ā ties (baby if it hurts so bad, tell me why it hurts so bad)
warnings/tags: heavy angst, breakup, established relationship, drug use/abuse (pills & cannabis), alcohol use/abuse, crying, mental health, depression
synopsis: before going on tour, you and Hollis breakup and it causes you to cope in unhealthy ways.
a/n: hello everyone! Iām finally back, this fic is different than anything Iāve written before to just bare with me, also i tried something different and put quotes from the song ātiesā which this fic is based off of (if u havenāt listened pls listen itās so peak) in different scenes which i think fit the theme :) enjoy!
āthat summery autumnā
The week before tour felt like the last quiet breath before a storm.
Hollis spent the first two days glued to you, head in your lap on the couch, thumb tracing slow circles on your thigh, hair falling into his eyes because he refused to tie it back. Youād play with the ends of it, twisting the blonde strands between your fingers.
āStop,ā heād whisper with a small smile, eyes closed. āIām gonna fall asleep.ā
āThatās the point,ā you murmured back.
Heād laugh, soft and warm, and tilt his head so youād keep touching him. He clung to you that whole week without saying he was scared to leave. Without admitting he didnāt know how to be away from you for that long. Without talking about how the last tour was manageable until the nights got too quiet.
But it showed in the way he held you.
Everything was fine until he waited until 11pm to pack.
He kneeled on the floor throwing clothes into his suitcase with zero aim, clothes half-folded, shirts balled up like laundry he didnāt want to do.
āHollis,ā you laughed, sitting behind him. āThatās horrible. Let me help.ā
He didnāt turn around. āItās fine, babe.ā
āNo itās not,ā you said, reaching over to refold a shirt. āWhy are you rushingāā
āIām not rushing,ā he muttered.
āYou are. You always do this.ā
He exhaled sharply. āI said itās fine.ā
Something about his tone made you pause.
He wasnāt angry, just wound too tight.
āHollisā¦ā you whispered, hand brushing his back. āBaby. Iām not trying to piss you off.ā
He froze, then slowly leaned back so he was resting against your knees. He tipped his head up, eyes tired but soft.
āI know. I know,ā he said, voice gentler. āIām justāthereās a lot.ā
You kissed his forehead. He kissed your hand.
Everything felt normal again.
But the first crack had already formed.
Two days later, you were eating noodles together, sitting on the counter while he stood between your legs, stealing bites.
He had one hand resting on your thigh, thumb rubbing your skin like he didnāt realize he kept doing it.
He was rambling about the tour, venues, setlists, cities, until he dropped the sentence that changed the air:
āManagement saidā¦ probably no guests this time.ā
He kept eating bites like he didnāt notice the way your stomach dropped.
āItās just logistics,ā he said. āHotels, flightsāā
āYou donāt have to explain,ā you said quietly.
He finally looked at you. āYouāre upset.ā
You looked down at your noodles. āI just thoughtā¦ I donāt know. That youād want me there.ā
āIĀ doĀ want you there,ā he said, too defensive, too fast.
āThen why does it sound like it doesnāt matter?ā
He set the food down and sighed, tugging at his hair.
āBecause I canāt do anything about it. And every time something sucks, you think itās because of me.ā
He exhaled deeply, shoulders slumping. āI didnāt mean it like that.ā
But the hurt was already sitting between you.
It took a few minutes before he stepped closer, touching your cheek with the hand that was holding your thigh a moment before.
āIām sorry,ā he whispered. āI want you with me. Every damn second.ā
But the second crack lingered.
āwhatās wrong? I see it in your eyes.ā
It was the night before the flight.
The room was dim, the air too quiet. You watched him zip up his suitcase, muscles tense, jaw tight. You could feel the distance forming even though he was three feet away.
āDid you pack the necklace I gave you?ā you asked.
āDo you want me to grab it?ā
āNo,ā he muttered. āIāll get it.ā
āYou forgot it,ā you said, almost teasing. āJust let meāā
He zipped the suitcase shutĀ hard.
