#jilval

“You know I’m not,” he huffs.

“Yeah, well,” a pause—the silence broken only by the sound of both your quickening breaths. “Could’ve fooled me. Or anyone, for that matter.”

Héctor narrows his eyes at you. His hand moves from your hip to your jaw, thumb hovering over your bottom lip. “Never fail to always be the dramatic one, do you.” His finger traces your lip gently. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, gaze drifting away. You feel your face heat at his words.

“Can I kiss you now?”

Oh, he’s so going to be the death of you.

When you don’t reply, he leans forward, a whisper of a kiss landing on your shoulder blade. Slowly, his kisses trace a path up your neck, until he reaches your jawline. “Can I?” Héctor questions.

“You’re sickening,” you grumble, but the words are lost as you capture his lips. He smiles into the kiss, amused by your impulsiveness. Oh, okay.

And as if on instinct, his grip returns to your hip, his thumb rubbing soothingly against your skin where your shirt doesn’t quite reach your pants.

You should’ve told him to catch his breath with you, especially when he tilted his head back.

He just had to be impatient.

“I,” Héctor starts, trailing off to peck you on the lips before pulling back. “Love you. I love you.”

A smile graces your lips. “I love you.”

That’s when he groans, pulling you in for another one. God, when did he become so needy? He doesn’t care; he’s got you. When does he not?

“Héctor,” you manage to murmur. “Breathe. You’re acting like you won’t see me for months.”

“I love you.”

Uh-huh. He’s a goner. “So you’ve said.”

All he does is roll his eyes, but does as you order. Breathe. Even if he’s back to pecking at your lips within seconds. You’d have to deal. Unfortunately.

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The blood of the innocent will always be thrown, will always stain the hands of everyone that stands on the way; its a shame the only reason they are remembered is by their tragic endings and the tears that spread on their graves will never be seen for anyone else; The pain and the sorrow will be something you wont face, the rest and the peace is something they pray and beg to anyone for you to have finally.

Green thorns adorned the head of the grave that described your name, reminding of the ending you had to face for yourself; When no one could hear you, help you or think of you, where you were unnoticed and unprotected. He should have known.

You helped everyone you could. You were weak, He admired how strongly you could stand for anyone even if they didnt really liked you. So stupid; He let that happen. He loved you; he admired your determination, your resiliance, your kindness, but most of all he loved you for who you were, not for what you did to others, it wasn't important. He knew that he didn't have to lose you when Lilia said he was going to leave, "I still miss you" Silver knew that he had to say what he felt before it was too late; Ink splashed into the room, thunders could be heard outside the palace, and the green fog made everyone sleep.

He slept while you suffered, and woke up too late to accompany you.

Silver was always loyal, even when his heart sinked when he looked into the green eyes of the man who some day he said was his friend, seeing your reflection in them, completely covered in ink, green thorns and an almost unoticable fog; "I still think about you, day in, day out" Green was the color he despised the most, black was second, it reminded him of how he found you on the ground, how he bled with the thorns while he tried so desperately to remove them. He reminded him how fragile you were… How fragile you two were.

His person made its way to the ramshackle dorm, on the egoistical hope that your spirit one day will appear to be trapped there; to acompany him, the only straw left for his sanity to keep him on track was to think that you finally could be back at your own world, that your death here was the portal that made you go where you yearned and that was the reason why Crowley couldnt find your way home. Was it his fault? Malleus fault?, was it anyones fault to be honest?, when you deal with lost the way he did it was to blame others, but was there a culprit itself?

The dreams, the sleeping, the things he liked the most after you were the ones reminding him of his sins; He lost everything now, and he didnt care, even if the only time he got to see you again was in his nightmares he was going to face them, after all your memory was the only string that bringed him back to his sanity. He hoped that in any place you could ever be, happiness and joy surrounded you.

Taglist: @miriamladyvoid @caspirino

“It is! Come on, you’ll be fine.” But will you? Well.

He takes your hand in his and guides you into his house, which is already buzzing with energy. You say your hellos, hang out with his mom as she starts making dinner. Helping her and chatting with Lamine, everything is going just beautifully.

“Keyne,” you hear Lamine, holding out his arms and crouching down to the toddler’s eye-level.

Okay, deep breaths. Your expression softens the second you see him, waddling over to his big brother and leaning into him as soon as he’s close enough. He’s genuinely the cutest little kid ever.

