#robert keating oneshot
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Right Back Where We Started From | Robert Keating x Fem!reader
summary: Flying home for Christmas seemed like a great idea until you’re snowed in and stuck on an icy runway… for the foreseeable future. Even worse? The person in the seat next to you is the guy who broke your heart a year ago
word count: 3.5k
warnings: angsty, exes to lovers (kinda), fluff, swearing, mention of alcohol, my bad writing as always, the usual really
author’s note: i have returned to my roots and am back with a robert christmas fic, everyone rejoice. this time a bit different. as you can tell, i’ve rewatched normal people while writing this – to all my robert keating and paul mescal enjoyers, this one is for you x
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
You hadn’t thought it would be possible, but your already bad day had just gotten worse somehow, which was kind of an achievement in itself.
It was bad enough that you had slept through your alarm this morning and had rushed into work over an hour late (the sudden onset of winter and heavy snowfall delaying your arrival even longer), which was followed by your suitcase breaking as you were about to leave your flat for Heathrow and you had to quickly find something to repair the broken zipper with. The bad luck didn't end there of course. When you did finally make it to the airport - ten minutes before check-in for your flight closed - you almost got run over by some busy businessman who didn't look where he was going and, in the process, rammed his metal suitcase against your knee, which had been pulsating and in pain ever since. Your flight being delayed by an hour and twenty minutes was truly only the cherry on top.
But even then, none of those things could compare to the mixture of feelings you felt bubbling up inside you when you realized who had just sat down in the seat right next to you and who was about to sit right next to you for the next hour and a half or so.
None other than your bassist ex-boyfriend whose band was almost everywhere these days. Of course, it had to be Robert Keating.
For a few seconds, you thought about the best way to approach this whole thing. Ignore him and pretend he wasn’t there? Put on a happy face and try to be nice to him? Even though the mere thought of your breakup still made your heart ache and sting every time you thought about it, thought about him. None of those seemed like good ideas.
Before either of you could decide how to approach this awkwardness, a decision was made for you. In the form of the voice of a flight attendant over the intercom system.
“Welcome on board British Airways flight BA 838 to Dublin Airport, due to the heavy snowfall and an icy runway, our start is delayed by at least thirty minutes,” a murmur went through the crowd. “Our cabin crew will be coming around, handing out free drinks and snacks, we apologize profusely for the delay!”
You must’ve really pissed off someone in your last life because there was no way this was real life. How could literally everything possibly go wrong in one single day?
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Robert echoed your words from earlier, the absurdity of it all was the last straw for you and you started uncontrollably giggling to yourself.
“You seem to be in a good mood.” Rob sighed and you knew without looking at him that his face was pulled into a grimace. It was safe to say that he was not having fun right now.
“Oh, believe me,” you stopped chuckling and turned your attention to your former lover, who did indeed look like he wanted to be anywhere but stuck on an icy tarmac right about now. “I’ve actually had one of the worst days of my life today.” You shrugged your shoulders. “At this point, I’ve just stopped trying to make any sense of it.”
Before you knew it you told him about everything that had gone wrong for you up until that point. Broke suitcase and all.
You even showed him your knee that had been massacred by that man and his heavy suitcase and realised that it actually had started bleeding. No wonder it kept pulsating with pain.
Those damn businessmen and their way too expensive, way too heavy metal suitcases
“I feel like I've been talking your ear off for way too long now,” you smiled awkwardly. Seems like 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was the plan you had chosen. “Now tell me, why are you in London on the 22nd? Shouldn’t you be already home with the family?”
You hated that you still knew what he and his family did every Christmas. You hated that you still knew a lot about him actually.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rob replied. And just like that, operation 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was fucked. “We had a label meeting a few days ago, with the big boss,” He joked. Looked like you didn’t mess up your chances of keeping this civil after all. “The lads all flew home on Wednesday, but I needed a day just for myself, to decompress or something like that… It has been a long year you know? So much has happened in the last twelve months, and I’ve had almost no days for just myself.”
“Yeah, busy year,” you acknowledged. You couldn’t escape the band anymore; they were everywhere these days. And as much as it hurt to see or hear about him everywhere you went; it made you happy to see them doing so well.
You were about to say something when the voice of the flight attendant from earlier came over the intercom again, this time informing you that due to the weather, your delay would continue but that you had to stay on the plane for safety reasons. At this point, you wondered if you would even make it to Dublin before Christmas… maybe you just had to spend Christmas in London alone, so the bad luck that seemed to follow you around could not rub off on anyone else.
At least the cabin crew would – once again – make their rounds and hand out free drinks, food, and some blankets.
Realizing that you hadn’t registered how cold it actually was on the plane, you made sure to profusely thank the brunette flight attendant, who handed you one of the British Airways branded blue fleece blankets, wrapping it around your upper body and legs you had pulled up on the seat after taking your shoes off. There was no way you were going to be (physically) uncomfortable today.
You turned your attention back to Rob, only to see him already looking at you. Actually looking at you and not the 'barely holding eye contact' thing he had done earlier, now he was staring at you, his eyes rapidly moving like he had forgotten what you looked like and was now trying to commit every part of you to his memory.
It made that mixture of feelings you had felt bubbling up inside you when you had first seen him earlier, return. Just this time, the feelings of butterflies in your stomach, that you always used to get whenever you had looked at him, were more prominent than any other feeling.
Fuck… great work! Thirty-five minutes spent next to your ex and boom… you were right back to feeling head over heels for him.
You sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what to say now, because what do you talk about with your ex-partner when you didn’t plan to see them never mind being stuck in an airplane that could not take off due to the sudden onset of winter. No one had ever written a handbook of how to act if you were ever stuck in a situation like this. No one. Especially not on how to act when you are actually still very much in love with said former partner, making the doubts you had always had about you going your separate ways, appear even greater.
The breakup had been mutual. You both barely had time for each other anymore and at that point in time it had seemed like the only reasonable decision to make. You had finished university that summer, he was practically always on tour or in the studio and when you had gotten that job offer for your current job in London you realized that things would only get harder from there on out. So, you moved to London, Robert stayed in Dublin – when he was not on tour – and then you broke up.
Of course, you had promised to stay in touch, to stay friends but you both knew that that was not happening. You couldn’t stay friends with him, not when you were still head over heels in love with him.
That’s why the breakup still hurt, even though you had not been with him in well over a year. You had tried to move on, had hooked up with a few people here and there, had gone out on the dates your new friends had set you up on but no one made you feel the way he did, so you gave up trying and slowly came to terms with the fact that you would maybe never be as in love again as you had been when you were twenty.
You sighed, trying to shake your thoughts as you fished your phone out of your jeans pocket.
20:21
Even with the initial hour and twenty minutes delay of the flight, you should’ve been long in the air by now, scratch that you should be more than halfway to Dublin by now. You sighed again, before typing out a message to your mother, telling her that you were still in Heathrow and didn’t know when you'd be home. Her answer came quickly, reassuring you that she would be there to pick you up from the airport when you landed, whenever that may be.
Putting your phone away you turned your attention back on Rob, who seemed to be so deep in his own thoughts, that even though he was looking at you, he was more looking through you.
“Are you alright?” You sounded more concerned than you were.
“Yeah yeah, I’m all right. Just a bit tired,” He smiled at you. “It's just– you know… I have missed you. A lot.”
Oh.
“I’ve been for a while actually,” He chuckled awkwardly. “The last year has been one of the strangest of my life. The juxtaposition of all the success with the lads, all the sold-out shows, festivals… all the fun and good stuff that has happened and then missing you all the time, missing us. It is a lot.”
Robert’s admission hit you like a ton of bricks. Holy fucking shit.
“Don’t say that.” Your voice was breaking. Why was your voice breaking?
“No, I mean it,” Rob's voice wasn’t steady, but he continued, reaching for your hands, and giving them a gentle squeeze. It was the first time he touched you that evening, leaving your skin feeling like it was on fire everywhere his met yours.
“No, you don’t get to say that shit after I spent over a year being heartbroken.” Your emotions were running wild now. “Not after I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never love anyone like I love you.”
There it was. Your confession. Out in the open.
“We both decided it was for the better to call things off,” Robert cringed at the words. But he was right, it had been a mutual decision. “You can’t put all the blame on me… if I had known how difficult this would be I would’ve never done it.” You could tell he was getting worked up over this, but you could not blame him for that. You weren’t doing any better really. “I would’ve moved to this damn city for you!”
“Don’t say that.” There it was again. “Robert, you would have hated it here. You would have been away from the lads, you would have had to commute between London and Dublin all the fucking time,” you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, which proved to be difficult the longer this went on. “That’s no way to live, baby. We would have been miserable.”
He was silent for a while, his hands still holding onto yours as if you were the anchor keeping him grounded but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. Now you squeezed his hands.
“Bobby there is no use in pretending you wouldn’t have been absolutely fucking miserable here,” You sniffled trying not to cry. “I would not have had time for you, and you would not have had time for me. We would have lived two separate times, believe me, we would have resented each other after a few months.”
“Still,” he tried to argue. “I’ve been pretty fucking miserable this year without you too.” He was finally looking at you again, his eyes slightly glassed over.
You didn’t know what to say to that and before you could think of something, the intercom turned on again.
“Good evening, my name is Richard Jones, I’ll be your Captain tonight and I am happy to report that we’ve finally got cleared to take off.” Finally. “We will be making our way onto the tarmac in about ten minutes. Since we are obviously not the only plane waiting to take off, we will have to wait for a little bit longer, but we should be in the air in the next thirty minutes or so. We, again, apologise for the delay, if you have any more questions our cabin crew will be happy to answer them. We thank you for your patience!”
You felt like a weight was finally being taken off your shoulders. A weight you had carried around with yourself for almost a year now.
You got your phone out again, sending another text to your Mum telling her that you were finally about to take off and actually get home for Christmas. And then… then you took a deep breath turning your attention back to Robert.
Okay, here goes nothing.
“Well since we are sharing,” you smiled at him, still holding his hands. “I’ve missed you too. A lot!”
Before he could answer you, you got interrupted once again.
“Is there anything I can get either of you?” The brunette flight attendant from earlier smiled at you. “Any drinks? Food?”
“Yeah actually,” you turned your attention from Rob to the brunette woman. “Could we get two red wines and a pack of salt crisps? Thank you so much!”
You took the two wines and crisps, setting one of the wines down in front of Robert.
“I think we have a lot to talk about,” You grinned at him, who would have thought this day would end like this? You certainly didn’t. “Cheers!”
The both of you talked a lot. About everything that had happened since your breakup, about how much you missed each other, about your job and the band.
You told him how proud you were of him and the lads, that even though it had hurt to see them everywhere, your happiness for their success outweighed the heartbreak of – at the time – knowing that you would probably never get to tell them that in the way you had done for years before. That you missed your friends in Dublin but that your new job and friends in London were great. How much you had fallen in love with this city. And how much you hated not at least trying to stay in contact with Eli or Josh.
In turn, he told you about how much he loved touring, how he and the lads had grown even closer, how crazy eventful this year had been and how glad he was that they were taking a little break. Taking things slow but already working on album number three.
You talked about your confessions from earlier. That you both were obviously miserable without each other, that you still loved each other greatly and what it meant for you going forward.
With your head on his shoulder, you talked for the whole flight, in hushed whispers, laughing every now and again.
And if the confessions had taken a heavy weight off your shoulder earlier, this – the hushed talking, the little giggles, and the handholding – made you feel weightless. Made you feel like you were on top of the world again. All because the man you loved was still in love with you.
You were holding hands when you finally walked out of the airplane at 22:25. Finally back home in Dublin you thought. And you continued to do so when you waited to pick up your baggage, which of course took another fifteen minutes but at this point, what were those extra fifteen minutes? If anything, it was more time with Robert which you gladly accepted.
“Is anyone here to pick you up?” You looked up at Rob, while you were still waiting for your broken suitcase, to arrive on the baggage conveyor belt.
“Sent a message to my Ma while we were getting ready to land,” He answered. “Is that your bag?” He asked pointing to the black suitcase, which was indeed yours. “She should be here by now and if not, I’ll just have to wait a few minutes,” he grabbed your suitcase, grabbing your hand again and interlocking your fingers. “Your Mum is picking you up, right?”
“Hmm,” you hummed as you walked through the automatic doors. “There she is actually.” Your pace got faster after you spotted her in between the dozens of other people who were waiting for their loved ones to finally arrive. “C’mon.”
You felt your fingers slip out of Robert's hand a few meters before you reached your mother, practically running into her open arms. Only once you were back in your mother’s arms did you realize how tired you actually were.
“Oh my god I’ve missed you so much,” you sighed. “I don’t think I have ever been this happy to be back home.
“Oh, it is so good to have you back, sweetheart!” Your mother replied kissing your cheek before spotting Rob who had given your little reunion some space. “Robert it's good to see you again darling.”
She pulled him into her arms, just like she had done with you earlier but not before side-eying you. This was going to be fun to explain later.
“Okay let’s get you home,” your mother sighed, grabbing your suitcase. “Is there anyone to pick you up, Robert?”
“Yeah, my Mums on her way,” he smiled down at her. “I’ll wait outside for her; don’t worry she'll be here in a few minutes.”
The three of you walked through the airport, towards the car park, your mother in the front with your suitcase, Robert, and you behind her with the rest of your baggage.
“I’ll get the car,” Your mother said when you stepped outside, the cool air blowing through your hair. “You wait here I'll be back in a few minutes.”
Before you could answer her, she was already gone, leaving you and Robert alone. Smart woman, you thought to yourself.
You turned your attention back to Robert, smiling brightly, before resting your head against his chest. You stood in silence, the chilly wind still blowing through your hair. You did not feel the need to say something. Everything you needed to get off your chest you had talked about with Robert. You would rather just stay where you were right now, in his arms and pressed against his chest just like you had done a hundred times before.
“I’ll see you in January,” he smiled, carefully grabbing your face, and pulling it from his chest to look at you. “Right?”
“Yeah,” you hummed, hearing the honking of a car, and turning around to see your mother waiting for you. “I’ll keep my bed warm for you!” You chuckled, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”
“I’ll know you will love,” Robert grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” another kiss. This time his lips landed on your right temple, right next to your eye. “I love you!”
