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Pairing: Lottie Matthews x journalist f!reader
Word count: 5.3K
Warnings: 18+ MDNI there is a smut scene at the end. Not proofread! There is no physical description of reader other than reader being afab. My attempt at building up tension (a failure probably).
A/N: I stayed up till 6:30AM to finish this... So it's probably terrible and won't make sense! But we need more Lottie fics and I'm sorry I haven't written for my wife in a while, there will be more I promise! I'd love to know your thoughts and comments, asks, reblogs are appreciated! I hope you enjoy this 🫶
Dividers by: @thecutestgrotto
You’d spent your career on different kinds of investigative pieces, the human psyche, how fucked up society was and piecing everything together to make sense of it all to hopefully bring light or to make it easier to sleep at night for those needing comfort. It gave you a never ending list of pitches and tasks, you usually avoided the more true crime aspects you weren’t drawn to it but this was different.
There was something interesting about the idea of meeting a cult leader, especially one by the name of Lottie Matthews. The more details you found out, the more layers it became and you could see why you’d been assigned this piece. Your editor thought you had a keen eye and empathy in your writing, something that was clearly needed with all the nuances in this ‘intentional community’.
And that’s how you found yourself here, you’d been escorted by eerily polite and pleasant figures in heliotrope frocks to meet the mysterious but charming brunette woman that now stood in front of you in her warm office.
“And what is this piece on, exactly?” She asks, gesturing her tan hands in what is meant to both be welcoming but also showing how she commands the space and everything here.
But the woman standing in front of you with the most beautiful brown eyes you’ve ever seen already knows the answer. And you know she knows it but you humour it even though you both know it’s a play. An email had been sent two weeks ago that detailed what the piece was, about intentional communities and what they were ‘serving’ the followers. It had the edited key points to seem… less abrasive or judgemental, a few sentences of your promising credentials and current employer with a few links.
It’s an email that was read and replied to surprisingly promptly. A call was scheduled not long after and you spoke to a woman, someone senior at the cult. But you couldn’t call it a cult while talking to her or when arriving here, at least not yet. The woman you spoke to had a soft voice but it wasn’t Lottie. Miranda was the name you’d been given but you’d been promised a meeting with Lottie, apparently she had read some of your work and was delighted to connect.
“It’s about intentional communities,” good job you think to yourself for remembering to say that and not cult when being so distracted by the shine in her doe eyes. “Their origin, the appeal of them and what they serve the ‘community’ and well the individuals, your communal wellbeing focus and open door policy is quite… interesting.” You respond as you take in her small smile and the knowing look in your eyes, she’s pleased and you can’t help but feel good about yourself for earning that from her so early on.
Lottie slowly blinks, her dark lashes fan across her face, your eyes land on her high cheekbones and you can’t help but be more intrigued by her, the way she holds herself and the gravitas surrounding her. She’s barely said anything to you yet but her charm is undeniable. She looks you up and down and smiles again, her lips even quirk up higher than the last time.
“Did you read the email I sent?”
She looks down thoughtfully and then nods. “Yes, I did… You’re quite eloquent with your words. I just wanted to see- hear you say it yourself.”
You give a nod as you watch her, it’s clear that she’s someone who also chooses her words with great care. It makes sense, it would be a key part of what makes someone successful in this line of work and it is making you more curious about her and the plot of land you’re now on. “Well, thank you.”
“I did read some of your work.” She waves her hand emphatically on the last word, her soft wispy bangs shift across her forehead with the movement. “The air pollution piece was very… thoughtful.”
“Thanks.” You adjust the hem of your sleeve as you watch her, there’s this air about her that feels wistful.
Lottie nods and then her eyes widen as if she’s just remembered herself and a warmer smile, one that feels more real and less like her job description makes an appearance. “I’m sorry, I forgot myself- I didn’t, I didn’t offer you anything to drink or eat before you came in.” She smiles warmly and then the more smug smile comes back, the one you expected when arriving. “Would you?”
“That’s kind, I’m fine for now thank you.” You know it’s rude to say no and while you find her alluring it’s too early in the morning to wonder if this is the cult visit that will kill you. You’d like to at least get through some more questions first.
“Hm.” Is quietly hummed from Lottie’s mouth, she looks at you and gives a slight nod as if she was able to read your mind. “Let’s go for a walk, a tour of the centre and then we’ll have something after, I’d be a terrible host if you left with a dry mouth and empty stomach, come.”
