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thef1diary · 3 days

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While It Lasts | L. Norris - 2

Summary: Lando expected nothing more than relaxation and fun for two weeks during his summer break. What he didn’t anticipate was meeting you, someone who felt like a perfect match in every way. As the days quickly passed, he found himself falling deeply for you, only to be confronted with the heart-wrenching reality that your time together was far more limited than he ever imagined.

Part 1

PLEASE READ: This story contains themes of loss, morality, fear, death, relationship strains, mental health struggles, including significant emotional impact related to the reader’s journey with a chronic illness and some scenes are set in hospitals. Reminder that this is simply a work of fiction, please don’t take it to heart.

wc: 16.5k

You woke up to the faint clattering of dishes in the kitchen. Groggily, you opened your eyes, feeling the stiffness from sleeping awkwardly on the couch. Stretching, you realized Isaac was already up, making breakfast.

“Isaac,” you called out, your voice hoarse from sleep.

He didn’t seem to hear you, the noise of the kitchen drowning out your voice. With a sigh, you decided to hobble over to him, each step a reminder of your twisted ankle and the awkward position you’d slept in.

Reaching the kitchen, you leaned against the doorway for support. “Isaac,” you said a bit louder.

He turned, surprise and concern crossing his face. “You should be resting.”

“I know,” you replied, wincing slightly as you moved closer. “But we need to talk.”

Isaac set down the pan he was holding, his expression turning serious. “Alright, let’s talk.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say. “Isaac, I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday. I know you’re just trying to take care of me.”

He shook his head, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and pain. “Every single day for the past four years, I have this fear that you’ll leave me at any moment. Yes, it is selfish, very selfish because I truly don’t know what you’re feeling, what you’re going through. But while you might’ve accepted that you’re dying, I didn’t! I just wanted to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, so you can live another day, so you can see me graduate college, see me – I don’t know – find the love of my life or get married. I’m sorry. You’re my sister, you are the last person I need to act like I’m on eggshells around you.”

Your heart ached at his words, the depth of his fear and love hitting you hard. “Your fear is valid, Isaac. Just because I’ve accepted it, doesn’t mean that I like it. But it won’t change fate, will it? It won’t change the fact that I’ve been dealt a shitty hand at life. All I know is that when I’m taking my last breaths, whenever it is, I don’t want to regret anything. I don’t want to regret not living enough because of the fear of dying. Just because I have a stupid countdown doesn’t mean I should be afraid to live.”

Isaac looked at you, his eyes moist with unshed tears. “I just want you to be here, to live as long as possible.”

“I know,” you whispered, reaching out to engulf him in a hug. “I’ll try to take better care of myself.”

He nodded slowly, his grip tightening around your body. “And I’ll try to be less overprotective, I promise, I’ll try.”

You smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Thank you, Isaac.”

As you stood there, holding onto each other in the quiet morning light, you felt a sense of peace. When he pulled back, he scrunched up his face. “But it’ll be harder to explain that to mum and dad.”

You shrugged, “they’ll get it, one day, hopefully.”

After breakfast, Isaac announced he needed to run some errands in town. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Take your time.”

As the door closed behind him, the house fell into a quiet lull. You settled back on the couch, trying to get comfortable and rest your ankle. Just as you were starting to drift off, the doorbell rang.

With a sigh, you swung your legs off the couch and hobbled toward the door, wincing with each step. When you finally reached it and pulled it open, you were greeted by Lando’s mischievous grin that quickly turned into worry.

“Hey,” he said, his brow furrowed as he took in your hobbling form. “You shouldn’t be up and about. How’s the ankle?”

“Hey, Lando,” you replied, leaning against the doorframe for support. “It’s sore but I’ll survive. Come in.”

He stepped inside, immediately reaching out to steady you. “Here, let me help you back to the couch.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. You leaned against him and held his hand as he guided you back to your spot on the couch. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth of his touch and the genuine concern in his eyes.

“Thanks,” you said once you were settled again. “What brings you here?”

Lando shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re not getting into any more trouble.”

You chuckled softly. “Well, I did manage to twist my ankle pretty badly.”

His expression turned serious. “I know. I felt terrible leaving you like that last night.”

“It’s alright, I was already sleeping before you left,” you waved off his concern.

“Speaking of falling asleep…” Lando began, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I couldn’t resist stopping by the bookstore you mentioned. Figured I’d pick up a couple of books to keep us entertained.”

You grinned, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “You went to the bookstore? You really are determined to explore every corner of this town, aren’t you?”

Lando nodded enthusiastically, pulling the books out of the bag he carried when he entered. “Of course! And since my favorite tour guide is out of commission,” he said, gesturing to your injured ankle, “I had to take matters into my own hands.”

He revealed two identical books, holding them up with a grin. “Thought we could have a reading competition. Winner gets bragging rights.”

You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. “It’s always a competition with you, isn’t it?”

Lando shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a competitive guy. Comes with the territory. Oh, and by the way,” he added casually, “did I mention I’m a Formula 1 driver?”

You blinked, surprised by the revelation. “Wait, seriously?”

Lando grinned, “yeah, been racing for quite a few years now.”

You nodded, a smile spreading on your face when he delved into the details, and it’s evident that he loves talking about his passion.

“That actually makes so much sense, that’s how you know the Sainz family, right?”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yes, but how do you know them?”

You laughed softly, and it quickly became a sound Lando loved hearing. “I live next to the villa, remember?” You teased jokingly.

A sheepish smile grew on his face, “oh, right. So what, you’ve met Carlos too? And here I thought I was the first F1 driver you’ve met.”

You nodded. “Yeah, in passing. We never really talked much, but I’ve seen him and his family around often.”

Then you leaned closer and whispered, “but don’t tell him that he may no longer be my favourite.”

He quirked up an eyebrow, leaning in as well and responding with the same amount of energy. “Then who is?”

You shrugged, leaning back with a small smile and a faint blush covering your cheeks. “I think I might have to watch a race to decide.”

As you continued chatting with Lando, the pain in your ankle seemed to fade into the background. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself drawn into his stories about racing, the thrill of waiting for the lights to go out, and the camaraderie between his fellow drivers.

Eventually, you decided to start the reading competition. Both of you settled into the couch with your respective books, determined to see who would finish first. But as the minutes ticked by, Lando found it hard to focus on his book. His gaze kept drifting to you, watching the way your eyes moved across the pages and the little expressions that flitted across your face as you read.

He couldn’t help but want to talk to you, to hear more about your thoughts. Finally, he put his book down with a sigh, unable to concentrate any longer.

“So, what’s next on the agenda once your ankle’s better? Something less adventurous, perhaps?”

You placed your book down after marking your page, chuckling as you looked at him. “Can’t focus, can you?”

“Not with you around,” he shrugged casually.

Trapping your lip between your teeth to prevent a smile from growing on your face, you chose to focus on the question he asked.

“There’s this amazing seafood restaurant nearby. It’s a local favorite, and the food is incredible. Fresh catches of the day, and the chef’s specials are to die for. You’ll love it!”

As you spoke, you didn’t notice Lando’s face pale slightly. He wasn’t a fan of seafood, but he couldn’t bring himself to dampen your excitement by telling you the truth. The way your eyes lit up talking about the place made him want to experience it with you, even if he never wanted to be around any sort of fish.

“Sounds great,” Lando said, forcing a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

You clapped your hands together, beaming. “You won’t regret it, I promise. The view from the restaurant is amazing too. It’s right by the water, and you can see the boats coming in and out of the harbor. It’s a perfect spot for a relaxing evening.”

Lando nodded, matching your enthusiasm as best he could. “That sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”

“How about we go there for dinner tomorrow?” you suggested, your excitement bubbling over.

“Tomorrow night it is,” Lando agreed, his smile genuine due to your smile despite his seafood reservations.

The next evening came around too quickly for Lando’s liking. Instead of stressing over what to wear this time, he was worried about the food itself. The prospect of seafood was daunting, but he didn’t want to let you down. As he rummaged through his closet, Max walked into the room with a teasing grin.

“Mate, you like her so much that you’d willingly eat seafood for her?” Max said, leaning against the doorframe.

Lando looked up, a mixture of nerves and amusement on his face. “Yeah, well, it’s not just about the food. It’s about the company.”

He chuckled, “you’re a brave man.” Then he sighed exaggeratedly, “oh the things you do in love.”

Lando’s back straightened suddenly. “It’s not love… yet. We’re just hanging out.”

Max’s eyes widened since he didn’t expect such an answer, “wait a second, ‘yet’? Do you actually like her?”

Lando shrugged, trying to play it off, but the slight smile on his face betrayed him. “I don’t know, Max. Maybe. It’s… complicated.”

Max studied him for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. “I should’ve seen it coming, but she’s great! Maybe even a little out of your league,” he spoke with a teasing grin, that only made Lando roll his eyes when he saw his best friend’s face.

“She’s beautiful,” he said softly, not denying Max’s words.

Max's teasing grin softened into a more serious expression. "Hey, I'm serious though. You don't have to go through with this if you're not comfortable. You shouldn't feel like you have to force yourself to like something just to impress her."

Lando appreciated Max's concern, but he shook his head. "It's not about impressing her. I want to spend time with her, Max. She's... she's different."

Max raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in his eyes. "Different, huh? Well, just be careful, okay?"

Lando nodded, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty and anticipation. "Of course."

As Max left the room, Lando took a moment to collect his thoughts. He knew Max was just looking out for him, but there was something about you that made him want to take the risk. With a determined smile, he finished getting ready and was about to head out to meet you, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement building inside him.

Right as he was leaving the villa, Max’s voice rang out. “If you need an excuse to skip out, I can come up with something. No need to torture yourself over fish.”

Lando shook his head, appreciating the concern. “Thanks, Max, but I’ll be fine. I just… I don’t want to ruin this. She’s really excited about the place.”

A very short drive later, Lando knocked on your door, and when you opened it, his eyes widened appreciatively as they swept over you. You wore a simple yet elegant dress, the color complementing your features perfectly.

“Wow,” he breathed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You look amazing.”

Blushing slightly at his compliment, you thanked him and closed the door behind you as you left your cottage, walking towards Lando’s car. “Thanks, Lando, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

He fell in step beside you, still admiring your outfit. “So, do you have a hot date or something?”

You chuckled at his question, shaking your head. “Nope, no dates, just going out with some racer guy, not sure if you know him.”

Sitting in his car, he instantly looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Hmm, sounds like a great guy! Is he interesting?”

You laughed, nudging him as he drove. “Very.”

When you arrived at the restaurant, the sun was just starting to set, casting a golden glow over the water. It was nestled right by the harbor, with a perfect view of the boats coming and going. Lando parked the car and helped you out, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary as he offered support for your still-healing ankle. Even though you could walk without needing support again, you didn’t mind holding onto his hand.

“Wow, this place is beautiful,” he said, genuinely impressed by the picturesque setting.

“I told you,” you replied with a satisfied smile. “Come on, let’s get a table by the window.”

The interior of the restaurant was cozy, with soft lighting and a gentle murmur of conversation filling the air. A small fish tank adorned one corner of the room, the colorful fish swimming lazily in the water. Lando couldn’t help but chuckle nervously as he glanced at the tank.

“Kinda cruel, isn’t it?” he joked, nodding towards the fish tank. "Having live fish in a seafood restaurant," Lando remarked with a wry smile.

Still, you laughed, nodding in agreement. "The owners think it adds to the ambiance."

As you were seated and handed the menus, Lando took a deep breath, steeling himself for the seafood-heavy options. But when he looked across the table and saw your excited expression, he hoped it would all be worth it. This evening was about enjoying your company, and he was determined to do just that, and perhaps if everything went very well, he might casually mention that he’d like to take you out on an actual date.

As the waiter took your orders, you couldn't contain your excitement, eager to indulge in the fresh seafood the restaurant had to offer. Lando, however, seemed a bit hesitant, but he eventually settled on a dish, trying to mask his apprehension with a smile.

Once the food arrived, you dug in eagerly, savoring each bite of the delicious seafood. However, as you glanced over at Lando, you noticed something was off. His attempts to conceal his discomfort were evident, and you could see the struggle on his face as he hesitantly bit into a shrimp, his expression revealing disgust as he tried to swallow it.

Concerned, you leaned closer to him, your voice soft with worry. "Is everything okay, Lando?"

He hesitated, clearly torn, spitting the piece of shrimp into a tissue before finally admitting, "I'm sorry, I just... I can't do seafood."

Surprised by his confession, you felt a pang of guilt wash over you. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Lando shrugged, looking sheepish. "I didn't want to ruin your plans, you looked so excited to come here and I thought I could handle it, but..."

Without hesitation, you reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Leading him out of the restaurant, you felt a mix of disappointment and concern. Disappointed that he didn’t feel comfortable sharing such a simple detail with you, and concerned that he attempted to eat a shrimp, knowing he disliked it, all for your sake.

But as you walked together, you were determined to salvage the evening because you didn’t want the night to end just yet. "How about we find a burger place? Is that something you'll enjoy."

Lando's gratitude was evident in his smile as he nodded, and together, you set off to find a new spot to continue your evening, determined to make it memorable for all the right reasons.

You and Lando ended up sitting in his car, munching on takeout burgers and fries, the mood was light and laughter filled the air. Lando was in the middle of telling a funny story from his racing season, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he recounted the antics of how multiple of his fellow drivers tried to convince him to try seafood but failed.

You couldn’t help but laugh along, enjoying the animated way he described each moment. You playfully nudged Lando, a grin spreading across your face. “Well, it seems like all those F1 drivers couldn’t get you to try seafood, but I did, even if it was just a bite!”

Lando leaned back in his seat, a lighthearted smile playing on his lips. “You know, for you, I’d try anything… except seafood.”

As you heard Lando's words, a soft realization came to you that his remark held a hint of flirtation.

“Why don’t you like seafood anyways?” you couldn’t help but ask, especially since this town was full of loads of seafood options and now you had to think of other restaurants for him to try.

Lando shrugged, taking another bite of his burger before answering. “I guess it’s just not my thing. I’ve never been a fan of the taste or the texture.”

As you indulged in your burger, a smear of sauce found its way to the corner of your lips. Lando's eyes caught the small detail, and with a gentle smile, he pointed it out. "You've got a little something right there."

You chuckled, raising your hand to wipe it away, but before you could, Lando's fingers grazed over the corner of your lips, wiping away the sauce. His touch was gentle, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary as he leaned in close.

A subtle warmth spread through you at the intimacy of the gesture, and for a moment, time seemed to slow as you met his gaze. There was something unspoken between you, a silent acknowledgment of the growing connection that seemed to deepen with each passing moment.

His fingers lingered at the edge of your lips, and you could feel his breath, warm and inviting, mingling with yours. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you in that fleeting instant.

“Lando…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The space between you grew smaller, your faces inching closer together.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up to your eyes. The anticipation was electric, a charged moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

But then, he pulled back, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “I don’t want our first kiss to be like this,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. “You deserve a proper date first.”

A mix of disappointment and warmth washed over you. His thoughtfulness, his desire to make things right, only made your heart ache more with affection. Amidst the laughter and shared stories, his words hung between you, a promise of something more.

As quickly as the thought arose, the weight of your illness pressed down on you, reminding you of life's fragility and the uncertainty of tomorrow. Your thoughts lingered on wondering if you even had a future in general. To entertain the idea of a future with him would only cause your heart to ache, knowing that you might not live to see those dreams come true.

The thought of a future, a proper date, a real kiss—all of it seemed so painfully out of reach.

It was a bittersweet realization, knowing that even the simplest of dreams could be overshadowed by the reality of your condition. While he would return back to the fast paced world of racing, you would remain in this small town, wondering how many more dreams you would have to crush because fate decided to take away your life, inch by inch.

Awkwardness filled the car on your end, your emotions shifting to cold and stoic, like they were before you met him. The warm connection you had felt only moments ago was replaced by a wall you erected to protect your heart. Lando noticed the change, his cheerful demeanor faltering as the silence grew heavy between you.

Soon enough, you both finished your burgers, and Lando started the car to drive you home. The ride was quiet, the earlier laughter and easy conversation now replaced by a tension that neither of you acknowledged. When he pulled up to your house, he turned off the engine and looked at you, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, it’s fine. Thanks for the evening, Lando.”

He watched as you climbed out of the car, a confused and worried expression on his face. As you walked to your door, you could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look back. You shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as a tear threatened to slip down your cheek.

Lando sat in his car, staring at the closed door, wondering what he had done wrong and why the evening had ended on such a somber note. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had changed, but he had no idea what it was or how to fix it.

—

Over the next couple of days, you don’t acknowledge the thoughts that are bubbling up in your mind, instead choosing to tread carefully and immerse yourself in your daily routine. You’ve lived a lot more than you have over the past couple of months, and felt the joy that it brings. But now, you had to face the consequences causing you to distance yourself away from Lando before you got too attached to the happiness that came with being around him. Once you realized that you truly wanted to kiss him that night, everything changed. You had to take a preemptive measure, a self-imposed boundary designed to shield your heart from potential pain.

Your health deteriorated significantly. Your energy waned, and simple tasks like walking around the house left you breathless and exhausted. Fortunately, you have a doctor’s appointment scheduled, a simple routine checkup. However, it coincided with plans you made with Lando. Determined to distance yourself from him, you don’t tell him about the change of plans.

At the doctor’s appointment, you sit in the sterile examination room, the familiar scent of antiseptic mingling with nerves that coil in the pit of your stomach. These appointments, routine yet crucial, serve as a barometer of your ongoing battle against your illness.

As the doctor enters, his expression is professional yet compassionate, his eyes scanning through your medical history with a practiced ease. You recount the recent symptoms you’ve been experiencing, the fatigue that seems to seep into your bones, and the persistent ache that lingers despite treatment.

With a sympathetic nod, the doctor orders a series of tests, his urgency palpable as he reviews your file. The minutes stretch into an eternity as you wait for the results, each passing second filled with a silent plea for a glimmer of hope.

When the test results finally come back, the doctor’s demeanor shifts subtly, his tone measured yet grave. “I’m afraid the results are not as we had hoped,” he begins, his words heavy with significance.

Your heart sinks at the confirmation of your worst fears, the reality of your illness casting a shadow over your hopes for improvement. Despite your best efforts, it seems that the tide of your health is turning against you once again.

A sense of dread fills you as he explains that the illness has advanced more rapidly than expected. “We need to keep you overnight for observation,” he says gently. “Your vitals are unstable, and we need to adjust your treatment plan.”

You nod, too emotionally tired to object, allowing a nurse to lead you to the hospital room, one that you became too familiar with over the past few years. You would spend yet another night under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, experience another round of tests and treatments, and take another uncertain step into the abyss of your illness.

You lie in the hospital bed, hooked up to various machines, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you like a heavy blanket. The familiar beeps and hums of the medical equipment provide a disconcerting backdrop to your thoughts, each sound a reminder of the precariousness of your health.

As you drift in and out of consciousness, your mind wanders to Lando, the plans you had made together now nothing more than distant dreams. Guilt gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, knowing that he waits for you, unaware of the sudden turn your day has taken.

Just as the shadows of doubt threaten to overwhelm you, a soft knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you turn to see Isaac's familiar face framed in the doorway, concern etched into his features.

"Hey," he says softly, crossing the room to sit beside you. "I got your text. Are you okay?"

You manage a weak smile, grateful for his presence amidst the sterile confines of the hospital room. "Yeah, just another setback," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Isaac reaches out to squeeze your hand gently, his touch a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty. "You’ll get through this," he says, his voice steady and reassuring.

As Isaac settles into the chair beside your hospital bed, he observes the flurry of activity around you—the nurses bustling about, the doctors conferring in hushed tones, tweaking the machines, their purpose still a mystery to him after all these visits.

When there's a lull in the commotion, Isaac hesitates before speaking, his voice soft with concern. "Hey, I wanted to let you know... Lando stopped by the cottage today."

“What’d he say?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"He asked about you today," Isaac begins, his tone gentle. "Said you had plans but you didn't show. He mentioned he hasn't seen you in a couple of days. Is everything okay between you two?"