āWhy,ā he said softly, āare you making everything a big deal lately?ā
The words stung instantly.
āIām not,ā you whispered.
āYou are,ā he said, rubbing his eyes. āEvery little thing turns intoā¦ something.ā
āI just want you to think of me while youāre goneāā
āI already think of you,ā he snapped, voice strained. āI think of you constantly. You act like I donāt care.ā
His tone wasnāt mean, it was scared.
But it didnāt change the ache.
You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your hands.
He sat down too, not touching you.
āWeāre both stressed,ā he said quietly. āItās fine. Weāre fine.ā
But neither of you truly believed it.
The third crack wasnāt loud. but it was deep.
āIām cutting out my lights.ā
You can feel it the second he walks into the room.
Justā¦ tight. Like heās holding something back so hard itās physically hurting him.
Hollis drops his bag by the door and doesnāt meet your eyes.
āDid you eat?ā he asks, but the tone is flat. Automatic.
Like heās asking because he should, not because heās actually here with you.
āYou said you wanted to do this right,ā you say quietly.
He closes his eyes, inhaling like heās bracing for a hit.
āBabyā¦ Iām trying.ā
ātell me could you even try?ā
You step closer, voice trembling. āYouāre shutting me out. Every day itās something else. Youāre cold, youāre quiet, you donāt talk to me unless I ask firstāā
āIām stressed,ā he snaps, then softens instantly. āIām sorry. Iām sorryā¦ Iām justātour is coming up, management is on my ass, the guys are calling me nonstop, everything feels like itās falling apart.ā
āSo youāre taking it out on me.ā
Thatās the first sign something is really wrong.
āJust tell me whatās going on.ā
āIt feels like everything I do is hurting you.ā
You shake your head. āThatās not true.ā
āIt is.ā His voice is soft, almost pleading. āEvery time we argue, I go to bed feeling like shit. I wake up feeling like shit. I donāt want us to resent each other.ā
āSo you want to break up.ā
The way his eyes widen, like you ripped something out of him, is the answer.
āweāre cutting off our tiesā
āI think we shouldā¦ for now.ā
He takes a shaky breath. āIām sorry. Iām so fucking sorry.ā
āSo youāre doing this because youāre overwhelmed?ā
āYes,ā he admits instantly.
āBut I know that doesnāt make it hurt any less.ā
Tears burn behind your eyes.
You look down because if you look at him too long, youāll scream.
He steps forward like he wants to hold you, then stops himself.
That tiny hesitation breaks both of you.
You could hear him crying faintly on the couch when he went to sleep that night.Ā
āgive me a chance to come outside and say hi or bye.ā
The next morning is silent.
He moves around the house quietly, touching things that remind him of you.
He hesitates every time his fingers skim something of yours.
At the door, suitcase in hand, he pauses.
āYou donāt have to come,ā he mumbles.
You grab your sweatshirt and follow him out.
The drive to the airport is quiet except for him occasionally whispering,
like he canāt stop apologizing even when he said this is what he wanted.
When you pull up to the departure lane, he unbuckles slowly, avoiding your eyes.
You both get out of the car anyway.
āYou donāt have to walk with me inside,ā you say, voice flat.
āI want to,ā he says quietly.
Because you canāt handle it.
He watches your hands wrap around your own body like he wishes they were his arms instead.
He hesitates, shifting on his feet.
āPlease donāt be mad,ā he whispers.
āIām not mad,ā you lie, voice barely steady.
āBecause of the tour?ā he asks.
āYouāre leaving with your whole friend group,ā you say, voice trembling. āEveryone gets to go. Except me.ā
āThatās not whyāā
āHollis, if you didnāt want me thereā¦ you couldāve just said that.ā
āI did want you,ā he says, voice cracking. āI justāthere were rules, and schedules, and management stuff, and everything was blowing up at once, and I didnāt know how to balance anything. I handled it wrong. I know I did.ā
You look away so he doesnāt see your eyes glassing over.