You watch the lanky but elegant woman gracefully lead the way out.
“Do I have your consent to start recording now?” You ask as you wave your device.
“Yes, of course. You’re an exception.” Lottie looks at the device you're holding and then into your eyes and smiles. “We normally ask guests to turn their phones and devices in upon arrival, they do more harm than good.”
“I’m truly flattered.” You give her a friendly smile and raise your eyebrows, waiting to see how she’ll react and what the vibe of this interview would be. Lottie smiles at you and there’s a charming glint in her eyes. “Could you enlighten me on your technology and other community policies, please?” You ask her and she nods, telling you about it all as you walk back out onto the compound.
The greenery on the compound is endless. You’ve quickly seen a pattern of how these groups function in secluded, open spaces like this, but they don’t all utilise the space in such a green way. The last cult you’d visited for this piece was on another plot of land in the middle of nowhere with shitty service but it was concrete, dry, the buildings felt too clinical and cold to be advertising itself as a community. But it gave you plenty to expand on in your article.
There’s a soft border of trees, whispering in the wind more than you’ll ever know, there’s the bees which Lottie softly and happily speaks of and the ethics the community has. She walks through the hive like the true queen bee. You walk alongside her, measuring your steps and committing every detail to a memory you’ll never forget. A muscle memory note as Lottie talks and her beautiful face carefully shifts through different expressions like a chameleon.
You learn about the honey and how that’s sold at the local markets every week, there’s a vibe to it that makes perfect sense. The woman walking alongside you and carefully narrating, curating the image of her and her home would be so at home walking through a weekend farmer’s market with some ridiculously named and expensive health shot or smoothie.
It’s not long before the question comes out about the purple clothing, it wasn’t a scripted one. It wasn’t even something that you’d seen much of online during your prep other than one reddit thread that was hidden more than you’d expected and the locals knew of them, had all sighed and rolled their eyes about the purple people. Lottie immediately corrects you that it’s heliotrope, something that you know will definitely be making it into the article. It’s justified with all the clothes being dyed on the compound and creating a sense of equality and no judgement at the economic and material differences between those who come here.
As she says this you take it in, it’s all worth including in your article but your eyes can’t help but go to her body clothed in vibrant, warm colours, it’s a gorgeous outfit that adds to her beauty but there’s not a single stitch of purple or heliotrope thread or fabric on it. You smile at this and have to bite your tongue so you don’t chuckle at this observation. Lottie’s doe eyes fall to your lips for a moment and she blinks then turns her head forward and keeps walking. You’re certain she knows.
The two of you keep walking, often pausing for Lottie’s narration and the interruptions of purple clothed people in awe of Lottie, needing an acknowledgement or some quick guidance. Her perfume scent follows the conversations and you follow it to keep close to the maze she makes of the guided tour. It hits your nose as spring on her skin, with notes of florals and dewy petals and blades of grass on a spring morning. But there’s a woody warmth seeping through that makes you wonder if Lottie has become so in touch with nature and living off of the land that this is now her natural scent, not some carefully curated artificial sprays of perfume. It’s a scent you could find yourself following anywhere, the kind that lingers on sheets even after a long, passionate night. The kind of scent you get lost in with no desire to ever come up for air and be found.
***************************************
The more than thorough guided tour of the gardens and different facilities is over, you’d been on your feet for awhile which was a nice break after the drive to the compound.
“The air… It’s great out here.” You said as you looked up at the clear blue sky above. The air was fresh, you’d noticed the difference from the city air only moments after arriving.
“Yes, it really is. It’s refreshing, isn’t it?” Lottie said with a nod as she also looked above at the calming, sweet blue, even at night the sky was still so beautifully clear. “Energy sources and sustainability really do make a difference. We have to look after her and him.”
“Her and him?” You looked at Lottie now, not the sky.
“Yes, in English you’d call it sky father and mother Earth.” Lottie says with a smile, her expression shifts more playfully. “But you’re here for intentional communities, not indigenous mythology and environmentalism, after all.”
“That would be a pretty interesting article too.” You respond with a smile as you watch her, she lets out a small chuckle and shakes her head slightly but you still catch it and it makes your cheeks heat up. You force yourself to look away from the beautiful woman and to look around at the scene around you that’s meant to be a watercolour in some old man’s cabin.