You nod weakly, offering a small smile to reassure Isaac. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just... I don't know, I guess I realized that I've been enjoying his company a lot more than I should, given my condition."

He frowns, “what’s wrong with that? You’re both happy around each other, so why are you distancing yourself away from him?”

You scoff, “have you seen me?” You raise your arm that has an IV inserted, along with the other wires connected to you.

“It doesn’t matter,” Isaac insists gently. “He cares about you. You deserve happiness too, regardless of what’s going on with your health.”

You shake your head, a hint of frustration in your voice. “You don’t understand, Isaac. I don’t have a guarantee of how I’m spending the next week, let alone the rest of my life. I don’t want to hurt Lando by snatching away his happiness one day too. I’m just… preventing myself, and him, from getting too attached to each other.”

Isaac sighs, his expression softening with understanding. "You're not scared of getting too attached, are you? You already are, whether you admit it or not. But by staying away, you're only hurting yourself and him more."

You avert your gaze, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. "I know," you admit quietly. "But I don't know what else to do."

"He deserves to know if he's falling in love with you," Isaac says gently, his voice filled with concern. "And you deserve to have someone by your side, especially during the tough times."

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing he's right but still unsure of what to do next. "I guess I did find someone that fate hates more than me."

"So you agree, that he's in love with you?" Isaac probes, searching your eyes for confirmation.

"He's only in love because he barely knows me," you reply, your voice tinged with sadness.

“Maybe you should give him a chance to know you, the real you,” he responds.

You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond. Deep down, you know Isaac is right, but the fear of hurting Lando is overwhelming. Yet, the thought of pushing him away hurts just as much.

Before you can dwell on it further, a nurse enters the room, breaking the momentary silence. Isaac gives you a reassuring smile before standing up to give you some privacy. As he leaves, his words linger in the air, leaving you to contemplate the complexities of your situation.

The next morning, you’re discharged, feeling even more drained. The doctors have adjusted your medications, but the prognosis remains grim.

You left the hospital, walking in step beside Isaac for a moment until he headed towards the parking lot to bring the car around. As you were blinking in the bright morning sunlight, you nearly collided with Max, who was just outside chatting with someone on his phone.

“Hey there!” Max greets you with a wide grin, sliding his phone into his pocket. However, his expression quickly turns into a frown as he notices the hospital wristband adorning your wrist. “Wait, were you in there?” he asks, concern lacing his words. “Is everything okay?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily or dive into the complexities of your recent hospital stay. “Oh, it was just a routine checkup, some bloodwork, you know how that goes, nothing to worry about,” you assure him with a tight-lipped smile.

Max’s eyes narrow slightly, clearly not entirely convinced by your explanation, but he decides not to press further.

He glances over his shoulder, then back at you. “I was just at the café right down the street.”

You nod, “good choice, they make the best coffee in town.”

He smiled as his choice was approved by you. “Do you need a ride? I’m heading back to the villa.”

You shook your head, “no it’s alright, Isaac’s bringing the car around.”

“Alright, I guess I’ll see you around, only a few more days left before we leave this paradise,” he reminds you.

You offer him a grateful nod. “Yeah, time flies, doesn’t it?” you reply with a forced smile since you were hoping to return home soon. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

As Max nods in agreement and starts to walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that he suspects something isn’t quite right. But you push the thought aside, determined to focus on the present moment and put on a brave face as you step away from the hospital and back into the world outside.

As Isaac parks in the driveway, you notice Lando pacing back and forth by the front door, his brows furrowed in concern. The sight of him fills you with a tumult of conflicting emotions. Isaac’s words echo in your mind, urging you to be honest with Lando, to tell him how much you care about him, to share the burden of your illness. But fear gnaws at your insides, whispering that revealing the truth will only drive him away.

His expression changes from relief to frustration as he sees you approaching.

“Where were you?” he demanded, his voice tinged with worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

As you and Lando stand in front of each other, locked in a tense silence, Isaac takes a step back, sensing the need for privacy between you two. With a subtle nod, he heads inside the cottage, leaving you and Lando alone on the doorstep.

The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you both with its palpable intensity. You struggle to find the right words to break the silence, to bridge the growing chasm between you, but fear and uncertainty grip you like a vice, paralyzing your tongue.

Lando shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering between you as if searching for answers in the depths of your eyes. His expression is a mix of hurt and confusion, mirroring the tumultuous storm raging within your own heart.

You want to tell Lando the truth, to let him in, but the thought of exposing your vulnerabilities terrifies you. You can’t bear the idea of him seeing you as fragile, of pitying you. So, holding your head up high, you decide to make him hate you before he realizes that he loves you.

You force a nonchalant shrug, trying to play it off. “I had some errands to run, and I forgot we had plans.”

“Forgot?” he repeats, incredulous. “We made those plans a while ago. Forget that, I haven’t seen you for days. What’s really going on?”

Annoyed, and wanting to distance yourself from him before your feelings grow even stronger, you let a hint of irritation seep into your voice. “I don’t owe you an explanation for everything I do, Lando. It’s not a big deal.”

He’s taken aback by your rudeness, his face falling slightly. “Not a big deal? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Well, you don’t need to be,” you say curtly, avoiding his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

An awkward silence falls between you two, the tension palpable. Lando’s expression shifts from hurt to confusion. He takes a step back, clearly stung by your words.

“Fine,” he says quietly, his voice pained. “If that’s how you want it.”

You nod, turning away from him and heading inside, each step feeling heavier than the last. Lando stands outside for a moment longer, staring at the closed door. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to your abrupt change in behavior, but he respects your wish for distance. With a heavy heart, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the echo of the door closing between you

You lean against the door, quickly sliding down and sitting on the floor as you cover your face with your hands, fighting back tears.

Pushing him away is probably the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you convince yourself it’s for the best.

Isaac spots you sitting on the floor, and quickly rushes towards you. Moving your hands away from your face, he notices the tears staining your cheeks and has an idea of how the conversation went with Lando.

"You're still as stubborn as ever, aren't you?" he remarked rhetorically, but then he enveloped you in his arms, holding you close as you trembled with sobs.

You pulled back slightly, sniffling as you tried to compose yourself. "I can't tell him," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rush of emotions.

Meanwhile, Lando trudged back to the villa, his mind heavy with thoughts and his heart weighed down by the encounter with you. When he arrived, Max was idly sitting around.

“Hey, mate,” Max greeted but his expression turned serious as he observed Lando’s demeanour. “You okay?”

Lando shrugged, sitting next to Max as he tried to brush off the weight of his emotions. “I saw her today.”

He nodded, “how’d it go?”

Lando frowned, furrowing his brows. “I don’t know, Max. That’s the thing. It’s like I saw a completely different person today. Someone I thought I knew, but now… she’s like a stranger.”

Max furrowed his brow, concerned. “What do you mean?”

Lando shook his head, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like she was pushing me away, Max. Acting cold and distant, like she didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Max nodded in understanding. “Well, mate, maybe she’s just having a rough day. I mean, she was at the hospital earlier.”

His words caught Lando off guard. He blinked in surprise, his brows furrowing as he processed the information. “Wait, she was at the hospital?” he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

Max nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I saw her leaving earlier today. Said it wasn’t serious, just a routine check up but she looked very tired, like she hadn’t slept properly in days.”

Lando’s concern deepened as he absorbed Max’s words. “Why didn’t she tell me?” he murmured, a mix of worry and frustration evident in his voice.

Max placed a comforting hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Maybe she just needs some space, mate. It’s not easy opening up about personal stuff, especially to someone you care about a lot.”

“You think she cares about me?” Lando asked, his tone almost a mumbling mess.

Max scoffed, “see I knew you were an idiot but not to this extent that you don’t even see the obvious. Of course she cares about you, mate!”

“Well I know that, it’s just I don’t wanna read into something that’s not there, you know?”

Max squeezed Lando’s shoulder reassuringly. “Trust me, mate, it’s there. Sometimes, we just need a little nudge to see what’s right in front of us.”

Lando nodded slowly, his mind still swirling with doubts and questions. “I guess you’re right,” he conceded, a faint glimmer of hope starting to flicker within him.

Max grinned, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Just give her some time, and I’m sure things will sort themselves out.”

The cottage exudes a somber atmosphere, suffused with memories of those initial days when you sought refuge from your parents' house, just across town. After your diagnosis, living with your parents became unbearable, evoking memories of your tumultuous teenage years, always feeling scolded and misunderstood. With persuasion and determination, you relocated to the cottage, that has always acted as a second childhood home, with your brother, longing for respite from the tumult of your parents' home. Eventually, your parents themselves moved to the next town over, seeking their own fresh start, leaving you and your brother to navigate the challenges of your illness in your quiet abode.

Now, as you sit in the same kitchen where you once grappled with the harsh reality of your illness, the mood is eerily similar. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you as the silence in the cottage seems to press down, a stark contrast to the vibrant conversations and laughter that once echoed within these walls during your childhood summers. Even more palpably, you recall the warmth of recent memories, the shared laughter with Lando when you had twisted your ankle, filling the space with a joy that now feels distant and elusive. The air is thick with unspoken words, the tension palpable as if one wrong move could shatter the fragile peace you carefully built.

Isaac sits across from you, his presence comforting amidst the somber atmosphere. He watches you closely, his gaze filled with concern and understanding.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breaking the silence that hangs heavy between you.

You force a smile, but it feels hollow on your lips. “Just tired,” you reply, the words barely audible over the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

While Isaac may be aware of some of the pain you feel, he doesn’t know the full extent of what you’re enduring. You want to shield him from the worst, hiding just how much it hurts. The pain has been relentless, gnawing at you day and night, with only a brief sense of comfort for a few hours after taking your medication. Every movement feels like a struggle, every breath a reminder of the fragility of your condition.

Isaac studies your face, his eyes narrowing with concern. “You should call Mom and Dad,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “They need to know what’s going on. Your health is getting worse.”

You shake your head, the thought of burdening your parents with more bad news twisting your stomach into knots. “They’ve been hoping I’m getting better.”

Isaac sighs, reaching across the table to take your hand. “They’re gonna find out soon enough and they’ll want to be here for you, to support you. It’s better they hear it from you than from anyone else.”

You look down at your hands, Isaac’s warmth a stark contrast to the cold dread settling in your bones. “I just… I don’t want to shatter their hope again.”

Isaac squeezes your hand gently. “They love you. They’re not going to be disappointed in you. They’ll be worried, sure, but they need to know. You need all the support you can get.”

You nod slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’ll call them.”

Isaac gives you a reassuring smile, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good. We’ll get through this together. You’re not alone.”

You manage a hint of a smile, looking at Isaac. “You know,” you say softly, “you’re such a good older brother especially for someone who’s younger than me.”

Isaac chuckles, a warm, comforting sound in the quiet room. “Age is just a number,” he says, squeezing your hand gently. “Besides, someone has to keep you in line.”

“Keep me in line? I think we’ve switched roles, remember how I used to keep you out of trouble?” You remark.

You can feel the tension ease in the room as Isaac laughs at the memory before standing up to prepare dinner, allowing you to pick up your phone.

The thought of hearing your parents’ voices fills you with a mixture of fear and relief. You know Isaac is right, but the conversation ahead feels like another mountain to climb. Taking a deep breath, you dial the familiar number, bracing yourself for what’s to come. The phone rings, and with each passing moment, you feel the weight of the upcoming conversation pressing down on you.

Finally, your mother answers, her voice warm and familiar. “Hello, sweetie. It’s been a while since you called. How are you?”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hi, Mom. I… I need to talk to you about something.”

There’s a pause, and you can hear the concern in her voice. “What is it, honey? Is everything alright?”

Before you can respond, she quickly switches to a video call. Her face appears on the screen, eyes wide with worry. “Tell me what’s going on,” she says, her voice trembling slightly.

Seeing her face makes it harder to hold back your emotions. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “Mom, I’ve been trying to stay strong and not worry you and Dad, but… my health has been getting worse.”

Her expression shifts from concern to fear and then to a hint of anger masking hurt. “Worse? How worse, dear? Are you not taking care of yourself properly?”

You wince at her words, knowing they come from a place of worry. “I stayed a night at the hospital,” you continue. “They said if it doesn’t get better with the new medication, I’ll have to go back. The pain has been relentless. I can barely move without feeling it, and the medication only helps for a few hours.”

Your mother’s face pales, her eyes filling with tears. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We’ve been hoping you were getting better.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you admit, your voice cracking. “I wanted to protect you from the worst of it.”

Your mother shakes her head, wiping away a tear. “We’re your parents. We want to be there for you, no matter what. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I know,” you say, your own tears starting to fall. “It’s just so hard. Every day feels like a struggle, and I didn’t want to burden you.”

Isaac rounds the kitchen table and speaks up, his voice steady and supportive. “We’re all in this together, Mom. We need your support now more than ever.”

Your mother nods, her expression determined, though the hurt still lingers in her eyes. “We’ll be there for you, sweetheart. Every step of the way.”

Just then, she turns her head and calls out, “Honey, come here. It’s important.”

A moment later, your father appears on the screen, his face etched with concern. “What’s going on?”

Your mother explains quickly, her voice trembling. “She’s not doing well. She had to stay overnight at the hospital, and she might have to go back soon. We need to be there for her.”

Your father’s expression hardens with resolve. “We’ll come over soon. Don’t worry, just be careful.”

Hearing his firm, supportive words, you feel a sense of relief and hope. “I will, thank you, Dad. I love you both.”

“We love you too,” he replies, his voice full of emotion. “We’re here for you, no matter what.”

After exchanging goodbyes and promising to see each other soon, you hang up the phone, feeling a slight sense of relief wash over you. Though it's only temporary, the weight on your shoulders lifts ever so slightly.

As Isaac reveals dinner, the aroma of his culinary creation fills the air, tempting your senses with its savory goodness. But as you take a closer look at your own plate, disappointment washes over you. The food in front of you is bland and uninspiring, reminiscent of the tasteless hospital meals you’ve grown accustomed to.

You poke at your food with little enthusiasm, knowing that the increased dosage of medication has left your taste buds dulled and unresponsive. “I can’t eat this,” you mutter, pushing the plate away with a sigh.

Isaac looks up from his own meal, concern creasing his eyebrow. “Come on, you need to eat something,” he urges, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s important for your recovery.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “But it tastes like nothing,” you protest, the monotony of the hospital diet weighing heavily on your spirit.

Isaac nods sympathetically, understanding your struggle. “I know it’s tough,” he says softly. “But remember what the doctor said about avoiding spice. It’s all part of the plan to help you get better.”

Reluctantly, you take a small bite, forcing yourself to chew and swallow despite the lack of flavor. The effort feels futile, but you know Isaac is right. You need to keep up your strength, even if it means enduring tasteless meals for the time being.

As you pick at your food, Isaac’s voice breaks through your thoughts, his tone lighthearted but determined. “Hey, once you’re feeling better, we’ll have a hot chicken wing contest,” he suggests, a playful twinkle in his eye. “Just like old times. And I promise, I’ll make them so spicy, you won’t be able to taste anything for a week.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. The idea of a hot chicken wing contest brings back memories of happier times, when your biggest worry was who would win the next round.

“Deal,” you agree, the idea of better days ahead spurring you on. But deep down, you know the truth that you can’t bring yourself to voice aloud in front of him again. You’re not getting better, no matter how much you wish you could.

The next day, you wake up with a sense of urgency gnawing at your insides, an inexplicable feeling pulling you towards the lighthouse. It’s as if an invisible force is guiding you, compelling you to make this journey one last time.

As you slip out of bed and prepare to leave the house, a mixture of determination and trepidation fills your heart. You know deep down that this might be the last opportunity you have to climb those stairs, to feel the wind on your face as you stand at the top and gaze out at the vast expanse of the ocean.

Isaac notices your movements and steps forward, concern etched into his features.

“Hey, where are you off to?” he asks, his voice gentle yet probing.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should share your intentions. But then, you meet his gaze and find solace in his familiar eyes.

“I’m going to the lighthouse,” you reply, your voice steady despite the weight of your words. “I just… need some time alone.”

Isaac’s expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder gently, offering silent support.

“Take all the time you need,” he says softly. “And if you need anything, call me.”

With a grateful nod, you offer him a small smile before turning to leave, the weight of your decision heavy on your heart.

You make your way up the stairs to the lighthouse, each step feeling heavier than the last. The climb feels like an uphill battle, and you find yourself pausing every few steps to catch your breath.

Your chest heaves with the effort, and a wave of dizziness washes over you as you reach the halfway point. You lean against the railing, willing yourself to continue despite the fatigue that threatens to overwhelm you.

With each step, the distance between you and the top of the lighthouse seems to stretch on forever. Your muscles ache with exertion, and your breath comes in ragged gasps.

But you refuse to give up. You grit your teeth and push through the pain, focusing all your energy on reaching the summit. With each step, you draw closer to your goal, fueled by the determination to see the view from the top one last time.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you reach the top of the lighthouse, gasping for air, only to find Lando already there, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the horizon. He turns as he hears your footsteps and ragged breaths, surprise flickering across his face.

He takes a step back, clearly intending to give you some space. “I’ll go down,” he mutters awkwardly, gesturing towards the stairs. “This place is your spot.”

But before he can move away, you reach out and grab his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “No,” you say firmly, your voice stronger than you feel. “Stay.”

He hesitates for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but then he nods and settles back against the railing, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you lean against the railing beside him. Despite the exhaustion that weighs heavily on you, being close to him brings a sense of comfort that you can’t quite explain.

“Thanks,” you murmur, grateful for his presence beside you.

He offers you a small, tentative smile in return, his hand tightening around yours in a silent gesture of support.

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you turn to Lando, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between you two like a heavy blanket.

"Listen, I owe you an apology," you begin, your voice soft but sincere. "I've been acting... differently lately, and I want you to know that it's not because of anything you did. That day, I was at the hospital for a routine checkup, and it just tired me out more than I expected. I’m sorry about ditching our plans."

You technically didn’t lie, but also didn’t tell him the whole truth either. You pause, searching his face for any sign of understanding or acceptance. His expression softens, and you feel a flicker of relief.

"I shouldn't have been so rude to you," you continue, your tone earnest. "I appreciate your patience, and I'm sorry if I made you feel unwelcome."

Lando nods, his eyes reflecting empathy. "It's okay," he says gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I understand. And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable by showing up here."

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "No, you don't need to apologize. I'm glad you're here."

With that, the tension between you starts to dissolve, replaced by a sense of mutual understanding and acceptance as you stand side by side, watching the waves crash against the shore below.

Taking a moment to admire the breathtaking view from the top of the lighthouse, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. But as the adrenaline of the climb begins to wear off, your legs start to tremble beneath you, threatening to give out at any moment.

Recognizing the warning signs of exhaustion, you carefully lower yourself to the ground, your muscles protesting with each movement. Sitting down with a heavy sigh of relief, you lean back against the cool stone wall of the lighthouse, grateful for the brief respite from the physical strain.

Lando joined you as well, sitting side by side on the floor of the lighthouse. You continue to hold onto his hand, your fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly. However, despite your attempt to clear the air, he still seems hesitant, his brows furrowed with confusion.

Finally, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Lando breaks the silence. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he begins, his voice tentative.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. “Of course,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the weight of the conversation.

He hesitates for a moment before plunging ahead. “Did something happen the night we went for burgers?” he asks, his words carefully measured. “I mean, you seemed off after… and I’ve been wondering if I did something wrong.”

Realization dawns on you that he’s talking about the almost kiss. The memory of that night floods back, the charged moment in his car when he had pulled back. You had admired his restraint, his desire to do things right, but it also made your heart ache with longing.

Your heart sinks at his words, the guilt weighing heavy on your chest. “No, Lando,” you assure him, squeezing his hand gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You glance at him, seeing the earnest concern in his eyes. How you wish you had the courage to pull him in by his collar and kiss him then, to let him know just how much he meant to you despite everything.

But he doesn’t seem convinced, his gaze searching yours for any sign of dishonesty. “Don’t lie,” he says softly, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

You hesitate, grappling with the weight of your own emotions and the truth you’re desperate to conceal. Part of you wants to tell him how much his presence means to you, how his laughter lights up even the darkest corners of your world. But fear holds you back, whispering cruel reminders of the inevitability of heartbreak both of you will experience.