āI just feel like Iām not part of your life anymore,ā you whisper.
āYou are,ā he says desperately.
āYou are ā thatās the problem. You matter too much and Iām scared Iām gonna mess everything up while Iām gone.ā
You donāt know what to say to that.
āPlease believe me,ā he pleads.
He takes one tiny step closer.
āCan Iā¦?ā he gestures like he wants one last hug.
āyou gave me a glance and looked away.ā
And that hesitation hurts him worse than any breakup could.
He pulls you into him anyway ā gently, like heās afraid youāll break.
He buries his face in your shoulder.
His hands tremble on your back.
You donāt hug him back, youāre too numb and broken.
āIām gonna miss you,ā he whispers, voice completely breaking. āSo much, every second.ā
You squeeze your eyes shut.
He pulls away too fast, like heās afraid he wonāt be able to leave if he holds you any longer.
Thatās the coldest thing youāve ever said to him.
He picks up his suitcase with shaking hands.
He bites his lip so hard it goes white.
āBye,ā he whispers, like the word is hurting him.
He turns and walks toward the sliding airport doors.
You watch his shoulders rise like heās about to turn around.
The second heās out of sight, your whole body sinks.
The airport doors swallow him.
Your last glimpse of him is his hoodie hood slipping over his head like heās hiding himself from the world.
āYou didnāt even want this.ā
And thatās the part that hurts more than anything.
You drive home with your hands shaking.
Your chest feels hollowālike someone scooped out something important and forgot to put it back.
His messages from last night stare at you.
But underneath all that coldnessā¦
you can still feel the part of him that didnāt want to let go.
You curl up in bed, pull the blanket to your chin, and finally let yourself cry.
You cry so hard your ribs hurt.
You cry until you fall asleep.
You cry until the room feels empty in a way it never has before.
you know heās hurting too.
You feel it like a bruise under your ribs.
And somewhere in that airport terminal, hood pulled low, eyes wet,
Hollis is probably thinking:
I shouldnāt have let her walk away like that.
Hollis sinks into his seat and pulls his hood over his head immediately.
Itās not even for comfort.
Itās to hide the fact that his eyes are still red.
The guys are settling in around him, laughing, shoving carry-ons into the overhead bins, talking about setlists and cities, normal stuff.
But everything sounds muffled.
All he can see in his head is you standing outside the airport, arms wrapped around yourself, voice cold even though your eyes looked shatteredā
He grips the hem of his hoodie hard, knuckles white.
He didnāt miss the way your voice cracked.
He didnāt miss the way you didnāt watch him walk inside.
He knows you turned around as soon as he did.
He feels it like a bruise on his ribs.
He swallows hard, trying to breathe normally.
Nate drops into the seat next to him with a loud sigh.
Hollisās stomach drops.
He clears his throat. āYeah. Yeah, Iām fine.ā
His voice is too soft. Too hoarse.
Ryan leans over the seat in front of him.
āWhereās your girl? y/n?ā he asks. āSheās not coming to the airport or what?ā
The question slices through him clean.
He stares at his hands. āWe, uhā¦ weāre not together right now.ā
Complete, shocked silence.
āHold onāwait, what happened?ā
Too many voices, too loud.
He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep it from trembling.
āI donāt wanna talk about it,ā he mutters.
But that doesnāt stop them.
Jonah sits back and studies him.
āYou look like shit. Did you sleep?ā
Ryan glances over from the row behind him.
Roman nudges his shoulder gently.
Hollis doesnāt answer for a long time.
The flight attendants walk by.
Someone in the back is laughing.
A baby is crying somewhere.
And all he can think about is how your voice shook when you said goodbye.
Hollis shuts his eyes, letting his head fall back against the seat.
āI was stressed,ā he mumbles. āEverything wasā¦ too much. Management, rehearsals, shit at home. I kept shutting her out. She called me out on it. And I justāā
A tear slips down before he can stop it.
āI pushed her away,ā he whispers. āI didnāt mean to. I wasnāt trying to break up. I swear I wasnāt. It justā¦ happened.ā
Roman looks at him softly.