The last kiss he pressed to the tip of your nose. Just like he had done on your first date, years ago.
“I love you.” You replied, kissing the skin right below his chin, before nuzzling your nose into his neck. It was crazy how fast you fell into old patterns.
Your mother honked again, which you took as your sign to let go of Robert and get into the car. Before leaving his warm embrace, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his skin still feeling warm beneath your lips.
You walked to the car, put your backpack on the backseat and before she could even ask you answered the question you knew she was dying to ask you.
“It’s a long story.”
note: if you liked this imagine, don’t forget to like, comment and/or reblog, that’d be greatly appreciated! xx
taglist: (if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!) @tractorbeamofwoe @1twontalwaysbelikethiss @vanmccannsfridge
#robert keating#robert keating imagine#robert keating oneshot#robert keating x reader#robert keating x reader imagine#robert keating x reader oneshot#inhaler#inhaler imagine#bobby skeetz#charlotte writes
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hii! not sure if you’re open to requests but i’m going to give u a few ideas! most of these are for elijah hewson😭
falling asleep on the couch, waking up to not only a blanket around them, but eli squeezed in behind them
being in the studio with the band and messing about?? making jokes and being silly!
kissing and dancing in the kitchen to an old singe they both like?
eli taking care of you when you’re sick and just being super soft and caring!
spending valentine’s day together!
something about the reader playing with eli’s fingers to calm them down?
softly smiling at each other from across the room and also reassuring touches!
telling each other how much they love them
them cuddling in bed and pulling eachother closer
hope these spark your writing :))))
Kiss It Better | ELIJAH HEWSON
here's a short little thing inspired by this request!
PAIRING: elijah hewson x f!reader
WORDS: 1.5k
SUMMARY: eli's girlfriend is ill, elijah comforts her.
GENRE: hurt/comfort, fluff
WARNINGS: references to throwing up
I've never been so ill in my life. My nose is so runny. I've almost used every single packet of tissues in the kitchen cabinet right under the sink — which used to be a lot and now is very little. I've thrown up my insides into the loo way too many times to count on my fingers. Bent over the toilet, eyes pricking with tears, I've never felt so useless. At least the thought of my boyfriend getting back after his gig gives me something to look forward to. But it's far too late.
I'm staring at the TV screen. I hug my knees to my chest, attempting to generate some warmth. The blanket is upstairs — probably hiding in the space between the bed and the wall. Surely, if I attempt to stumble upstairs now, I'll just get stuck and end up falling asleep in the corridor.
I can't stop glancing at the door. I'm hoping for a doorknob twist, knock, ring of the doorbell, stamp of boots, low and raspy post-concert voice. But I'm just met with nothing. No signs of his arrival. He hasn't called me. He usually doesn't. He likes to surprise me. After having the worst migraine of my life, it would give me some comfort if he just gave me a hug. A warm Elijah Hewson hug would cleanse my mind.
Starting to realise that the TV is doing more harm than good, I switch it off. I'm beginning to see blurry triangular shapes and my eyes burn like they're on fire. The living room is pitch black. I'm freezing. I'm tired. I take two paracetamol tablets and chug some water. Curling up on my side, legs on the armrest, I close my eyes.
-
I wake up. Sunlight gleams through the gaps in the white curtains. My body is wrapped in a duvet, soft and warm. Skin is against mine. Arms are around my body, squeezing me tightly. He's shirtless. I can tell by the tufts of chest hair flicking at my shoulder. His head is on my back, curls all over my skin, lips between my shoulderblades. I don't want to move. I don't want to speak. He's asleep. Gentle snores, deep breaths, in and out.
I must've fallen into a deep sleep because I have no recollection of his arrival or him ever taking me upstairs. I'm usually a light sleeper. This migraine fully knocked me out. That's the best nights sleep I've had in a while. I'm especially thankful I managed to escape from work for the rest of the week.
Elijah's normally the little spoon when we hug like this. It's funny how the tables have turned. I think I prefer this though. But lying awake and tracing the muscles in his back always seems to calm me down.
I want to ask him how the show went and the reason for his tardiness. He had been playing in Glasgow, thankfully only a few miles away from me and had bought me tissues, chocolate and gave me an endless supply of kisses before he had to run down to meet the band.
Opening my eyes fully, I take a peek over at the bedside table. He's brought me more tissues, face masks, more chocolate and a box of sleep teabags.
I realise Elijah's awake when his fingers start to walk along my bare stomach and his mouth is at the juncture between my back and shoulder. He pulls my hair to the side, presses his wet mouth to my neck. He smells clean. I'm sure he's showered. His hair feels a little damp.
He keeps pulling me closer. Arms tightening like he's a boa constrictor. Cool rings on my stomach, large hands tugging at the waistband of my shorts.
"You feeling better?" He asks, between kisses, tongue tracing my jugular vein. It's unsettlingly nice. His words are always gruff the morning after the show. All the singing takes a toll. Makes him sound more mellow. Sometimes I worry for his vocal cords.
"Not really." I groan. A mind-numbing headache is still prodding at my brain and the brightness of the sun makes my eyes burn. He's got a hand on my forehead, cool fingers against fiery skin — checking the temperature.
"God, you're pale. And you're burning up. I should get the thermometer." He gets out of bed. The loss of weight of his body makes the mattress shift. I glance over at him. His hair has stuck up at the top, his bare back glows under the sunlight. He stands up. Sweatpants cling loosely to his hips, revealing the muscles of his abdomen and a chain circles around his neck. He leaves the room — not even giving me time to utter a word of annoyance at the sudden lack of touch.
Then he's back. He crawls into bed. The thermometer is between his index finger and thumb. I look at the cross tattoo on his palm, see the concentration on his face as he plays around with the buttons.
"It's just a migraine," I say but he's already turning it on and pointing at my mouth. I roll my eyes and separate my lips. He gives me a sly smirk, just making me sit like that for a moment. Then he puts the device beneath my tongue and waits patiently. I'm trying not to laugh at how awkward this is. I close my eyes to evade his gaze but I can still feel the force of his stare.
"You've got a fever." Dr Hewson alerts me with his expert diagnosis although the furrow of his brows makes him seem unsure. He looks down at the numbers displayed, rubbing his face with worry. "A really bad one." He's now searching up on his phone what it means.
"Should I go to the doctors?" I shuffle away from him. I don't want him to catch what I have. He has gigs all week, I don't want to ruin anything for him.
He notices my movement. Shaking his head, he drags me back towards him, making me nestle into his chest. His eyes are still darting along a website.
"I think you just need to rest. I'll make you breakfast." Elijah kisses my nose before running downstairs with his mind set solely on making some decent food.
Through the corridor, into the kitchen. He's forgotten where half the things are in the room. Opening cabinets, searching through the fridge, putting water into the kettle. Most of the time he'll get his breakfast on the way to a show. Maybe a café, maybe he'll steal some food from Ryan. Today, however, he's lucky enough to not have a gig and actually have time to look after his girlfriend. Although he's definitely going to make a mess of the place.
His final decision is to make omelettes. Oil on the frying pan, ham—leaving it to heat up until it's a little crispy. Two eggs, cracked and swirled in a glass. Cheese on top, grated with masterful excellence—at least that's what he believes. Folds it over to make it fill half of the pan. Let's it continue to fry. Then he's running over to make a cup of tea. He uses one of the sleep teabags he bought. He's just about to plate up when footsteps echo behind him.
I have to stop for a second when I walk into the kitchen. It's a rarity to see Elijah here, cooking for me. We started dating at the beginning of the tour which unluckily means that he's hardly ever home. He has to leave early in the morning and gets back really late. Whenever he has days off, he takes me on dates and walks, or we just laze around at home, basking in eachother's presence. There's times when he brings me along to the recording studio so that I can reprimand all the band members or give an outside opinion of their new songs.
Elijah seems so focused on getting this omelette perfect. He's running around the place. He grabs two pieces of bread to turn his dish into an omelette-sandwich. I stand in the doorway for a while, just watching him. But, I can't stop myself from nearing him. As he cuts an apple into a slices, I slide my arms around his stomach, pressing my head to his shoulder. He sighs quietly. I breathe in his scent, his comfort.
"You should be in bed," he whispers, although he doesn't seem to want me to let go. I shake my head as he looks at me.
There's music playing on the radio. I turn it up. It's a song by The Smiths. I'm swaying to the beat, moving Elijah along with me. He's still carefully chopping fruit into perfect pieces. Watermelon, strawberries, mango. My mouth is watering just looking at the vast array of flavours.
Elijah drops his knife, turns around to face me. His hands find my waist, his lips find my neck, his head burrows into my chest like he's a mole hiding under soil. We dance along to the crackle of music, feeling the melodies trickle into our bones. Just his presence makes me feel better, every kiss turns my negative thoughts to mush.
#elijah hewson#elijah hewson oneshot#elijah hewson x reader#elijah hewson imagine#eli hewson#inhaler band#inhaler imagines#inhaler oneshots#inhaler dublin#fanfiction#inhaler fanfiction#robert keating#bobby skeetz#josh jenkinson#ryan mcmahon#inhaler#inhaler fanfic#inhaler imagine
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you're losing me → e. hewson
pairing —elijah hewson x singer!fem!reader
summary —where you release a new single that sends your friends into a heartbroken panic
sarahskeetz guys, before you go crazy about the eli and y/n rumours, please use some common sense and reevaluate. y/n's wrote countless songs about how elijah is her soulmate AND how media is often so wrong and invasive in regards to their lives and that people shouldn't believe things unless either of them say it directly. plus, these pictures of them were literally posted last month. she'd hardly have prepped you're losing mebto be released in that amount of time
username no fr, even if they did split, they don't deserve the harassment they're both getting online for it
joshjenkily litch. they should be allowed to deal with it in their own time
ynbridgerss okay but the clear parallels between these songs and ylm....
pheebrodrighoe no I get you but y/n hasn't interacted with any of the inhaler guys in a month despite being active online for her tour and even camilla (the number one eliyn stan) hasn't mentioned them since those photos
ynkissmeee lowk hope the rumours are true, he's been leeching off her for years 😭
judebellinghams omg shut up what are you even talking about 💀
yourusername thank u for all the love tonight, la! it's been a hectic week at best so it was lovely to just enjoy the night with you all 💞 but onto the elephant in the room.... i'm still very happily in a relationship with my little babygirl. "you're losing me" is written about my former relationships (mostly platonic) with others that i finally realised were TOTALLY MESSED UP after being with someone who loves me wholeheartedly for so long xx thank you all for the people who did send kind messages my way but please stop listening to gossip sites 😭
sahraskeetz THANK YJE LORD
camillamorrone guys my tweet was bcs y/n ditched me to get food w 🤢eli🤢
yourusername i brought u back a tiramisu shut up
ynxcamistan QUEEN YOU HAD US GAGGED
gracieabrams mother!!
ynhq thank god, we didn't want to leave elijah completely alone in the divorce 💔
robertkeating ❤️❤️
phoebebridgers so in love with you
devonleecarlson stop girl i was giggling over the articles 😭
bellahadid ok stunner
#inhaler oneshot#inhaler dublin x reader#inhaler dublin#inhaler x reader#elijah hewson x reader#elijah hewson#robert keating#josh jenkinson#ryan mcmahon
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would love to see a bobby fic!! maybe a friends to lovers? adore that trope , and maybe it’s like a party and one of them gets jealous?? then it leads to them arguing and confessing 🤭 ( maybe a bit of 😏😏 near the end? up to you!! ) love ur work btw!!
an: omg friends to lovers is one of my favorite tropes ever! AND WITH BOBBY UGH!!!! it's so perfect for him. thanks so much for your suggestion and hope you enjoy!
halloween party ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟrobbery keating
paring: robert x fem!oc
summary: at Kat's halloween birthday bash, robert has to decipher whether his feelings for kat are purely platonic or maybe something more.
wc: 950
*reblogs, notes, and feedback are greatly appreciated!!
The music in the house was so loud. Too loud if I was being honest with myself. It bombarded my mind as I was dragged through the dimly lit living room by my friend Niya. She decided that this year I should live a little and somehow convinced me to throw a party for my birthday. However, my birthday happened to be Halloween, so I was in a mini skirt and corset vaguely resembling Marie Antoinette. At least that’s why Niya said when she gave me the outfit and told me to start getting ready earlier that night.
“I have a surprise!” She said, her smile looking too close to a smirk for my liking. “Please don’t tell me it’s something crazy like a dude with a monkey..” I could feel the knots in my stomach grow tighter. Something about this night felt so different from all my other birthdays.
“Surprise!!!!” Niya yelled as she pushed me in front of her, squeezing my shoulders gently. That’s when I saw him. His hair was all messy, and where the fuck was his shirt? “Happy Birthday, Kat,” Robert said with a smile as he started to light the candles on the cake I didn’t even notice he was holding. “Make a wish.”
Just knowing his blue eyes were on me made my body ache in the most primal way. My eyes glanced down at the lit candles before back at his, closing my eyes for a moment before thinking of a wish and blowing them out. Everyone cheered, my lips curling up in a smile as Robert set the cake down on the table, pulling me into a tight hug.
He smelled like smoke and leather, and his skin was so warm. And my god, his hands, they were so big and warm and gripping my waist so tightly. “What’d you wish for?” he whispered in my ear, breath hot on my neck. “If I tell you, it won’t come true,” I gave him a tight squeeze, my hands lingering on his forearms as I pulled away from him. The party quickly returned to its noisy-colorfully lit atmosphere.
“I thought you couldn’t make it tonight?”
“I couldn’t miss my girl’s birthday,” His eyes moved down my body slowly. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. “Princess?”
“Marie Antoinette, actually. Sid Vicious?” I cocked my eyebrow, reaching up to gently tug on the chain around his neck. “Ding ding ding!”
“It suits you.”
“Kat, come on, I need to introduce you to someone,” Niya said, grabbing my arm. “I’ll see you later. Have fun!” I smiled, giving Robert a wave before being pulled back into the crowd of people by Niya.