“Let’s go back to my office. Do you drink tea? Don’t tell me you’re one of those coffee drinkers…” Lottie says with a smile that’s playful but there’s a look that tells you she takes her tea seriously.
“Yeah, tea’s great, thanks.” You say as you walk with her to her office, knowing the place like the back of her hand she walks quickly with a path that cuts across the compound.
Lottie takes her shoes off before entering her office and you do the same before stepping into her spacious but cosy office. She outstretches her arms in a welcoming gesture to encourage you to take a seat and make yourself at home as she gets a kettle ready. You place your bag down on the floor next to a pale rusty sofa and put the mic down near you, knowing it’ll still capture her words. Every single charming and mysterious one.
“How do you take your tea?” Lottie asks as she grabs mugs and then spoons dried leaves into infusers. You know that she probably handles her tea in a particular way, you think the green leaves you see are clear of wolfsbane but you’re not sure if Lottie’s that kind of joke person.
“However you’re having yours is fine.”
“Really?” She turns her head to look at you over her shoulder, her hair cascades like inky ripples of an unexplored part of the sea around her face and you’re in awe. She could be a painting, one that would pull you and other haunted sapphics to an exhibition just to see her.
“Yeah, unless you’re mixing it with kool-aid. Then I’ll pass on that and take the kool-aid-free version of your tea.” You smile bashfully and scratch your sleeve as your cheeks heat up a little, curious at how she’ll respond.
“We are not a cult.” She says after turning around to face you and speaking after a moment of her mouth open in confused silence.
“No? Respectfully, with what we’ve discussed, I’ve seen and read, this would arguably classify as a cult.”
“We’re an intentional community.” Lottie says genuinely and then she turns to pour the hot water into the mugs and create your tea. She shakes her head slightly and smiles, curious and entertained by you.
Once the tea has brewed Lottie returns to sit on the other end of the sofa, handing you a warm ceramic mug of tea. After Lottie’s taken a sip you take one yourself.
“What are the paths that bring people to you and your community? Have you noticed patterns?” You ask after spreading a fresh page of your trusty notebook.
“I can’t divulge specific information…”
“Of course, anonymous, unidentifiable and it’ll be edited that way too.” You say and she nods, clearly pleased to have that verbal reassurance.
“It’s not just one type of person, people from all different paths- walks of life come here. People who need some care, wanting to work on themselves, who are unwell, people escaping unsafe and traumatic environments. There’s a real need for community, connection and that’s seen across followers and what draws them to here.”
Lottie answers and you nod, jotting down a couple of shorthand notes, it’s the type of answer you were expecting. You ask some more questions and Lottie answers them. Sometimes she’s a bit vague or deflective but she’s mostly responding as if she were a relatively open book. There’s some things you don’t push or try to ask and not because you’re a bad journalist but because you think of yourself as someone with integrity and don’t see the real worth in it.
“You haven’t asked me about it,” Lottie says slowly after a while as she looks at you curiously.
“About what?” You tilt your head, knowing what she’s referring to.
“The crash being stuck out there for almost two years… ‘what really happened…’ It’s the first question a lot of people have, especially journalists.” Your eyes focus on Lottie, you take a quiet sip of your drink before responding but she speaks again before you need to. “Or were you saving it for the end and I’ve ruined your description of shock when it’s asked?” Her tone is different, it feels a little playful but also like she’s maybe egging you on to say or do something, to confirm it.
“I wasn’t going to ask. I’m not much of a journalist in… this space - but I know a cheap shot when I see one and it’s not my style. I’m here to talk about your community, not interrogate you about something traumatic for a clickbait headline. I know others would and that’s terrible, Lottie, it really is.” You respond as you watch her, you’d try your best to respond with respecting boundaries and with empathy intact.
“I knew you’d be different.” She whispers and then looks down. You just give a slight nod as it feels like something is passing over this moment and you don’t want to interrupt whatever it is with your words.
“I don’t agree with some of… I mean you’re in a controversial line of work… A lot of people are upset, which I think you know. I spoke to the family of one of the individual’s here-” And you’re cut off.
“But do you get it?” She asks as her eyes focus in on you in a way that you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you before. Each word is cautiously and possibly dramatically chosen and the charm and appeal of her is as clear as day. You don’t know if you’re going to put pen to paper to accurately show your editor and readers that but you’ll try. It’s so intense…
But you’re drawn. Hooked. It’s what she’d planned all along, you’re sure of it now.