āDo you want her back?ā
āYeah,ā he breathes out. āMore than anything.ā
He turns toward the window so none of them see.
A shaky exhale leaves him.
He pulls his hood lower, trying to hide the way his face is crumpling.
Heās barely holding it together.
Outside, the plane begins taxiing.
The engines rumble beneath him.
And all he can think about is you, your voice, your face, your silence, the look in your eyes when he said it was āfor now.ā
The seatbelt sign dings on.
And thatās when the truth finally hits him:
He didnāt just leave you behind.
He left a part of himself with you.
And for the first time since he walked away,
Hollis lets his head fall into his hands and whispers to himselfā
āI shouldnāt have let her go.ā
You wake up to sunlight cutting across your bedroom like itās laughing at you.
The room smells like smoke and something sharp from the night before.
Your head pounds, and your stomach twists like itās doing somersaults.
The little bit of alcohol you took to push yourself past everything.
You didnāt cry yourself to sleep like last night.
But it didnāt fix the ache either.
Your phone buzzes on the nightstand.
You stare at it for a long moment.
The light is bright, almost accusing.
Then a string of messages.
Itās from all of them: Nate, Roman, Ryan, Jonah.
You know you shouldnāt open them.
You know itās going to hurt.
āYo u there y/n? Havenāt heard from you.ā
āHey. Hollis, heās a mess. Just checking in on you too.ā
āStop ignoring us. Stop ignoring him.ā
But the text has been deleted.
You tap it anyway; nothing. Just a blank bubble, gray and empty.
Somewhere in your chest, a sharp pang cuts through the haze of last nightās self-medication.
HeĀ wrote something. He thought about you.
And you canāt help but imagine:
Did he want to apologize?
Did he want to say he loved you?
Did he want to beg you not to hate him?
You press your thumb against your lips, heart hammering.
Tears sting your eyes despite the haze of alcohol and pills.
You drop the phone back onto the bed.
You curl up under the sheets.
And the emptiness hits harder than the hangover ever could.
Because itās not just the break-up.
Itās theĀ deleted wordsĀ that haunt you worse than the ones you actually saw.
And somewhere, deep down, you know:
Hollis is hurting just as much as you are.
But that doesnāt make the pain any easier to swallow.
The second night, repeat.
By the third night, your body aches with exhaustion, hangover, withdrawal.
The bed has swallowed you whole.
Havenāt showered properly.
Havenāt eaten more than a bag of chips or whatever junk you can reach.
Your phone lies face-down on the nightstand.
Every buzz, every ping, ignored.
Hollis has called. Repeatedly.
Even his friends have tried reaching you.
You scroll through social media out of habit, more like a reflex than curiosity.
Hollis. Smiling. On stage. Living. Performing. Laughing with his friends.
The videos hit you like fire and ice.
Why does it feel like heās already moved on?
Like youāre stuck here rotting in your bed while the world watches him live his life?
You throw your phone across the room.
It clatters against the dresser.
Screen lights up again with another text from Hollis.
Hollis:Ā Please. Pick up. I need to hear your voice.
Hollis:Ā I know youāre mad. I know I fucked up. Justā¦ answer me.
You ignore it. All of it. Every call, every text, every voicemail.
But curiosity kills a little piece of you each time.
The voicemail light blinks again.
You reluctantly swipe open the first one:
Hollisā voice, cracking, sounds like heās on the verge of tears in a voicemail
Ā Ā āHeyā¦ I justā¦ I miss you. I know I hurt you. Iām sorry. Pleaseā¦ Iām begging you. Call me. Just call me once. I need to know youāre okay.ā
āI donāt even know how to say itā¦ I fucked up. I was stupid. I shouldāveā¦ I shouldnāt have left like that. Iām an idiot. Iāplease, pleaseā¦ just answer me. I hate this.ā
You mutter under your breath, bitter:
Fuck it. Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck everything.