Instead of answering his question, you take a deep breath and change the subject. “So, when are you leaving?” you ask, trying to divert his attention away from your own turmoil.

He furrows his brow, clearly surprised by the sudden shift in conversation but decides not to push for an answer. “Tomorrow,” he replies, a hint of sadness in his voice.

You offer him a small smile, “well, I hope you had a good time despite my lackluster tour guide skills,” you quip, attempting to lighten the mood.

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and genuine. “Meeting you was my favorite part,” he admits, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes. “Spending time with you, even if it wasn’t every day, made this trip unforgettable.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his admission, the warmth of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a playful glint in his eyes that ignites a natural spark of flirtation between you.

In the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, you find yourself caught up in the moment with Lando, the days missed due to your own fear melting away with each shared smile and genuine laugh. Despite the lingering weight of your illness and the uncertainty that shadows your future, you're finally able to let go of the constant worry and embrace the present.

You realize that constantly dwelling on the unknown, on whether you'll have more time together or not, only serves to rob you of the joy of the moment. So instead, you allow yourself to be fully present with Lando, savoring each precious second together.

Yet, beneath the surface of your newfound acceptance, there still lingers a trace of fear. You know that distancing yourself from Lando won't protect either of you from the inevitable pain that lies ahead. His genuine smile, the way his eyes light up when he's with you, speaks volumes, and you can't deny the pull you feel toward him.

Despite the uncertainty of what the future holds, you're willing to take the risk, to open your heart to the possibility of love, even if it means facing the inevitable heartache that may follow. Because in the end, the fleeting moments of happiness you share with Lando are worth every ounce of pain.

Lando straightens up, his movements fluid and confident, as he leans in closer, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey, do you mind giving me your number and surname?" he asks casually, but there's a hint of mischief in his tone.

You raise an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "What are you going to do with that information?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

His smile widens, a charming grin that could melt anyone's heart. "Well, first so we can still stay in touch even if I’m on the other side of the world, and second so I can send you a pass for one of my races," he replies smoothly, his voice laced with playful charm.

You can't help but chuckle at his response, shaking your head in amusement. "And why would I come to your race?" you tease, enjoying the banter between you.

Lando's gaze softens, a warmth in his eyes that catches you off guard. "I think you might be my lucky charm," he admits, his tone sincere.

You pause, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with uncertainty. "You believe in lucky charms?" you ask, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

He nods, his smile unwavering. "I didn't," he confesses, "but now it seems like a good time to start believing. Why are you asking so many questions?" he adds playfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You can't help but smile at his lighthearted demeanor, appreciating the way he effortlessly lightens the mood. "You don't want me as a lucky charm," you reply, a touch of self-doubt creeping into your voice.

Lando's expression softens, his gaze filled with genuine warmth. "Why not?" he counters, his tone gentle yet determined.

"It won't last long," you murmur, a pang of sadness tugging at your heart as you glance away.

He reaches out, gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze. "It'll last as long as you're by my side," he insists, his voice sincere and unwavering. "That is up to you, don't you think so?"

His words catch you off guard, stirring something deep within you. "Now who's asking lots of questions?" you tease, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Still you," he replies with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with affection.

You shake your head, feeling a surge of warmth at his playful banter. "You're something else, Lando."

"So are you," he replies, his smile soft and genuine. "In the best way possible."

You oblige Lando’s request, typing your phone number into his phone and saving your full name in his contacts. It’s a small gesture, but one that feels significant in the moment, despite the fact that you know you’ll never take him up on the offer for a pass to his race.

As the sun casts its golden glow across the rugged coastline, you and Lando sit side by side, taking in the breathtaking view from the top of the lighthouse. The air is filled with the sounds of seagulls circling overhead and the distant rumble of waves crashing against the shore below.

Lando’s arm around your shoulders feels like a lifeline, grounding you in the present moment amidst the tumult of your thoughts and emotions. You find solace in his presence, a sense of calm washing over you as you soak in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

The playful banter and teasing remarks give way to a comfortable silence, allowing you both to simply be in each other’s company without the need for words. It’s a moment of quiet intimacy, where the weight of the world fades away and all that matters is the connection between you and Lando.

You lean into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing and the reassuring strength of his arm around you. In this moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the warmth of Lando’s presence, you feel a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that whatever the future may hold, you’re grateful for this moment of shared serenity.

As you both prepare to descend the stairs, Lando pauses, noticing your reluctance to leave the view behind. "Shouldn't I be the one lingering back to admire the horizon? After all, I'm the one leaving, not you," he quips with a playful smirk.

You chuckle at his remark, shaking your head in amusement. "Come on, Lando, don't act like you're the only one who appreciates a good view," you tease back, nudging him lightly.

He grins, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before turning back to the scenery. "Fair point," he concedes, his tone light and playful. “I’ll wait for you downstairs then.”

You nod, watching him make his way down the stairs. The gentle breeze ruffles your hair, and you take a deep breath, committing the scene to memory.

With a sense of purpose, you scan the area, searching for the perfect spot to leave your message. Your eyes alight on a small alcove tucked away in a corner, sheltered from the wind and hidden from plain sight. It’s a secluded nook, easily overlooked by passersby, but will be found if it’s searched for.

Slipping something into the alcove, you ensure it’s nestled securely among the shadows, a subtle gesture meant for only the most observant of visitors. With a satisfied nod, you turn to follow Lando down the stairs.

—

The following day is a whirlwind of activity as your parents arrive at the cottage. They come bearing an array of supplies and comforts, ready to pamper you with their love and attention.

"Sweetheart, we brought some of your favorite homemade meals," your mom chirps, bustling into the kitchen with bags of groceries in tow.

Your dad follows closely behind, a stack of freshly laundered blankets in his arms. "And I made sure to pack extra blankets in case you get chilly," he adds with a warm smile.

Isaac turns to your mother, his expression gentle yet concerned. “Just a heads up, she can’t have any spicy food because of the doctor’s orders,” he explains, hoping to avoid any culinary mishaps.

“Isaac, don’t ruin it,” you mutter, holding the tupperware filled with your favourite dishes.

Your dad, overhearing the conversation, interjects with a reassuring pat on Isaac’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, son. Your mother has spent many hours in the kitchen cooking up a storm for our girl here,” he says with a fond smile. “A little taste of home can work wonders for the soul.”

You can't help but smile at their fussing, feeling a mixture of gratitude and guilt at their doting gestures. "How long are you planning to stay?" you inquire, trying to gauge the extent of their visit.

"Until you're better, of course," your mom replies without hesitation, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Throughout the day, your parents dote on you, attending to your every need with unwavering devotion. They fluff pillows, brew tea, and fuss over you as if you were a child again, and despite the sadness that tugs at your heart, you find solace in their presence.

As evening falls and the cottage is filled with the aroma of home-cooked meals, you can't help but feel a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. These moments of familial closeness are precious, and you savor each one, knowing deep down that they may be fleeting.

Amidst the cozy atmosphere that had filled your cottage, a sudden realization dawns on you. Today is the day Lando is leaving, and with the flurry of activity happening throughout the day, you had almost forgotten.

Abandoning your dinner mid-bite, you quickly put on a pair of shoes, your heart pounding with urgency. As you rush towards the door, your parents pause in their fussing, exchanging puzzled glances as they notice your abrupt departure.

“Where are you going?” your mom asks, concern etched in her voice.

You pause in the doorway, a sense of determination driving you forward. “I have to see Lando,” you reply, your words rushed and breathless.

As you disappear out the door, your parents turn to your brother, confusion evident in their expressions. “Who’s Lando?” your dad asks, his brow furrowed in bewilderment.

Isaac sighs, shaking his head as he meets their gaze. “He’s the one she’s in love with,” he explains softly, a hint of sadness in his voice. “But I’m not sure if she’s ready to accept it yet.”

As you reach the villa, your breath comes in ragged gasps, each inhale becoming a struggle. Pain pulses through your chest with every heartbeat, but you refuse to let it slow you down. Adrenaline surges through your veins, driving you forward with an urgency born of raw emotion.

Your eyes scan the scene before you, taking in the sight of Max hurriedly loading the car with his and Lando’s bags. The trunk is nearly full, a testament to the impending departure that looms over you like a storm cloud. You feel a knot form in your stomach, a sense of panic seizing hold of you as you realize that time is slipping away.

Then, amidst the chaos, you spot Lando emerging from the villa, his expression one of surprise and concern as he catches sight of you. His brow furrows in confusion, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

Without hesitation, you push yourself forward, your feet carrying you towards him with a desperate urgency. With trembling hands, you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his arm before wrapping around him in a tight embrace. His warmth envelops you, a comforting anchor amidst the storm raging within you. For a fleeting moment, the pain in your chest eases, replaced by a sense of peace that only he can provide.

For a long moment, you simply hold onto each other, the world around you fading into insignificance as you find solace in each other’s arms. The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy between you, the truth lingering on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be unleashed.

As you finally pull away, a silent understanding passes between you, a shared acknowledgment of the depth of your connection. Lando’s gaze searches yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and affection, silently asking if you’re okay.

You manage a faint smile, though it feels fragile on your lips. “I just had to see you before you left,” you confess softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softens, a warmth in his eyes that speaks volumes. “I’m glad you came,” he replies, his voice gentle and reassuring.

You linger for a moment longer, drinking in the sight of him, committing every detail to memory. Then, with a heavy heart, you reluctantly release him, knowing that time is running short.

As Lando returns to help Max with the bags, you watch him go, a sense of longing tugging at your heart.

Once everything was packed up, Lando and Max walked towards you, their footsteps echoing on the gravel driveway. Max reaches you first, his face lit with a warm smile. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a brief, friendly hug.

“Thanks for the good company,” Max says, his voice full of genuine gratitude. “And for keeping Lando’s mood up throughout this trip. You’ve been a real lifesaver.” He chuckles, the sound infectious, and you can’t help but laugh along with him.

“Anytime,” you reply, your smile widening. “It’s been fun having you both around.”

Max steps back, giving Lando space to step forward. Lando’s eyes meet yours, and there’s a depth of emotion there that makes your heart skip a beat. He takes your hands in his, holding them gently as if afraid you might disappear.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Lando says softly, his tone filled with a mixture of hope and determination. “Just a ‘see you later,’ alright?”

You nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “See you later,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

Lando pulls you into a tight embrace this time, his arms wrapping around you protectively. You breathe in his familiar scent, the comfort of his presence grounding you in the moment.

He pulls back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he searches your face. “Don’t think I forgot about giving you a pass,” he says with a small, teasing smile. “I’ll be waiting for you at the race.”

You smile through the tears that threaten to spill over. “We’ll see.”

Max claps Lando on the back, breaking the emotional moment. “Come on, mate, we’ve got a plane to catch.”

With one last look, Lando releases you and heads towards the car. You watch them drive away, a mix of sadness and hope swirling within you. The ache in your chest grows, but you try to push it aside, focusing on ways to fulfill the promise of seeing him again.

As you start walking back home, the exertion from earlier catches up to you. Your breath becomes labored, each step feeling heavier than the last. A sharp pain radiates through your chest, and you find yourself struggling to stay upright. Determined to make it back to the cottage, you push on, but every movement is a reminder of your body’s limitations.

By the time you reach the door, you’re barely holding on. You collapse onto the porch steps, gasping for breath, the world around you blurring as you fight to stay conscious. Moments later, the door swings open, and Isaac is there, his face pale with worry.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, rushing to your side. His voice sounds distant, echoing in your ears.

You try to speak, but the words get caught in your throat. Instead, you manage a weak nod, though it’s clear you’re far from okay.

Isaac doesn’t waste another second. He scoops you up in his arms, carrying you inside. “Mom! Dad!” he calls out, his voice frantic. “Something’s wrong. We need to get her to the hospital.”

Your parents appear almost instantly, their faces a mixture of fear and determination. Your dad grabs the car keys while your mom hurries to gather your things, her hands shaking.

In the car, you drift in and out of consciousness, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you. Your mom holds your hand tightly, whispering soothing words that barely register. Isaac drives with a grim focus, the worry in his eyes reflected in the rearview mirror.

At the hospital, the staff quickly takes over, whisking you away on a stretcher. Your family is left in the waiting room, their anxious faces a blur as you’re rushed through the halls.

As the doctors and nurses work to stabilize you, you catch fleeting thoughts of Lando, Max, and the brief, bright moments you shared. The reality of your condition settles in, and you realize just how fragile your hope had been.

The doctors stabilize you for now, but you wake to the sound of your mother's soft cries in the room. Her face is buried in your father's shoulder, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Your father is holding her close, his eyes red and puffy, a grim expression etched on his face. Isaac stands nearby, his jaw clenched, trying to hold himself together.

You blink, the fluorescent lights above casting a harsh glow on the stark white walls. A doctor stands at the foot of your bed, looking somber. You catch bits and pieces of his words, the clinical detachment in his voice contrasting sharply with the raw emotion in the room.

"...best if she doesn’t return home... too weak... last days in the hospital..."

The full weight of the words crashes over you, and a sense of helplessness fills your heart. You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and the words come out as a rasp. "Mom? Dad?"

Your mother's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, and she rushes to your side, taking your hand in hers. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispers, tears streaming down her face. "We're here. We're right here."

Your father moves closer, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We won't leave your side," he promises, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes.

Isaac approaches the bed, his usual bravado stripped away. "Hey," he says softly, trying to muster a smile. "We’re all here for you."

You swallow hard, trying to process the reality of the situation. "How long?" you manage to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

The doctor steps forward, his expression compassionate. "It’s hard to say for certain," he admits gently. "But we’ll do everything we can to keep you comfortable."

You nod, a mixture of fear and resignation settling over you. Your mother's sobs have quieted, but the sorrow in her eyes is unmistakable. "I’m so sorry," you whisper, feeling a pang of guilt for putting them through this.

"No, don’t apologize," your father says firmly, squeezing your shoulder. "This isn’t your fault. We’re just grateful to be here with you."

Your family’s presence brings a small measure of comfort, but the reality of your condition is a heavy burden. You look around at their faces, trying to memorize every detail, every expression. The room feels both claustrophobic and infinite, the moments stretching out like a fragile thread.

As the night wears on, you find solace in their presence. Your mother hums softly, stroking your hair, while your father reads to you from a book you loved as a child. Isaac sits by the window, watching the night sky, his expression pensive.

You know that the days ahead will be difficult, but for now, you take comfort in the love that surrounds you. The hospital room, with its sterile walls and beeping machines, becomes a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you can hold on to the precious moments with your family, no matter how fleeting they may be.

—

The sterile scent of the hospital room is overwhelming, the beeping of the machines a constant reminder of the deteriorating state of your health. The wires and tubes attached to your body are a constant presence, their weight both physical and symbolic. The medication dulls the pain, but it also leaves you in a fog, half-aware of the world around you.

Isaac sits by your bedside, his expression a mix of forced cheerfulness and hidden sorrow. He tries to make you laugh, telling stories and cracking jokes, but there’s an underlying tension in his voice.

You take a shaky breath and glance at Isaac. “So, this is it, huh?” you say with a dry laugh, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the sadness in your voice.

He looks at you, the forced cheerfulness slipping from his face. “Still laughing?” he asks, his voice quivering.

“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t want that to be the last expression you remember me by.”

Isaac’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Remember when you said that you weren’t able to be a proper older sister to me ever since you got diagnosed?” he asks softly. “That’s wrong. You still were because you powered through every moment of pain on your own. Even now, you’re as selfless as ever.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you swallow hard. “I got a taste of how it feels to be selfish recently,” you confess, your voice trembling. “To see what you want right there in front of you, waiting for you to take it, but I almost got too attached to it that fate had to rip it away from me again.”

“Are you talking about Lando?” Isaac asks gently, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, the memories of your brief time with Lando flooding back, a bittersweet ache in your chest. “Life is so cruel, so fickle,” you say, your voice barely audible. “When I finally accepted my fate, it flipped and gave me a chance to be happy, to fall in love, to live like I’ve never done before. When I experienced it all, it just made me greedy. I wanted to keep living like that. But I won’t be able to because in a moment, it’s taken away again.”

Isaac squeezes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “You deserved every moment of happiness,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “And you brought happiness to those around you, too. Remember that.”

The days pass in a blur of medical checks, whispered conversations, and the quiet hum of machines. Your parents come and go, their faces lined with worry but always offering words of comfort and love.

Then comes Sunday, one that’s special for you because it’s also race day.

The hospital room is dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of the television screen mounted on the wall. The muted hum of machines and the occasional beep provide a constant backdrop to your labored breathing. Your family surrounds you, their presence a source of comfort even as your strength wanes. The room is filled with an unspoken tension, a fragile hope that somehow, you might find the strength to hold on a little longer.

Earlier in the day, you had pleaded with the nurses to let you watch the race. “Please,” you whispered, your voice weak but determined. “I just want to see him race one last time.”

The nurses had exchanged glances, their expressions softening. “Alright,” one of them had said gently. “We’ll make sure you can watch it.”

Now, the vibrant colors of the Formula 1 race contrast sharply with the sterile white of the hospital room. Lando’s car, resplendent in its sleek orange design, zips around the track with an elegance and speed that seems almost otherworldly. The commentator’s voice crackles with excitement as they describe the race in vivid detail.

“And Lando Norris takes the lead! He’s showing incredible skill out there today, really pushing the limits of his car and his own abilities. The crowd is going wild!”

You try to focus on the race, on the laps ticking by, the thrill of each turn, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult. Your vision blurs, the lines between the real and the surreal beginning to merge. Every breath is a struggle, each one more labored than the last.

Your mother sits by your side, her hand gently stroking your hair, her eyes red-rimmed but determined to stay strong. Your father stands at the foot of the bed, his face etched with lines of worry and sorrow. Isaac holds your hand, his grip firm and reassuring, his eyes never leaving your face.

You gather your remaining strength, turning your head slightly to look at Isaac. “Can you give him a message for me?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, each word a struggle.

Isaac leans closer, his face etched with concern and determination. “What do you want to say?” he asks gently, his eyes locked onto yours, ready to carry your words to Lando.

You pause, the weight of the moment settling over you. With great effort, you manage to form the words that have been in your heart. “Tell him… tell him that he made me believe in living life again. That he gave me something beautiful in my last days. And… and that I’ll always be cheering for him, even if I’m not there.”

Isaac’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and he nods, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “I will. I promise.”

On the television, Lando navigates the sharp turns of the track with precision and grace. The roar of the engines and the thrill of the race create a stark contrast to the quiet, somber atmosphere of your room. The commentator’s voice booms with excitement.

“Norris is extending his lead! This could be his race if he keeps up this pace. The team must be thrilled with his performance!”

On the Formula 1 track, the atmosphere is electric. Lando sits in his car, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He can feel every vibration of the engine, every nuance of the track. The pit crew buzzes with activity, their movements synchronized and efficient. Over the radio, his engineer’s voice provides updates and encouragement.

“You’re doing great, Lando. Keep this up and the win is yours.”

Lando nods inside his helmet, his focus razor-sharp. The crowd’s cheers blend into a singular wave of energy that propels him forward. He pushes the car to its limits, every fiber of his being dedicated to the race.

Back in the hospital, your breathing becomes more labored, and your family’s concern deepens. Your mother’s voice breaks as she hums softly, a lullaby from your childhood. Isaac squeezes your hand, his own tears finally breaking free.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words a final, heartfelt goodbye.

“We love you too,” Isaac responds, his voice choked with emotion. “More than anything.”

On the track, Lando crosses the finish line, the checkered flag waving triumphantly. The crowd erupts into a frenzy of cheers and applause. The commentator’s voice is almost drowned out by the noise.

“Lando Norris wins the race! What an incredible performance!”

In the paddock, Lando is overwhelmed with joy, the culmination of his efforts and dedication. He pulls off his helmet, his face breaking into a wide smile as he celebrates with his team. He can’t wait to share the victory, to tell you about the race, to see the look of pride in your eyes.