Once he’s up in Lamine’s arms, he twists his body and looks over at you. Taking that as your cue to step closer, a smile graces your lips. “Hi,” you coo.

Hi. Hi? Was that stupid? Whatever.

He looks at you for a second, then Keyne holds out his arms. Your eyes widen and you glance over at Lamine with a growing grin. “Uh. May I?”

With a smirk, he nods, gently handing his brother to you, and you carefully grab onto him. “Oh, he’s so cute,” you whisper, watching how his fingers grab at your hair. They don’t pull; they just linger.

You didn’t know what to… expect, but when you heard Lamine talk about him, it was always that he was picky. Who he would want to hold him, play with him, or sit by him—it was all up to him.

So this? This practically blew your mind.

His mom looks over her shoulder, noticing. “He likes you.” Your boyfriend nods in agreement.

“I’m pretty fond of him, too,” you reply, nudging his stomach with your pointer finger, and he giggles. Your smile grows—if that’s even possible, considering you’re smiling as much as you can. Your cheeks hurt, but you really don’t care.

After a while, he wants to be put down, and you oblige, letting him wander around. It lasts about ten minutes while you’re laughing with Lamine on the couch when you feel a tug on your pants.

“Is this going to be a problem?” He questions.

Your eyes light up and you lift him onto your lap. “Huh, I don’t know, Lamine, is it going to be?”

“This is my girlfriend,” the boy ignores you by saying, poking his brother’s cheek. “Go away.”

You roll your eyes, turning Keyne away from him. “Like he understands what you’re saying, idiot.”

Before he can argue further, he hears his name being called and sighs. He places a kiss on your temple, gets up, and walks away. You glance down, noticing the toddler looking at you with confusion in his gaze. It only makes you chuckle.

He loves to dance; you already knew that. Of course, you did. You just didn’t think that all it took was for you to hold his hands for him to start swaying side-to-side. So once you saw Lamine was gone, you placed him in his spot and watched as he stood on his feet, doing exactly that when you took his hands and moved him.

Have you mentioned this was the cutest kid ever?

Because this was the cutest kid ever.

The night goes by smoothly, more so than you would’ve thought. Everyone eats dinner, finishes, and continues talking and laughing; it’s truly a nice evening, just like every gathering of Lamine’s family. It was a big pleasure to be a part of this.

Now, you and Lamine are by the window, he’s leaning in to place a sweet kiss on your cheek, but he’s lightly pushed away, causing your eyes to widen. It wasn’t harsh at all, and a laugh spills out of you at the sight of Keyne standing there.

“No,” you both hear him declare.

This is the sixth time you’ve held him, not that you’re complaining or anything. You’re not so sure that the boy next to you feels the same way.

“No? What do you mean, no?” He huffs, furrowing his brows and glancing at his brother. He decides to test the waters again and leans in. Okay, right.

Keyne lifts a hand, frowning.

Your jaw drops. “Oh, wow. That’s actually crazy.”

“…Mom!” Lamine calls out, and she peeks her head around the corner, quirking a curious brow. “Can you take him? Keyne’s hogging her.”

“Oh, Lamine, please,” you voice through laughs.

“Not much I can do about that!” She retorts, offering you a wink. He’s on his own. “Play nice.”

“Keyne, go play games.”

The toddler is quiet, ignoring him. That’s when your boyfriend exhales loudly, leaning in and resting his forehead on your shoulder. “He’s trying to take you away from me,” Lamine grumbles.

With both your hands supporting Keyne, all you can do is rest your head against his. “That’s not true. Look at him! You can’t even be mad. See?”

“I can,” he quips back. “And I am.”

Just then, a pinch on his neck makes him pull back quickly. “Okay, I’ve had it. Come on,” he proclaims, watching how Keyne pulls his hand back and tries to squirm the second he feels his brother try to pry him away from you. “Let go.”

He’s met with a blank stare.

Lamine clenches his jaw. “It’s time for bed,” he says, with one last gentle pull. He has his brother in his arms, and he’s shooting you one last look.

You give a wave and a warm smile, watching until they fade from view. The smile remains on your face, a reminder that you truly had nothing to worry about. In fact, you’ve a new favorite person.

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“What?! Did you see that?” Your boyfriend, Jobe, asked. He was at the edge of his seat, his hands gripping his knees until his knuckles turned white.