The night continued on, my mind fogged with one too many vodka cranberries. Time felt like an illusion as my body moved on the dance floor. I didn’t know whose hands were roaming my body, and I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel skin. To feel warmth.
“Fuck, I’m dizzy,” I mumbled, pulling away from my faceless partner and wandering outside onto the patio. The cool air sent shivers down my spine as the sound of passing cars on the street below mixed with the muffled music. “Kat?” I turned to face with Rob once again.
“Bobby!” the drunk flush on my cheeks grew darker. Even in the dim lighting, I could see his jaw clench. “I’m really sorry I got pulled away from you earlier.”
He shrugged, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “It’s whatever,” he placed one between his lips, taking a long drag from it.
“Bobby, I can tell you’re upset.” I stepped closer to him, arms slipping around his neck. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong.”
He didn’t budget. Instead, his hands moved down, pulling my grip away from him. “It’s nothing.”
“You don’t have to be such an asshole, Jesus,” I huff, arms wrapping around my body to provide some warmth.
“Me, the asshole? What the fuck ever.” He shook his head, taking another long drag off his cigarette. “I went out of my way to come to your birthday party because I care about you and you're fucking people on the dance floor.”
I scoffed, shocked by the sudden change in his behavior. What happened to my sweet Rob? The guy who was always there and ready to do something stupid or to make me feel better when I was crying over God knows what.
“Robert, what the fuck is your problem? It’s my party. I’m allowed to have fun.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot the princess gets everything she wants.” he was becoming even more defensive than before.
“Fuck you! Why do you even care?”
“Because I’m in love with you, Kat. Are you thank fucking thick in the head?”
My chest tightened, his words echoing in my head for a moment. “You what?” My heart was beating so fast I thought it would fall out of my chest. “I’m in love with you,” his voice got quieter as the words fell from his lips.
“Robert I,” my chest was too tight. It’s like the universe was telling me not to confess. “I love you too,” My arms wrapped around him, tugging his body closer to me as our lips crashed into a kiss. I could feel his hands on my body, the warm, familiar skin radiating through the costume’s fabric, only making me ache more for him.
We broke away, breath heavy as his forehead rested on mine. “Your lipstick’s all smudged,” He said with a soft chuckle, thumb swiping over the corner of my mouth to try and clean it up.
“Why don’t you smudge it some more, hmm?”
“I think I can do that,” He said, clearing the air between our mouths once again.
an: i hope you guys enjoyed! i really wanted to get this out there for all my inhaler readers, so sorry if it seems a bit rushed. there will definitely be a part two.
#inhaler dublin#inhaler oneshot#inhaler dublin x reader#inhaler band#inhaler#robert keating#josh jenkinson#elijah hewson#eli hewson#bobby skeetz#ryan mcmahon
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need my inhaler fics to get the same amount of likes as my marauders ones😩😩
#harry potter#marauders#hogwarts#inhaler#inhalerdublin#marauders fanfiction#james potter oneshot#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#eli hewson#elijah hewson#bobbyskeetz#bobby skeetz#robert keating#ryan mcmahon inhaler#ryan mcmahon#josh jenkinson
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masterlist 🤍
navigation
blur
damon albarn
★ jealousy / part two
★ distractions
★ friable
★ the little sister
★ parties and pyjamas
★ fourty eight
★ run
graham coxon
★ the extra
★ pinky promise
alex james
★ council estate
★ lifestyle
oasis
noel gallagher
★ capture / part two
★ the unwanted visitor
★ parties and pyjamas
★ traumatised
★ metanoia
★ the green room
★ bestfriend's brother
★ quick kisses
liam gallagher
★ playing happy families
★ happiness
★ council estate
★ metanoia
★ bestfriend's brother
★ toxic one / part two / part three / part four
★ toxic (seperate oneshot)
nepotism babies
lennon gallagher
★ getting older part one / part two / part three / part four / part five
gene gallagher
★ getting older part one / part two / part three / part four / part five
★ home time
★ photoshoot
★ sunlight
inhaler
robert keating
★ delusions / part two
elijah hewson
★ perks of the job
twilight
edward cullen
★ homesick / part two / part three
caius volturi
★ constant complications
derry girls
david donnelley
★ teenage kicks (wattpad link)
#ophelia's little masterlists <3#oasis#blur#blur x reader#oasis x reader#damon albarn#liam gallagher#noel gallagher#damon albarn x reader#graham coxon x reader#alex james x reader#liam gallagher x reader#noel gallagher x reader#lennon gallagher x reader#gene gallagher x reader#robert keating#inhaler#inhaler x reader#robert keating x reader#britpop masterlist#Elijah hewson#Elijah hewson x reader#twilight#twilight x reader#derry girls#Derry girls x reader
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⤷ verses and vibes ( /vəːs/ /ənd/ /vʌɪb/ ) :
a collection of oneshots inspired by the verses of famous poets such as keats, frost, and tennyson
written by outroshooky; banners and headers made by @guksheart
oneshots will be released as they are finished in the coming months (est. completion in april or may 2020)
“bright star, would i were stedfast as thou art—
not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
and watching, with eternal lids apart,
like nature's patient, sleepless eremite,”
⤷ “bright star, would i were stedfast as thou art”; john keats
↳ friendstolovers!au; i-saw-you-every-morning-on-the-subway-and-i-think-i’m-falling-in-love-with-you!au / fluff
release date: tuesday, november 26, 2019
read it here!
“the woods are lovely, dark and deep,
but i have promises to keep,
and miles to go before i sleep,
and miles to go before i sleep.”
⤷ stopping by woods on a snowy evening; robert frost
↳ prince!au; ghost!au / angst, some fluff
release date: friday, december 20, 2019
read it here!
“i know not if i could have borne
to see thy beauties fade;
the night that follow'd such a morn
had worn a deeper shade:
thy day without a cloud hath pass'd,
and thou wert lovely to the last,
extinguish'd, not decay'd;
as stars that shoot along the sky
shine brightest as they fall from high.”
⤷ and thou art dead, as young and fair; lord byron (george gordon)
↳ mafia!au / angst, fluff, smut
release date: wednesday, january 29, 2020
read it here!
“i keep his sweet words like love letters;
tied up in ribbons in the back of my mind.”
⤷ natalie jensen
↳ a soulmate au where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever, it will show up on your soulmate’s skin as well; musicmajor!au / fluff
release date: winter 2020
“for though I know he loves me,
to-night my heart is sad;
his kiss was not so wonderful
as all the dreams I had.”
⤷ the kiss; sara teasdale
↳ postbreakup!au / angst, some fluff
release date: spring 2020
“gods and men, we are all deluded thus!
it breaks in our bosom and then we bleed.”
⤷ hymn of pan; percy bysshe shelley
↳ strangerstolovers!au; idol!au / fluff
release date: spring 2020
“light, so low in the vale
you flash and lighten afar,
for this is the golden morning of love,
and you are his morning star.”
⤷ marriage morning; alfred, lord tennyson
↳ an au where our flats are opposite each other and your kitchen window faces my kitchen so we always see each other making coffee at 3am; communicating-via-post-it!au / fluff, crack
release date: spring 2020
#aaahhhh it's here!!!#i'm so excited to share these with you over the next coming months#bts#bts fluff#bts angst#bts smut#kpop angst#kpop fluff#kpop smut#kpop fanfiction#outroshooky
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jackie & wilson → e. hewson
pairing —elijah hewson x fem!reader
summary —a little peak into raising a girl with elijah (and her three annoying uncles)
inspired by this ask
everyone say thank you to @whoetoshaw for helping me with this because if there's one thing we will do, it is take baby fever to the next level
we'll steal her lexus, be detectives, ride 'round picking up clues. we'll name our children, jackie and wilson, raise 'em on rhythm and blues
she's the most loved girl in the world but she was not planned 😭
THAT BEING SAID
as soon as it sets in with everyone that you're pregnant, they're obsessed with preparing to make her have the best life
the first thing robert asked when you told him was if you'd call her 'robin'
he kept asking
even after she was born and named
"you can always change it, you know. look at that smile, she's such a robin!"
she'd be such an angel baby
so beautiful too
UGH everyone is obsessed with her
josh is her fav uncle
the others take that very personally
the inhaler ig gets spoiled with the odd picture of eli holding her up like simba during soundcheck, her passed out on josh, ryan sitting her on his knee and letting her 'play' drums, and robert blank staring anyone who comes near him when he's holding her
speaking of
robert is such a clingy uncle
he'll always go on "she's always stealing my spotlight 🥱🥱🙄🙄" and then he's throwing a fit the second anyone tries to take her off him
fans are obsessed with her
if you're ever going into a venue and you've got her with you fans go crazy
respectfully ofc
at least one person has brought a special baby cowboy hat for her 🫶🥺
she'd be such a smiley baby
if you or eli ever need a break, and she's in a hyper mood, pass her off to ryan, and he'll have her giggling for an hour
but onto elijah
he's such a good dad
so so awkward in the beginning
poor guy is just afraid of messing up
after the first month or so he's a natural
he's obsessed with her
she'd be such a daddy's girl
he is wrapped around her finger
HOWEVER
when she gets older he can and will embarass her whenever she brings a date home
he'd fall 10 times more in love with you
like omg you were already the most perfect person but now you've given him a new reason to live??? are you even real?????
his family would be so helpful
they'd be giggling over him being so stiff holding her in the beginning but they'd help him and be so proud when he finally gets the hang of it
eve will not let up on him abt marrying you
"so when are you getting the ring?" just after she helps him put the baby down for a nap
soon xx
goes without saying that she's got at least one song written about and/or named after her
overall, you love your little perfect family and your little perfect family loves you 🫶🫶
#inhaler chats.#inhaler dublin x reader#inhaler oneshot#inhaler x reader#inhaler dublin#elijah hewson#elijah hewson x reader#robert keating#bobby skeetz#josh jenkinson#ryan mcmahon
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hiiii i’ve a wee fluff imagine idea for bobby!! : )
bobby and the reader live together in a flat in dublin and the reader goes to trinity uni to study english literature (or smt else that has like a lot of reading and essay writing anol that craic) and she’s falling behind in a lot of her assignments and it’s all piling up and she’s just all overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to cope.
she ends up breaking down into sobs or shutting down at random points in the day due to stress and rob hasn’t got a clue what’s wrong and keeps noticing these random break downs throughout the week.
basically he comforts reader and helps to organise herself and just all fluffy cute comfort fic <333
If I could flip back time, bend the seconds and go back three years ago, I would do it right now.
Pile after pile of flashcards, annotated books with pastel post-it notes shooting out of the sides, folders of Irish poetry I can hardly understand, tattered photocopies of Hozier lyrics, every work of Shakespeare staring at me from my overcrowded booksheld — dusty, messy, probably even dank. Miss Carter has decided to set three more assignments onto my workload for the week. An essay on crime fiction (I haven't even read the first book on the reading list), my creative writing portfolio and then another essay analysing a piece poetry of my choice. Reading and highlighting Hozier's lyrics of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' is the only thing keeping me going. Phoebe Bridgers blasts through my ears. It's quarter to 11. I need a break. An early night would be nice. Or TV. But do I really want to sit next to Robert whilst he watches his weird YouTube videos?
I kick my table. Not out of anger. Not out of irritation. I just want to see all of my notes topple ontp the floor. They do. Then I'm kicking the table three more times. Or maybe eight. All my flashcards are on the carpeted floor, next to my discarded, empty packet of pinballs. I'd stolen them from Robert's stash. He'll never find out.
Climbing over my pile of unread books by my doorway, I push open the door. It squeaks. Some oiling would be nice. Trinity college really provides the best for their students!
I still wish my roommate was also doing English, someone to bond with over shared trauma, to gossip about our nightmarish teachers and fellow students. But no, this guy is doing a degree in bloody mathematics. The complete dichotomy of English. No similarities. No way of comparing the courses to eachother. Him and his terrifying videos that he watches with his shoes up on the armrest, cheek in his open palm, drinking a cup of tea. Like it's that simple. Numbers and sin, cos, tan and circle theorems and whatever tragic nonsense is being spouted in his lectures.
He hardly speaks to me. Three years together and I barely know him. Sometimes I tag along with him when he goes out for breakfast. Once every two weeks. Sunday morning. We talk about school, about friends, about anything that pops in our heads. Yesterday we spoke about music. He originally wanted to pursue a career in music. A band. But they didn't work out. He took a gap year to pursue this group. So he's a year older than all of the other third years. He doesn't let that faze him. When he told me stories about his band, 'Inhaler', I had to lose eye contact, look down at the pink marshmellos floating about in my cup. He looked lost. This wasn't the place for him. He missed the confidence upon stage, the ability of making something out of nothing. Life is unfair. That is when I realised it. Hearing about shattered dreams and names of songs that were never produced.
I also realise life is unfair right now, as I accidentally bang my hip onto the kicthen island, the knife-like corner lodging itself into my skin. It's like the world is against me.
Sometimes I wonder if Robert thinks I'm an idiot. I feel like I'm an idiot when I walk past his bedroom, hunched over his laptop, headphones on as he works through the most difficult maths questions I've ever encountered in my life. He makes university seem easy. Has his allocated times for study, going out with friends, the gym, practicing bass, going though record shops, meals, watching TV. Everytime he gets home, he drops his things down in the kitchen. I sneak a glance at the big green 'A*' on all of his test papers. I look up to him. His intelligence, his masterful management of time. I'm always too frightened to ask him how he does it. He'll think I'm stalking him.
Me, on the other hand, I waste time. I don't have balance. I never have time to be with my friends. Always locked up in my room. A prisoner. Essay after essay. Poem after poem. Book after book. A constant cycle I've been in for three whole years. The stress is weighing down on me like a hundred bags of bricks. I need to stop for a second. To breathe in. To calm down.
So I do the last thing I would normally do. I go into the living room and sit beside Robert on the sofa. He's half asleep, jeans cuffed, hair all over his face. He sees me walk in, glances up, eyes big and speculting. He instantly moves his spindly, spider-like legs from the armrest to give me some space. I can hear some sort of maths video playing on the TV. I'm scared. At least it's not English. I'm immune to maths. It doesn't affect me anymore. Whatever logorhythmic scale this American YouTube man is yapping about isn't making my face contort at all — it's like sorcery.