āI canātā¦ I canāt do this without you. I donāt know how to breathe right now. Please, please, just one word. Anything. I need you to answer me.āThe first night, you take pills to sleep. Smoke in between, little sips of whiskey.
Hollis on stage, lights flashing, crowd screaming his name.
Laughing with the guys. Hands in the air.
Someone filming him from the side, close enough to see his grin.
All boiling together until your stomach twists into a knot so tight it hurts to breathe.
You stare at the videos again.
Why him? Why them? Why everything?
Finally, after hours of pacing, crying, and swearing at the screen, in the mirror, you make a decision.
Fast, reckless, fueled by everything youāve swallowed, smoked, and poured into yourself.
āshots poppin, everybodyās watchin, pointing them cameras at you.ā
By the time you hit the party, youāre a mess.
Your body feels like itās vibrating too fast, too slow, and you donāt care.
A little something to drink.
Smoking more than you should.
Your thoughts are tangles.
YouāreĀ insanely fucked upĀ completely high, gone.
You laugh at something someone says but the sound doesnāt even feel like you.
You move across the room.
You do this for weeks. But thenā¦ suddenly;Ā
Not in person. Not in the crowd.
Heās scrolling while standing backstage with Hollis and the guys, on tour.
The camera pans past the living room chaos of the party and there you are, blurry in the background.
Hair messy, eyes red, fumbling, swaying.
āHoly shitā¦ā Ryan mutters under his breath.
He taps Hollisās shoulder.
Hollis, already stressed and exhausted from the show, grabs the phone.
High. Messed up. Completely out of your mind.
The sound of the music from the story somehow fills his chest like itās crushing him.
Every laugh. Every stumble.
Every frantic movement is burned into his mind. Hollisā hands wonāt stop shaking.
He stares at the phone Ryan just shoved into his hand.
The screen is still playing the video of you at that party, hair wild, eyes red, swaying, laughing.
āDudeā¦ sheāsā¦ sheāsā¦ā Ryanās voice trails off.
He canāt even look at the rest of the guys, all leaning over his shoulder, eyes wide, realizing the gravity of the moment.
WeeksĀ heās been trying to call, text, check in, make sure youāre okay.
And youā¦ you havenāt responded.
He scrolls through his own messages, hundreds of unsent, unanswered texts, missed calls.
His chest twists, a sharp, burning knot.
āYouāve beenā¦ trying to reach her this whole time?ā Rom asks quietly.
Because heās thinking about that one video.
That tiny, blurry, fucked-up version of you in the background, moving through the chaos of a party like a storm he canāt touch.
His hands tremble as he presses his thumb to the screen, trying to pause it, trying to make it stop.
āIā¦ I justā¦ I donātā¦ā he mutters.
Nate puts a hand on his shoulder.
āYouāve gotta calm down bro. Sheās alive. Thatās the important part.ā
Hollis doesnāt hear him.
He doesnāt hear anyone.
He just stares at the video over and over, each frame like a punch to the chest.
Later, in the hotel room, alone.
The city hums outside, distant and indifferent.
Phone on the desk, screen lit with unanswered messages.
Heās been trying for weeks.
And nowā¦ just now, a call comes through.
Your name flashes on the screen.
āY/N?ā His voice cracks instantly.
āHolli? Mm is that youuā¦? Iā¦ Iā¦ I miss youā¦ā Your voice is broken, raw, crying, messy.
āOhā¦ babyā¦ā He swallows hard. āHeyā¦ hey, itās okay. Iām here. Iām here.ā
āIā¦ I canātā¦ Iāve beenā¦ā Your words slur. Your breathing is uneven. āIāve beenā¦ Iāve been soā¦ andā¦ and I canātāā
āWhoa, whoa, wait, wait, are you high right now? how high are you?ā His voice is frantic but gentle.
āFuckedā¦ out of my mindā¦ā You sniffle, hiccuping mid-sentence. āI justā¦ I miss youā¦ I miss you so muchā¦ā
Hollis swallows the lump in his throat.