You watch from the hospital room, as Lando stands on the podium, lifting the trophy high, a sense of accomplishment filling him. A smile graces your lips, noticing the pure joy on his face. Then, you close your eyes, the vision of Lando’s smile still fresh in your mind.

Time stands still. As the world fades around you, your family holds you close, their whispered goodbyes blending into a chorus of love and sorrow. The light in your eyes dims, and with one last, labored breath, you slip away into a place beyond suffering.

As soon as the machine flatlines, the piercing sound of the monitor cuts through the room, signaling the end. Your mother's cries shatter the silence, raw and heart-wrenching. She grips your hand with desperate strength, her knuckles turning white, as if her hold on you could somehow bring you back.

"No, no, please!" she sobs, her voice cracking with each word. Tears stream down her face, her body trembling with the force of her grief. She shakes you gently at first, then more insistently, refusing to accept the finality of it. "Wake up, please wake up!"

Your father stands by her side, his own face etched with anguish. He places a hand on her shoulder, trying to offer support, but his own tears betray his stoic exterior. Isaac, standing a little apart, is frozen in shock, his eyes wide and uncomprehending as he watches the scene unfold.

The room is filled with the oppressive weight of sorrow, the air heavy with the collective grief of your family. The nurses, having done all they could, step back to give your family space, their own expressions somber and respectful.

Your mother’s cries grow louder, a desperate plea to a reality that feels too cruel to be true. She holds your hand to her cheek, her tears wetting your skin as she rocks back and forth. "Please, don’t leave us," she whispers, her voice breaking. "We need you."

The doctor steps forward, his face grave, and gently places a hand on your mother’s arm. "I’m so sorry for your loss," he says quietly, his words sincere but powerless against the tidal wave of their grief.

The only reality that matters is the unbearable pain of losing you, and the impossible task of trying to say goodbye.

On the top step of the podium, Lando basks in the glow of victory, the thrill of the race still pulsing through him. But amidst the celebration, a nagging feeling tugs at him, a sense that something is missing. A bittersweet undercurrent flows through his triumph.

Unbeknownst to him, a message of love and gratitude is on its way, bridging the distance between the track and the hospital room, connecting two hearts in a moment that transcends time and space.

Suddenly, your phone rings, the shrill sound cutting through the flatline beeping on the monitor. Each ring echoes through the room like a mournful dirge. Isaac’s hand hovers over the device, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitates to answer. But when the call comes again, he knows there’s no escaping the inevitable.

With trembling fingers, he accepts the call, the voice on the other end sending a shiver down his spine. “Were you watching the race? I told you that you are my lucky charm.”

Isaac’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes welling with tears at the bitter irony of Lando’s words. He struggles to find the strength to respond, his voice choked with emotion. “Lando… it’s Isaac.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a tremor of uncertainty in Lando’s voice. “Isaac? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Isaac’s heart clenches at the desperation in Lando’s voice, his own grief threatening to consume him. “She’s gone, Lando,” he manages to choke out, his voice breaking with sorrow. “My sister… she’s gone.”

The words hang heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the cruel twist of fate that has robbed them of their happiness. Lando’s breath hitches, his voice barely a whisper as he responds. “No… no, that can’t be true. Tell me you’re lying, tell me this is some sick joke please”

Isaac’s heart aches as he hears the disbelief and anguish in Lando’s voice. He wishes he could erase the truth, to shield Lando from the devastating reality they now face. But there’s no escaping it, no denying the painful truth that hangs between them like a heavy shroud.

“I wish I could, Lando,” Isaac murmurs, his own voice choked with sorrow. “I wish this was just a sick joke, but… but she’s really gone.”

There’s a long, agonizing pause, broken only by the sound of Lando’s ragged breathing on the other end of the line. Isaac can imagine the turmoil raging within him, the crushing weight of grief threatening to overwhelm him entirely. He relays the message that you had for him, only hearing Lando breathing heavily in response.

As Lando stands there, clutching the phone that brought him devastating news, the world around him seems to blur into a haze of incomprehensible grief. The congratulations from his fellow drivers fall on deaf ears, their voices distant and muffled as if coming from a far-off place. Daniel, Carlos, George—all of them offer their heartfelt congratulations, their smiles genuine, but Lando can't bring himself to respond.

He feels disconnected, as if he's merely a spectator watching his own life unfold from a distance. The cameras flash around him, capturing the jubilant celebrations of victory, but Lando feels nothing but a hollow emptiness gnawing at his soul.

Unable to bear the facade any longer, Lando excuses himself from the crowd, retreating to the sanctuary of his driver's room. Once alone, the weight of his grief crashes over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in its depths.

With a gut-wrenching scream, Lando releases the pent-up anguish that has been building inside him since the moment he received that fateful call. He falls to his knees, his body racked with sobs as he grapples with the cruel twist of fate that has torn his world apart.

In that moment of agonizing despair, Lando feels utterly alone, lost in a sea of grief with no shore in sight. The victory he had worked so hard for feels meaningless now, a hollow triumph overshadowed by the devastating loss of someone he held dear.

As the echoes of his cries fade into the silence of the empty room, Lando finds himself consumed by a profound sense of despair. In the midst of his greatest triumph, he is confronted with the harsh reality of mortality, and it is a bitter pill to swallow.

Alone in his hotel room, Lando’s victory feels hollow amidst the empty silence that surrounds him. Instead of celebrating with the fanfare of music, alcohol, and camaraderie that would be expected after such a result, he finds himself throwing his belongings haphazardly into his suitcase, his movements mechanical and devoid of purpose.

The room feels suffocating, the weight of grief pressing down on him like a physical force. With a sense of urgency, Lando hastily gathers his things, his hands trembling as he zips up his suitcase.

As he exits the hotel, he fires off a text to his manager, explaining the situation briefly, typing through his clouded vision full of more unshed tears.

Lando chooses not to drive, the mere thought of operating a vehicle feeling like an insurmountable task. Instead, he hails a taxi, his mind consumed by thoughts of you and the gaping void left in your absence.

The taxi driver casts him a curious glance as he climbs into the backseat, his tear-streaked face a stark contrast to the typical fare. But Lando pays no mind to the stares, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming grief that threatens to consume him.

Throughout the journey to the airport, Lando’s tears continue to flow unabated, his heart weighed down by the magnitude of his loss. He feels adrift, lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, unsure of how to navigate the tumultuous waters of his emotions.

Lando finds himself grappling with conflicting emotions as he boards the plane back to the town filled with memories of you. Despite the overwhelming pain of revisiting every corner suffused with reminders of your presence, he knows deep down that he cannot stay away.

The thought of pretending that everything is fine when it's not feels like a betrayal of the love you shared, a denial of the profound impact you had on his life. And so, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by grief, Lando embarks on the journey back to the place where his heart still lingers, knowing that he must confront the pain head-on in order to find a semblance of peace.

Lando’s return to town is marked by exhaustion and dishevelment, the toll of a sleepless night evident in the shadows beneath his eyes and the weariness etched into his features. He barely manages to greet Isaac before retreating to the solitude of the lighthouse, seeking solace in the familiar embrace of its quiet sanctuary.

As Lando stands at the top of the lighthouse, his gaze fixed on the horizon, he can't shake the feeling of déjà vu that washes over him. The flickering beam of the lighthouse casts eerie shadows against the walls, the only sound the mournful cry of seagulls in the distance. It's as if he's been transported back in time, to a moment frozen in history, when tragedy and loss hung heavy in the air.

Tears stream down his cheeks, his sobs echoing in the empty space around him as he allows himself to surrender to the overwhelming tide of emotion.

In the stillness of the lighthouse, Lando is consumed by a sense of profound loss, his heart aching with the absence of the one he longs for. He sits there for hours, his thoughts consumed by memories of you, his soul yearning for the warmth of your presence.

In the dim light, Lando recalls the story you once shared with him, of the tragic love that had unfolded within these very walls decades ago. A woman, waiting faithfully for her lover's return, had spent countless nights standing vigil at the top of the lighthouse, her heart filled with hope and longing. But as the years passed and her lover failed to return, her hope turned to despair, her love transformed into bitter regret.

Now, as Lando stands in the same spot, he can't help but draw parallels between that long-ago tragedy and his own situation. Like the woman of the story, he finds himself clinging to a glimmer of hope, praying for a miracle that may never come. In his heart, he still holds onto the belief that you'll come back to him, that the news of your loss is just a bad dream from which he'll soon awaken.

With each passing moment, however, the harsh reality of your absence becomes more pronounced, the weight of grief bearing down on him like a leaden cloak. Yet, despite the pain that threatens to consume him, Lando refuses to give up hope. He remains steadfast in his vigil, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of your return, his heart yearning for the moment when he'll finally see you again.

His gaze sweeps over every corner of the lighthouse, wanting to etch every detail into his memory. The soft glow of the fading sunlight filters through the windows, casting a warm golden hue over the space. He takes a deep breath, trying to imprint the scent of saltwater and sea breeze into his mind.

As he moves around, his eyes fall upon a small alcove tucked away in a corner, hidden from plain sight. Something tugs at his instincts, urging him to investigate further. With cautious curiosity, he steps closer, his heart pounding in anticipation.

Reaching into the alcove, his fingers brush against something smooth and delicate. He pulls out a folded piece of paper, his breath catching in his throat as he realizes what it is. With trembling hands, he unfolds the note, his eyes scanning the words written in your handwriting.

Lando, I hope this note finds its way to you. It's strange how emotions can turn even the fearless into cowards. I couldn't bring myself to give you this letter in person, so I'm leaving it here, hoping it reaches you. I'm guessing you already know the truth, and that I'm no longer here by your side.

As he reads those words, he can hear your voice in his mind. The acknowledgment that you couldn't face him in person fills him with a mix of sadness and understanding. He feels a pang of guilt, wondering if there was something he could have done differently to make you feel more comfortable sharing your feelings with him.

I don’t think a mere ‘I’m sorry’ is enough for keeping the truth from you. The reason why I did is because every moment with you felt like a dream, and in my dreams, my illness never existed. I’ve always cursed fate for the shitty hand it dealt me but I never would’ve gotten a chance to live something close to the perfect life if it wasn’t for fate.

A melancholic smile tugs at his lips as he reflects on the sentiment expressed in your words. Each moment spent with you had indeed felt like a dream, a precious respite from the relentless demands of the racing world.

Before you came to town, I felt like a living corpse, waiting for my illness to take me under, but when I met you, it gave me a purpose to look forward to the next day. Being your tour guide, although I think it was because you just wanted to spend time with me, was probably the most I’ve lived ever since I was diagnosed. While I used your presence as an excuse to live like I used to, I didn’t ever imagine falling in love with anyone, much less a British racing driver.

A wave of emotions wash over him as he reads your heartfelt confession, his own heart aching with a mixture of sadness and longing. Tears blur his vision as he continues reading, slightly tracing over your words with his finger.

I wish I had the courage to say this to you face to face, to witness your reaction and perhaps hear you say the words back. But one thing I admire about you is your ability to live in the moment. So, in this moment, I want to tell you that I love you, Lando Norris, even though I'm no longer by your side. I hope our memories bring a smile to your face, just as they did to mine.

Please, don’t blame yourself for any of this. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You're the reason I found joy again, laughter again. Lando, you brought me back to life. Thank you. I'll love you always.

- Your favourite tour guide

As he reaches the final words of the note, he clutches it to his chest, feeling your presence close to him. In that moment, amidst the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, Lando finds a fleeting sense of peace amidst the storm of his emotions. He knows that no matter what the future holds, your love will always remain a guiding light in his heart.

With tears streaming down his cheeks, he whispers a silent promise to you, his beloved tour guide, into the salty breeze surrounding your favourite place. “I’ll never forget you. I’ll carry your love with me, always.”

Then he adds with a sob wracking through his body, “I love you too.”

As he sits in the lighthouse, Lando no longer waits for your return. Yet, he feels your love enveloping him, every word of the note etched into his heart. Though you may be gone, your presence lingers, filling the space around him with warmth and tenderness. In that moment, he finds solace in the memories of your love, knowing that you'll always be with him, no matter where life takes him.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @dreamingonbed @oliviah-25 @heylookwhoitis @unabashedkoalawasteland @inejghafawifesblog @poppyflower-22 @charizznorizz @booksandflowrs @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @randomnessis-mine-me @whatever7justchillin @kagome45 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @timmy-wife1 @writtenbykirs @lew444 @kansas-kisses @barackosteaa @hellof-1 @itsbwokenln4 @nixily @reengard @candyeollies @customsbyjcg-blog @heeseungthel0ml @sweate-r-weathe-r @mattymybeloved @saturnbloom77 @ltotheucyy @ironmaiden1313

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 3 days

Text

Smoking and other new things (M)

Part two of the I'd Do Anything Series

Summary: Since y/n can't tell anyone she fucked Jeonghan, she has to resort to other methods of achieving her original goal of making people see her in a different, less innocent light.

Warnings: Smoking, talk of drugs, college party- but not Jackson Wang's, skewed perceptions of 'innocence', blow job, throat fucking, dom!jeonghan, sub!yn, inexperienced!yn, creampie, rough sex, semi-public sex, light degredation, kinda mean!jeonghan, treats (don't ask), lots of saliva, minimal impact play

A.N. I just want it known that most of the experiences that y/n explores in this are experiences I TOO am unexperienced. My best friend was google, and the hits of vapes and cigarettes I took SOLELY for research on this fic. don't bully me pls </3

The great thing about the events of this past week was that unlike what anyone would have believed in and out of high school, you were finally not a virgin.

You had had multiple people make jokes with you that you wouldn’t have sex with anyone until you were married and even then they joked that you would wait forever after that.

Because somewhere along the line people became convinced that good kid also equaled prude.

So now, excitingly, you had physical proof that you weren’t a prude…

And you couldn’t tell anyone.

You tapped at your desk in aggravation, your finished chemistry work sitting captive beneath your hand.

What the fuck was the point in all of this? Sure in the moment it had all made sense, because Jeonghan was hot, and you two were alone, and you had wanted to be fucked so badly. But to so easily agree to not tell anyone.

What was the point? What was the point?

It wasn’t like you had only wanted to have sex with Jeonghan to brag about it. Having sex with a specific person wasn’t a brag, but now if you were to make some broad statement about how actually I have had sex before and I also did anal, and he creampied both of my holes- I even have a safe word but I can’t tell you who it was but I mean trust me it happened no one would believe you.

It sounded like you were just making up crazier details to make it more outrageous and therefore believable.

So, so frustrating…

You considered silently what to do with your weekend. You had gotten your homework done by now, and it was a Friday night. This was the perfect chance for you to do something else to change everyone’s opinions on you, but you didn’t even know where to start.

Okay… Not true. You could just go back to square one: Drugs.

And thanks to Jeonghan, you knew just where to go.

You pulled out your phone and opened Hansol’s contact.

Hey. I need drugs.

You thought that was simple enough and within only a few minutes your phone was buzzing. You picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, what the fuck?”

You pursed your lips, and tapped your index finger against the desk.

“What?”

“You can’t just text me that you need drugs,” Hansol clarified, sounding a bit annoyed that he needed to do so. Your eyes trailed to the side.

“You sound like Jeonghan.”

“What?” Hansol replied, confusion etching his voice. You didn’t elaborate.

“What should I say to you if I want drugs if I can’t just text you?” You asked.

Hansol sighed.

“Ask me in person?”

“But-“

You heard noise in the background and Hansol turned away from the phone, he spoke but his voice was muffled. Jealousy shot through your chest.

“Are you at a party right now?” You blurted before you could think twice about it. Hansol was quiet for a few seconds.

“… Yes….”

You planted both of your feet firmly on the ground.

“Let me come!”

“Y/n….”

“Please, please, please,” you begged, already getting to your feet to get changed. You switched the phone onto speaker as you began to rummage through your closet.

“Y/n, it’s just…. Really not your scene,” Hansol warned.

“It can be my scene!” You insisted as you ripped your shirt off. You grabbed your phone again, turning it off speaker and smashing it against your face. “Hansol, please, I promise I won’t stand out at all. It’ll be just like I’m one of the guys.”

You physically winced at your own words, and silence followed your statement. Silence that lasted for so long that you thought that surely you had ruined your chance completely.

“... Fine.”

“Really?!”

“But y/n. You have to be…” He let out a sound of frustration. “Good? Fuck. I don’t know, but everyone will be so pissed at me if I’m the one who invited you to this party and you get hurt or some shit.”

You weren’t really listening to Hansol at this point.

“I’ll see you soon Hansol!” You insisted. “Don’t forget to text me the address.”

You tried not to let what Hansol had said bother you too much, because who cared if he was still sheltering you when you had actually gotten the invite? You couldn’t help the excitement that was buzzing through your body at the fact that you were finally going to be at a party.

You weren’t sure what to expect, all you did know was that any college party was going to be either exactly like the movies or nothing like them at all.

You found the address of the house easy enough, and to start off the party certainly wasn’t as out of control as you had seen in films. There weren’t people throwing beer cans out of windows, and the music couldn’t be heard from all the way down the block but it did look like there were a lot of people inside.

Outside there were a handful of people talking with red solo cups in their hands, one of them being Hansol. As soon as you got out of your Uber, he saw you and waved you over.

“Hey,” he greeted as you joined him on the steps. He glanced over your outfit, a simple crop top and some jeans. “Good outfit.”

And you could tell by his voice that he was genuinely impressed. You couldn’t help the large smile that broke out over your lips.

“Thank you!” You said brightly. You peeked around his body at the party, and just as you did Hansol raised his vape to his mouth. You watched him, your heart thumping in your chest.

Vaping. Perfectly legal, perfectly safe. You could totally vape, and people would start to see you a little differently. Hansol seemed to watch your gaze and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you… Do you want a hit…?” He asked uncertainly. Your eyes lit up.

“Can I?” You asked. Hansol chewed unsurely on his bottom lip.

“Do you really want to?”

You nodded eagerly and so he sighed and handed it to you. You took the small piece of plastic and pressed it to your lips, but your hesitation was evident. Hansol sighed, that nervous expression still on his face.

“You have to slowly inhale the vapour, hold it in your mouth for just a second, and then open your mouth, breath in the vapour and exhale,” Hansol instructed. You nodded, trying to follow his instructions but when you tried to finally breathe in the vapour, you started to cough. Hansol took the vape from your fingers.

“It takes practice,” he said, but he looked more nervous than you felt. “Do you want a drink?”

He led you into the party, weaving through the groups of people. There were people playing beer pong, others standing around talking, some people were grinding on each other on the dance floor. What you knew for sure was that everyone was drunk.

You needed to get drunk.

Hansol walked right past the bowl of some sort of punch that was on a flimsy collapsable table and instead led you over to the fridge where he pulled out an unopened bottle of Corona beer. You pouted and pointed at the punch bowl.

“Solo cup,” you whined. He gave you another nervous look and instead, held the bottle out towards you more firmly.

“Unopened,” he pressed. You sighed, and decided to just take whatever alcohol you could get. Maybe you would try the punch later when Hansol wasn’t hovering over your shoulder as if he were your babysitter.

Your eyes trailed over the people at the party, trying to figure out who you knew, and who you could try to talk to. Before you could really take in your surroundings, a hand came to your back, and you jumped in surprise.

“Well, is that little y/nnie or are my eyes deceiving me?” The person bellowed. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. His lips curled up into a smile. “It is.”

You sucked in a small breath.

“Seobin?”

He grinned lazily.

“The one and only.”

Seobin was one of the boys that you knew from your time in high school. It may have been a while but you would recognize him on sight. (Considering he had been one of the more popular boys in school.) Seobin had never even talked to you before, and he certainly had never been this close to you.

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you knocked his hands off your shoulders, which he shrugged off like it had been his decision in the first place. He patted your head like you were a dog and looked over at Hansol.

“What’s little Miss Perfect doing here?” He asked, as if you weren’t standing right there. Hansol shrugged, still looking wildly uncomfortable.

“Y/n wanted to come,” Hansol shrugged.

“OoOoh,” Seobin said excitedly. He turned back to look at you.

“Looking for some way to change the way people think about you?” Seobin cooed lightly. You pressed your lips together in thought. “Looking for someone to make you seem, less pure?”