This could be a way of winding down. Maths. I'm calmer now. No changes of focus or narrowing of perspective. No pathetic fallacy or magical realism. Just messes of words that don't really make sense at all.
"'D'you want to watch TV? I can turn this off if you want." Robert has his thumb on the home button.
"Leave it on. I just need a moment."
He dubiously puts the remote back down. He yawns, stretching out his arms and leaning back. I hate it when boys do that. With his parted, manspreaded legs, adams apple bobbing, head rolled back. It's idiotic. Completely idiotic. He doesn't seem too intrigued by Mr American man. The video is a guy next to a whiteboard writing millions of brain-numbing equtions. Robert is nodding along. I think I'm going to cry. I don't know why I want to right now. My hip is actually starting to throb and ache. I look down at my jeans. There's a hole in them. There's blood. It's wet. I hadn't noticed before. It's properly pouring out blood.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I exclaim, hand pressing down onto the cut through my jeans.
Robert swiftly nears me. He's looking at me up and down, hands trying to find a place to move to. It's dark in the room. He reaches for the lamp switch. "What is it? Are you okay?"
"I'm bleeding. Jesus christ. That kills. Fuck me."
He passes me his jacket and says, "Apply some pressure."
Then he runs out of the room. Fast as a plane. A man on a mission. Long curls dancing to the rhythm of his steps. Mr American man won't shut up about algebraic expressions. He's got a really bald head. Glimmering.
Robert is back. He has bandages. I don't know where he got those from. Antiseptic wipes, plasters, sweets, even a cup of tea. He was only gone for about five seconds. How did he manage to get all of that? He hands me the cup of tea and sweets whilst asking, "What happened?"
"I walked into the island like an eejit. I'm so feckin' stupid."
"Just breathe, okay. You're not an eejit. I do that every day."
I have to unzip my jeans to let him check the cut. Which is awkward, to say the least. He's looking at me like a doctor — not really caring about seeing my skin — but I'm still so shy around him. He sees me struggle with the button. He undoes it, fingers coming in contact with mine. They're slender. So very perfect for the bass guitar. Then he's unzipping my jeans. Only the tiniest bit. A mere centimetre of my knickers appear out of the top. Any more than that and I'd be flush as a tomato. I've always had a little crush on Robert. Being stuck with a really smart bass guitarist with the dreamiest eyes for three years is enough to make a person fall. The reason I've been avoiding him lately has been due to that fact. I don't want to make it obvious.
He finds the cut. It's bled through my knickers, making a big blot of dark red. He pulls down the waistband of my pants, prepared to wipe the wound. I have to grind my teeth together to prevent a sob from escaping me. I'm crying. Stressed and hurt and just wanting to dissolve into nothing. The cold draft of wind isn't improving the situation. If only there was no such thing as coursework and I couldn't glide my way through university like Robert.
More and more blood. I think I might pass out. The blue-eyed boy is knelt down on the floor, knees biting into the carpet so that he can properly see where to put the bandage.
"So how's English going?" He's not looking at me. Only at the wound. I don't think he's noticed that I'm crying. I don't want him to. I cover my face with bloody hands, accidentally smearing the metallic substance onto my nose.
I don't know what to say. Do I tell him how much I regret picking it? Do I make this already awkward situation about ten times worse? I hate when people pity me. I hate when I feel like eyes are lingering for far too long when I cry. But when Robert looks at me, it's different. The pools of serenity circling his iris aren't looking down at me with a sort of aristocracy. That's how my English peers stare me down. No, instead, he's looking at me like there's a billion questions rushing across his forehead. He just needs to decide which one to ask. Or to simply say nothing. Like I am. We've both learnt how to cohabit in silence. To walk past eachother and ignore the feathers of conversation falling between us. We're busy. Always busy. Except for those perfect Monday mornings that I always look forward to. Especially the one time when he showed me around his favourite record store. He had asked me to choose him a record to buy. I walked through the entire shop, fingers shifting records, reading unfamiliar artist names. Then, I saw it, the — now bane of my existence — Hozier's 'unreal unearth'. He bought it. He'd told me he only really knew 'Take Me To Church'. I'd leant against the till as he paid and said, 'it'll change your life.' Then he'd locked himself in his room. Through the ever so thin walls — paper thin — I could hear each track hum into my room. I never got the chance to talk to him about the album. I think the thought of bringing it up made me feel sick — due to the English essay upstairs still waiting patiently to be finished.
Now there is an excuse. To talk. I'm injured. I don't want to move. He's still attempting to wrap a bandage over my stomach, then across my back until it's around my torso. I feel his fingers graze my skin with every subtle movement, along my spine, the small of my back, my abdomen, my hip bone. He's still looking at me. Searching. Like I'm a new island and he's an explorer trying to name me.
"What's up, sweetheart?" He finally talks again. His words are throaty, emananting from the pits of his throat. He's still wrapping, waiting for an answer.
"Just college. You know. It's killing me."
He shakes his head. "You're so smart."
"Says you."
He shakes his head. "Look, this might be a bit weird but sometimes when you leave random essays lying around or even creative writing. I read them. They're incredible. Your mind just works in such an interesting way."
I'm at a loss for words. He reads those? Those are usually just failed attempts that I toss aside. Scrap paper. Strange drawings. I don't even want to look at them.
"You get top grades in every test," I sigh. "I'm barely passing. I'm the worst in the class. My professors hate me, I've got so much work, I'm falling behind in every assignment—"
Then I'm properly crying. Sobbing. Breathing so heavily I think I might collapse. Heaving. Sniffling. Covering my face so he can't see me. I'm like a child. Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. I was never good enough for Trinity. Why did they let me in?
Warm arms, press of skin. Just above the wound, over my chest, arms dig into my body, hugging me from behind. Head burrowing onto my shoulders, knees into the sofa. His lips ghost the back of my neck. Tears are falling down. He turns me around to face him. I hate how he's seeing me like this. My cries are usually saved for when he's out with friends or blasting music on his record player. He's never seen me this vulnerable, just utterly ripped into shreds by the hands of life. His scent is making me feel better, the tissue now on my cheek makes me feel better, the quiet words of 'breathe, let it all out, it's okay' make me feel better. He's calming me down. I start to forget what I was even crying about when I look into his eyes. This intense eye contact. Remembering his height. Even sat down, his torso is far longer than mine.
"I've got an idea," he murmurs, peeling his body away. I miss the warmth. I miss the touch.
"What is it?"
"We should go somewhere. Get out for a bit. Say it's a 'mental health field trip'." He curls his fingers to accentuate the apostrophes."Maybe down to the Cliffs of Moher. When you're all healed up of course."
"Give me a week."
"A week? I'll be the judge of that." He raises an eyebrow, now tying up the bandage.
"Where did you learn all this?"
"I'm actually first aid trained. Did it in my first week of uni." He takes a deep breath, settles back onto the sofa.
I take a sip of my tea. My eyes are surely blotchy and red. I bet there's mascara all over my face. "Thank you so much."
"No problem at all. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Is there any way I can help?" He's referring to my school work. "I was alright at English in high school. No where near as good as you are. But maybe another opinion might help you."
"I'm really stuck on a Hozier analysis."
"I never told you how much I love that album. It's perfect." His eyes glow like they do when he's talking about something he loves. Usually it's caused by talking about playing bass, but right now it's due to the beauty of Hozier's music. "I learned the bass line of De Selby part two."
"Show me. Now." I don't even ask. It's simply a demand. Anything to take my mind away from that cut still bleeding profusely. A little concert would be nice. Especially if said concert involves watching Robert play bass. I sometimes peek through the crack in the doorway to see him sat down on his bed, pick between his index and thumb, bass guitar on his lap, headphones over his ears. The pure concentration on his face is unparalleled. Notes thrum quietly through the room. He falls into any piece of music.
"Alright." He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Then I'll help with your English."
"Thanks." This is probably the most I've ever spoken to him. I'm mumbling each word, not wanting to look into his eyes.
He disappears once again. This time I hear the thudding footsteps over creaky floorboards. I hear a door squeak open, the faint patter of rain upon the ceiling, the quiet murmur of distant sirens as night blooms. It's tranquil. For a moment, I'm at peace. Until I remember the stack of unread books in my bedroom. I groan into my hands. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and—
He's back. Not empty handed. Bass in one hand, Hozier lyrics and my pencil case in the other.
"I emailed your professor about the trip. I'm sure she'll be okay with it." He's off again. He comes through the door with his amp and lead. He plugs both in.
"You're a life saver, Rob," I say.
He starts twisting around the knobs on the bass. Volume up. Then he's tuning. He smiles up at me. I think I'm staring. I think he can tell. His long fingers, tattoos, rings. It's all too much. My fingers are restlessly tapping the armrest. My legs are up on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and plays the song. Then I'm lost in the music. His eyes are closed as he slides his fingers up and down the neck of the bass, as he stomps his feet down on the carpet to every drum beat. If only I could go back to the days I'd go to concerts every day. If only I could go back and see 'Inhaler' on a world tour, watch Robert from the crowd, completely in his element. Exhilarated, chanting, knowing every lyric like it's my mother tongue. Sometimes I wonder what life could've been like if the band had worked out. If the world did realise just how incredible they are. But, here, appreciating each pluck of every string, the grin as he watches me. I can't take that for granted.
#robert keating fanfiction#bobby skeetz fanfiction#bobby skeetz#inhaler band#inhaler imagines#inhaler oneshots#robert keating#fanfiction#inhaler dublin#inhaler fanfiction#josh jenkinson#elijah hewson#trinity college#inhalerimagines#inhaler oneshot#inhaler x reader#inhaler fanfic#inhaler imagine#bobbyskeetz#bobby skeetz x reader#inhaler#fanfics#ryan mcmahon
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fluff w bobby! idk smth like hurt/comfort. maybe she’s had a bad date and goes to bobby and they like confess , idrk but i think that’d be cute
Comfort | ROBERT KEATING
thank you for the request !!
PAIRING: robert keating x f!reader
WORDS: 3.4k
SUMMARY: reader goes on a terrible date. she calls her old work friend, rob, who comforts her and opens up about some hidden feelings.
GENRE: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, fluff
WARNINGS: references to eating disorder
The worst date of my life occured on a Tuesday afternoon, starting at exactly 8.43pm. For starters, the guy was late, 13 minutes late on the dot. Never trust your Tinder matches. I guess I should've figured out what a mess the whole thing would be. I'd sat down at a window seat in Nando's. Sun glowed gently across the table. It gave me a positive outlook on the whole thing. But by the end of the evening, as I left that dreaded restaurant with a soggy bag of chips in my right hand, I was holding back tears. Rain was pouring. My umbrella had broken. Dark clouds had appeared in the sky. Pathetic fallacy. I could hardly even breathe as I sat down in the train.
My first port of call — for some odd reason — was my old work friend. Rob and I had worked together in a restaurant just down my street. We'd been through hell together. My worst memory was when I dropped about ten glasses across the kitchen floor, accidentally smashing them to pieces. The manager heard the crash ring out through the entire restaurant. He ran through the kitchen doors. They swung open as if he was a wild beast prepared to eat me whole. Bones and all. This was the first time I'd made a major mistake as a kitchen porter. I was trying to prepare myself for the incessant shouting to soon ensue. But before I could even build a wall around me, a hand grabbed mine and pulled me out of the kitchen. I wasn't sure who it was grabbing my pinky finger or why they were helping me escape but I didn't complain, I just let them lead me through the main restaurant where guests were staring at us with patient eyes. They really believed we were running around just to ask for their order.
The long mane of curly hair made me realise who was dragging me alone. Robert Keating. The waiter who's sarcasm was off the charts. Each time he came into the kitchen, he'd be going on a rant about how stupid the job was and how much he hated the manager. Most of the chefs agreed. But they'd make sure to put on cheery faces whenever Mr Jacob came in to check everything was alright. Robert had worn Doc Martens to the beach when they had a dinner party to celebrate 10 years of the restaurant. I had made sure to come along with my best dress on and trainers. Robert had appeared with some Doc Marten boots, red shorts and Joy Division shirt, assuring everyone that his boots were 'made for walking on sandy terrain'. Then he complained about them for the entire time. He didn't make any sense.
Once we'd escaped through the front door of 'Jacob's Pizza', we continued running down the street until we got to the park. I knew by that moment I'd sure be fired. No one was running after us. No one really gave two shits about us. We weren't a necessity to the work force. We were just there. Looming.
Rob had sat down on one of the kid's swings (the tiny ones that you can't get into once you grow out of them). He allowed his infinitely long legs to dangle off the edge—not putting them through the holes because he'd surely get stuck which would've been a very Rob thing to do. The park was empty. It was a Tuesday evening. Stars lined the sky. Rob patted the swing next to him, asking me through his motions to join him. I complied. Awkwardly slotted myself in a mildly comfortable position onto the swing. I grabbed onto the rusty chains which had been there for dozens of years. Paint ripped away by years of use, years of bad weather.
"Mr Jacob didn't deserve us. We were too good for him." Sixteen-year-old Rob always thought quite highly of himself—not to the point of being a show off—but just enough to make you shake your head. The use of the collective pronoun was different for him. A change to usual. He was including me in his declaration of greatness. His blue eyes were shining and he'd thrown his apron to the ground. Black button-up shirt and black trousers. His smile was a lighthouse, illuminating that stretch of grass before us.
"I fucked up. Sorry, Rob." I'd looked away from him. Wrung my fingers together, picked at my nails. We'd been working there for months. Of course I had to be the one to make a mistake.
"Hey, don't worry. There's loads of jobs around here. I'm sure you'll find somewhere else," he assured. He reached out a hand between the two swings, let it linger on my shoulder. I followed suit with him. Chucked my apron into the nearest bin. One of those bins that never get emptied. Overflowing with fizzy drinks and sweet packets.
I allowed my head to drop down onto his hand. His fingers took a short hike through my hair.
He then started to laugh. "How the fuck did you drop all those glasses? I swear you purposely tipped the tray over."
"What if I did?" I smirked. It had been accident. Or maybe my irritation at the place just wanted to come out.