With a frown, you’re quick to reply, “Jobe, babe, it’s stressful, I know—but you need to relax,” you tell him quietly. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

Offering you a glance, his expression softens, and he shoots you a small, embarrassed smile, leaning back to place a quick kiss on your hair before relaxing his frame. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“What’s funny is Jude does the same thing,” his mom, Denise, remarks with a touch of feigned annoyance in her tone. “Got it from their father.”

You let a laugh slip past your lips as you look over at her. “They did! I think he’s doing it right now.”

The older woman glances over, and both of you burst into a full-on giggle fit at the realization that you were right. He was. He shifts his focus once he catches your gazes, his eyebrows knitting together in complete and utter confusion. Denise covers her mouth while you hunch over your seat, laughing uncontrollably and ignoring the comforting feel of Jobe’s hand rubbing your back.

The sight of the two of you in hysterics only adds to the humor, and his grin seems to widen more.

It was quite a sight, for sure. He couldn’t be more pleased to see his mom and his girlfriend getting along so well. He had already known that it would be a done deal, considering you and him have been together for a while and you and his mom have shared countless laughs with one another. Still, it didn’t stop him from feeling like it was the first time all over again. This was, well, everything.

“What? What are you guys laughing at?” His father questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Whatever it was must’ve been hilarious.

The man beside you gives a sheepish expression. “It’s nothing—it really wasn’t that funny, guys.”

“Speak for yourself,” you say with a sigh, sitting upright and trying to catch your breath. “Oh, my God.” You spare her another glance, quickly looking away when you realize you’ll continue to laugh in their faces. “He’s right, it was nothing!”

Denise nods. “Just continue watching the game.”

As soon as you all focus back on the match at hand, there’s a foul called, causing both Jobe and you to furrow your brows. It all happened so fast that his dad saying your name, asking what happened, made you turn to him. “He stepped right on the back of his heel. Look—” you pause, pointing to the screen with a grimace. “Ouch.”

“How reckless!” He exclaims. “Did they call it?”

Jobe peeks over your head. “Not this time.”

The man takes the answer with a frown, turning his attention back to the pitch right when Vinicius races through on goal, darting in front of an opposing player. Their keeper rushes out, but he lifts the ball over him. It’s going wide, but Jude is already there to tap it into the empty net and…

GOAL! During the ninety-second minute. A win!

The four of you jump up from your seats almost immediately, cheers erupting from your lips. The stadium, once extremely tense, is now completely alive with excitement and overflowing with joy.

Seeing his brother’s celebration was enough to make him chuckle amidst the chaos. He threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. You laugh against him, your own arms quickly wrapping around him. “He showed up!”

“Of course he did,” Jobe replied shortly after, placing a delicate kiss on the crown of your head.

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Fine until the topic of your guys’ future was slowly brought up—by him, nonetheless. Pedri was quite curious, as one would be when wanting to focus on what will happen to the two of you. Like how your relationship will obviously evolve, or whose house you would want to live in—all of that stuff.

Until one comment from you made him tense up. “I’d really think we should weigh all our options!”

It was a simple miscommunication. Truly. Instead of waiting for you to realize your mistake and take it back, he let out a sigh, ran a hand down his face, and wasted no time paying the bill. Alright…

You lingered a step behind him, your heart heavy while you silently made your way toward his car.

“Pedro—this,” a pause. “This is really immature.”

He doesn’t respond. Immature? Maybe. Though he wasn’t sure what else you could’ve possibly meant by what you said. “Let me explain, Pedri.”

Once you reach his vehicle, your eyebrows raise when he opens the door for you. It’s quick to drop; you didn’t want to make him more upset.

The instant you both settle in, he starts the engine and heads back to his apartment complex.

Explain while it’s still fresh. “I… didn’t mean it like that. By weighing out all our options, I meant that we still have time. Let it smooth out a little more.”

“It’s unnecessary,” the man says simply. Right.

“Then it’s unnecessary! I didn’t want you to think I was rushing into the entire ‘moving in’ process. It was just me being cautious—that’s all, I promise.”

“Have I mentioned you’re horrible at explaining?”

What the hell? Your eyebrows furrow. Was it a joke? Well, maybe. But given the circumstances, you definitely wouldn’t be taking it as one. “Okay, have I mentioned that you’re being immature?”

He doesn’t reply, though you notice his grip on the steering wheel tightening. You let out a sigh, thankful that the music is on. This would be a while, at least it wouldn’t be filled with silence.

