing you taught you not to wait around for him. For the first time in days, panic starts creeping in under his skin at the terrifying possibility that he finally found something worth staying for and ran too long.

The city blurs around him as he swings. His brain replays every conversation you’ve had over the last few weeks. By the time he finds you, it’s late. You’re sitting on the fire escape outside your apartment, wearing headphones, your new guitar balanced awkwardly across your lap just holding it.

You look up at the sound of him landing and for a second, neither of you speaks.

“You left,” Hobie says finally.

A humorless little laugh escapes you. “That’s rich.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“You disappeared for days.”

“I was dealing with—”

“With Spider Society stuff, yeah, I know.” Your expression hardens slightly. “Funny how you only came looking for me after you realized I was gone too.”

Silence stretched between you two for a moment before you speak up quietly. 

“I waited, you know.”

“What?”

“After you kissed me.” You stare down at the guitar strings instead of at him. “I thought maybe when you came back we’d actually talk about it.”

“But then everything happened with Miles and Miguel and…” You shrug faintly. “I realized I didn’t want to be part of something that asks people to sacrifice each other for the sake of ‘canon.’”

“You were right about some things,” you admit softly. “About the Society. About power.”

“I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that.”

“You still did.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”

His shoulder brushes yours lightly as he sits beside you on the fire escape. He’s not sure he’s earned closeness yet but you don’t move away. The city hums below the fire escape. Somewhere far off, a siren wails and fades. Your guitar rests across your lap untouched, fingers loosely curled around the neck. Hobie sits beside you, elbows on his knees, staring out at nothing.

“You know what the worst part is?” you ask quietly.

He glances over.

“I understood why you left. I understood needing space. I understood being overwhelmed.” You swallow. “But I kept thinking… if things had gone differently, would you have come back at all?”

“Yeah,” he says eventually. “I would’ve.”

“You hesitated.”

“Because I’m trying not to lie to you.”

You laugh softly. 

“I’m not good at this,” he admits. “Needing people.”

Hobie rubs a hand over his face before continuing.

“I kept acting like the problem was politics. Like it was just ideological differences.” He shakes his head slightly. “Truth is, I think I used that as an excuse.”

Your brows knit together. “An excuse for what?”

“For being scared you’d eventually look at me and realize I’m exhausting.”

“Hobie—”

“You’ve got plans,” he says quietly. “Hope. You actually believe things can get better.” A faint shrug. “I didn’t know where I fit into that.”

You set the guitar carefully beside you before turning toward him fully.

“Do you know how frustrating you are?”

A surprised laugh escapes him. “Yeah, probably.”

“No, seriously.” Your eyes shine with sincerity. “You keep deciding things for me without asking what I want.”

“Hobie, I don’t need you to become me.” You hold his gaze steadily. “I don’t need us to agree on every strategy or every political belief. I just need you to stop treating love like it’s some kind of trap.”

“And for the record,” you continue, “you challenge me in ways I need.”

“You don’t let me get comfortable. You make me think harder. You care about people so deeply it comes out as anger because you can’t stand watching them get hurt.” A tiny smile tugs at your mouth. “That’s not a flaw, Hobs.”

“You were right too you know,” he says quietly.

Your brows lift.

“Burning everything down isn’t enough if there’s nothing better afterward.” He exhales slowly. “Guess I never really thought about what comes next. Just knew I hated what already existed.”

Hobie’s fingers tap absently against his knee before he glances at the guitar.

“You even played that thing yet?”

You smile faintly. “Hard to learn when my teacher vanishes into other dimensions.”

“Ouch.”

“You earned that.”

“Fair.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, the smile that spreads across his face is genuine. Small and crooked. God, you missed it.

“C’mere,” he says suddenly, reaching for the guitar.

You hand it over carefully as he adjusts it across his lap.

“Alright,” he murmurs. “First lesson.”

You shift closer so he can show you the chords. Your knees bump and his shoulder presses lightly against yours. Hobie guides your fingers onto the strings carefully, surprisingly patient.

“Your hands are cold,” he mutters.

“You disappeared for a week.”

“Still holding onto that, huh?”

“I’m considering making it your permanent punishment.”

He laughs softly under his breath. “Guess I can live with that… if it means you’re still here.”

“You know,” you murmur, “for someone who hates labels, you’re acting suspiciously like a boyfriend.”

Hobie groans. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Disclaimer: I don't own Rights to any Characters mentioned nor do I consent to plagiarism of any kind. Thankyou ;)

You stared out the window. “Not really.”

“Right.”

Silence stretched through the rain that started an hour later. By the time you reached the campsite, the sky was gray and heavy, wind bending the trees overhead while Hobie unloaded supplies from the van with jerky, irritated movements.

“You brought one sleeping bag?” you asked.

“I brought two blankets.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“It’s camping, not the Ritz.” He laughed under his breath, humorless. 

““Camping isn't supposed to be irritating,,” you say you say.

“Irritating like me yea?”  For a second he looked like he regretted saying it too, but instead of apologizing, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked off toward the woods.

“Where are you going?” you called.

“Walk.”