“I do have things to apologise for, yes. But… My beliefs aren’t one of them. People are upset no matter what step you take but this does help people and that matters to me more.” She says and can sense the truth in her words, a genuineness creeping through that wasn’t quite there before. There’s a wistful sheen in her eyes and at the very least, you know she believes this.
You nod, watching her silently as you subconsciously tap your pen against the thick hardcover of your overpriced notebook. You’ve noticed how she is now, how there’s not an unwillingness to share. There’s not a cagey bone in Lottie’s like you’ve noticed in other communities, there’s a desire to share, it feels like she wants to tell you anything, that you could ask her anything and she would answer. You tilt your head to fully take her in as you see the look on her face. She taps a teaspoon against her mug absentmindedly, you wonder if she made it and you know she probably did. If not her, one of her followers.
Lottie lifts the warm mug up to take a sip as she watches you, your eyes drift to her soft lips as they fall around the rim of the mug. She sips and then places her mug down. “How is your tea?” It’s a drastic and trivial shift but you go with the flow of the current she’s setting.
“It’s nice, peppery.” You answer and then instinctively lift your mug back to your lips to take a sip. “Did you always struggle with community?”
Lottie looks down, she then brushes some of her hair over her shoulder and a smile forms over her face, she’s taken somewhere else, quite likely another point in time, you carefully place your mug back down and start to write some shorthand notes.
“I had a lonely childhood, if that’s what you’re asking. But there was a pivotal moment of community in my life, it was the best I’d ever been and I knew that I could recreate a safe community for others to have that healing too, I felt it in my bones when I started here.”
There’s a sweet smile on Lottie’s face now and she looks up at you, your hand stops writing and you place the pen down, flexing your fingers and becoming lost in thought.
“Maybe take a break, turn it off for a moment.” Lottie says with a playful smile and takes another sip of her green hued tea. “Keeping it on would be working on the clock and that’s inexcusable.”
The corners of Lottie’s lips quirk up and her brown eyes glow with a playful energy as she teases you with this game. You watch her as you pause the recording and see her smile triumphantly and you feel your cheeks slowly start to heat up but you can’t help but smirk.
“Satisfied? I already feel so much more relaxed and out of the confines of capitalism.” You tease dryly and watch her.
“Good, I can see the weight off your shoulders already, I’m in the path of helping people with what they need.” She banters back with some earnestness in there too that makes you chuckle.
“Why aren’t you wearing purple?” You ask her softly as your eyes travel up her body that’s so close to you on the couch.
“It’s heliotrope. Why aren’t you?” There’s a proud smile on her face as she rubs her mug, absorbing the warmth of it into her hands.
“Of course, apologies… Heliotrope, how foolish of me… Well, when you replied to my email, I didn’t get the purple people eater dress code memo.”
“I’ll be sure to send it to you the next time you visit.” She teases and her brown eyes focus on your soft looking lips.
“Next time? You think your charisma will come through so much that readers will demand a follow up piece?” You smirk at her and chuckle as you put your elbow on the arm of the chair and hold your head up.
“You don’t need an article for a reason to come here, people can come and go as they please, you should remember that for your article… And for yourself in the future…” Lottie says as her eyes travel up you, drinking you in like you’re the tea in the mug she’s cradling with her hands, she’s not being discreet at all. You glance across her face and your eyes land on her lips too and your cheeks heat up again, this time, you’re certain she’s definitely noticed.
Lottie places her mug down onto the small table nearby and leans closer looking at you. Her movements, how her arm puts the mug down and how now, she’s moving her hand to cup the side of your face and run her tan fingers along your cheek and temple.
“You’re beautiful…” She whispers as she keeps touching your cheek with the most light and gentle of touches, you tilt your head to press into her hand more, to feel her really light up your nerve endings. You hadn’t been in a situation like this before but you were entitled to generous breaks under your contract and you couldn’t explain how drawn you were to Lottie. It was a feeling she genuinely felt too.
It’s sudden but Lottie’s lips meet yours at the perfect moment, her lips are just as soft as you’d imagine. You can taste her lip balm, it seems like it’s lavender, you imagine it’s probably homemade and you had seen some lavender plants outside. But with each second of your lips against each other’s, you feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss.