Your thoughts drifted to Jeonghan, and your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“I already have someone to make me less pure,” you mumbled softly. “Don’t need you to make me seem it.”

Seobin laughed in surprise at your brazeness and he clapped his hand on your shoulder, and tightened his grip so that you were still in place. He leaned forward, his nose nearly brushing yours.

“You’re telling me you’re not a virgin anymore?”

Your face burned as Seobin got knocked off of you.

“Fuck off,” Hansol bit out. “Stop messing with her.”

Seobin shrugged off Hansol.

“I’m not messing with her,” he grumbled. He looked at you. “Am I messing with you?”

You pursed your lips.

“I’m not a virgin,” you said, sounding like a whiney kid. Both Hansol and Seobin stared at you, before finally Seobin burst out in a loud obnoxious laugh.

“I need a fucking cigarette.”

You watched as Seobin dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small white box.

You stared at the box in Seobin’s hand, your heart thumping in your chest.

“I’ll just be a second,” he commented. He raised his free hand to pat your cheek condescendingly. “Why don’t you wait here for me huh?”

Your face burned.

“What? You don’t think that I can smoke?” You blurted, before remembering that you were supposed to be keeping your cool. Regardless, Seobin laughed.

“Can you smoke?” He asked.

“Well….” Your foot tapped against the ground in frustration. “I can certainly learn.”

Seobin’s eyebrows rose in amusement, and Hansol grabbed you by your forearm.

“Y/n,” he hissed, pulling you towards him a bit. “What… What are you doing?”

You shrugged.

“I’m going to learn to smoke a cigarette.”

Hansol looked pained.

“Why?”

You shrugged.

“Why not?”

He bit down on his bottom lip nervously and you took that as your opportunity to shake him off and follow Seobin out of the party. Once you two were out in the cool air, Seobin led you so that your back was on the wall of the house. He pulled out a cigarette and gave it to you.

You took it nervously in your hands, noting that it was a bit… Squishier..? Than you thought it would be.

Seobin poked his cigarette into his mouth, clicking his lighter to light the end of his cigarette. He took a small puff and then sighed, gesturing to you.

“Put it in your mouth,” he said pointedly. Your eyes widened a bit and you did as he asked. Seobin grinned.

“How obedient. Maybe you aren’t a virgin.”

Your face burned but as it did Seobin leaned forward and flicked his lighter on again, lighting the end of the cigarette. He put the lighter back in his pocket. He pulled his cigarette out of his mouth briefly.

“Breathe into your mouth, down into your throat, and then exhale.”

You nodded, your eyebrows furrowing as you breathed in. You didn’t really feel like any smoke was entering your mouth. You kind of liked the texture of the cigarette between your lips.

Your eyes squinted at Seobin who had decided to pin you against the wall with one hand while he smoked with the other, watching you in amusement. You tried to breathe in again, and this time it hit your throat.

You burst into a coughing fit, which made Seobin laugh at you. He plucked the cigarette out of your mouth and grinned at you.

“Are you sure you can smoke?”

You glared at Seobin and he stuck the cigarette in his mouth. He stared at you, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You know, you’re actually really pretty.”

Color flared to your cheeks at the comment.

“If you really are still a virgin and looking to lose that status…”

Oh my god, was this really all it took? To head to a party, and drink a little beer, and badly smoke a cigarette and then all of a sudden Seobin would want to fuck you. You couldn’t believe it. How easy this would have been if you had just cut out the middle man and come straight here.

“I…” You trailed off and Seobin took a step forward. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and blew smoke in your face. You turned your head to cough and as you did, his fingers came into your hair, and he led your gaze back to his.

“I can make you choke on a lot of things y/n.”

Your face burned red and you shook your head quickly, your mind flashing to that of Jeonghan. The fast image of his eyes flashing in your mind had you lightly pushing at Seobin’s chest.

“I-I think I’ve choked enough tonight,” you said with a nervous laugh. Seobin’s eyes were still lingering on your lips- Oh my god you really were hot.

“Shame,” Seobin finally said. His eyes flickered back up to yours.

“But if you change your mind.”

If you changed your mind you could just call Seobin.

What a crazy thing to think. That you had options.

You stayed outside for a bit longer, begging Seobin to let you try and smoke again. He gave you the cigarette after you begged a little bit, and you got more used to it after half an hour. You didn’t like it, but you did get used to it.

After you went back inside you drank some more, and Hansol started to finally loosen up a bit, less worried about you as you melded in with the crowd of people.

And by the time you got home that night, drunk and tired, you finally felt like you were actually starting to fit in.

Somehow you had managed to get yourself invited to a study session with Hansol and his friends on one of the higher floors of the library in their own study room. After hours of studying and talking, Hansol started to pack up his things and he looked across the room at you.

"If you really want..." Hansol's voice was a bit hesitant as his fingers clutched around the small dark vape cartridge in his hand. "We were all going to get high and watch Finding Nemo."

He shrugged off-handedly as if it was something so mundane to him he couldn't imagine you wanting to do it. And that hesitation made sense because to him, this was mundane. You had heard him and Irene making these plans around you a million times and yet you had never gotten an invite.

But today you had somehow managed to get one.

You tried not to come off as too excited.

"Sure, it's been a while since I've seen Finding Nemo."

Hansol nodded, a smile flickering across his lips as he turned over his shoulder, back toward the room that you two had just come from. You followed him, both of you sticking your heads back through the doorway.

"Y/n and I are headed out," he announced. You sent a timid smile Seungcheol's way, and as you did you turned around, excited to follow Hansol off but instead of following you ended up colliding.

You glanced up, squinting to figure out who was staring down at you with an incredulous expression on his face.

You immediately straightened up, pressing your lips into a tight thin line.

"Oh, Jeonghan, you just missed us," Hansol commented. Jeonghan's eyes flicked over to Hansol's for only a second.

"Us?"

"We're meeting up with Irene, Mark, Eunbi, and Yerin," Hansol elaborated and he so clearly didn't see the expression on Jeonghan's face that you did.

You looked away from Jeonghan, and instead found a spot on the floor, wondering why you felt like a child who had just gotten caught at a party by their parents.

"Y/n's going with you?" He asked. Hansol hummed.

"Not as innocent as we thought I guess," Hansol commented. "Asked for a hit of my vape."

"Yeah?"

His gaze was practically burning into you.

"And you were telling me about that party you went to last-"

Your eyes widened and you darted forward, your hand covering Hansol's mouth before you could consider the repercussions for your actions. Hansol stared at you in confusion, and you forced a laugh, letting your hand slide down to his shoulder.

"Can't tell everyone about the party."

"Considering that Seobin taught you how to smoke a cigarette I would think you would be ecstatic to tell everyone about the party."

There was dead silence between you three, in fact, you weren't even breathing.

"You know, considering the fact you're trying to make people see you more seriously."

Why did Hansol feel the need to double back on that? Why did that just make everything worse?

"You know what? That does make me see y/n in a different light."

You risked a glance up at Jeonghan, who had a scarily calm expression on his face.

"Why don't I walk y/n to Irene's? Didn't Soonyoung have some project he needed to talk to you about?" Jeonghan asked, directing his attention fully to Hansol. Hansol's eyebrows furrowed and he looked down at his hands.

"Shit, you're right."

As he thought over Jeonghan's proposition his hand raised to his face, and the light on his vape lit up, the artificial smoke drifting out of his mouth after only a moment.

"Y/n, Jeonghan can get you there. I'll be there in just a few moments."

He held out his vape just the same way that he had a few minutes ago, expecting you to take another hit. You decided not to overthink it. You grabbed the vape, breathed in too fast, and a cool and sharp bit of air and smoke hit the back of your throat. You coughed out in surprise but mostly kept the sudden reaction concealed.

Hansol smiled.

"You're getting used to it. I'll see you in a second."

And then he was rushing off, leaving you all alone with Jeonghan at your side.

It wasn't like you were doing anything wrong. You weren't doing anything that anyone your age had told you not to. You were just trying new things, and hanging out with new people and... Making everyone think differently of you.

Now that Hansol thought you were willing to try all of these new things he was looking at you differently. No longer that smile that haunted you when people asked you if you wanted to smoke with them out of convention. The look in their eyes that said that they knew you were going to turn down the offer, and that look that screamed to you that they looked at you as more of a perfect porcelain doll than a human.

And yet, looking away from Hansol's expression, the way that said that he finally thought you were normal, you turned and looked to Jeonghan's and you saw something else.

He didn't seem to see you as normal necessarily, and there was disappointment, but that wasn't everything that was there... He didn't look at you like you had suddenly changed into something that ruined his perception of you... What was that look in his eyes?

"Cigarettes?" He asked you after a few moments. You stared at him and nodded. "How long were you at that party?"

Your hand raised subconsciously to the eyeliner you hadn't completely scrubbed from off your undereyes. He huffed.

"And you're vaping now too?"

All things that you knew your parents would shame you for, and you felt shame. You felt like you had disappointed Jeonghan, but... Not the way that you felt like you should feel.

"You want me to teach you something today?" Jeonghan asked you. He closed the distance between you two, and dug his fingers into the roots of your hair. "Something like what I taught you the last time we were alone?"

Your breath hitched.

"Yes sir," you barely managed to get out, because as soon as the confirmation was out of your lips Jeonghan's lips were smashing into yours. Your hands quickly fell to his arm for purchase, your eyes smashed shut as every part of you forgot how to think.

You didn't even realize that you were desperately trying to press yourself into the kiss until Jeonghan had pulled away and you realized you were on the tips of your toes.

You stared at him, chest heaving, ready to be obedient for him.

"Today you're going to learn how to be quiet."

Jeonghan shoved you towards a closet and smashed the two of you inside of it. He then dug his fingers into your hair again and forced you down to your knees.

"Today you're going to learn how to suck dick."

You felt your mouth growing wetter as you stared up at Jeonghan, the dim light of the closet framing the dark look in his eyes.

"And today you're going to learn how to hide when you've done something naughty."

You swallowed hard, nodding stupidly as Jeonghan released your hair. He began to undo his belt, the metal clattering loudly.

“Have you told anyone about us?” He asked, and to punctuate the question he snapped his belt. You jumped at the loud crack, watching as he tossed it to the side. You shook your head in negation to his statement.

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed as he unzipped his pants.

“Use your words y/n,” he said simply.

“I-I haven’t told anyone,” you managed to get out. A smile flickered over Jeonghan’s lips.

“Good girl,” he cooed. Your face burned under the attention and Jeonghan’s hands wrapped around the base of his cock, drawing your eyes back to it.

Already the thing was standing hard and heavy in front of you, the tip of his cock only a few inches from your face.

“You’ve never sucked cock before?” Jeonghan confirmed. You shook your head slowly, your eyes not leaving the length of his cock. That had been inside of you. Not long ago, Jeonghan had been fucking you with that and you had taken it (as far as you were aware) like a fucking champ. You could hardly believe it.

Jeonghan suddenly tapped the tip of his cock to your lips.

“Pay attention,” he mumbled. Your eyes flickered back up to his, an apologetic expression crossing your face.

“Giving head is easy,” Jeonghan finally said, he gave his cock a few strokes as he spoke. “Keep your teeth off of my dick, and focus on taking me as far into your mouth as your comfortable with.”

He eyed you for a moment.

“Why don’t you touch it a little first? Get comfortable.”

The way that Jeonghan was talking to you about sucking his dick was absolutely humiliating. Like you were a kid trying to ride a bike for the first time. Still, you did as you were told. You tentatively wrapped your hands around his cock, staring at the tip as you gave it a hesitant pump.

You looked at Jeonghan for approval which he gave with a small nod.

“The head of the cock is the most sensitive part of it,” Jeonghan said, his breath catching a little as the comment made you immediately swipe your thumb over his tip. You felt a little proud to have made him react like that, so after another pump you did it again.

He readjusted the way he was standing.

“Lick it,” he instructed softly, and his fingers came to rest in your hair again. “Just a bit, get me wet with your tongue.”

You nodded slowly, and tilted his cock up a little so that you could give his cock a very small lick. It felt a little awkward, but you still licked again, and again, deciding to treat it like it was icecream.

You didn’t think that the very minimal stimulation would be good at all, but as you started to lick up the base of his cock, Jeonghan’s fingers tightened a bit in your hair. His mouth let out soft little pants as you licked across the expanse of his dick, before you finally grew a bit impatient. You licked the tip of his cock, your tongue pressing against his slit. He let out a barely contained groan, and so you sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth.

His fingers gripped at your hair, but you still sucked at his tip, the saltiness of his precum spreading over your tongue.

“Deeper,” Jeonghan grunted out.

You glanced up at him, but his eyes were closed. You slowly began to work more of him into your mouth, but you only had a little bit more of him in your mouth when you stopped, your mouth already feeling full around him.

“Is that it?” Jeonghan bit out impatiently. Your face heated up even more and you tried to suck more of his cock into your mouth, but you ended up choking on it. You pulled off of him completely, little tears sprouting in the corners of your eyes as you coughed.

You hadn’t really imagined that sucking cock would be this hard.

Jeonghan sighed and the grip he had on your hair loosened, his hand sliding down your cheek so that his thumb could rub you just under your chin.

“It’s a process…” He said softly. You caught your breath and nodded, before raising your head a little bit to look back up at him.

“How many girls have given you head?” You asked. The question clearly caught him off guard, his fingers left your face.

“Well, that’s a bit personal-”

“I’m going to do it better,” you mumbled softly. You dragged the tip of his cock back to your lips and you closed your eyes as you slowly worked more of him into your mouth. You decided to do it more like you had seen in porn videos. You eased his cock into your mouth, and worked it in and out as you slowly made your way further down on hin.

“Just take it slow,” Jeonghan encouraged you, his hand was on you again, his thumb rubbing your jaw. You closed your eyes tightly and pushed his cock deeper into your mouth. You got a bit deeper than you had the first time before you started to gag again but this time you tried to push through it.

You forced more of him down your throat.

“Don’t push it too hard,” Jeonghan warned. You ignored him, and choked harder around his cock, saliva dipping down your chin. Jeonghan’s hand came back to your hair and he tightly pulled you off of him. You coughed again, gasping.

“I said don’t push too hard,” Jeonghan reasserted. You groaned, your head tilting a little bit.

“I just…” You trailed off as you caught your breath.

“Sweetheart-” For some reason, the nickname made your face burn. “What you are trying to do, isn’t a blow job. You know why your choking? Because you’re taking my dick down your throat.”

Your face blazed.

“Well, that feels better than just a blow job, right?” You asked hesitantly. Jeonghan’s lips flickered into a smile.

“Immensely,” he agreed, and then his face morphed into something more serious. “But you’re a beginner. And deep throating is an expert move-”

“Just give me advice on how to choke less,” you blurted out, not interested in hearing Jeonghan tell you that you were worse at sucking his dick than everyone else before you. He raised an unamused eyebrow at the interruption. “Please?”

“Breathe through your nose,” Jeonghan mumbled back. “If you’re so insistent.”

You nodded, and sucked in a deep breath before leaning forward again. You sucked him back into your mouth, and like before you eased it slowly deeper and deeper into your mouth. Once it was pushing into your throat you were beginning to gag again, but you tried to do what Jeonghan had suggested and just breathe through your nose.

He was yanking you off of his cock again and you fought to catch your breath, spit dripping down your chin.

“You’re doing fine,” Jeonghan mumbled reassuringly. You swallowed some of the spit in your mouth and looked up at him.

“Does it feel good at least?”

He stared at you in confusion.

“What?”

“When I choke on your dick.”

A strange looked flashed in Jeonghan’s eyes and he leaned down towards you. His lips quirked up in a small smile and his thumb pushed into your mouth suddenly. You weren’t sure why, but you sucked on the finger regardless.

“It feels amazing when you choke on my cock,” he mumbled softly. “And I would like nothing more than to fuck that little throat as hard and deep as I want to… Holding back is… Difficult.”

Your face darkened a little and you stared up at him, your eyes wide, the question in them hopefully going unsaid-

“You want me to?” Jeonghan asked, amusement etched in his voice. “You want me to fuck your throat like I’m some kind of animal?”

Embarrassment swirled through your chest, and your pussy burned at the way Jeonghan said it. You nodded once.

“You’ve got to beg me for it, y/n,” Jeonghan chided lightly. “I want to hear you begging for me to fuck your little virgin throat.”

Your eyes fluttered shut in embarrassment.

“Please…” You whispered.

“Please what?”

Jeonghan’s thumb prodded at your chin, rubbing your saliva onto it.

“Please fuck my throat…”

Jeonghan’s hum of approval sent arousal thrumming through your body.

“Now that’s a good girl.”

His fingers grasped both sides of your face and he tapped your cheek to make you open your eyes back up.

“Pinch my thigh to stop,” he ordered. You nodded once.

“O-okay..” You mumbled. Jeonghan grinned, and then he was easing his cock down your throat.

At first, he was being careful. He slowly eased his cock into your mouth, his fingers digging into your face as he tried not to force himself too deep too fast. His moans stuttered as he eased himself in and out of your mouth, his breathing strangled.

But the second his cock dipped too far into your throat and you choked, he was losing control.

He forced his cock so deep into your throat, you felt like you were breathing him in. You gagged around his cock, but just as he was pulling out, he was pushing in just as deep and hard. You focused on keeping your teeth out of the way at first, but the more he fucked your mouth, your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed as carefully as you could through your nose…

His moans sent heat right down to your core. Your whole body ached with the need to be touched as he fucked your throat like he needed to do so to live.

You couldn’t believe the sounds he was making. Couldn’t believe that even though saliva was dripping down your chin and you were choking he was still using you like you were some kind of toy.

Out of nowhere, Jeonghan pulled himself out of your mouth.

“Are you ready for me?” You gasped for air, your eyebrows strewn in confusion. Ready for what?

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, frustrated.

“You better be fucking opening yourself up for me,” Jeonghan elaborated. Because your mouth is hot…” He began to slide down towards you. “And tight…” He took your free hand, shoving it into your panties. “And so so pretty…” His lips pressed to yours. “Especially stretched around my cock.”

He smiled, and tapped your face with his hand. Not quite sharp enough to be considered a slap.

“But I want to fuck that pretty pussy, and i expect you to be ready for it.”

He stood back up, towering over you again.

“It’s not my job to make sure you’re open enough for my cock.”

A shiver ran through your body, at both the insuation that he would fuck you- stretched out enough for his cock or not- and at the excitement that he was going to fuck you again. Here?!

Your rice purity score was changing rapidly.

You tried to push two fingers into your pussy, but it was a bit of a struggle, so you focused on just the one for the moment.

Jeonghan tapped the tip of his cock to your lips again and you opened your mouth obediently. He took you by the roots of your hair and pushed his cock down your throat. Your fingers stilled inside you as you coughed around his cock, but he mostly ignored it.

Besides, you still had one of your hands free, and rested on his thigh. An easy cop out if you needed it.

As you tried to focus on your breathing you also tried to refocus on fingering yourself again. This time you managed two fingers into yourself and you started to scissor those two in and out of your pussy.

Even if you were just at home on your own with one of your dildos you would be rushing this. Honestly, you’d probably get impatient right away and just start to force the dildo into you as is, but since you couldn’t control the timing of your current situation, you focused on your fingers.

Jeonghan pressed your head against the wall so he could fuck your mouth better, but he paused for a moment, reaching down so that he could lift up the corners of your skirt. He saw your hand stuffed in your underwear and a curse mixed with a moan left his lips. He pulled you up by your hair.

“Panties off,” he instructed you. “Want to see that little pussy dripping all over the floor.”

You immediately struggled to step out of your underwear, and once you did you were back in an awkward squat, your back and head against the wall as you fingered yourself and Jeonghan fucked your throat.

Every now and then, Jeonghan would reach down and pull the hem of your skirt up so that he could watch your fingering and the way that your own spit was dripping down your chin onto your shirt, but you secretly thought it was an excuse to let you breathe.

After a while though, Jeonghan couldn’t keep up the pattern. He yanked you up by your hair, and shoved you into one of the shelves against the wall. Your cheek pressed into old wood, your hands knocking over some books.