Rob was pressing his shoes to the ground, trying to make the swing fly upwards. He'd smiled to himself at my words. "Then I thank you for your service. I'd been trying to get out of there for a while. My band are getting way more gigs and the job was getting in the way of everything."
"Your band? You've never told me about that." I was intrigued. I had no idea he played an instrument. I knew that he loved The Strokes as he'd always put them on the kitchen playlist. I couldn't imagine him on a stage. Performing. Making music. It was the last thing I'd expected he'd do.
"Yeah. We've called it Inhaler. An ode to Eli's asthma—"
"Hewson? He's in it? Fuck no." I'd never been the biggest fan of Elijah. He'd dated my friend and left her heartbroken. I'd never personally spoken to guy but from a distance, I was the slightest bit terrified of him.
"I had no choice! He forced me into it."
"So he's singing, right? Then you're playing what?"
"Bass."
"Really? That's..."
"So sexy. I know."
That's when I shook my head, smiling. His face was serious but as my teeth appeared, so did his. We were both laughing at nothing, giddy because of the air cooling our cheeks. Just his presence, him being next to me, made me feel so much warmer.
Now my eyes are teary, my throat is raw. I'm sat in the corner of a train compartment. Toddlers are screaming at their parents, music is blasting in my ears and the fields turn to blurs of green as I lean back into my seat.
The guy was a prick. A self-centered waste of time who thought the whole world revolved around him and only him. I was asking all the questions. He didn't want to know anything about me. His mouth would never stop moving. I hardly got a single word into any conversation. He showed off about his job, his money, the university he went to and he joked about how much I ate. He'd stared at my stomach when I stood up, as if he was trying to measure my waist with his eyes. That's when I just walked out of the place, taking my remaining chips with me. I don't know why I even agreed to go. He wasn't even nice on the app.
Phone ringing. Hand over my stomach. I had gained weight. I'd started eating more than I had months ago. Food was a comfort, food was a memory-store, food was something to keep me going. There were all kinds of flavours that would bring me back to figments of my past. Eating was a way to reminisce and a way to make new memories. It had irked me—that look in his eye, the raise of a brow. I was skinnier on my Tinder profile. But back then I wasn't happy. Constantly focused on my calorie intake, on how much exercise I had done in a week.
"Hello?" Rob picks up. His words play through my headphones. His voice hasn't changed since I last saw him. It's still low and raspy.
I sniffle, finding it hard to even get my words out. I can see in the train window that my skin is blotchy and red. My bottom lip is quivering. I'm trying to hold everything in. I'm like a bomb on the verge of explosion. I don't like crying. I especially don't like crying on a train where eyes are glancing over in my direction.
"You alright?" He whispers. It's 10pm and I'm wondering what he's been doing. Has he been at a show? I've been trying to keep a track of where they've been going on their tour. Right now he could be absolutely anywhere. The last I heard he was in Scotland.
"What are you up to?" I try to divert the conversation to him. I just want to hear him talk. Anything he tells me, I'll listen.
"I'm back home in Dublin. Eating mince pies. I know it's early but my Ma is too obsessed with Christmas for her own good. It's what, 2nd of November? And she's already got her tree up. Tinsel and everything. What's up with you? You sound different. Has Eli been giving you shit again? That gobshite needs his head knocked in."
He's in Dublin. I'm in Dublin.
"I miss your Ma." I remember the one time we walked home from work together. His Ma had given me a lung constricting hug. She'd thought I was Rob's girlfriend. Told me that he non-stop talked about me. I didn't believe her. I still don't believe her. I could never see Rob having a crush on anyone, let alone me. "It's nothing to do with Eli. Although I agree, he is a little bitch. It's actually this shitty bloke I met on Tinder. He thought he was all that. Most boring guy I've met in my life."
"Instagram, please?"
"I don't trust you with anyone's Instagram."
"At least tell me his name. I want to make fun of him."
"Albert."
"What a name. Honestly, I'm thinking about getting my name legally changed to that. Albert. Wow. I'm impressed."
"He told me his nickname was 'Alby'. I almost laughed." I smile to myself, wiping tears away. I hear Rob snort through the phone.
"Found his Instagram. That was easy. He looks weird. Shit hairline."
"Rob!!! Keep away from his DM's please."
He went silent. He was most definitely already sending him stupid messages. I didn't really mind. The guys deserved shit after what he put me through. Two hours of nonsense. At least the food was good. Nando's is my favourite.
"Aren't you in Dublin? Do you want to come play some bird bingo? It's been a while since I saw you. We've got at least a years supply of mince pies."
I'm cheesing. Sucking in quick breaths as my tears stop falling. The train comes to a halt in the station. My head is leaning against the window, my mouth opens wide as I see a figure sat down on a bench. That familiar mop of hair, those shining eyes, an entire bass guitar case sat beside him. I'm gobsmacked.
The call ends before I can try to speak. Before long, my legs are moving and I'm shuffling through crowds, trying to find the exit. Maybe I was just imagining him. Maybe I just wanted him to be there. But then I'm outside the train, walking down the platform and two arms wrap around my stomach.
"Hey," is all he says, straight into my ear.
He isn't usually this touchy. We used to go for coffee and he'd never hug me. We weren't that kind of friends. Now his arms are holding me flush against his chest and his hair is tickling my ear and I just want to close my eyes and blow the world away.
I turn around to face him. His hands are still on my waist, scrunching the material of my jumper. He has a cardigan on, his eyelashes are so long, he's watching me with worry etched upon his features.
Then I break down. I can't deal with it anymore. I can't hold it in.
"Sweetheart..." He pulls me straight into his chest, hands cupping my head like it's going to split into two. I sob into his cardigan. My palms are against his shoulderblades and his head is on my shoulder. I can feel his nose smush into my skin and he mumbles quiet comforts into the air. "He doesn't deserve you. He's an idiot. Piece of shit." Words of comfort are usually just insults from Rob—but they still make me feel way better.
I don't know what I would've done without him. I keep imagining myself going home and crying into my pillow, no one there to tell me it'll be okay. I'm so glad he's here. I'm so glad he's holding me.
"Let's go home?" He pulls me away the slightest bit just to see my face. His thumb jumps just beneath my eye, wiping away the falling tears. He then gently kisses my nose. I'm shocked and confused. The warmth of his lips against my freezing nose is a welcome relief. I'm sure a sigh escaped my lips at the gesture.
I'm not sure which home he means. His or mine. But wherever we're going, I'll follow him. I want to be somewhere warm. I want to eat some nice, warm food and forget that guy ever even existed. Rob still has an arm around me as we walk through the station. He gives me a packet of tissues and buys me a hot chocolate from Starbucks. Even whilst carrying his entire bass along on his other shoulder, he makes sure to keep an arm around my back, fingers curled over my waist.
"How come you've got your bass?" I taste the hot chocolate. It burns my tongue. My spare hand points along the rather massive case which is definitely heavy.
"I was practicing with the band. I was about to head home when you called me so I ran to the station instead."
"So you lied about the mince pies?"
"Oh no. That is very true. You'll see when we get back. I just lied about where I was—you know, for the surprise element."
His then. We are going to his. I've never been inside his house before. I've only walked down his street and glanced through the windows. He'd always have the best Halloween decorations. The Keating house was always a go to in order to get the best sweets. His mum would come out dressed in the most flamboyant costume possible. Rob would always be standing beside her, forced forwards with a bag of sweets in his hands.
Up past his parents' cars. Still some Halloween stickers on the windowsill and pumpkins next to the welcome mat. He twists his key in the door. It clicks and opens up to a corridor. He was right about the Christmas decorations. Snow globes on a bookshelf, wreath on the door, Christmas tree lights are colourful through the window. The whole living room is dark green.
The house is silent. The dishwasher is wildly spinning and wind is wailing. Other than that it is extremely quiet. And warm. So very warm. I can actually feel my fingers now.
Rob takes my hand once I've pulled off my shoes. He pulls me along into the living room, we crash down onto the sofa.
"Tell me everything," he says. He stretches out his legs and places his feet on the coffee table. He has fluffy socks that have the face of a red robin. "All the nitty gritty. Get it all out of your system."
"I don't even know where to start." I pull at the skin of my cheek, look up at the ceiling. "We went to Nando's. It was my idea. I got there bang on time but had to wait for ages for him to get there. He was late—"
"First red flag."
"Right? I should've just left. Anyway, he came in. Blamed his lateness on traffic when he literally lived in the town I went to. Like wouldn't you just walk? He ordered hardly any food then got all weird when I ordered my usual. I had a pudding too. He was just so judgy. He told me about his degree in Maths and how he was doing a phD. He didn't seem to impressed about my Law degree. He barely even let me talk. Then the last thing, the cherry on top, was when he stared at my belly when I stood up as if I had some kind of disease. I felt ill. I've never been so insecure in my life."
Rob's mouth was open wide, jaw dropped. He kept his eyes on mine. Listening. It was so nice to have someone just hear what I was saying for once.
"You're the prettiest, most intelligent girl— I'm going to have a right word with that nob— I'm going to have a right fucking word with him. He thinks he can just..." His burst of emotions makes him stand up and pace around the room. I smile at his compliments but frown when he starts to get angry.
"It's fine. I'm here now. I don't have to think about him again."
Rob sits down again. Then his head falls onto my stomach. He closes his eyes. His arm reaches over for the coffee table. He grabs two mince pies. One for me, one for him. Bending his arm and extending it, he passes one up to me. I gratefully take it. I peel off the metal then take a bite. It’s delicious. Rob is smiling up at me. There’s a little pastry on his chin. I wipe it away with my thumb. My finger seems to have a mind of its own. It starts to trace lines along his face. Beauty spot to beauty spot. Like his skin is paper and I’m doing a join the dot. My thumb lands back on his lips and I trace along the two pink shapes. A little chapped, warm and soft. He opens his eyes again.
Then I’m hit by this weird feeling. Like I’m reaching a high. Or I’m slamming the accelerator. Or I’m at a claw machine and finally win a prize. That hum of euphoria, singing through your ears. He’s twisting his head on my belly like it’s a pillow. My thumb is still at the corner of his mouth. My heart is beating in my ears. There’s something clicking. A realisation.
I’m in love with Rob. I’ve always been in love with him.
“Look, I know this is a really bad time to say this,” Rob speaks. His words a gruff. I listen intently.
“What’s up?” I brush his hair out of his face. Curls between my fingers.
“You’ll think I’m stupid.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
Rob closes his eyes again. He breathes out. He looks for my other hand and places it on his chest, his hand resting just above it. I can feel his heart pounding like crazy. I never knew a human heart could move so quickly. I never knew that here, in this dimly lit room, after my heart has been torn into two separate pieces I’d be feeling Rob’s heart under my fingertips.
“Geez, Rob. Am I that scary?” I stroke his hair again, his fingers now grazing my knuckles.
“Yeah, terrifying.”
“Just tell me. What is it?”
“I love you.”
The whole room falls apart. My whole body feels like it’s been ripped into two then sewn back together. His eyes close again but he peeks a little with his left one just to gauge my reaction. I’ve stopped moving. My brain isn’t working.
“Christ. Really?” I whisper.
“Yes. I think of you every time I buy pizza, every time it’s Halloween, every time I’m drinking from a glass. Everywhere I go, you’re there. Whenever we went for coffee, I’d feel empty when you left. It just—even when you told me about this date. I was jealous at first. I want to take you on dates and fall in love with you even more.”
He sits up. He grabs onto both of my cheeks.
“I love you too,” I say before pulling him into a kiss.
#robert keating#bobby skeetz#inhaler band#inhaler fanfiction#inhaler dublin#elijah hewson#inhaler x reader#inhaler imagines#robert keating fanfiction#bobby skeetz fanfiction#inhaler oneshot#inhaler imagine#inhaler oneshots#fanfiction
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satellite → r. keating (b. skeetz)
pairings — robert keating x fem!reader
summary — what bobby skeetz would be like as your annoying boyfriend <3
spinning out, waiting for you to pull me in. i can see you're lonely down there. don't you know that i am right here?
i feel like you'd be a long-term relationship (like teenage years long term)
ik they went to some fancy all boys school so let's say you went to an all girls school near theirs that would often go on trips together (pls tell me that wasn't just my school that did that)
either that of you'd meet through extra curriculars or overlapping friend groups
EITHER WAY met when ye were young (13-14) and got together when ye were 16-17
tbh most people thought you'd only last a few months bcs it was a teenage relationship after all but you're so chill with each other that it became very clear very quick that ye were just different
major "my girlfriend's my best friend" vibes
because of that, every inhaler fan knows you
you're no longer referred to by your name
you're just "mother" now
it's low-key a problem
like in any of your instagram posts or cute little tiktoks, at least half of the comments have a silly little inhaler pfp and are calling you mother
anyways
he's so annoying
definitely a very playful relationship
mocking eachother and all that
telling anyone else (outside your friendgroup) to fuck off if they do the same
he himself wouldn't be very public with the relationship
like you wouldn't be the face of every instagram post but you'd be in a story every few weeks and you'd pop up in the middle of a photo dump here and there
the inhaler_on_tik account however....
fans play where's wally with you in the tiktoks
usually hiding in a window reflection or the hem of your jacket poking into frame
enough to know you're there
you'd be best friends with all the fans
gigs are your opportunity to make new friends
they all adore you
so many fan tiktoks from gigs just have you dancing away with them
they'd bring you flowers <3
but yeah even if bobby himself doesn't post you a lot, fans would get pictures of you two together and they'd be so cute 😭
most of them are taken before gigs when he's helping you out of the bus or ye're walking into the venue together
but someone got a picture of you two once at some silly little market in spain and you were looking at flowers and he was looking at you
they posted it to tiktok and you asked them to send it to you
it was your lockscreen for a bit x
BIRD BINGO!!!
if you're ever traveling without him, you'd take pictures of any birds you pass and send them onto him
i really need to make sure it's known that he'd be annoying
like imagine you're just lying in bed, reading or on your phone, and he just bellyflops on top of you
no warning
no escape
you're trapped
i said the same in my eli headcanons but i don't really get spooning vibes from him
no matter what way you fall asleep, at least some part of him will be touching you
whether he's full on wrapped around you or just got an arm thrown over your torso
it helps him sleep better
you're best friends with the band ofc
i mean, you practically grew up together
you and rob never have a moment of peace with them on tour
you could be curled up in bed, and all of a sudden, elijah's busting down your door and lying down beside ye to tell you about a new song idea
you finally think you're free for a moment having a smoke by the back of the bus? nope, ryan's there now purely because he wanted to annoy ye
josh is nice on ye though (not really) (he makes fun of ye all the time) (he's my little pookie bear angel) (he can do no wrong)
they love having you around
and even if you leave the tour bus to get some snacks and come back to them trying on your dresses and robert doing josh's eyeliner you love having them around too
you're starting to get the mother thing
they do feel like you're hyperactive little children
bobby skeetz, the man that you are, you'd be a great boyfriend
#robert keating x reader#bobby skeetz x reader#bobby skeetz#robert keating#inhaler oneshot#inhaler x reader#inhaler dublin#elijah hewson#ryan mcmahon#josh jenkinson
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I Want You | ELIJAH HEWSON
PAIRING : elijah hewson x original f!character
GENRE: fluff, friends to lovers
SUMMARY: dahlia jenkinson, josh’s sister is asked to fill in as photographer at his bad’s concert. her plan is to ask him out by the end of the show as she’s been crushing on him for ever. what she doesn’t expect is that one of their songs was written about her—and she’s right there when he confesses it.