You open your mouth for Lottie and swallow her small moan of pleasure as she puts a hand on the back of your neck and accepts your invitation, her tongue sliding along yours. Lottie’s dark hair spills with the movement from the kiss and you run your fingers through the soft strands and lightly scratch her scalp, she moans each time and you keep kissing her. Both of your mouths are working perfectly together like this is how it was always meant to be, that your lips had been carved to perfectly fit the other.
Your cheeks heat up and you pant, pulling away slightly to catch your breath and Lottie almost pouts at being separated from your mouth but she welcomes the chance to breathe as well. You can see her eyes widening and desire colouring the hypnotic brown, you start to press a kiss to her chin, then along her jaw and her pretty throat. You smile as you feel each breath she takes in and lets out with your kisses, her heart is racing and so is yours.
“What do you want?” You whisper in between kisses trailing the side of her neck, running your fingers over her golden arm.
“Hmm…” Lottie chuckles and her eyes sparkle in a way that makes you feel just as happy as she does. “It’s not a question I’m asked often… You’d think I would be… Considering it all…” She then seems to step out of whatever daydream she was walking into and returns back to you, present on the sofa. “I want you.”
“Yeah?” You whisper with your cheeks heating up, you want her too but it is making you want to rub your thighs together hearing that from her.
“I want to make you come. I haven’t had this in a while. Can I have you?” She says, she still hasn’t quite caught her breath and it only makes the way she speaks, the request itself so much hotter.
“Are you one of those rich girls that can’t say ‘please’?” You ask with a playful tone as you look at her.
“Please?” She asks with a smirk and you nod.
“Yes, you can make me come, Charlotte.” You say and then kiss her passionately, she shifts her body and gently pushes you back against the sofa.
Her hands quickly go to undo your trousers, you spread your legs to be on either side of her as you hear the unzipping of her trousers and your cheeks heat up more. The kisses and feeling her so close to you is making you needy, desperate for some friction and whatever release this woman is willing to give you.
You know you're wet before Lottie even gets the chance to feel it for herself. Once she’s unzipped your trousers she pushes them down a little but doesn’t bother to go all the way, she’s decided she only needs a little room to make you orgasm.
Lottie smirks against your mouth as she feels you raise your hips slightly, seeking some relief, it turns her on to see somebody so needy like this for her, that she can do this and then make someone come and that someone be someone as hot and intelligent as you. She hadn’t expected the interview to take this shift when she agreed to it but now, almost straddling you and knowing that you need this as much as her, it’s all more than worth it.
A gasp leaves your lips and Lottie swallows it as her fingers slide down your trousers, she stays over your panties for a moment and lightly palms you, she can feel how wet you are and it excites her, makes her hungry. You’re so wet and it’s all because of her, it’s all for her.
“Please…” You pant against her lips as you buck your hips up to feel more pressure from her hands, hoping she’ll start to move it and you’ll get to feel her long fingers inside of you. Her mouth. Whatever she wants, you’re down.
“Of course… You’re so wet…” Lottie moans a little as she runs her fingers over your folds through your panties and smiles. “I can feel it through your panties… That’s how wet you are…” Your cheeks heat up more and you nod.
“Yeah… All for you…” You whisper and then kiss her neck again, her eyes close and she moans.
“All for me?” Lottie asks before biting her lip, feeling your mouth on the sensitive spot on her neck as she cups your wetness. It’s so perfect and there’s no way she can hold back any longer.
“All for you.” You confirm again and Lottie moans.
Lottie moves your panties slightly so that a finger comes through and touches you. Lottie runs her finger through your heat, gathering up all of your slick as you just get wetter for her and moan. You close your eyes and moan as you feel her light touch and Lottie smiles, falling for the song of your moans.
She keeps running her fingers over you, being a complete tease and in awe of how wet you are for her. She runs her finger over your slit and starts to lightly tease your hole, getting sharp gasps from you and your cheeks heat up to the point of feeling like you’re on fire. All of your nerve endings are firing up with Lottie above you and touching you like this, you don’t want it to stop ever.
“You’re perfect.” Lottie whispers as she presses a finger into you. You feel her breath against your face as she speaks and breathes, you moan against her as you feel her finger in you. You swallow her up perfectly and she loves the feeling of your warmth. She moves her finger gently as she gets used to the feeling of you and it also gives you time to get used to her too.
You tilt your head to kiss her lips and she returns it back with a gentle passion, you both moan into the others mouths and you gasp as she explores you, you put a hand into her again and lightly tug it as she gets closer to the soft, spongy spot inside of you. It’s then that she smiles, looking at you in awe and inserts another finger eliciting a melodic moan from you.