“What’s your safe word?” He asked you, as if that’s what you were thinking about when the tip of his cock was sliding in your folds. And to make all matters worse he had you mangled in such a way that moving was impossible, with one hand knotted into your hair.

You squirmed a bit, and Jeonghan’s tip slipped into your pussy, only to be immediately drawn out. A sound of frustration you didn’t even realize you knew how to make was forcibly ripped from your throat, and Jeonghan pulled you back by your hair.

“Your safe word.”

Right. You blurted out your safe word, your fingers finding purchase on the shelf just in time for Jeonghan to sink himself inside of you.

Your fingers clenched tightly at the stretch, grateful that Jeonghan had given you so much time earlier to stretch yourself out. Jeonghan shifted his hands so that he was pressing his palm into your back, pushing you down hard.

“Oh aren’t you so good for me?” Jeonghan pressed lightly. His hand left your back for only a second, and just as you straightened up his hand was smacking your ass.

You cried out in surprise, the hit sending warmth through your body.

“Don’t fucking move,” Jeonghan growled. His hand pushed down your back again hard, forcing your ass out more. “If I put you in a position you don’t fucking move.”

You whimpered back your response and this time when he pulled his hand away from you, you stayed in position. Even so, he smacked your ass again, and you cried out as he began to set a hard and fast pace of fucking you.

“That’s better,” he praised lightly. His hand brushed your hair off of his neck so it was more exposed to him, and then his hand was pressing down on it, pressing you harder into the shelf. “You’re starting to learn to take dick so well…”

As he spoke he pummeled his cock into your pussy. You let your forehead hit the shelf as you raised a hand to your mouth, trying to muffle your screams as he pushed so deep inside of you that you thought you were going to break- No amount of stretching yourself out on your fingers could prepare you for how deep his cock was pushing inside of you.

“That’s right,” Jeonghan cooed, forcing his cock even harder into you, so hard the shelves shook around you. “Better keep quiet. Don’t want anyone to hear…”

He laughed at his own words.

“Well, you do want people to hear don’t you? You would love for someone to find out that you let me rail you in a closet wouldn’t you?”

You whimpered, your eyes closing firmly shut as you tried to ignore him, tried to focus on keeping your voice down.

“You know, your hovering dangerously far into slut territory.”

You squeezed around his cock, crying out as the simple use of the word made a moan rip out of you.

“Oh fuck, I can’t handle it when you squeeze my cock like that,” Jeonghan groaned, his voice rising in pitch as his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still so he could fuck you even harder.

“You know what else makes you squeeze my cock like that?”

He smacked your ass, and as the pain shot through your body, just as he said, your pussy clenched around his cock. He moaned loudly.

“I’m going to fuck you so full of my cum…” He moaned. “Beg for it y/n…”

You knew that if you let your hand leave your mouth you would be screaming for Jeonghan to fuck you harder, but it seemed Jeonghan didn’t care about that because in the few seconds you were considering your options his hand was striking even harder on your ass.

“I said beg.”

“Please-” You blurted out, trying to keep your voice to a steady level, but your whole body was bouncing on his cock. Your heart was thumping in your chest, your own orgasm was rapidly approaching.”

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Jeonghan please come inside of me,” you begged. “Need it deep… Need to feel you for days… Need to-”

Jeonghan’s cock twitched inside of you and he forced his fingers into your mouth. You sucked on them hard as a way to keep yourself from screaming as thick ropes of hot cum shot out, deep into your pussy. You came around his cock almost instantly, your pussy milking him of every drop of cum. He gave you a few hard and deep thrust before finally pulling his fingers and cock out of you.

You gasped as you tried to keep your grip on the shelf, your legs shaking as you tried to get yourself together. But, you finally gave up on that and let yourself lower to the floor, your back hitting the wall as your pussy dripped cum. You did your best to try and catch your breath, silence falling between the two of you.

Jeonghan dug into his pocket, and, unbelievably enough pulled out a chocolate bar. You panted where you were now slumped against the ground and stared at him as he unwrapped it a little, breaking off one of the pieces.

“Open,” he said firmly.

You wouldn’t have argued with him no matter the situation. You opened your mouth and let him put the candy in your mouth. He watched you in silence for a little, waiting for you to finish eating that piece of candy before putting another piece in your mouth.

“Y/n…” His tone was scary.

“What?” You asked him.

“Why are you…” He trailed off, sounding a bit frustrated. “It’s just…” He was struggling greatly with what to say. “You’re an adult.”

Your eyebrows furrowed a bit.

“I’m an adult,” you agreed. He stared at you, broke off another piece of candy and put it in your mouth.

“And all of your friends are now adults,” he continued. “And adults, aren’t bothered with superficial things. They care about a person for… That person.”

You stared at him, and opened your mouth, only to be silenced with another piece of candy.

“Cigarettes are bad for you,” Jeonghan said quickly. Your wide-eyed expression dropped to one of dread, and just as you went to argue with him, he covered your mouth with the palm of his hand. “And you shouldn’t be vaping just so Hansol thinks you’re cool!”

You glared at Jeonghan.

“You don’t need to change anyone’s opinion on you,” Jeonghan said weakly. “You could… You could do anything and people are still going to treat you the same.”

You pinched Jeonghan’s wrist, and he gave you a more pointed look.

“I’m serious.”

You pinched him again and his hand fell to his side.

“Hansol invited me to a party Jeonghan,” you said. You shifted so that you were sitting more upright. “And then Seobin taught me how to smoke and he almost kissed me- And he’d never even looked at me in high school.” You waved your hand through the air. “And today Hansol called me cool.”

“Hansol thought you were cool before,” Jeonghan said. “He only said that to me because he thinks I don’t think you’re cool.”

Your ears perked up at that. Did Jeonghan think you were cool?

“And you don’t want someone like Seobin to kiss you,” he sounded disgusted. “If you wanted someone like Hansol, or Hyuk to kiss you I would get it but not someone like Seobin.”

“Jeonghan I don’t care who wants to kiss me. I just want someone to kiss me.”

The serious expression on his face cracked a little, his lips up-quirked.

“Well, I know someone who could do that for you,” he said, his voice dropping a bit. A smile spread across your lips too, but it seemed to remind Jeonghan of what he had been trying to say. “You don’t need to do all these new things if you are just trying to change people’s perception of you.”

“People don’t take me seriously Jeonghan,” you argued back. This time, growing frustrated of the fact that you had just let him rail you just so that he could lecture you after. You got to your feet, and began to put your clothes back on. Jeonghan just watched you from where he was crouched. “No one takes me seriously.”

“I take you seriously,” Jeonghan replied back firmly. You eyed him.

“You didn’t take me seriously until I demanded you sell me drugs.”

Something flashed in Jeonghan’s eyes and he got up in a flash.

“That’s not true.”

His tone was stern, but as soon as he was standing he seemed to notice something on your face. He sighed his frustration and reached forward, his thumb brushing over your cheeks, just by the corner of your lips.

“If you think that someone will only like you because you do drugs and let them fuck you anywhere you shouldn’t be friends with them.”

You stared at Jeonghan blankly.

“Do whatever you want y/n,” Jeonghan said after a moment’s pause. “But your friends. Your real ones, they don’t like it. I would be saying this to anyone. Take it from the black sheep. Don’t do anything that will get you hurt.”

He tugged at your shirt so that it fell right on your body, and then he opened the closet door.

“But keep in mind that you have a lot of people who are willing to catch you if you fall.”

He peeked around outside of the closet and then fully stepped out. He gestured for you to follow, and you did. He gave you one more look.

“You haven’t been offering yourself up to people for drugs have you?”

You shook your head wordlessly. He let out a sigh of relief.

“My number is still the same.”

And with that he waved his hand over his shoulder and walked away.

Taglist (go here to join!):

@vintageot5 @woo8hao @toruro @wonudazed @kkakkameori @starlight-night0 @minl0u @alltheshineofthestars-blog @park-hera-gi @melodicrabbit @jeanjacketjesus @sparklyshuji @itgirl-inthemaking @lexix001 @kyeomofhearts @joshhlvr @k-drama-adict @kyeomooniee @jjeongddol @changkyunsbussy @imprettyweird @ttragiquee @colored-confetti @afslme @nerezza123

#PEER PRESSURE WORKS MY FRIENDS #ITS OUT #I DID IT #EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU BRIE #the comic sans I had this document in hurt my head #i hope it was worth the wait.#jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan smut #jeonghan fanfiction #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen #kpop smut

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smokedscarlett · 1 day

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late nights

summary: a small argument between spencer and the reader. the reader is bothered and stressed and spencer, at first resists, but then understands.

warnings: angst - > fluff, cursing, mentions of spencers job but no case particularly, if there’s anything i forgot please let me know! (some us of y/n).

word count: 1.1k

You sit on top of your kitchen counter, legs swinging back and forth. You glance behind yourself and read the stove clock that reads a blaring 2:38. It’s understandable that you’re boyfriend Spencer wouldn’t be home at this hour, his job requires this of him, often leaving you to spend nights either waiting for his arrival or leaving out sweet notes for him to come home to as you curl in bed. However, tonight was different, well at least you felt different. Something in your mood caused you to be a little less then understanding about his late comings. All your friends tell you cute stories of date nights with their boyfriends and while you and Spencer do spend time together, you can’t recall the last time you went on a “date.” It isn’t your fault that you feel jealousy brewing in your stomach towards your friends every night. It is normal to feel a little neglected even though you knew the job requirements. You just need to remind yourself of this when Spencer walks through that door. Put on a brave face and act as though eating leftovers by yourself and your comfort show being your only company is an enjoyable night.

Tonight that reminder was forgotten.

The apartment door knob slowly turned and you got off from your seat on the kitchen counter. Spencer tries to sneak his way in, unaware of the fact that you are indeed awake.

“I’m awake,” you say, you can hear the edge in your voice.

“Hi (Y/N). You should be in bed by now angel, early morning tomorrow right?” Spencer questions his voice soft.

He seems relatively calm and not at all unnerved which isn’t what your expecting due to how late he arrived. You would assume that a case that takes this long wouldn’t leave Spencer in such a light mood.

“Good case today?” You ask, not responding to his previous comment.

“Actually, there was no case today. I got caught up in some paperwork and couldn’t stop myself from wanting to finish it.”

Your heart drops at this. As you were sitting here, alone and a little sad, your boyfriend was sitting at the bureau on his own accord doing paperwork.

“Oh,” is all your are able to muster.

Spencer finally looks up fully at you, before being distracted from putting his belongings down and taking off his shoes. His face reads a questioning expression as he tries to read your mood.

“Is something wrong,” he asks.

You try to refrain yourself and you try to be the understanding girlfriend, but the stress of this week has finally caught up to you, leaving you with inability to fake it for Spencer.

“You know I came home today to an empty cold apartment. Certainly not a rare occurrence but for some reason I really didn’t feel like eating dinner by myself and hearing about my friends dates with their boyfriends. I wanted to be with my boyfriend. But no, I understood the job calls and there’s nothing I can do to change that. To find out after all this that you fucking chose to stay at work late,” you feel anger rising in your throat as you cut yourself off before saying something you might regret. “So yeah Spencer I would say something is wrong.”

Spencer seems to be taken aback by your words, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to read you more.

“But it’s fine I don’t want to fight and I want to sleep,” you say quickly before he says anything throwing your hands up and starting your walk to your shared bedroom.

Spencer is quick to follow you and knowing him, this conversation is far from over.

“I’m sorry, sometimes I get caught up in my own world. I wish you would have told me you were feeling this way,” Spencer says trying to calm your anger.

Some part of you knows that he is right and you should have told him but another part argues that if Spencer can profile a stranger how could he not profile you. How could he not notice the loneliness you must be feeling.

“The last thing I would expect from dating a profiler is having to tell them the most obvious details of my life,” you respond, turning around towards Spencer quickly.

“That’s not fair.” Spencer doesn’t provide any further argument.

So you simply nod your head and crawl into bed, tucking yourself to take the least amount of room on the bed and face away from Spencer.

“Baby.”

You hear his soft voice say with a light sigh. He knows what he’s doing. Against your own will, you turn around and look at him with tears sitting on your waterline.

Without saying another word Spencer holds out his arms. You fight the urge to laugh slightly to yourself knowing that Spencer would rather die then hug you in bed with his outside clothes on, even in the midst of a fight.

As a form of compromise you pull yourself out of the sheets and into his arms. His lips are immediately on the side of your head and he is peppering you while whispering soft apologies.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, “ he places a kiss on your forehead, “Have I mentioned that I’m sorry.

You laugh slightly, still not able to form words.

“You’re right this is something so obvious I don’t know how I could have missed it. I promise I will make more time for us.

At that all you can do push yourself further into his chest and sigh.

Spencer finally pulls away to look into your eyes and double check that your tears have stopped. As on slips, he reaches out his finger to gently swipe it.

“Are we okay?” he asks quietly.

“As long as you promise not to choose to stay at work late,” you respond trying to make the air lighter.

“Always,” he says seriously.

As you stand there with his hand on your cheek, staring in each others eyes, Spencer suddenly wraps his arm under your legs and carries you bridal style.

You shriek at the sudden movement. “Spencer!”

“Shhh angel the neighbors are sleeping,” he teases.

You swat his back as he carries you towards the bed once again. He gently places you down before going to bathroom to quickly get ready for bed. When he returns he finds you sprawled on the bed in half-asleep daze. He sinks down into the bed, pulls you close to his chest and kisses the side of your forehead.

“Go to sleep now, we have date tomorrow,” he whispers in your ear as you both slowly drift off to sleep.

a/n: this is my first every post so hii if u made it this far. any interaction is very much appreciated!!

#spencer reid x reader #reading #x reader #imagine #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #first post #angst

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gretavangroupie · 1 day

Text

The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 7)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader

Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Allusions to Cheating, Lying, Jealousy, Sexual Themes, Crying.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

A/N: Thanks so much for waiting for us while we took our little break. We had the absolute best time at our shows. We plotted and schemed most of the week and there really is quite a bit of exciting new things on the horizon, so keep your eyes peeled.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

DUBLIN, IRELAND

HER POV

“There,” you whispered, putting the final touches on the food display. You gathered up the empty boxes and trash and made your way out the back door of the venue to dispose of them. You hoped you wouldn’t see anyone along the way, keeping your AirPods in as a public declaration to leave you alone.

You’d thrown yourself into work the last week, doing things that didn’t even fall under your scope of work just to fill the time. Your phone was on mute, but that didn't stop the calls. The texts. The songs. They all still came, but you paid them no mind. You couldn’t. You couldn’t be that girl. You couldn’t be the one to ruin a relationship.

You hadn’t spoken to Jake since the friend request came through. You still hadn’t even accepted it. You didn’t know if you even should. She obviously knew who you were, and that alone scared you more than anything. How did she know?

You hadn’t spoken to Josh either. He had done his best to avoid you since that night in the bar, his look more than disappointed as he walked away. You felt a twinge of regret that you’d let him down, but you and Jake were nothing, and he has a girlfriend. He should be more mad at Jake than you.

A call rings through your AirPods, the robotic voice alerting you to Ruth’s Facetime call. You make the split second decision to accept it, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the green button.

“Hello,” you answer, shielding your face from the sun.

“God, it’s so weird that it’s sunset there and I’m just now eating breakfast,” she says, taking a bite of a bagel.

“Babes it’s literally what, noon there? Why are you just now eating breakfast?”

“Ugh, this isn’t about me, quit changing the subject,” she gripes.

“What?! I just–”

“Did you accept it yet?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“No! Are you insane! Why would I do that! Then she would know that I know who she is, and then she would know that I know she knows who I am!” you shout.

“Yeah, I…am not even gonna try to decipher what you just said,” she says, shaking the ice in her coffee.

“Ruth! Ugh!”

“What!? I’d accept it, you have nothing to hide. It’s not like you’re posting about him.”

“But–”

“But what? Show her you’re a hot bitch and she should be scared!” she laughs, tilting her head side to side.

“You are actually a terrible influence,” you scoff.

“Fine, what about McSexy,” she says, slurping up the last bits of coffee through her straw.

“Are you done with that yet? GOD.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughs, tossing it into the trash. “Spill about Beefy McGuns before I throw myself off a cliff.”

“Yeah I am the dramatic one,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “Murph is…well, he’s good I guess. We have been hanging out a little bit since… ya know. We snuck into the hotel pool a few days ago, got Gelato night before last and last night we went to Temple Bar because the guys had an outing thing.”

“Okay, so you and McDouble are like kinda hot and heavy courting,” she asks.

“Please don’t call him McDouble, that is gross. I mean, courting sounds kinda…more serious than it is. We are just hanging out.”

“A lot.”

“Yeah, kind of a lot,” you admit.

“Do you like him more than Mr. Pene-Traitor?”

“RUTH ANNE!” you shout, trying to stifle back laughter.

“Answer the question,” she snaps.

“No! I don’t know! I mean, I like them equally for different reasons,” you answer.

“Well who is better in the sack?”

“Um…”

“Oh my god, you haven't slept with McSexy yet?” she asks, mouth gaping open.

“No! It hasn’t…gone there yet,” you reply.

“Yet…So you intend for it to…” she smirks.

“Well, I wouldn’t hate it,” you laugh. “I’m kinda like not planning to sleep with Jake again after all this shit. Murph seems less…complicated. He’s fun, and respectful, and we just mesh so well when we hangout. We have a lot in common and it’s just so easy. It’s not serious or anything but I’m trying to see where this thing goes.”

“So guitar daddy is out, officially…”

“Jesus Christ, Ruth.” you sigh, “I mean I haven't spoken to him in almost a week now. I’ve been ignoring every attempt and conveniently finding myself in the opposite room as him. I don't know what to even say to him without exploding so I have just been saying nothing.”

“Has he added any songs or anything?” she asks, quirking a brow.

“A few but I haven’t replied,” you answer.

“Oh I bet it’s eating him up, too.”

You shrug your shoulders as you see the back door open, Sam stepping out to light up a cigarette.

“Hey, I gotta go, the family unit is present,” you say quietly nodding your head to the side.

“Okay, well, personally I think you should accept her request. I’d think it's more suspicious that you haven’t if I were her. Maybe she just wants to talk.”

“I will think about it,” you say, pursing your lips. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Alright alright, and don’t forget my souvenir. I want one with sandy brown hair, blue eyes and an Irish accent.”

“You are actually so annoying.”

Your phone dings in your ear as a text flashes across the screen.

“Oh shit,” you gasp. “It’s Murph.”

“What's up McBeefy?!” Ruth shouts.

You open the text, reading it over quickly as a smile crosses your face.

“Oh okay, why are you blushing Y/N? Huh, huh? Why you smiling like that?”

“So, he just said that The Black Keys are going to be in Glasgow on our day off next week,” you say, a little shocked.

“As in The Black Keys that you’ve loved your whole life Black Keys?”

“Those would be the ones…”

You

6:02PM: How did you know I love them?

Murph

6:03PM: Just had a feeling 😉

Murph

6:04PM: I’m gonna tell the guys, I’m sure they will want to go.

You

6:05PM: I definitely want to go.

Murph

6:06PM: Well good thing I just bought us tickets

“Hello?! Earth to Y/N!” Ruth shouts, and truthfully you forgot she was on the line.

“Fuck, sorry,” you say, reopening Facetime.

“What did you say?!”

“I told him I want to go and he said he already bought us tickets,” you smile.

“Mmhm, yeah it’s not serious at all though,” she mocks.

“Gotta go! Love you bye!” you smile, ending the call and shoving your phone into your pocket.

You nod to Sam as you walk back into the building, making your way back into the greenroom to finish up. Your music begins to play through your AirPods again, and you feel a sense of calmness now that you’ve gotten a little reassurance from Ruth. You tidy up the room a bit, grabbing a few empty cans and chip bags and banishing them to the trash can that is seemingly invisible to these four men.

Just as you turn around you see Jake stepping into the room with his eyes on you.

Fuck.

You jump back a bit in shock, watching as he throws his hands up in innocence.

“Sorry, I didn��t mean to scare you,” he says, a guilty look on his face.

You pull your earbuds from your ears and place them in their case as you lean against the wall behind you. “It’s fine. What’s up?” you ask, trying to seem casual.