“Hobie.”

“Need air.”

You watched him disappear between the trees, jaw tightening. Of course he walked away instead of talking. By nighttime, the rain had eased into a light drizzle. The fire you started crackled weakly while you sat wrapped in a blanket, poking at the embers with a stick.

Hobie had returned an hour ago soaked to the bone and strangely quiet. You caught him staring into the fire, hair damp and hanging in his face and his fingers flexing against his knee.

“You do this a lot,” you said quietly.

“What.” His eyes flicked toward you.

“Leave.”

“When things get serious,” you continued, “you just disappear.”

Hobie looked away again. “That’s dramatic.”

“Is it?”

The fire popped and you swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you want from me anymore.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Then tell me what is fair, Hobie.” Your voice cracked despite yourself. “Because I’m trying here and it feels like you’re always halfway gone before I can even reach you.”

His shoulders tightened beneath his jacket.

“You think this is easy for me?” he muttered.

“I think you won’t let me in.” 

“Maybe there ain’t much worth letting in to.”

Your chest hurts from that.

“Hobie…” He suddenly stood, pacing away from the fire.

“That’s the thing, innit?” he said, running a hand down his face. “You want all this future talk and stability and whatever else people are supposed to give each other and I…” 

He laughed bitterly. “I can barely stay in one dimension for a week.”

“I never asked you to be perfect.”

“No, you just want me to stay.” The way he said it, like staying was the hardest thing in the world and it made your anger falter.

You stood slowly. “Why does that scare you so much?”

“Because people expect me to leave eventually anyway.”

He stared out into the woods when he spoke again.

“An’ if I stay too long… people start needing me around. Start countin’ on me. Then one day I can’t be there and suddenly I’m the bad guy.”

You stepped closer carefully.

“Hobie.”

“I mean look at my life.” He gestured vaguely. “Whole thing’s unstable. Got nowhere permanent, always running off somewhere, always another universe falling apart.” A humorless laugh escaped him. “Not exactly boyfriend material.”

“You don’t get to decide what you mean to me.” The firelight flickered across his face, and for the first time all trip, he looked exhausted instead of defensive. You reached for his hand slowly and he let you take it.

“I don’t need perfect,” you whispered. “I just need you to stop acting like caring about you is some burden I accidentally signed up for.”

His fingers tightened around yours. For a second, it looked like he might say something sarcastic again. Instead he just stepped forward and rested his forehead against yours, rainwater cold against your skin.

“Tryin’,” he murmured quietly. “Swear I’m tryin’.”

The fire had burned down to glowing embers by the time you both finally crawled into the tent. Definitely not fixed, but softer around the edges and quieter. The rain had stopped completely now, leaving only the sound of dripping trees and distant insects humming somewhere in the dark. You unzipped your jacket slowly, trying not to think too hard about Hobie and the distance between you too.

The second you settled into the sleeping bag beside him, you felt the tension. Hobie lay flat on his back, arms folded over his chest, you frowned slightly in the darkness.

“Hobie?”

“Mm?” he hummed.

“You okay?”

“Course.” Lie.

You shifted onto your side to look at him better. Moonlight filtered faintly through the fabric of the tent, enough to catch the restless tap of his fingers against his arm.

“You look like you’re waiting for something bad to happen.”

“That obvious?” A quiet huff left him.

“To me? Yeah.”

“Just not used to this bit.”

“What bit?”

Hobie stared at the ceiling of the tent while he spoke.

“Usually when people get honest with me like that…” he swallowed once, “that’s it. That’s the moment everything starts falling apart.”

“Hobie…” Your chest tightened.

He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “Sorry. Bit broken, innit?”

“Don’t do that.” You immediately reached over and nudged his arm. Don't talk about yourself like that.”

He finally looked at you then, and there was something almost uncertain and vulnerable in his expression now. Outside, wind rustled through the trees.

Then, after a long silence, Hobie admitted in a voice barely above a murmur: “Thought if I came on this trip, maybe you’d realize bein’ with me is actually exhausting.”

“What?”

He shrugged one shoulder, avoiding your eyes again. “Would’ve been fair.”

“That’s what this was about?”

“Partly.”

“Hobie—”

“Got all these ideas about what people deserve, yeah?” he muttered. “Didn’t think you’d wanna keep dealing with this forever.”

“You don’t get to push me away and call it mercy.”

Something in his expression cracked, small and devastating. You could see the exhaustion in him and the constant preparation for abandonment, the expectation that eventually everyone would decide he was too difficult to hold onto.

Slowly and carefully, you reached for his hand beneath the blankets. His fingers twitched when you intertwined them.

“You know what your problem is?” you whispered.

“Got loads. Need specifics.”

“You have to trust me.”

He stared at you quietly, his thumb brushing once across your knuckles.

“Still here though,” you murmured.

His eyes dropped to your joined hands. Then, after a hesitation he shifted closer beneath the blankets till your legs tangled together and his forehead rested carefully against yours.

You felt him exhale long and heavy like he’d been holding his breath for months.

“Stay till morning then,” he said quietly.

“I will”

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