WORDS: 5.6k
WARNINGS: smoking, drinking, kissing
Friday. Underground. London.
I run through the station passing the endless people, posters and children's screams. My brother, Josh, had asked me yesterday to help out at his band's concert. He'd told me that their photographer had gotten COVID so he needed someone to fill in.
I dragged my roommate along with me as my moral support, seeing as she's heard me spill every secret in my mind about the band's lead singer, Elijah. I've been helping Josh with his band's endeavours for years and have also had to condone countless sleepovers. I've had the sound of drumsticks crashing together engrained in my head by this point. Robyn has always told me to 'stop being a pussy and ask Eli out on a date' but honestly, I'm terrified I'll ruin everything. This photography thing has really helped to get me new jobs and more exposure.
"So, you still crushing on Eli?" Robyn asks. She's been glancing over at my phone for the past few minutes. I've been texting the band group chat that I've been added to. They usually kick me out randomly. This is the longest period of time I've been in it without having an argument. I'm pretty proud.
"Shut up." I scoff. "If you dare say anything to any of of them, I will kill you."
"I wouldn't," she laughs. I give her a look. "I'll try not to..."
"You and your big mouth."
"I can't help it."
"I shouldn't tell you things."
"Who else would you tell?" She grabs at my phone, noticing a message from Elijah pop up.
It reads: "Missed you. You've always been the better Jenkinson." I try to contain my smile at the stupid message. It's just a couple words beneath a name on a screen and I'm getting all nervous. It's pathetic. God, this is getting bad.
"That's cute," Robyn says and is about to start writing a message back until I snatch my phone back. Who knows what kind of bullshit she'd start sending. She'd surely send some terrible pictures of me. That's happened on many ocassions. I've learnt my lesson to never trust her with my phone.
"Cringe." I type back, although the smile on my face is betraying the words on the screen. I stare at his profile picture for a few seconds. It's a selfie of me and the band. I look half asleep, probably drunk. Eli's hair is all over his face and Josh is squeezing Ryan's cheeks. Bobby is just angrily staring at the camera. He definitely didn't want to be in that photo. It's sweet that Eli has kept his profile picture that way for so long. We haven't seen each other in months. I send another message, "Well you're not my favourite Hewson."
He sends an angry emoji. "Who is then?"
"Bono, course."
He sends a few more angry emojis before spamming the group chat. There is already some kind of argument happening. Robert seems to be late and they're all asking where he is. I switch my phone off, sliding it into my pocket. Robyn's been unusually quiet.
"What have you done this time?" I ask with a subtle tilt of my head. She's chewing on some haribos she'd bought moments ago. She then smirks to herself, "Nothing."
I'm a little worried but decide to brush it off. We leave the train station and I'm struck by the freezing air. I sometimes forget how cold England is. Having moved from Ireland over a year ago, I feel like I should've acclimatised. But, why is it always so cold? I hold my jacket closer to myself to try to warm up.
We pass at least ten people with 'I love London' shirts. Sounds of street sellers are familiar along with the hustle and bustle of late London nights. I see the London Eye twisting in the distance. Big ben is tolling. The venue comes into view a few streets away. I'm dreading it slightly. I feel as if I'm not going to cope this time seeing that ever-so-familiar face. It's as if with each passing month, he gets better looking. It should be crime. I'll probably melt when I see him.
I instead focus on seeing Josh and my excitement for seeing the gig. They've all really improved over the years. They really know how to put on a good show. Adrenaline rushes through my veins. It'll be fine. Surely.
"You're nervous, aren't you?" Robyn takes notice of me fiddling with my earrings. It's become some nervous habit. I find a comfort in twiddling the crystals between my fingers.
"A bit," I say. Honest. "What if he finds out? We'll surely get piss-drunk. What if he only wants to be mates?"
"Lia, darling, you've got to stop overthinking it. After hearing all these stories you've told me, it sounds like he likes you a lot," she says, grinning. "I'll tell you if I see any looks passed or anything suspicious, okay?"
"You're the best." I give her a hug, forgetting for a moment about the crowded streets around us. Robyn hugs are always too good to be true. I sometimes forget how unbelievably short she is and how she tries to suffocate me with her arms.
Just as we're about to continue down the endless streets, I see someone running past us. I barely even realise he's passed me until Robyn points him out. I see long, curly hair and a massive case swung over his shoulder. Bobby. Then, he turns to face us. Blue eyes catch me off guard then a massive grin. He seems to question whether he should stop or get to the venue. He's very late.
"Is that the bassist?" Robyn wonders. "Robert?"
"That's me," he says, retracing his steps. His mullet has gone all messy in the autumn wind. He's trying to swipe away a few stray hairs from out of his face. "Hey Dally. Who's this?" He points towards my friend with a lazy smile.
"This is Robyn. My roommate. She's the one who accidentally stepped on a pigeon."
"Ah." He then turns into his bird lover mode. "How could you do that to a poor, helpless bird? How could you? Can't believe you're called Robyn. That's a disgrace. Wish I was called Robyn. Or sparrow. Or some kind of bird. God, do I love birds—"
"Okay, Robert. We get it," I interrupt with a finger in the air. He crosses his arms over his chest, pouting. Robyn is laughing at his angered demeanour. He always puts on this irritated-sarcastic face in moments like this. He looks like a child after stepping on lego.
"Aren't you late?" Robyn asks the blue-eyed boy. His phone has been pinging with notification throughout the few minutes they have been walking together. He seems to be a little stressed. I have to almost run to keep up with this speed of impossibly long legs.
We approach the venue. It's a huge, pretty rundown building which strikes out in stark contrast to the fancy buildings around it. The words 'Inhaler:tonight' are written on a chalkboard beside the entrance. The place really matches the band for some reason. There's a queue of fans outside. A lot of them are sat down on the pavement. They scream at the sight of the bassist, piling around him. Phones are being held up to take pictures of him.
"Sorry guys, I've got to get inside. Thank you for coming," Robert mumbles.
Robyn and I act as body guards, preventing anyone from getting too close. Banners have been dropped onto the ground, passersby glance over in confusion. There's colourful cowboy hats covered with jewels everywhere. That music video really drove the world crazy. It definitely drove me crazy. I probably make up at least half of the views.
The majority of the crowd continue to take photos. Some say 'Oh my God, that's Josh's sister!' I give them a smile whilst simultaneously pushing Robert forwards.
We finally get to the back door. The gathering give up after a while. They go back to the queue, attempting to slot in to their previous place.
"Well, doors haven't opened yet so you can't be that late," I remark. The front doors are still locked.
"I'm missing sound check though."
I hear music booming quietly through the walls. I open the door, pressing down on it with fingertips. It creaks open to a long corridor with white plastered walls. It smells of fresh paint. The light is barely even attached to the ceiling. It looks like some horror film scene. Creepy.
But then Josh comes around the corner. His guitar is slung over his chest and his face lights up to reveal a huge smile that I've always adored. He's taller than the last time I've seen him. He runs straight towards me, engulfing me with his arms. I'm uncomfortably pressed against his guitar but I couldn't care less. I'm so glad I came. I missed him so much.
Robert slides past us and Robyn awkwardly stands in the doorway. I introduce her to my brother. He gives her a hug as well. She seems to enjoy this whole situation a lot. She's getting all loud and giddy.
The rest of the band are still playing through songs. They're running through 'Dublin In Ecstasy'. Elijah's voice is echoing through the entire building, sliding it's way through my skull. There's a part of me that wants to turn back. I could just make my way back to my apartment, have a cup of coffee and stalk Twitter accounts of people who went to the show. I definitely haven't been doing that for the past few months. I'm not that insane. Or obsessed.
"Do you want to listen to sound check or hang out back stage?" Josh asks us. He's been talking to Robyn, getting to know her and she seems to like him, thankfully. It'd be downright awkward if she hated his guts.
"I'll follow you," Robyn says to Josh. She starts to traipse down the corridor. I watch her curls bounce from side to side as she jumps with every step. She suddenly realises that she's left me behind. "You coming?"
I groan, staring at the door. "Yeah. Fuck it."
I pick up my camera in preparation. I've been using the same one for years. It's got stickers all over it. Some of random bands, some from different countries and little letters spelling out my name. Elijah had bought me a few pages of letters of the alphabet as a birthday present when I turned 15. I still remember that day. We were all huddled inside my living room after being drenched by a sudden storm. There were about fifteen of us, including the band. The fireplace before us was the only source of light in the darkened room. I think I was dating Ryan at that point. That was a strange time. He was sweet. It only lasted a couple of weeks. Elijah had a girlfriend too. Younger me was very jealous. I think that's what made me realise I liked him.
Now, fast forward eight years and my heart is beating in my ears like I'm a teenager all over again.
I allow Robyn to go first. I trail behind. Josh has left us to our own devices and we try to figure out where exactly we're supposed to go. We decide to follow the sounds of music booming. Closer and closer. We go down a staircase, open a door then we're right at the stalls, just beneath the stage. The door crashes so loudly that all of the band stop playing. They all peer down at us.
The band name 'Inhaler' is upon the wall and coloured lights paint the stage. This room is a lot nicer than the exterior. There's a standing area then seats up along the top. The walls are painted a deep shade of crimson with gold lines intricately painted everywhere. It's too good to be true. It feels so weird being at one of their gigs again. It feels even weirder to see all of them in the same place at the same time.
I trace my gaze along the stage. I take a quick glance at Josh who is tuning his guitar, then Ryan who's staring at us with wide eyes. I shift my eyes a little further to see Elijah. He's dropped his mic at the sight of us. I take notice of the length of his hair. It's falling over his eyes, a mess of curls shrouding his face. He's wearing a white vest top and a bulky blazer which is holding onto his shoulders for dear life. I can't see him very well from here. What I can see is the complexity of his gaze. The way he's looking at me is making me nervous. I take a deep breath.
"Dahlia?!" Ryan calls out. He drops his drumsticks similarly to Elijah.
"Surprise?" I say. I thought Josh had told them I was coming. "Wait, did Josh not tell you?"
Elijah picks up the microphone from the ground, not taking his eyes away from mine. "Josh, you gobshite. I thought she was coming next week," he says into the mic, words jumping through my ears. I hate how warm his voice is through those speakers. It's sickening.
"Well, I'm not complaining." Ryan jumps down from the stage, giving me and Robyn a hug. It's a group hug where we're all squashed together. He's grinning from ear to ear.
"You're still short," I say. I can still look down on him, especially with my chunky boots. He rolls his eyes. "This is Robyn." I introduce my roommate to both Ryan and Elijah.
"Nice to meet you," Elijah murmurs as he jumps off the stage. He's left the mic on the stand. He's pushing his hair from his face.
Robyn gives me a look, raising an eyebrow in the direction of Elijah. She's got a malevolent smile. What's she going to do? Maybe I shouldn't have brought her.
"I've heard all about you." Robyn gives Elijah a little wink. I kick the back of her leg .
His lip raises the slightest bit. I find myself staring at his mouth for far too long. There's stubble lining his chin and a splatter of freckles on his cheeks. "Have you, now?" His low voice drifts through the air. He's maintaining eye contact with me. I'm trying to evade his gaze.
"She's exaggerating." I assure him, trying to stop myself from giving Robyn another thwack.
"Eli! We have like 5 minutes until door opens and Dublin In Ecstasy is a mess. Get up here. You can swoon later." Robert is already playing the introduction to the song. Ryan and Josh join in.
"Swoon?" Eli shakes his head with a grin.
"We're just that amazing," Robyn whispers to me.
I hold up my camera, taking a picture of the three lads on stage. Then I point it at Elijah. I take a few of his confused face before he leaves us to sing along to the music.
"He's whipped." Robyn watches as he climbs back onto the stage. "Likes you so much he can barely even function-" She points out how he can't even plug his guitar in. He's been trying to shove the lead in for a while but his eyes are wandering elsewhere. "You've got to say something to him. He's leaving tomorrow, isn't he? Maybe tonight.."
I breathe in. "Alright. I'll try."
Robyn and I hum along to the tune. Elijah's rough vocals make my mind go cloudy. He sounds so much crisper in person. I think back to the cuts and bruises vinyl on my shelf. Robyn had bought it the day it came out. Josh sent me every version possible. Robyn went on about supposedly being 'the first person in the world who bought it'. She said she saw the record in HMV and instantly thought of me. We had stayed up late that night to listen through each track. Eating popcorn, drinking alcohol, talking about random shit. That was when I told her everything about Elijah. From the schoolgirl crush, to the trying to forget him then to the full-blown infatuation. She enjoyed listening to every detail I had to offer.
Elijah continues singing. I'm holding my breath, my palms are sweaty, I feel my heart pulsing at my throat. Robyn is swaying to each beat of the drums. Elijah won't stop looking at me.