Upon arrival, you didn’t wait for him to open the door for you like he always would; you just made your way up the steps, leaving the man behind.

You reach for the knob when you realize—shit. He literally has to unlock the door. How great for you.

Clenching your jaw, your gaze falls to the ground.

You hear your boyfriend’s footsteps grow closer and closer before they stop, the sound of his keys clinking together a welcome sound. When he opens the door, he waits for you to walk in first.

And you do, slipping off your coat and hanging it up. How fun! Now you have to get ready for bed.

It’s fine—just don’t think too much about it. You rummage through your suitcase, grabbing a pair of pajamas and disappearing into the bathroom.

When you finally come out, you see that he’d taken the chance to change as well. He’s tugging on a shirt when you slowly enter his bedroom.

“Blankets, where do you keep them?” You ask.

All he does is stare at you, like you just grew two heads. Like you just asked the stupidest question known to man. Yoo-hoo! “…blankets. What for?”

Oh, brother. “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

That’s when he goes rigid. After what feels like an eternity, Pedri finally finds his voice. “No, I want you with me,” he insists. It’s soft, but you hear it.

Your stomach does about a dozen backflips.

Be logical—not a good idea. “You’re mad at me,”you tell him, as if it’s obvious. Because it, well, is.

“I’m—” his shoulders slump. “I’m not mad at you. Just confused. Just… just come sleep with me. I don’t want you on the couch,” he finishes quietly.

You meet his gaze; so does he. You stare at each other until you feel your body slowly relax. Fine. Whatever, he’ll get his way. Gently padding your feet further into his bedroom, you awkwardly pull the covers over and slide under them with ease.

He does the same, more gracefully than you.

What a show-off, you thought to yourself before getting comfortable, staring up at the ceiling.

Minutes pass in complete and utter silence. Oh, fuck. Maybe you are that horrible at explaining.

Inhaling sharply, you turn to face him. “I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I was hesitant on moving in with you because I’m not.”

Pedri’s quick to look over at you. “You’re not?”

“God, no,” you huff. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted these past few months. If there’s anything I am, it’s sure as hell not uncertain. I’d want to move in with—”

“I’m sorry.” He interjects, his hand coming up to push a strand of your hair away from your eyes. “I was being stupid. I was already thinking about it too much. I shouldn’t have stormed out,” he says.

A smile slowly forms. “You can say that again.”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“I wasn’t being serious, idiot. It’s okay,” you utter with a shrug. “I didn’t mean to call you immature.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “Yes, you did.”

You laugh. “Guilty. Just—don’t do that again?”

“I won’t. I should’ve let you explain from the beginning, and I didn’t. That was entirely on me.”

“Maybe tomorrow we can plan everything out.”

His lips twitch. “Tomorrow. Yeah, sounds good.”

“Tomorrow,” you agree, your smile softening. And with that, the sleep that sweeps by is nothing short of pleasant. You could so get used to this.

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“I’d beg to differ. Come on! To the gas station. It’s not even that far.” You paused. “Also, it won’t take that long. Just a drink and a snack, I promise.”

The boy mumbles your name and sinks further into your bed. “You say that like we can just walk there. You know for a fact that your parents won’t let you drive at this hour, let alone walk. It’s late.”

Oh. Well, he was right! Your parents wouldn’t at all. A sigh leaves your lips. “I’m bored, Lamine.”

“What do you want to do that doesn’t have to do with leaving the comfort of your own home?”

“There’s nothing we can do. That’s… my point?”

Lamine’s eyes narrow at that, and he runs a hand down the front of his hair, not in the mood to do anything. How could he possibly get out of this?

“I’m not tired. Are you? ‘Cause It’s barely twelve.”

“Barely twelve, but I also had practice. I’m tired, and my legs hurt. Can we find something to do?”

You’re about to decline when he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. Suddenly, everything that you had planned on saying disappeared and the only words that could leave your mouth were nothing but sputters. “Well—I can—oh, my God.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “What? What’s wrong?”

He’s ‘confused’, yet he doesn’t stop his gaze from wandering, completely focused on you. You feel your cheeks flush, and you groan. “Fine! I’ll turn on some bad movie. You’re actually impossible.”

That’s when a boyish smirk graces his lips, and he places his hands behind his head, thankful he was able to persuade. Lucky for him, unlucky for you.

“You’re—evil,” you grumble. However, your expression is quick to soften when he holds out an arm, and once you slide under the covers, he rests it comfortably over your shoulders.