“You think we can talk for a second?” he asks, rubbing his fingers over his chin.

“Um, right now? I’m just finishing this up?” you counter, not really feeling like this is the best time for, well, this.

He walks over to the small couch, tapping the spot next to him, “Please, just for a second.”

His brown eyes lock with yours and you know there is no way you can deny him. He had that effect on you. You nod and walk over to him, sitting next to him. Maybe this is it.

You watch as he pulls in a deep breath as if trying to organize the thoughts in his head. He swallows nervously and turns his gaze to you.

“You know, this last week has been…well, to be honest, it’s been complete shit,” he starts, locking his fingers together. “We went from seeing each other nearly every day and texting and everything to…whatever this is. Not speaking…”

You nod your head, wanting to hear his piece before giving your own.

“I miss you. I’ve missed you a lot. I have hated every second of this silence and I would very much like to get things back to how they were before… all of this.”

Did Josh not tell him about Murph? Surely he had…

His hand reaches for yours, grabbing it in his own as he continues and you are praying he is ready to come clean.

JAKE POV

“I know I’ve been a total and complete asshole, Y/N, and you don’t deserve that. That’s not me,” you go on, squeezing her hands in yours. Your voice continues to crack, and the emotion you feel while telling her all this actually surprises you. It’s hard to talk to her, hard to get things out. But you only know that it is because you’re positive that it all means something bigger. Your internal alarm clock is ticking, you can feel the time to get on stage is drawing closer and closer. “I just want you to know how sorry I am.”

“Jake, listen. I appreciate your apology, but I'm still not even sure what you’re sorry for? I mean, I know shit went sideways but, you never even told me why…” she goes on, pure confusion painting her expression. “I know that I was and am being left in the dark about something, and I don’t want to end up looking like the idiot.”

“Fuck, I know,” you say, rubbing a hand over your face. You can feel the bile swirling in your stomach as you prepare to speak again. “If you… I want to talk to you some more, and explain myself, but…”

“...You go on in like fifteen minutes and you aren’t even dressed yet,” she answers.

You nod, sucking in your bottom lip. Her eyes are glazed over, not with tears, but with some other overwhelming sentiment. Your voice shakes as you go on. “If you’re willing to hear me out, I have a long story I want to tell you.”

She takes a second to consider, and you know that she could just as easily tell you to fuck off, get away from her, and to never speak to her again. But instead she nods, meeting your eyes with pity. “It’s hard saying yes to this Jake, I’m not gonna lie…”

“I know it is. I know it, I’m so sorry, I’m just. You deserve to hear it all. From me,” you beg. The anxiety of it all is making you dizzy, and you hadn’t even told her anything yet. But you’re positive that when the time comes, it will all be worth it. She’s worth it.

“Please trust me.”

She nods again. “Just…come to my room after the show?”

“I’ll be there,” you agree with a smile, and you feel the faintest hint of positivity, a tiny flame burning at the end of the tunnel.

—

After an electric show, you dab the towel across your forehead and neck, wiping away the heavy sweat beads that continue to pour down.

“Just keeps getting better and better, guys!” Paul compliments you as you pass by, making your way down the hall to the green room.

“Thanks, man. Appreciate you,” you reply with a pat to his shoulder.

“Daniel, you hitting the shower?” you ask as you watch him take a seat on a red leather chair.

“Mm, here in a few, gonna have a drink first.” He pulls Mia over by the hand to sit on his lap, playfully wiping his sweat-covered arm across her face. “Where are Josh and Sam?”

You quietly walk over to the craft table, giving Y/N a sweet glance as you grab a mini bag of chips from the box, watching as she and Ty fiddle around with whatever random food is displayed across the table. “I dunno, they seemed like they were bickering all night, did you notice that?”

“Mmmhm,” Danny says through a long drink of a seltzer. “I could literally see the fuckin’ blurry tension between them, who the hell knows. He say anything to you, Ly?”

“Mmm, nope. Didn’t say anything to me…” Lyla avoids his gaze. You glance to Ty, and he offers you the same answer.

Just then, Josh and Sam burst through the door in a huffed mess of antics, yelling obscenities at one another as Josh’s hands fly up in the air around him. These two rarely fight, but every once in a while, one of them will get under the other’s skin. And sometimes it’s even worse, when they both manage to piss the other off so profusely, things can sometimes get physical.

Josh’s voice is raised, and Sam’s face and neck are blotched red. You know that whatever it is, it isn’t good.

“How about you stay the hell out of my face and sit the fuck down somewhere, huh?” Sam yells, grabbing a White Claw from the mini fridge and chugging it all almost in one drink. Your eyes dart directly to Danny who is just as stunned as you are, and equally as confused.

“I’ll sit the fuck down when you stop running your fucking mouth, Sam,” Josh barks.

“Whoa, whoa, what the hell is going on?” you ask, moving toward them.

“Oh nothing, nothing, brother. Nothing at all,” Sam huffs, fury raging from him. You watch his eyeliner-covered eyes skitter across the room and finally land on Y/N, glaring at her from his peripheral. What the fuck?

For some reason, just his look pisses you off.

“Not nothing, the fuck is your problem?” you ask him again, shooting your eyes between him and Josh. You see Mia rise up from Danny’s lap, joining Lyla on the couch. They sit closely together, and you swear they’re both biting back laughs.

You finally move your eyes to Josh, giving him a stern look only the two of you can understand. ‘You got something to say?’ you ask him in your mind.

He replies with an eye roll, shrugging his shoulders as he slips his stage jacket off. Josh is biting his tongue, you can tell, and the look in his eye is one you’ve seen often. With whatever rage he’s harboring mixed with the however many fireball shots he’s taken tonight, this could get bad.

You look at Danny, as he knows the heavy feeling in the room all too well, too. You mentally ask him for backup.

Danny stands and clears his throat. “Uh, so… we going out tonight? We’re wasting moonlight if so…”

You jump in and agree. “Yeah, yeah let’s go grab a Guinness or something.” The room stays quiet as you and Danny make moves to get going, but the heaviness is still there. You decide to turn the attention elsewhere. “Y/N, Ty, you coming out with us?”

You can tell that Y/N feels like she’s invading the awkward encounter that’s currently happening in the room, just from her body language.

“Yeah, um, sure… I suppose…” she says meekly. You offer her a little grin of reassurance.

“Oh, you mean you’re not hanging out with Murph tonight? Shocking!” Josh interjects, the tone of his voice menacing. Your head shoots to him.

Y/N shakes her head, her entire demeanor falling. “Uh, no? No, why would I…” she stammers.

“Just figured,” Josh continues, “You guys seemed pretty cozy the other night when I caught you making out at the bar in Paris, just thought you’d be continuing the festivities!”

“Josh!” Ty yells.

Hold…the fuck…on…

Your ears go deaf as you process Josh’s words, all the blood draining from your body, your extremities numb, your throat instantly dry. What the fuck. What the fuck??? He’s lying… That’s not true… she wouldn’t…

You hear a collective snicker from Mia and Lyla, both of them obviously loving whatever fucking show is happening right now.

You somehow find the courage to look at Y/N, her face bloodshot and dripping with embarrassment as she turns away.

You feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. Making out? With Murph? Paris… a week ago? And Josh didn’t bother to…

You can’t find the will to move, or speak, or breathe or anything. Your mind is wracked with confusion and stress, wondering what in the hell is going to happen next.

—

HER POV

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you turn to look at Josh.

Why? Why did he say that?

Your eyes scan the room as everyone stares at you, but all you can focus on is the look on Jake's face. It was a look similar to the one you received from Josh that night, but Jake’s hurt worse. Hit you deeper. You feel the knife twisting in your chest.

You can see his neck growing red, the color creeping up into his cheeks as his anger starts to bubble up. Your eyes flash over to Mia and Lyla who are snickering in the corner like two highschool bullies.

You shake your head and press your tongue to your cheek as you try to figure out an appropriate response. You decide at that moment that you owe none of them a single word. You silently grab your things and head to the door, brushing Jake’s shoulder as you pass.

“Guess you’re not the only one with secrets, are you?”

You cut your eyes to Josh, completely shocked at his audacity to speak about something that didn’t involve him so publicly. It seemed out of character for him and you can tell by the way everyone is reacting to his outburst.

You barely make it through the back door as the tears start to fall against your will. You feel so embarrassed. Everything has gotten so out of hand and now Josh hates you and you know Jake isn’t too far behind him.

You just need to go back to your hotel room. Go back and be alone and cry in peace. You pull your phone from your purse and find the address for the hotel, and much to your displeasure, you see that it is a brisk three mile walk. Not to mention it is 42 degrees. You lock your phone in frustration knowing you have to go back inside and wait for the van to take you all back.

You sneak back inside and head straight for the bathroom, locking yourself in one of the stalls and sitting down on the toilet bowl. You know the van isn’t going to leave for at least another thirty minutes, if not more. You let the tears flow freely in the confines of the bathroom stall, until you physically can’t anymore. You dry up your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt as a notification from Ruth pushes through.

Ruth

11:43PM: You do it yet?

You decide to bite the bullet. Who even cares anymore at this point?

You open Instagram and tap on her request, hitting the little blue ‘accept’ button and watching as her page populates with photos. Right off the bat you see how pretty she is, every picture perfectly effortless and aesthetically pleasing. Then, you see Jake. Happy, smiling, and holding her. Recently.

You're surprised by the feelings swirling through you, as you’d convinced yourself that your feelings for him were much smaller than they apparently were. You look at every single photo, and with each swipe you feel your own guilt start to grow larger and larger.

Had you ruined this?

You hear noise in the hallway and know that they are leaving, heading to the bar or wherever they decided. You wait until you hear them leave, letting yourself out of the stall and into the empty hallway. As you approach the green room you know you want to get in, finish cleaning up, and leave, avoiding as many people as humanly possible. You press your ear to the door to listen for voices, but you hear nothing and know that the coast is clear.

Though, when you open the door, you are met with someone, and thankfully it’s a friendly face. You see Ty grabbing the canned drinks from the fridge and throwing them into a cooler. He spots you, looking relieved and stops what he’s doing.

“There you are,” he sighs in relief.

“Wha– What are you doing here, I thought everyone left?”

He walks towards you, taking you into a hug before you can even process what he’s doing. It’s as if he already knows how you’re feeling and you fall into it, letting him wrap you up in his arms.

“I’ve been around long enough to know how shit tends to go down in this family. I knew that Josh was in one of his moods tonight and Sam pushed him over the edge. Unfortunately, you were on the receiving end of things. I don’t blame you for walking out, but I am glad you came back.”

“Why are you always looking out for me?” you ask, feeling like you might cry all over again.

“Real recognizes real, baby,” he winks, releasing you from the hug and returning back to the cooler.

“Ty,” you whine, knowing you don't deserve his kindness.

“Look, I know I shouldn’t, because he needs to do this himself, but I am really sorry about Josh. I’m gonna make him apologize to you as soon as I see him, I swear.”

“No, no, no. It’s okay. He is right. This whole thing is a mess and he and Jake and shit, even Sam, have the right to be mad at me. I fucked up.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “It’s a little bit of a mess but, it will get cleaned up. And as for Sam, I don’t think Sam is mad at you, per say, but more of just the situation and how he learned of it. There’s been some other shit going on with him lately, but don’t you worry I’m on your team, here.”

“You don’t need to be on my team, Ty. You have dealt with enough of my shit,” you laugh, hoping he doesn’t actually take your advice.

He closes the cooler up and takes one last look around the room, both of you finding it spotless. “Oh, just let me. This is my shit and I am used to corralling these rowdy motherfuckers, I do it in my sleep.”

You laugh and shake your head, “Alright, alright, fine.”

He nods in victory before turning to you again, “You’re coming to the bar, right?”

“No, I’m probably gonna go back to the hotel and cry some more.”

“Actually, you’re not. You’re gonna go back to the hotel, pretty yourself up and come meet me.” He flits his hand to his chest as he points to himself. “I’ll text you the address when I get there.”

“Ty I can’t! I can’t even face Jake right now! And Mia and Lyla… I don’t know…” you stammer.

“No, hang out with me all night. You don’t even have to talk to those bitches, I don’t half the time.”

You laugh at his honesty, and realize maybe you could go tonight.

“I don’t know…”

“Listen, it will look a lot worse if you don’t go darling,” he says, tilting his head to the side. You know he’s right.

“Alright, fuck it.”

—

TY POV

Involving yourself in other people’s business wasn’t always your forte. In fact, it was something you tried to stray far, far away from. The thought of adding unnecessary stress into your life seemed daunting and pointless, especially when the outcome ended up being opposite of the one you desired, but, nonetheless… You find yourself here, completely involved in whatever drama is transpiring between Jake and Y/N.

It’s none of your business in the least. It never was. But you could tell from the get-go that if no one else was going to step in and try to help each of them realize what was happening in front of them, you would have to be the one to do it. Who better, honestly?

You told Jake from the beginning that Isla seemed shady… though at first the two of them seemed like the happiest of two human beings, just like all new relationships do. She was good for him, and he treated her well. The day he told you and Josh that he told her he loved her, you were happy for him. Happy for them both. Things were good and they were taking Jake’s career changes in stride together. That was until you started to see straight through that bitch.

That’s right, you’re not uncomfortable saying it anymore. She turned into a true-blue, cold hearted bitch.

What started off as snide little remarks to Jake, in public, grew into full-blown insults that had you left with your mouth hanging open in disbelief. He let it slide off his back, though, and you swore it was like no one else even noticed it. How her behavior had changed almost overnight. You could see the respect she once held for Jake morphing into resentment right before your eyes, but everyone else seemed to think it was normal.

It didn’t take long, though, for Josh’s twin-sense to be set off when he felt Jake’s normally low-key temper burning into fury; he was quite literally like a pot that was going to boil over anytime. Josh realized, but you don’t think he ever really realized, though to you, it was plain as fucking day.

You and Josh welcomed him into your home, let him crash on the couch or in the guest room after he’d run away from her. It almost started to drive you insane that everyone else was just watching on as he let her walk all over him, all in the name of what everyone thought was love.

No. Fuck that. She may have loved him, but your senses absolutely buzzed with the feeling that all she was there for anymore was his status and fame. It made you sick how she took advantage of his popularity and his talent, only wanting to go out with him if it meant she’d be seen attached to his arm, only wanting to support him when it meant she’d reap the benefits. Made you fucking sick.

But, like a good brother in law, you kept your mouth shut for the most part, until one day things got so bad you realized that Jake had seen the light, fully disconnecting himself from her right before you all left for this tour.

And the minute you realized he was taking interest in Y/N, you felt like your heart could explode with relief for him. Finally, a distraction. The day you let him know how you felt about Isla in the bar was the first time you really said anything at all to him, hoping that your words of honesty would help to further the situation.

But now… Now. Fuck, it seems like things have gotten messier than you anticipated. Y/N is the first person you’ve met in a while who matches your energy, who connects with you without any effort to do so. You like her a lot, and you are fighting to be on her team. But damn, if it doesn’t seem like she just dug herself into a hole…

So after what the fuck ever just happened in the green room, you know it’s time to strap your boots on and fix things, or at least try to. You’re no stranger to mediating arguments within this family, so you feel no shame in waltzing into this bar with a new flame lit under you. You’ve gotta fix this. For Y/N, and for Jake.

You blow warm air into your hands as you walk into the bar, finding everyone gathered around a large table together. Good, they haven’t ripped each others’ heads off yet.

You take an empty seat next to Josh, greeting him with a quipped ‘Hey’ as you’re still a little bit pissed at his behavior earlier. His hand lands on your thigh, but you quickly pull it away, knowing that if you’re going to be the middleman here, everyone has to be on a level playing field.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Josh slurs into your ear.

You shoot a look his way, letting him know that now is not the fucking time. A quick glance around at everyone tells you that they’re all already fairly intoxicated, still sneering at one another overtop of their half-empty glasses. Great. Perfect.

You take notice that Murph isn’t here, which is a good thing right now. He might need to stay behind and let the others have it tonight. You cross your arms over your chest as you make yourself comfortable in your seat. You clear your throat dramatically, effectively getting the attention of the table.

“Alright motherfuckers, who wants to tell me exactly what just happened in the green room?” you demand, taking a second to look Sam and Josh in the eyes first. The entire table groans and waves you off, except Sam, who gives you a look that says ‘Can’t tell you right now, but I will explain later…” He then does a quick glance to Lyla. You take mental note of that.

Of course, Josh speaks first. “There’s not much to say, Ty… I caught our runner making out with our head of security last week, I don’t know what else you want me to say…”

“I want you to tell the table why you are so pissed off about that, Josh. Why are you so concerned with something that isn’t your business?” you quip back.

Josh mirrors your stance, crossing his own arms as he motions to Jake. “Hm, I don’t know, why don’t you ask my fucking twin, huh?” Everyone then turns all their attention to Jake, putting him directly in the spotlight. Your stomach turns over with nerves as you feel the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. You don’t want to do things this way. But, you’ve learned from experience, getting it all out on the table is the best way for them to do things like this.

Jake is standing, running his tongue across his teeth, his face already glimmering with a nervous sweat. “Okay, fuck it,” he sets his beer down on the table, yanking a free chair out from underneath it and harshly taking a seat. “Y/N and I have been hooking up since tour started. Pretty regularly. Thought things were good. But I guess it doesn’t fucking matter anymore since apparently I was dumb to the fact that she’s more into our beloved Murphy.” You can tell he is seething.

You hear Mia and Lyla gasp like the news was brand new to them. “So it’s fucking true, then, huh Jacob?!” Lyla practically yells, leaning over the table at him. “Ohhh, we fucking knew it, you sorry ass bitch.”

“It’s actually none of your fucking business, Lyla, so why don’t you lay the fuck off,” he retaliates.

You watch Mia put her hand on Lyla’s chest as she leans across her toward Jake, her words spitting with venom to him. “Actually it is my fucking business, Jake, Isla is my best friend you absolute dick! And she’s your fucking girlfriend!”

Jake almost stands from his chair completely, leaning over to her now. “She’s not my girlfriend anymore, Lyla! She hasn’t been for a long time! She just won’t admit it to anyone or even herself! Don’t speak on things you have absolutely no fucking idea about, Lyla. It’s not a good fucking look.” Jake is visibly vibrating with rage. You feel Josh doing the same.

Next thing you know you hear Sam bellowing toward Jake. “Hey, don’t fucking speak to her like that, man, or I swear to god–”

“Oh, I’d be fucking careful, Sam, given I know all the dirty details about our little conversation in my room the other night…” Jake defends himself with a finger pointed directly to Sam. His jaw is clenched so tightly you think he might break his teeth.

Sam gives Jake a death glare that you know all too well, as Lyla turns in her seat to face him. “What the fuck is he talking about, Samuel? Is that why you disappeared drunk off your ass the other night? To go to Jake’s room? What did you talk about?”

Sam closes his eyes as he tries to diffuse his rage. “What the fuck ever, I’m just pissed everyone knew about Y/N and Jake besides me,” he slurs. “Always failing to let me in on the fuckin’ secrets.” You roll your eyes at Sam, suddenly confused and intrigued about what kind of conversation he had with Jake, anyway.

“This is why, Sam! Right here! Shit blows up!” Jake yells.

Josh groans, leaning his elbows on the table to Jake. “Yeah, just like I fucking told you it would.”

Jake scoffs hard. “Don’t talk to me about shit blowing up when you didn’t tell me for a god damn week that she was fucking around with Murph behind my back, Josh!”

“Ohhhhhoho, don’t try and pull that, I told you this shit wasn’t going to work anyway,” Josh responds with a sneer.

“Wasn’t going to work?!” Mia yells. “What do you mean, wasn’t going to fucking work?! You have a girlfriend Jacob, are you a fucking idiot?!”

You watch as Danny physically lets his face fall into his hands, shaking his curls side to side.

“Alright, alright, everybody calm the fuck down,” Josh says loudly, actually qualming a situation for once in his life. “Let’s take a break, let’s talk this out.”