Then the song ends and we all tun backstage, in an attempt to evade the incoming fans. I hear shouts echoing in the distance. We've gathered in a little room backstage. Josh is showing me some fancy chocolates he bought in Rome. I'm taking pictures of the band members. Robyn keeps photobombing. I rest my head upon the armrest of the sofa, closing my eyes. It feels nice. Calm. Until, someone settles beside me. They grab my legs so that they can properly sit down. The hands are cold and fingertips are calloused. That someone is Elijah. "Excited for the show?"
He's got his pre-show drink in one hand and his phone in the other. I close my eyes once again.
I shift around in the soft cushion attempting to get into a more comfortable position. He scoffs and pulls my legs up by the ankles to rest them over his thighs. "I know you're tired," he says. He takes a sip of his drink. "But if you dare fall asleep during the show, I will throw my guitar at you." I move my legs around his thighs then actually raise my head to look at him. I take a picture as he makes a stupid face. I don't know how he can do that whilst still looking pretty.
"Is this comfortable?" I ask. He's been very still. "I can move if you want."
"It's nice... fine," he mumbles as he scrolls through messages on his phone. "Reminds of that music lesson. Must've been our first year of secondary school. You fainted after some practice test we did. We were sat in this exact position for at least an hour. I think my legs stopped working."
I try to bring my head back to the memory. He was so different back then. Shorter hair, insanely asthmatic. He only knew me as Josh's twin sister. Somehow that was enough for him to stay there with me and keep me safe. After that, he had some complex where had to look after me with his life. It was charming.
"I had to kick you about nine time because you feel asleep, " I recall. My mind is wandering through moments I can barely even remember. "You were so strange."
"I could've left you there in the practice asleep. You should be thanking me for saving you from embarassment-"
"Why, thank you. Oh how you've changed my entire life. I owe you all that I have."
He shakes his head, squeezing the skin at the bottom of my ankle. He then rests his hand there. As if it's normal. He's still reading through messages, biting the top of the plastic cup.
"When do you lot go on then?" I ask everyone.
Robyn has started drawing eyeliner onto the other boys. She just pulled it out of her pocket randomly and asked if they wanted her to do it. They've filed into a queue. She's done some graphic liner on Bobby with little stars that makes his bright eyes pop out all the more.
"Ten minutes." Ryan is putting some hair gel through his hair. He puts some music on using a bluetooth speaker they placed in the corner. Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley comes on. I'm trying to stop myself from falling asleep but it's getting harder with each passing second.
"I'm so excited," Robyn says as she does Josh's eyeliner. She's made his more smudgy and messy. It suits him a lot. "Elijah, should I do yours? Or Dahlia can do it?" She passes the tube towards me. There's some malicious intent behind her eyes. I narrow my eyes down to the black contraption, taking it uneasily between my fingers.
He lays down his phone and drink. He's trying to push all the hair out of his face to give me some access to his eyes. I kneel down on the sofa beside him. I grab a hair bobble from my wrist then tie the top half of his hair up. He groans as I pull some strands way too hard then relaxes into my touch. He smells like cigarette smoke and cologne.
"How should I do it?" I wonder out loud. I've opened the tube and I'm trying to figure out the best way to go about this. He looks like his teenage self with his hair like this. His eyes are maintaining a hard eye contact as I near him. There's a warmth rising to my face.
Robyn pulls out her phone and shows me a picture of Rodrick Hefley. I snort. "Try it like that," she says.
Elijah closes his eyes as I begin to draw little lines then smudge. I've grabbed his chin to keep him in place. I can feel the sharp stubble poking at my fingers. He opens his eyes every now and then. They're half-lidded, watching. I poke his eye by accident. I scold him for opening his eyes. He decided to instead keep them closed.
I admire my work once I've done. It's not my best liner but it's alright. The other boys gather around to get a look at him. His hazel eyes come into view and he smiles widely at the sight of us all. "Does it look good?"
"Looks class," Ryan says as he grabs a mirror. The other boys nod along.
Elijah looks at himself. He seems to not know if he likes it or not. He smiles at me and says, "Thanks, love."
I just smile back, pulling out the bobble from his hair. An unruly splatter of curls cascade across his forehead. There's something about him wearing eyeliner that's stopping me from thinking straight. It's different. I'm still sat half on top of him, one knee resting on his thigh and the other on the sofa. He helps me off of him then stands up.
He ruffles his hair as he says, "Let's get going lads."
The four boys grab everything they need for the show. Water bottles, instruments, drumsticks, their sanity. They all give each other a group hug. It must be some pre-show ritual because they all down their drinks at the exact same time. If that wasn't planned, it was uncanny.
"Good luck." I wave them off and they travel down the corridor in a straight line. As each of them walk out, I take a picture. Elijah is the last to leave. He stops in the doorway, still holding his plastic cup. He raises his lip to reveal his white teeth as I take the picture. He really enjoys making the strangest faces.
"If you don't get our best angles, I'll have to think about firing you." Elijah warns me just before he turns around. He then disappears down to another asylum-like corridor before I can get a chance to insult him. I let out a breath.
"That went well, right?" Robyn's trying to figure out what's going through my head. I can't even comprehend anything that just happened. The feel of his hand still lingers at my ankle. "That whole time you were talking to Josh about those chocolates, he was staring you down. It was pretty creepy, to be honest." She laughs. "Don't even get me started on the eyeliner. All of us felt like total third wheels."
"Sorry," I say. I play around with the bobble at my wrist. It had been wrapped around those glorious curls only moments ago. "God, I'm so in love it hurts."
"That's how I felt when I started liking Emmy. Literally all I could think about was her." Robyn is in a daze, eyes glued to the wall. "You need to do something before it's too late."
"After the set, I will tell him." I finally accept my fate. I could possibly not see him until next year. Or the year after. Who knows how busy I could get?
"Good," Robyn says. "I'm tired of hearing Elijah this Elijah that. Girl, I get it."
"You had an Emmy this Emmy that phase. Don't even start."
She frustratedly sighs. "Come on. I think they're going on."
I hear the crashing of drums reverberating through every wall, every floorboard. Slowly, we approach the main room. The bodyguard lets us through to the wings of the stage. I can see all the crowd from this angle. There are phones, cowboy hats and banners littered through the crowd. Some of the audience are people we had seen when Bobby was surrounded. They're screaming at the sight of the band.
The first song they play is These Are The Days. I keep my camera handy through every song. Elijah takes notice of us standing there. He steals a glance at us when he has a chance to breath. He's singing a lot stronger than I'd ever seen online.
Then they play through a few more songs on the new album. I sing along, I dance, I try not to get blinded by the flashing lights. Then all of a sudden they've finished playing Love Will Get You There and he turns to look right at me.
"This next song..." His words are pretty slurred. He's drunk. "This is an old one. I wrote this when I was about 17. There was this girl at my school who I just liked so much— I couldn't even focus in class. I played it to her once we'd got it perfect and she had not a single clue that it was about her. She still doesn't. It's been six years and I've never told her." He pauses and looks at me. "This is for you."
I'm overwhelmed by emotion. I raise an eyebrow at him. He just starts strumming along with his guitar. That's when I realise he's playing I Want You. They'd played that song to me in Elijah's garage. I asked him who it was about. He lied and said it was about his ex-girlfriend. I never thought twice about it. I never listened to it because it made me sick to my stomach that it was about her. A girl who I had been so jealous of.
"You got your lipstick on..." He starts singing. He's literally pointing at me. The crowd looks confused. They can't see me.
"Oh, Jesus," Robyn exclaims. "Oh, wow. I can't believe this. He's fucking confessing! Dally, I'm so happy for you right now. What the hell!"
Robyn is just as shocked as I am. We're both slack-jawed, wide-eyed yet caught in a silence as the song goes on. The crowd sings along with each and every line. The other members of the band have caught on with what is happening. They all seem to be pretty proud. Especially Josh. He's smiling so big it's making me smile too.
The truth is, I don't want the song to end. Or the show. I just want this moment to drag on forever. It all feels too good to be true.
The song finishes, the lights switch off, the crowd screams. I'm left in the darkness. Robyn is holding onto my side for dear life. The only thing illuminating the world around us is a tiny light bulb above us. My eyes start to get used to the darkness. I see a figure approaching.
"Can you come with me?" It's Elijah. His cheeks are tinged a shade of bright red. There's sweat lining his throat and his chest. He's taken off the blazer and has slung it over his shoulder. The eyeliner has bled down a little.
"Yeah..." I'm exasperated. My throat is raw from singing so much. My brain can barely process what is happening around me. My hands want to reach out and hold him close to me.
He grabs my hand, pulling me down through a corridor. We're both running towards the back door. I'm trying to match his pace but his longer legs give him an unfair advantage.
We finally reach the exit. He opens the door for me, allows me to pass through then shuts it. I'm met by London streets. Brick walls, crooked alleyways, a rubbish bin. It's not particularly romantic. But, with him standing there in front of me, it becomes the most romantic place on Earth.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like that," he admits. "I just couldn't stop thinking about you when you left. I was going to tell you at the airport when you were about to leave Dublin. So that you could think it through without us seeing each other every day. Then I got fucking terrified."
"I was going to tell you then too." I press my back against the wall. He's pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He offers me one. I let it rest between my lips. "I had plucked up some courage after I went to the toilet but then I sat beside you and forgot the whole script I'd planned out in my head. That was a pretty awkward five minutes. Felt like a century."
"We're idiots, aren't we?" He says as he lights his cigarette. "Josh has always known. I don't know how he never told you. He's great at keeping secrets. Six years of keeping his mouth shut. I don't know how he has that much self control."
"Six years?" I blow out a puff of smoke into the air. My eyes wander across the star covered sky. The moon is looming and watching us.
"I know." He's blushing again. He's trying to keep his distance from me, leaving a slight gap between us. "I'm pathetic."
"I liked you for longer."
"What?"
"Eight years. Since the day you started dating the blonde girl." I feel stupid saying it out loud. He's laughing at me.
"That's class."
We stand there in silence just looking at each other. I can hear ambulance sirens and birds calling. The brick walls is hard against my back. My shoes are covered in water from standing in a puddle. I can imagine that there's a camera above us. This could be a scene straight out of a film.
"Are you going to kiss me then?" Some sudden burst of confidence brings those words from my lips.
He's taken aback. His eyes fall down to my mouth. He then takes a step closer. I can feel his breath at my cheeks.
"Do you want me to?" His voice goes all low and his accent gets thicker. His hand reaches up to cup my cheek. Metal presses against my cheekbone. His thumb lazily draws a line across my bottom lip. His words hang in the air. "Dahlia, my love. Do you—"
I press my lips to his. I can't hold back anymore. I can taste the smoke on his tongue. His mouth is minty and his lips are soft. I've imagined this moment countless times. In a bookstore, in a train station, in the garage. But, this is perfect. Perfect.
My fingers sink into his hair. He groans into my mouth as I pull a few strands at the back. His thumb is sliding across my cheekbones. He's dropped the cigarette to instead use his other hand to clutch my waist. My hands are at his chest. His heart is beating incredibly fast. He holds me tight against him until I feel his chest rise and fall. Up and down. Breathing in and out.
We hear voices behind us. He pulls away quickly. We both turn to see a group of fans. They're teenagers and they're all dressed in bright outfits. They didn't see anything but they seem rather suspicious, whispering.
"Eli! Oh my God!! Can you take my BeReal please?" One of them shouts over.
Elijah runs his fingers over his lips. His ears are a pink shade. He slides his hand away from my waist.
"Yeah, sure!" He approaches the three girls with a small smile. He's trying to act normal. "I love your hats." He points at the 3 cowboy hats which spell out the word 'Inhaler' when they're all stood side-by-side.
"Thank you so much!" The darker haired girl passes him her phone. "Your eyeliner looks so good. You should do it like that more often."
"I had a grand makeup artist." He winks. I roll my eyes.
"Could Dahlia be in it?" The girl with glasses notices how I've awkwardly shifted to the side.
"Course she can," Elijah says.
I stand in the frame next to Elijah as he holds up the phone. His lips are red after being stained by my lipstick. I drop my head onto his shoulder and close my eyes. He nestles his face into my hair as he takes the picture. We're both giggling like lunatics.
I'm so glad it happened like this.
#inhaler#elijahhewson#imagines#inhalerimagines#fanfiction#romance#bobbyskeetz#robert keating#elijah hewson#josh jenkinson#inhaler imagines#inhaler oneshots#inhaler dublin#inhaler band#eli hewson#ryan mcmahon
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Chemistry | ELIJAH HEWSON
PAIRING: elijah hewson x original f!character
GENRE: mutual pining, high school days
SUMMARY: leah vazquez lives next door to the loudest band in the world—a band which includes the nightmare boy who’d asked her for help with chemistry homework. invited to a party by rob, a whole lot of truths come to light.
WORDS: 6.8k
WARNINGS: kissing, alcohol, mentions of smoking
Being next door to the loudest band in the entire world was enough to make Leah want to throw eggs into their garden. Every day, from the small hours of the morning to the late evening, she'd hear that bleeding guitars and those crashing drums. The summer holidays were meant to be a period of rest and relaxation but all she could hear were those three irritating boys attempting to cover Nirvana. She'd see them with their smiling faces and instruments, making their way to the garage every day. They resided at Rob's house. Leah's parents were friends with Rob's so there were many family dinners. This was the longest period of not having one. Leah was thankful.
Leah was sat at her desk, head pressed to a Chemistry textbook, trying to wrap her head around electron configuration. The whole lesson at school was filled with sarcastic comments. No one understood a word leaving the teacher's mouth. Funny thing was that Elijah Hewson was in her class. One of the idiots who made fun of her if she got an answer wrong. He'd blame a bad grade on anything but himself. His favourite pastime was talking, constantly speaking his mind, even if it wasn't necessary at all. Teachers loved him, girls snapped him, attempted to make him laugh. He sat down with all the 'popular' people. A huge table of liars and attention-seekers who looked down on everyone else. Leah would glance at them from her seat, see him on Snapchat for the majority of free periods. The only time he'd spoken to her outside of class was when he was confused on the Chemistry homework. She had been sat down in the study room, chair under the circular tables and textbooks scattered all over it. She was trying to simultaneously finish a sketch for art and do exam questions as revision. It wasn't going well.