He moves to the window, staring out at the city lights that look like every other city heās been too, fuck nothing could compare to you. āYouā¦ you scared me, baby. Iāve been trying to reach youā¦ every single day. Every day Iāve been calling, texting, trying to make sure youāre okayā¦ā
āIā¦ Iā¦ I couldnātā¦ I couldnātā¦ā
He closes his eyes, heart hammering.
His hands shake on the window sill.
āYouāre alive, thatās all I care about right now. Justā¦ just breathe for me. Pleaseā¦ please breathe.ā
āIā¦ Iā¦ I need youā¦ Hollisā¦ I canātā¦ā
He pulls the phone closer, voice barely above a whisper.
āI knowā¦ I know, baby. Iām right here. Iāll stay on the line. I wonāt hang up. Justā¦ just tell me everything. Iāve got you. Always.ā
Your sobs echo into the receiver.
And he lets himself tremble, finally, letting the weight of weeks of worry, fear, and helplessness crash over him.
Because he knows right now, in this exact moment, all that matters is that youāre alive.
And heāll do whatever it takes to make sure you stay that way.
The rest of the tour is a blur.
Every city. Every stage. Every crowd.
Heās there. Performing. Smiling. Laughing with the guys. But his mind isĀ never off you.
Every night he checks his phone.
Every night, he texts you:Ā āAre you okay?ā
āPlease, just answer me.ā
And every night, he gets nothing.
Nothing except thatĀ one phone callĀ from that night, the night you were completely fucked out of your mind, crying, slurring, barely coherent.
That call is now the only thread connecting you two, and itāsĀ tearing him apart.
Heās watching you unravel from hundreds of miles away, powerless.
The last city. The final show. The applause fades.
And all he can think about isĀ getting back to you.
The second the plane lands in LA, he doesnāt go to his house.
Doesnāt go back to the guysā place.
Doesnāt even think about unpacking.
He grabs a uber. Hands trembling. Heart hammering.
Heās rehearsed it a million times in his head. What heāll say. How heāll see you. How heāll fix it.
āForget the models and bottles
I need your love in full throttleā
But he knows thereās no rehearsal for this.
He arrives at your street.
The city lights blur around him.
His chest is tight. His stomach a knot.
And there it is. Your building.
He climbs the stairs two at a time, ignoring the weight of his suitcase.
He stands in front of your door.
His hand hovers over the wood.
Hollisā fist hovers over the door.
Heās breathing hard. Heart racing. Eyes glassy.
āy/nā¦ā he whispers, voice cracking before he even knocks.
āIām backā¦ pleaseā¦ Iām here.ā
Everything heās been holding in, all the weeks of worry, fear, heartbreak, and love, it all hits him at once.
And for the first time in weeks, heās finallyĀ face-to-face with you.
You swing the door openā¦ stare him down for a second in shock, and then slam it shut.
Hard. So hard it rattles the frame.
Hollis staggers back a step, ears ringing.
His hands clutch the wood like heās holding himself together.
Then harder, panic rising with every second you donāt answer.
āy/nāwait, waitāPLEASE!ā
You stand on the other side of the door, chest heaving, palms shaking, anger and heartbreak tangled so tightly you can barely breathe.
āWhy should I let you in?!ā you shout through the door.
āYou fucking left me! You broke up with me! You walked out right before you left for tour and acted like it was nothing!ā
Hollis presses both hands to the doorframe, shaking.
āI KNOW! I KNOW I DID! I was stressed, I was losing it, I was scaredāā
āAnd then you were acting weird and cold and distant for DAYS before you even left!ā you throw back. āDonāt act like you didnāt push me away first!ā
āI didnāt WANT to!ā Hollis chokes out.
āI thought I was protecting you. I thought I was protecting US. It was stupid. It wasāfuckāY/N, I was wrong.ā
Thatās the first time heās said it out loud.