A whine escapes your lips as Lottie starts to pump her fingers, slowly increasing the speed and a shiver of pleasure runs down your spine as she curls her fingers with each move. You groan at this, your eyes rolling back and panting. “Fuck, Lottie…” You whine and she chuckles with a smile looking totally overjoyed.
“You’re taking my fingers so well, you look so beautiful always but… especially like this.” Lottie whispers as she keeps moving her fingers and you arch your back, sharply inhaling as you feel her thumb move around until it reaches your bundle of nerves. “Oh….Ah…”
“Come for me…Show me…” There’s a mix between a pleased chuckle and pant that leaves Lottie’s mouth and she smiles proudly.
“Almost…” You nod and pant as she continues. You bite your lip to swallow up moans as you feel yourself getting closer. Your back arches more and Lottie’s clearly picking up on you walking the edge. She keeps moving her fingers but presses a passionate kiss to your lips that makes you open your mouth and she swallows your moans as she keeps perfectly rubbing your clit.
You bite your lip and shiver, your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you come all over Lottie’s hand. You whine out and then pant, feeling yourself somehow sink deeper and deeper into the sofa that’s already keeping you upright. You haven’t had an orgasm like this in awhile.
Opening your eyes after a moment and looking at Lottie, she innocently smiles at you and slowly pulls her fingers out of you. You gasp and then chuckle seeing her smile, you tilt your head to kiss her lips again and she kisses you back slowly.
Lottie lifts her hand up and tastes you off of her fingers, she does it proudly and watches you as she does so, it’s sensual and it makes your cheeks heat up. “You taste amazing, I’ll have to do this again. Straight from the honeypot next time.” She smiles and gives you a playful wink.
“This warrants a next time?” You tease in between pants and heated cheeks.
“Most definitely, this could go on for hours now. But I know you have an article to write and you might want to ride the post-orgasm wave to do that. I would if I was you.” Lottie says thoughtfully as she caresses your cheek in awe, like you’re something precious and she thinks you are.
“That’s really thoughtful of you Ms Matthews.”
“That’s who I am, what I value.” She says with a knowing smile on her face and presses a soft kiss to your lips.
I love you x trans!reader writers, I love you x nonbinary!reader writers, I love you x genderqueer!reader writers, I love you x aro and/or ace!reader writers
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Do the colours on this moodboard make sense? Probably not. But then again, neither did you and Dieter.
You had helped him hide his booze from the RA in first year of college and had clicked ever since. It made no sense to people that the straight-laced, overachieveing student would be best friends with the impulsive, dramatic, theater major who's a party animal Thursdays through Sundays. But you just hid your mischief and whimsy under a solid veneer of good girl. Dieter was always jealous that you never got in trouble.
The both of you had so much in common— conservative parents, sexualities, interests, and a fun streak more than a whole mile wide. Both of you were so similar, you'd even dated the same guys. No— that's not right.
Dieter had slept with your ex and as punishment for violating the bestie-code, you had shaved his head. But you had also broken your ex's nose after— not for breaking up with you, but because he badmouthed Dieter behind his back. It was the only time someone had stood up for him. Since then, it had always been Dieter and You. You and Dieter.
You were his anchor and support system when things got tough. He never quite left your apartment since you both decided to move off-campus. Whenever he didn't get the role or money was tight, it was your couch he crashed on— the one that pulled out. He knew you had only bought it to accomodate him. Yours was the door he could knock on at three in the morning and know with absolute certainty that you wouldn't turn him away. So, it was sad that living together had devolved into phonecalls that tapered off into irregular texts. He hadn't even wished you a Happy Birthday on Facebook for years.
But there was nothing more Dieter wanted right now, when shit had blown up in his face, other than his best friend. All he had was that sliver of nostalgia of the time spent together in that first college apartment. He didn’t even know where you were— he'd have to ask his team to find you. It was insecurity that held him back, a fear of whether you would accept him back in your life. Especially now that he was a mess, more than ever before.
There were also the logistics, of course. What if you were living with your family? What if you had married? Your partner shouldn't have a problem with him crashing at your place for a few days right? It would certainly be a vibe kill. But he would try his best not to be a bad house guest. And not like he was some ghost of boyfriends past. There hadn't been anything between the two of you— you guys were just friends. Best friends. Nothing missed. Nothing lost.