You dart your head to the side to give him a sharp look. “No, Josh, you’re the one who opened your big mouth in the green room and set everybody off, let’s hash this shit out right now. Everyone’s doing an excellent job of letting it all fly. Let’s not stop now,” you argue, putting your foot down. You motion with your hand to everyone at the table. “Keep going, let’s go…”

You hear a wholehearted laugh come from Jake at Josh’s expense.

Sam looks at Lyla, raising his voice a little. “Is this why you’ve been so fucking irritable lately?”

Oop, shouldn’t have gone there, kid.

She shoots back in her chair, looking as if she’s ready to pounce on him. “Whoa, whoa, irritable? Excuse me? Actually ya know what, yeah, I guess it fucking is!” She yells. “You’d be fucking pissed too, wouldn’t you?!”

“I guess I don’t know, since nobody ever fucking tells me anything!” Sam retaliates with his hands in the air.

“Sam you have got to be fucking kidding me… Do you not remember me sleeping on your couch for days at a time? Do you think I just did that because I missed you? Be serious…” Jake says with a little sincerity in his tone.

“I don’t know! Shit, I guess I just thought you were…”

“Thought I was what?! Bored? Lonely? Hated my own home? Well, I guess that last one kinda makes fucking sense, now, huh?” Jake goes on, running a hand over his mouth.

Lyla speaks up. “All those nights you spent at our house Jake… you know Isla cried herself to sleep each and every one. Talked to me on the phone until 3AM until she couldn’t cry anymore because you fucking left her, over and over again–”

Jake leans his elbows on the table, hiding his face behind his folded hands. You can tell by the redness in his face that he is holding himself back from absolutely laying into Lyla.

“Oh, you don’t even want to start with me, Lyla…” he grits his teeth, the vein in his head pulsing with rage again.

“Chill out, Jake…” you hear Josh warn under his breath.

“Do you know why I left, Lyla? Over and over again?!” His tone calms. “Yeah, I bet you don’t because all you care about is her fucking side of the story… did it not occur to you that I have one, too? What about my fucking feelings, huh? How do you know she’s not purposefully making me out to look like the bad guy? I bet nothing was her fault, was it? Hm?” He asks, looking around the table. Everyone stays silent, avoiding his glare.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. No one bothered to come and ask me what was wrong, hear my side of the story. Fucking figures, she always gets what she fucking wants, anyway,” he goes on, suddenly able to breathe through his words. “None of you cared to realize I’ve been fucking miserable for months? Tried ending things for months? I bet not, huh. You only got lies and a sob story from Isla.” He takes a deep breath. Keep going Jake…

“So yeah, I tried to end things with Isla. Multiple times. Now I know I have royally fucked up with making my life messier than it needs to be–”

“She still fucking lives with you, Jake–” Lyla cuts.

“Yeah, I fucking know that, genius,” he eyes her sideways. “You think this has been easy for either of us? I asked her to move out way before we started packing for this fucking tour… So yes. I did start hooking up with someone else. And you know what? I don’t regret a goddamn second of it. I finally found something that makes me fucking happy, and not miserable every single second of my life. And if you want to know why I think my actions are justified, you can speak to me directly about it. I’m a grown fucking adult, and I don’t owe you a goddamn thing if you don’t even have the decency to speak to me about my own fucking business…” Jake cuts his eyes directly to Mia and Lyla, making them sink back in their seats a little.

Fuck yes, Jacob. Fuck. Yes.

Just then, like a sitcom hitting its dramatic peak, Murph enters the bar, leaving everyone gathered around the table even more speechless than they were before. You feel a collective breath be taken by everyone before Jake shoots up from his seat. “Another round?”

Hell yes. Success.

Well, kind of. Progress.

You look at your phone, seeing that Y/N had texted you a ‘?’ about fifteen minutes ago.

“Perfect timing, Y/N is on her way here, too!” you announce, your voice full of pep.

“You’re shitting me, right,” Josh murmurs under his breath to you.

“Good, great. Grand. A big family reunion, huh?” Jake says sarcastically in his faux-accent. “I’m over the fucking moon.” Jake darts his eyes to Murph for a split second before making his way back to the bar.

You take a second to hide your phone under the table, texting Y/N back.

You

12:32AM: Come. Sit with me. I’ll have a drink waiting for you.

—

HER POV

Your palms are sweating with nervous energy, despite the freezing cold weather. You almost didn’t go. You talked yourself out of it three times before you ever left the room, but knowing that Ty was waiting for you was enough of a reason to go. He liked you, looked out for you and treated you like a friend even though he didn’t have to. You could suck it up for one night.

As you push the door open you’re immediately met with warm air and the smell of stale beer. It’s loud in the small bar and terribly lit, making it hard to find the group. You see a hand wave you in its direction, and at the end of it, Ty. The table he is sitting at is fairly empty, most of the group dispersed throughout the bar, playing pool or darts. He pulls out the barstool next to him, sliding a drink in your direction.

“You made it!” he smiles, watching you sit down next to him.

“I did. What’s going on, I feel kinda weird about being here,” you admit.

“Ahhh, don’t worry about it, everything is fine. Promise.” he says, taking a sip of his beer. “Everyone is pretty drunk now, and has already forgotten about earlier.”

You glance around the smoky bar and as you look behind you, your eyes meet with Josh’s, who is giving you the most apologetic eyes you’ve ever seen. You give him a curt smile, and turn back around, knowing that a conversation with him is low on your list of priorities at the moment.

You spend most of the next hour with Ty, laughing and discussing anything and everything that does not have to do with Greta Van Fleet. He’s a sweet guy and you can tell why Josh fell for him, with his ability to make everyone feel heard and wanted, so easily.

You’re two drinks in when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your conversation with Ty. You turn to look at the person, but you can smell that it’s Jake, his cologne at the forefront of your mind. You feel him lean down to your ear, his breath on your neck.

“I’d still like to talk tonight,” he whispers, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

You take a deep breath and try to center yourself. You turn fully to look at him, seeing that he is not nearly as mad as he seemed earlier, and you know you want to hear what he has to say. You want to hear his side of the story you’ve pieced together over the last week. You nod at him as your eyes meet his, and he nods back, stepping away to return to the bar already going over what he will likely say later.

—

An hour later you find yourself in your hotel room, pacing as you anxiously wait to hear from Jake. He left the bar before you did, deciding to ride back with Ty and Josh after the others left. You took a shower and tidied up your room and still, you haven't heard from him, that is, until your phone buzzed on the dresser.

Jake

1:47AM: What is your room number?

Shit! Okay.

You

1:48AM: 407

You know it won't be long until he is knocking on the door, and your heart is beating hard in your chest. You try to slow your breathing and calm your heart rate before he gets here, but you know it's no use because it will spike again as soon as you see him.

The knock echoes through the room and you make your way to the door, swallowing back your nerves. As you open the door you find him standing there with one hand in his sweats pocket, and the other gripping a CD.

You look at it as he presents it to you, a smug smile on his face as you realize what it is.

‘An Awesome Wave’.

“This is–”

“The album we listened to on the plane, yeah,” he finishes, smiling as he steps into your room. “Found it in a record shop the other day in London. Thought of you and that first time we talked on the plane.”

You both step further into the room, your heart already twisting at his sweet gesture. He thought of you. You sit on the edge of the bed as you stare at the CD in your hands.

“Listen, I’m sorry you had to find out about Murph like that, I never meant for that to come out like that,” you offer, letting your eyes flick up to meet his as he stands in front of you.

“Look, I came here to apologize to you, Y/N. Not the other way around. You said I’m not the only one with secrets, and I guess that’s true, but I am more interested in setting the story straight and finding out what secrets you seem to be privy to.”

JAKE POV

She holds your gaze for just a second as she leans forward, grabbing her phone from the dresser behind you. She takes a shaky breath as her thumb dances across the screen, obviously looking for something. Your heart starts to beat faster and faster as she searches for what she’s looking for, a million different suspicions of what it could be flying through your mind.

Finally she turns her phone, showing you a screenshot of when Isla requested to follow her on Instagram. You feel your eyes grow as you breathe out a surprised “Oh.”

Fuckkkkkkk. She found her.

“Yeah. This was a while ago. I accepted her request tonight after the show. I know everything, Jake. I know about you and her. I know you’ve been lying to me this entire time,” she says bravely, gritting her jaw as she speaks.

“Let me stop you there, Y/N. Please…” you beg, preparing yourself to finally lay everything out on the line. The time had come. You take a deep breath as you readjust your seat. “Where do I even fucking begin?” you ask rhetorically.

“If I were you, I’d start at the beginning,” she suggests firmly.

“Alright, okay, yeah…” you agree, doing your best to find the courage. “Her name is Isla Whitman. And… Yes, she still lives in my home. Isla and I had been together for a long, long time. She was there when everything skyrocketed with the band, right when everything started to take off. She moved in with me, life was going good. She uh… things were great, obviously, as I’m sure you’ve seen from the photos…” you say, motioning to her phone. “We were really good for a long time, I was really happy…”

“But then uh, but then things started to go south. Like really, really badly.” You wipe a heavy hand across your face as you relive those terrible days again. “I started to realize that she wasn’t here for me anymore, that she was here for whatever status I held. Only here because of the success of the band and shit. Only wanted to be seen and be a part of things if it meant she would be photographed and noticed by our fans. It was weird shit, like the fame got to her, and she wasn’t the one even… anyways. She turned into a completely different person, almost overnight. Apparently, uh… it was a lot worse than I even realized, now that I’m kinda putting things into perspective, and Josh and Ty are agreeing with me. She used me. She used the hell out of me. Talked down to me all the time. Gaslit me. Made everything my fault. We got into terrible, horrible fights. All the time. I’m talking fights so bad that we both would throw things at the walls. There at the end, I started spending nights on Josh or Sam’s couch, I’d completely leave for days on end until she’d swindle me into coming back home, all for it to happen again. Over and over. It was…really fucking horrible, Y/N,” you recount, feeling a lump growing in your throat.

“I uh, I tried to get her to move out multiple times, told her I was finished, I couldn’t do it anymore. Mentally, I was done months ago. Over it. Then the night before we left for Europe, we fought and cried until 4:00 in the morning, and our flight left at six. The only way I could get out the door was if I agreed to go on a “break”. Which I know now was a stupid fucking idea,” you go on.

“My idea of a break was no contact, cut off completely, do our own things while she found another place to live, then when I got home, we could discuss things like rational adults and get things figured out maturely, but. Ever since we’ve been here, she’s done nothing but try to involve herself in my life even more so than she did when I was home,” you bite your cheeks in as your eyes glaze over, feeling that same gut sensation that keeps haunting you at the worst times. That guilt creeping back up again and again.

“My intention was never to hurt you, or harm you in any way at all, Y/N. Please know that. I left Nashville thinking I was practically a free man, finally. Ready to relax and disconnect while we worked. And I never intended to find you. And I never intended to… fall for you…like I did,” you explain, looking up to her with cautious eyes. “You completely blindsided me. Made me feel emotions that I hadn’t felt in years, Y/N. I should have told you from the beginning. I know I should have. That is the one thing that I regret completely and totally. I should have been upfront with you about it all. But, I was scared of fucking it up, you know? Scared you knowing about her would push you away. And now… I guess it blew up in my face even more than I thought it would…backfired completely.” You shake your head as you exhale a deep breath, letting a silence fall between the two of you.

“I understand, Jake,” she finally whispers. “I really do…”

“Really? You do?”

“Mhmm. I get how hard that must have been. Especially since you had no idea it was even happening for so long,” she explains. You nod your head in agreement. “Feels fucking stupid now, I should have picked up on it.”

“But she still lives with you. Still thinks you’re hers…” she reiterates.

“Yes. Well, I guess? She still calls constantly, still texts me incessantly–”

“Was that who was calling the night we… ya know…”

You face reddens at the memory of that first night you hooked up, when you couldn’t even fucking perform for her. You nod. “Yeah. Well, her and my techs. It was a whole thing.”

“God…” she says, standing from the bed and shaking her hands out by her sides. She starts pacing the room and running her hands through her hair. “I feel so stupid…”

“You feel stupid?! Y/N, I am the idiot, here, not you��” you argue, standing from the bed as well. “I’m the one that fucked everything up and probably lost you completely.”

She stops and rolls her eyes at you, tears poking from the corners of them. “I should have… I should have asked you if you had someone, Jake. I should have gotten to know you better…” she starts to cry. “That’s like, girl rule #1.”

“Noooo no no, please don’t cry, Y/N…” you rush to her, gently placing your hands on the undersides of her elbows as she crosses them protectively across her chest.

She runs a hand under her eye as she wipes a falling tear away. She scoffs at herself.

“No, Y/N. That was my fault. We kinda just…happened, you know? Our lust got the best of us,” you laugh a little at the memory of sneaking her into the bathroom that night at the bar.

“My suspicions kinda drove me away, ya know? I knew something was up the night Sam came to your room, talking all that…” she says. “You hiding me in the fucking bathroom.”

“Yeah, yeah I figured as much. I should have told you right then and there, I’m so sorry,” you plead.

“I’m not gonna lie, Jake, my trust is…”

“Probably fucking shattered, isn’t it?” you ask, feeling a bottomless feeling in your chest. Like the whole situation has no happy ending, because how could it? Everything is fucked.

She shrugs, looking past you at nothing. “I don’t know.” She walks slowly and sits back on the bed. “And Mia and Lyla? They–”

“Lyla is Isla’s best friend, yes. So of course Mia is pulled into that, as well. And, of course they are praying on my downfall. They don’t know my side of the story,” you explain, suddenly realizing that at the same time, Y/N doesn’t know Isla’s side of this story. You hope that she takes your’s in stride.

“Great, great. Cool,” she complains. “Now they hate me, too.”

“No, I’m not gonna let that happen. I told Lyla to come and speak with me directly if she wanted the full, true story. We’ll get that sorted out, don’t worry,” you explain. “No one hates you.”

“You aren’t mad at me for… with Murph?” she asks.

Ah, fuck.

“Shit, I mean… I’m not mad, I don’t guess. I’m… I guess I’m blindsided with that, too,” you know you can’t explain how you feel, because you truly haven’t had time to even process it yet. “I pushed you away, I get that. Fuck, we hardly spoke for a week. Of course you wanted nothing to do with me. Then Isla goes and adds you on social media…? I mean. Fuck, I get it. Murph is… a cool guy…” you have trouble admitting it.

“It’s not that serious, Jake,” she says, almost a whimper. “He and I, we just… clicked.”

Her words almost cut you in half. You thought she clicked with you.

“I get that,” you choke, as much as you hate to say it, you have hardly any dog left in this fight. “Listen, the bottom line is, I know I fucked up. Royally. I wouldn’t blame you if you never want to speak to me again. I don’t blame you for running away from me. But… I swear to god, Y/N, I would fight for you to the end of my days… You gave me something that I haven’t had in so long, I hardly remembered how it felt to be happy. You gave me excitement, and energy, and… you showed me that even though my life was absolute shit, it didn’t have to be that way. You showed me happiness, Y/N. I can’t ask for more than that. And if you ever give me another chance, I know I’d spend all my time repaying you for just that little bit of happiness you gave me, because it was one of the best times of my entire life.” You let out another shaky, huffed breath, fighting back tears, yourself.

Her eyes begin to well again, and you even work the tiniest smile from her. She licks her lips, rubbing them together. “Might take me some time, Jake. I don’t–”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight. I just don’t want you to hate me.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t hate you…”

She relaxes back against the fluffy pillows on her bed, her eyes obviously becoming heavy.

“Can we agree to start fresh? As friends? Forget about all the stupid shit?” you extend your hand out for her to shake, praying that if she could just give you this….

She takes it gently, clicking her tongue. “My intuition is telling me not to, but. I don’t see anything wrong with starting fresh… Honesty. From here on out.” She shakes it with a little firmness at the conclusion of her sentence.

“Good. Yes. Perfect, even. I promise,” you say with a little added sugar in your words. “Please just understand that my… relationship at home is anything but. She’s… so far gone from my mind I can’t even explain it to you. My number one priority is finding her somewhere else to live when we get home.”

She nods again. “That’s really none of my business, Jake.”

“Yes it is, Y/N. We’re friends now, remember?” you give her a sexy side smile, knowing that just having her in your life again would be enough, for now. “Thank you… for hearing me out.”

“Thank you for explaining. If only you’d have done that weeks ago…” she rolls her eyes playfully.

“I know, I know, shit,” you taunt, rising from the bed again. As she walks you to the door, you find yourself fighting off the urge to pull her in, still sobbing a little from earlier. You want to feel her touch again, feel her body against yours and kiss away the saltiness of her tears. But you can’t do that anymore.

When she opens the door and you approach the threshold, you turn back to her, letting your hand push a strand of fallen hair from her eye. “I still want you in my life, Y/N. You’re too good to let go, I don’t wanna let you go…You’ve still got me…” you say through a whisper, feeling boldness rising in your chest.

She smiles and leans her head into the touch of your hand, but she brushes it away quickly. “Go to bed, Jake.”

You give her one last knowing look, holding her stare for just a second too long, hoping that one last ditch effort to keep you on her mind would be enough to truly start things fresh.

Lord knows you’d do anything to get her back again.

—

HER POV

When morning comes it feels different. A weight has been lifted from your shoulders and the day doesn’t seem so daunting. You are glad that you and Jake finally talked things through, though you wish it would have happened weeks ago when you could have stopped all this from happening in the first place.

You quickly dress and pack your suitcase, knowing that van call is approaching quickly and that everyone will be assembling down in the lobby before you know it. You feel happy with your appearance as you make your way to the elevator, pushing the button and waiting as it climbs to your floor. As the doors spring open, you see none other than Murph waiting inside with his suitcase.

“Well good morning,” he smiles, motioning for you to join him inside.

“Good morning,” you answer, rolling your suitcase in behind you.

“Did you have a good evening?” he asks, adjusting his hat.

“It was alright,” you answer truthfully. “You excited to head to Manchester?”

“Think I’m more excited for Glasgow if I’m honest with you,” he smirks, pressing the button to close the doors.

“Can’t imagine why,” you wink, feeling the elevator start to move toward the lobby, singing the ‘Da da da da da’s’ of ‘Howlin’ For You’.

The doors spring open and you step out onto the cobblestone lobby floor, your suitcase bumping along behind you. As you turn the corner you see your group huddled up together talking quietly. They’re standing awkwardly, seeming more out of sorts than normal. It’s then you lay eyes on the auburn haired girl you studied in great detail just last night, as she stands hand in hand with Jake.

Isla.

In a tizzy of nerves, you turn to talk to Murph, only to find that he has walked away to meet with Dean and his own group. You’re alone and you have to face this. You swallow back your nerve and decide that you will walk over to the group with your head held high, ready to meet the girl Jake swore up and down he was done with.

As she stands beside him.

Holding his fucking hand.

“Y/N!” Paul shouts, grabbing your attention as he stands next to Ty. Everyone's heads turn to look at you, including Jake’s and you feel frozen in place. His face is solemn, with a hint of guilt hiding in his brown eyes.

You step up to the small circle of people, pretending that nothing is wrong, smiling and greeting everyone with a bright and bubbly smile. If you’re going to do anything, you’re going to make your first impression on Isla one that she won’t soon forget. Your eyes flick over to Ty who is silently telling you that you will definitely be talking later. Josh’s eyes meet yours next, sad and defeated as he stands next to her, showing his obvious feelings towards the situation you've found yourselves in.

Jake looks clearly burdened, like a lifeless shell standing there as his face is vacant of any loving emotion whatsoever. His movements are aimless, his posture slouched. And for a split second, you actually feel sorry for him.

Until you regain your clarity, opting to stay on the clueless side of this very obviously two-sided party.

The lying fucking son of a bitch.

“Oh hey, Y/N!” Lyla says cheerfully, “So glad we caught you, I just wanted to introduce you to someone. This is Isla, Jake’s girlfriend!”

Isla extends her hand to you, dropping Jake’s at his side. You can feel her laser sharp eyes digging through your skull, her glare almost enough to knock you over. Your eyes meet Jake’s, looking sad and withdrawn before you look back at Isla, and grasp her hand. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

She shakes your hand weakly before dropping hers to her side, falling into Jake’s shoulder to stake her claim. His face goes stark white.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” she coos. “I have heard all about you.”

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