āAnd then,ā you continue, voice trembling with fury, āyou go on tour with all your friends, you look like youāre having the time of your life, and Iām here feeling like I donāt exist!ā
āI wasnāt having the time of my life,ā Hollis snaps back, but not angrily, desperately.
āI called every day. I texted every day. I was freaking out thinking you hated me. I saw ONE video of you high out of your mind and I thought I was losing you. I thought I already did.ā
You whisper, āI wasnāt ignoring you on purposeā¦ I justā¦ I couldnāt answer. I was too out of it. Too sad. Too everything.ā
The tension in the air shifts.
You open the door a crack.
Heās standing there, eyes red, tear streaks across his cheeks, breathing like he ran the whole way here.
And suddenly, the anger drops out from under both of you.
But because you both suddenlyĀ seeĀ it, how stupid the whole thing was.
How easily it all couldāve been prevented.
How much pain came from things that werenāt even truly about each otherā¦ just fear and stress and miscommunication.
āpush me right to the edge.ā
And then your eyes fill with tears so fast you canāt hold them back.
A sob falls out of your mouth without warning.
He steps forward and pulls you into him so tight it knocks the air out of you.
One hand behind your head.
One arm around your waist.
Like heās been waiting weeks to touch you.
Like heās terrified youāll disappear if he doesnāt hold on.
ācan we make it right?ā
āIām here,ā he whispers into your hair, voice trembling.
āIām so fucking sorry. Iām here now. I swear Iām not leaving again. Iām here.ā
You bury your face in his chest, gripping his hoodie with shaking hands.
āI thought you didnāt want me anymore,ā you cry.
āI thought you didnāt care.ā
āI care so much it was killing me,ā he murmurs.
āI never stopped. I never will.ā
You cling to each other like youāre both trying to make up for every second you lost.
For a moment, thereās no anger.
Holding onto each other like itās the only thing keeping both of you breathing.
I Hereās the next scene, soft, emotional, a little messy, but full of that deep, aching love where he just wants to take care of you.
Your hands are still gripping his hoodie when your knees suddenly go weak.
You donāt even mean to.
Your body justā¦ gives out.
A sob rips out of your chest, loud and broken, and you fold into him completely.
āHeyāhey, baby,ā Hollis whispers, catching you before you can fully collapse.
His arms slide under you, holding you upright.
āCome here. Come hereā¦ I got you.ā
Itās like every emotion you shoved down for weeks is clawing its way out all at once,
āIām s-soā Iām justā I canātāā you hiccup against his chest, voice shaking violently.
āI know,ā he murmurs, kissing the top of your head.
His voice is soft, steady, the gentlest youāve ever heard him.
āI know, baby. Itās okay. Itās okay to cry. Let it out. Iām right here.ā
He slowly nudges the door open with his shoulder and guides you backward into the apartment, still holding onto you like he refuses to let you fall again.
āLetās lay down,ā he whispers.
āYour eyes are all swollenā¦ cāmon, sweetheart.ā
You let him guide you to your bed, your legs barely working.
He sits you down first, then kneels in front of you, his hands warm on your thighs.
Your face is covered in tears.
You keep gasping, trying to breathe, but every time you look at him, your chest cracks open again.
āIt hurts,ā you cry, voice breaking. āEverything hurt so bad. I didnāt know what to do, Hollis.ā
His face twists like your pain is physically killing him.
ābaby if it hurts so bad, tell me why it hurts so bad.ā
He comes up beside you and wipes your cheeks with both thumbs, slow and gentle.
āIām so sorry. Iām so, so sorry baby Iām sorry.ā
You shake your head, more tears falling.
āI didnāt want to be alone,ā you whisper. āI wanted you.ā
He swallows hard and leans in, resting his forehead against yours.
āYou have me,ā he whispers.
āYou always had me. I was just too stupid and scared to show it right.ā
Your breath hitches again and another wave of tears spills out. He pulls you into his chest, tucking you under his chin, his hands rubbing slow circles on your back.
āShhhā¦ shhhā¦ I got you,ā he whispers.