He hums. “We’ll go to the gas station tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a beaufiful plan! Oh, and Lamine?”

“Hm?”

Looking over at him, you narrow your eyes and speak. “Genuinely, don’t look at me like that ever again. You don’t understand, that’s sickening.”

Lamine feigns innocence. “What do you mean?”

Your lips part as you exclaim, “Evil! Just evil.”

He laughs at your comment before placing a kiss on your temple. His gaze flickers over to the television that now displays your picked movie. “The movie is starting—shh, be quiet. Come on.”

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And so here you were, standing outside his house with your hands fidgeting together. It’s been a horrible week, and all you need right now is him.

You don’t know how to do it, though. All your life, you’ve been told to just suck it up and that you can do it all by yourself—and they were right! You didn’t need anyone to do anything for you. Truly.

But now? Now, you’re not so sure.

Picking up the pieces came naturally to you. This feeling you’re feeling is temporary, right? You’re fine! Yeah, you’re totally fine. More than that even.

With that in mind, you let out a sigh and lift your fist, ready to knock when the door swings open.

Your eyes widen instantly; it’s almost comical.

Pedri offered a smile. “I knew you were here. Nilo was whining,” he tells you, holding out a hand, slowly grabbing your wrist, and pulling you inside.

“Sorry, I was just about to knock.” All he does is hum in response, placing a kiss on your temple and shutting the door. “So… how was practice?”

“Good-ish. It’s getting hotter.”

“Ish,” you echo with a laugh, nodding your head.

“How was work?”

Oh, sore subject unfortunately. “It was ish.” That was your way of joking through it, even with the swarming thoughts that kept clouding your mind.

Though he can tell something’s wrong. The way your smile wanes slightly when your laughter subsides. You’re like an open book to him, but he wouldn’t tell you that anytime soon. He tilts his head and utters your name. “Are you alright?”

Lifting your head, your eyebrows furrow. “Hm? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? Just wanted to see you.”

Of course. Pedri should’ve been expecting that.

“Just wanted to see me,” your boyfriend repeats, taking a step towards you. “You can talk to me.”

When you don’t reply, he continues, “Let me in?”

Let me in, his words make you avert your gaze. It wasn’t that easy, was it? You don’t even know what to do. Well, you didn’t think you did, at least.

Apparently, the only response you can muster is letting your eyes well up with unshed tears. Fuck.

This really wasn’t what you wanted to do.

The sight of your glossy eyes is enough for him to cup your face. “Hold on. Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Your brain is short-circuiting. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to me, cariño,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

Why would he say that.

That’s when you feel the tears start to trail down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them from falling. A small sob escapes your lips, and he immediately embraces you. One hand rests on your head, fingers running through your hair, while the other holds you close, chin resting on top of your head.

“People suck,” you finally manage to get out.

He already knows what that means—your job. You must’ve dealt with a ton of rude customers, complaints, and who knows what else. “…yeah?”

Yeah. You wrap your arms around him, nodding against him, not trusting your voice to sound completely steady. Tears still wetting his shirt.

After a couple more minutes, when Pedri notices your sniffles are becoming less frequent, he pulls back. His expression is so soft it almost makes you want to cry more, but you don’t. Yeah, don’t.

“Okay, take a shower, and when you come out, dinner will be ready, and we can watch whatever. Wind down. How does that sound?” He asked.

You nod. “Do I smell or something?”

“What? I never said that! It could be relaxing.”

“I’m messing with you,” a pause. “Thank you, Pedro. Really. Oh, and I’m sorry. For your shirt.”

The man looks down. “It’s okay. It’s just a shirt. Don’t worry about that. Plus, it’s proof you let me in,” he grins, doing his utmost to lift the mood.

Yeah, you guess it is.

Before you could, he raises his hands and wipes your eyes tenderly. The action makes you grasp his wrists, and you lean up to place a small, lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth, causing his smile to spread even wider. You feel better.

“I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Here. Both literally and figuratively. It’s enough to make your lips quirk up slightly. “You’ll be here,” you chirp, brushing past him. “I’ll be super quick.”

“That defeats the whole relaxing purpose.”

“What? I can’t hear you!” And with that, you hear his laugh and can’t help but smile—actually smile. You didn’t exactly ask for help, but you know that if you did—when you do, he’d be there for you.

And Pedri hopes that you realize just how deeply this moment will forever replay in his memories.

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