āYouāre okay. Iām right here. Iām not going anywhere.ā
Your sobs start to slow into little gasps, your body exhausted from crying so hard.
Hollis gently shifts back onto the bed, taking you with him, holding you like youāre something fragile heās terrified to lose again.
āTry to sleep, babyā¦ā
His hand strokes the back of your head, slow and rhythmic.
āIāll be here when you wake up. Iām right here.ā
Your breathing starts to even out as your eyes flutter weakly.
āYouāre notā¦ leaving? Right?ā you mumble, barely awake.
He cups your face, brushing your stray tears with his thumb.
āNever again,ā he whispers.
āIām staying right here, with you. Sleep, angel.ā
And with your face tucked into his chest, breathing in the scent youāve missed for weeks, your body finally relaxes.
You fall asleep on top of him, cheek pressed to his heartbeat, his fingers softly tracing your backā¦
And Hollis keeps whispering into your hair, even long after youāre out:
āI love you. Iām sorry. Iām not losing you again.ā
Your eyes are puffy, your head heavy, your body sore from cryingā¦
but the first thing you feel isĀ warmth.
A chest rising gently beneath your cheek.
Fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.
Breath moving through your hair.
You blink, lifting your head just a little.
watching you with the softest expression youāve seen on him in months.
His eyes are tired, red around the edges, but thereās something tender in themā¦ something like relief.
āMorning, angel,ā he whispers, voice rough like he barely slept.
His hand slides up to your jaw, thumb brushing softly.
He sits up a bit, one hand supporting your back so you rise with him instead of away from him.
Heās being so gentle. Painfully gentle.
āYou scared me,ā he says quietly.
You look down, and he immediately tilts your chin up with his fingers.
āHey,ā he whispers, ālook at me.ā
His eyes soften even more.
He takes your hand slowly, like heās afraid youāll pull away.
He brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it.
Then again, right in the center, lingering like heās trying to memorize it, like he did at the beginning.
āI missed you so much,ā he murmurs against your skin.
You breathe out shakily, and he holds your hand with both of his like heās scared you might disappear.
He lifts your other hand and kisses that one too. Then your wrist.
Then the inside of your wrist.
Then the soft skin near your thumb.
Every kiss is slow, careful.
You whisper, āHollisā¦ā
He meets your eyes, really meets them, and your breath catches in your chest.
āIāll never forgive myself for hurting you,ā he says.
His thumb strokes the back of your hand.
āI was stressed and scared and I pushed you away, and thatās not an excuse. I know that.ā
You feel tears threaten again, but softer this time, not chaotic like before.
āI justā¦ I didnāt understand,ā you whisper.
āYou left acting like we werenāt even together anymore.ā
He flinches, guilt washing over him.
āI know,ā he says quietly.
āI fucked up. And I kept fucking up. And then when you stopped answering, I thought Iād lost you for realā¦ and it killed me.ā
You shift a little, sitting closer without meaning to.
His eyes flick down for a secondā¦ to your shoulderā¦ to your lipsā¦ then back up.
His hand comes up slowly, brushing your hair from your shoulder.
āCan Iā¦?ā he asks softly.
He leans in and presses a kiss to your shoulder.
Your skin tingles under his lips.
āHollisā¦ā your voice comes out breathy without your permission.
He freezes for a second at the way you say his name.
Then he lifts his head, cheeks flushed, eyes darkened with something warm and heavy.
āI forgot how good it feels,ā he whispers, āto be close to youā¦ to touch you like this.ā
His hand slides up your arm slowly, fingers brushing your skin like heās relearning it.
He leans in closer, forehead brushing yours.
āI missed you,ā he says again, but this time itās almost a confession.
His breath hits your lips.
āAnd I donāt ever want to push you away like that again. I want to fix this. I want you.ā
Your heart stutters hard.
You whisper, āThen stay.ā
He lets out a shaky breath, like that one word just broke him open.
āIām not going anywhere,ā he murmurs.
His hand cups your cheek, and he kisses your palm again.
One day it will be the same.