Elijah Hewson pulled out the chair next to her, plonked himself down without even asking her if he could sit there. He dropped his backpack. Unzipping it, she gave him a glare, slid her headphone off of one ear. She muttered, "Make yourself at home." She wouldn't move her textbooks to give him room. Anytime she walked past him in the corridors, he wouldn't even bat an eyelid or turn to face her. Now, he was pulling out his day folder and pencil case like they were best mates. As if there was nothing weird about this at all. "You know there's about eight free tables, right?"
Elijah glanced up. Gum in his mouth, curls falling over his forehead, almost so long they were grazing the table. He hadn't heard a word she'd said. His airpods were in his ears, blasting music.
"Hewson?" She tried. She was debating running to the doorway, leaving all of her stuff there. She could make an excuse and hide in the toilets. They were grimy though. Most of the toilet seats had fallen onto the ground, none of the doors would shut properly because they'd all been messed with. The floor of each cubicle was always covered with liquid — probably piss. You'd think that now that they were in high school the hygiene would have improved but it was actually worse.
Leah was a lot happier in the peace and quiet of the study room. Now it was just her and Elijah. No one else. Too quiet. She was cold. It was a cool Winter day and wind was trickling through the half open window. She could hear younger students doing PE outside — bucket hall — all freezing in just shorts and a shirt.
"Oh didn't see you there," Elijah muttered. There was an obvious smirk playing at his lips and a lilting quality to his voice that he always used when attempting to be mischievous. He peeled his calculator from his bag and the dreaded Chemistry homework that had been driving Leah mad. An insane asylum would be her best bet at the end of the year. Why did she even choose the stupid subject? And, still, why the hell was this eejit still here?
"Do you get the homework?" Leah asked. She'd given up with being confused. Maybe he could offer her some guidance. He wasn't the greatest at Chemistry though. He'd barely scraped a pass in the last assessment.
Elijah bit down on the end of his pen, held it like a cigarette, pressed it against his lips a few times. Her eyes fell to his pink mouth: the cupid's bow, the shaving nicks on his chin, the shadow of a moustache above his top lip. Her artistic eye always overanalysed people. She'd never been so close to him before.
"Miss Lane's shite teaching fucked me up."
There it was. Blaming it on anyone but himself. The target this time was their teacher. Leah agreed with him. Miss Lane had squeaky shoes and an even squeakier voice. When she told people off, no one could take it seriously. Students would laugh under their breaths, hands over their mouths to keep her from seeing. At one point, Elijah pretended to fall over so that he could hide under the wooden table and laugh. He'd seen the layers of gum left beneath it, stuck his own one there to add to the collection.
"I thought you could show me how to do it, seeing as you know your stuff."
"I really don't."
"You really do." He flicked to the Chemistry section of her folder, pressed his finger onto the test they'd just done. "You got the highest mark in the class on this." He tilted his head, hair now splayed across his cheekbone. She'd never realised his eyes were hazel or how he tapped his shoes when he spoke — a nervous habit. Was he nervous?
"That was pure luck. The multiple choice questions were stupid. I guessed all of them. Just put CBA over and over."
"I guessed all of mine and got them wrong."
"That's rough." Leah sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.
She pulled out the homework from her folder, along with a whiteboard and periodic table. Elijah moved his chair closer to hers. Her head was close to touching his bare shoulder. He had a Joy Division shirt on, leather jacket hung on his seat and jeans that didn't comply with the dress code. His luck of being a teacher's pet and Bono's son meant dress codes hardly fazed him. The only time he'd been sent home was when he wore a crop top — 'midriff showing is distracting, girls and boys'. He'd kicked a chair in the cantine and dramatically slammed the door behind him.
Leah couldn't understand how he was warm. There were goosebumps all over her skin, every hair stood to attention. Elijah put his airpods into his case. She glanced down at his biceps, the sun-tanned skin, the beauty spots, the freckles, his large yet nimble fingers. The tiny airpods make them all the more gargantuan. Skin was flaking away on his index finger — that's how she figured he played guitar. He'd been picking at it, dried blood remained there. His veins were prominent and nails neatly cut. His hands were like the ones she'd draw in her sketchbook. She was analysing again — way too much.
"So, where do we start?" Elijah's voice cut her staring competition with this rather big mole on his arm short.
"What about the first question?" Leah smiled to herself.
"Never would've thought of that one. Wow." Elijah scoffed. He read over the inked words. "Spin diagram for Magnesium? What the?"
"I'll show you."
The free period was basically an entire hour of Leah drawing weird arrows in boxes, trying to get Elijah to grasp the topic.
She didn't meet his eyes for most of the time. She didn't like the look on his face. He was studying her weirdly. She hated when he'd slouch back on his chair, legs apart, head thrown back in frustration. Or when he'd yawn but really over-exaggerate it to the point where she'd roll her eyes and kick his shin to wake him up again.
By the end, he understood the topic better than Leah herself. He was teaching her at that point. Taking the whiteboard and showing her that she'd done the whole order wrong. They finally completed the homework, checked answers with eachother then called it a day.
"Do you get it now?" Leah said. She finally looked him in the eye. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He liked her dark eyes, her saccharine smile.
"Yeah, thanks." He packed his things away, drank a long gulp of water. He then asked, shoes bouncing again, "Are you cold?"
Leah could feel his gaze on her arms. Being part Spanish meant the great gift of dark hairs everywhere. At least they gave her some sort of insulation, Biology had taught her that.
"I'm fine. It's always a bit chilly up here."
Elijah stood up. He tucked his chair in, placed his fingers on the back of the wooden seat, stroking his jacket. She watched his fingertips, as he scrunched the material in order to pick it up.
The room smelt of him. His minty chewing gum was one of the strongest aromas. He carried such a particular scent along with him everywhere. It was as if there was a fairy hidden in his backpack, sprinkling his cologne in each corridor, each classroom.
He stopped, squeezed his lip between two fingers, played with the earring in his left ear. He wanted to say something but wouldn't spit it out. Running through all the possible responses to the question, a computer testing different codes, an enzyme trying to find its matching substrate.
"You can have my jacket," Elijah murmured, quiet. "It's a gift for all of your help."
"What? Forever?" She made a face, almost like she was going to throw up. That was the last thing she was expecting he'd say to her. She thought he was going to insult her, tell her that she looked like shit. Mornings were not her favourite time of day.
"If you want it forever?" He laughed, an actually hearty laugh that she'd never heard before. The glowing smile staining his lips was very different to his concentrated face before. The last time she'd heard him laugh like this was when they did a practical. A titration. He messed up the experiment at least five times and couldn't stop giggling.
"You could buy me something from the cantine instead. Them brownies are lush. I'm starving."
"I'll buy you something too. Just put it on. You might freeze to death."
Elijah had left the study room in a matter of seconds. Leah was still extremely and utterly perplexed. His jacket was resting on the seat. She looked around, made sure no one was there then put her arms through the holes. It was far too big on her. At first it was freezing against her skin but it gradually warmed up. His scent clung to it. His lighter had been left in the bottom pocket. And some cash.
Moments later, Leah's friend came running through the door, Polly. She was holding some tissues in her hands. Without a word, she plonked this tissued contraption onto Leah's desk and said, "Hewson gave it to me. Said it's for you. Since when the shit are you talking that bellend?" Polly had her arms crossed over her chest. She then looked at Leah's jacket. "You weren't wearing that in form. Is it his as well?"
"Poll..." Leah took a deep breath. "He was just being nice."
"Elijah Hewson? Nice? He'd throw paper aeroplanes at me and Rick every Music lesson and detuned my bass before the concert."
"That was a year ago." Leah didn't know why she was defending him. She was delirious. Tired.
"Well he's a player, you know that don't you? Snapscore's like five hundred thousand, dated almost every girl in our form—"
Leah put her head into her hands. She couldn't deal with this. Maybe he had been pretending. Maybe that whole thing had been a cruel game to him.
-
Leah's eyelids were heavy and drooping. Her pencil had broken, her pen had run out of her ink and her ruler had cracked into two separate pieces.
Then she heard banging. Drums. Guitar. Bass. Then that stupid jarring voice that her ears would somehow cling to. Nirvana was playing in her headphones, a way to drown out the terrible cover she'd heard the night before. Smells Like Teen Spirit by The Inhalers was bedlam. Pure bedlam. She needed Kurt Cobain to cleanse her ears. They were probably filled up with blood.
It had been months since the Chemistry incident. As she expected, he didn't speak to her again.
"Leah?! Rob's family are coming over for dinner tonight! His friends are coming too. I'm not sure if you know any of them. I heard Ryan and Elijah are lovely boys." Leah's mum had just announced the worst possible thing to ever happen. Jumping out of the window seemed like a viable option, or just locking herself in her room.
"You coming, Lee? It's paella, your favourite." Her Dad knocked on the door. "I know you don't like all their music stuff but they're nice boys. It would be good to get to know more people in your year, wouldn't it, sweetheart?"
Leah couldn't say no to her Dad. Or his cooking. "Fine. I'll be down in a second."
She heard the doorbell ring, then the click of the door opening. Greetings poured out of mouths and footsteps crashed all over the place. She had seen the three lads leave the garage, climb over Leah's garden fence and knock on the back door. Not scary at all. Definitely not the slightest bit worrying. She hated how perfect her view was from the window. She could see how long Elijah's hair had grown across his face and the white vest pressed against his frame.
Opening her closet, she saw that horrible leather jacket still hung up. She'd left the money and the lighter inside of it. She hadn't worn it since that winter's day and never had the chance to give it back to him. She didn't even know if he wanted it back.
She shrugged a cardigan over her dress then walked down the stairs. What's the worse that could happen? Well, for starters, Rob was showing Elijah the culmination of baby photos on the wall of the staircase. She worriedly ran towards them and pushed Elijah's shoulders to keep him away. He was finding it all quite hilarious. He was pointing to one of her crawling around as a baby, cookie monster toy sat beside her.
"Really funny, isn't it?" Leah sarcastically said. They were thankfully metres away from those pictures. "Almost as funny as you guys practicing for ten fucking hours a day."
"Geez louise, Leah. What's gotten you so riled up?" Rob's blue eyes struck her. He was so tall now. She hated it.
"Your shite playing that's what."
"It's not that bad." Elijah snorted.
"We are shite, Eli, she's right." Ryan appeared, the drummer. Leah had never spoken to him before. He was in her maths class.
Down the hallway, Elijah and Ryan had a prolonged discussion about whether they were good or not. Ryan kept telling him: 'there's a lot of room for improvement.'
"We need a lead guitarist. One that's actually good. Sorry Eli. You're alright on rhythm but lead..."
"I'm leng at lead. Shut up."
"Chillax mate. Did I strike a nerve?"
"Fuck you."
If not for the familiar scent of smoked paprika, Leah would've walked away from them. They were both sat at opposite ends of the table, fed up with each other. Leah's parents decided to sit in the garden to leave the four teenagers to their own devices. Rob was the only one making conversation. He was asking Leah about school and how she was finding her subjects. They weren't really close friends in school, but they'd gotten to know eachother through all the weird family gatherings. His buzz cut made her laugh every single time she saw him.
"Are you going to the party? Anna's one?" Ryan alerted Leah with a jab of his fork against his glass. A high-pitched note rung out.
"You really think I'm mates with Anna?" Leah had to put her cutlery down to laugh. She then started to scrape the rice around on her plate. She'd seen Rob's countless Instagram stories of her parties. Those red plastic cups and boys jumping on top of one another. She'd see all the worst people in her head, all bundled together in one sweaty room, twisting bodies dancing to terrible grime music. That was her vision of hell.
Ryan awkwardly looked between his friends.
"Uh.. we could bring you as a plus one," Rob offered.
"She was disrespecting our music ten minutes ago, is that really a good idea?" Elijah reminded his two friends.
Leah took a short sip of her coke, feeling the condensation of the bottle grace her skin. She watched the three boys whisper and argue. Her parents seemed to be relaxed in the garden, the complete opposite of the thick tension between the inner four walls. The sky was a pale shade of blue. Each passing cloud was larger than the last. There was one that looked a lot like Elijah. Even had the irritating strand of hair that he always left to fall over his forehead.
"I'll go if you put some decent music on." Leah could not handle the songs the partygoers had on their Instagram stories.
"Will always picks the music. He'll get pissed off if we change it." Ryan was unsure.
"Let's piss him off then." Leah downed the rest of her coke.
-
Anna's party was as messy as Leah expected it to be. Meeting Rob beside the park by Anna's house was already an ordeal. Her mobile data wasn't working properly and the massive house was in the middle of nowhere. The park had neon green swings with murky water dripping off of them. Leah felt bad for any kid in the neighbourhood. Although she doubted that anyone sane lived on that eerie, cobbled street. She was sure she'd knock on the door and a vampire would be there, floating midair with pearly white fangs. But no, it was Anna, the pick me girl of the year. Even when she had a boyfriend, she'd be all over the boys, whispering in their ears and putting on a baby voice whenever she wanted their attention. Leah couldn't comprehend the bee-like swarm of boys always huddled around her. Overhearing any of the conversations between them was enough to make Leah want to vomit.
"Rob! Hey!" Her baby voice came out as she trapped the tall boy into a bear hug. He looked uncomfortable, stood like a penguin. "And... Leah?"
"Hi." Leah tried to bring her hand up to wave but felt like a right numpty.
Anna could definitely see through Leah's fake smile but still said, "Come on in. The more the merrier I guess."
Music booming, teenagers jumping up and down, smell of alcohol thick through the air. The house was huge. Insanely. They were in the richest part of Dublin but still... Leah had to stop to take it all in. The multitude of people squished together made the house seem smaller. Cramped and sweaty. Leah could see faces from school every few steps. Most people there she'd never seen before. She didn't like it.
Rob led her through the kitchen, the living room and out to the garden. There was a swimming pool dug into the ground.
Dark, wet curls caught her eye. An iridescent smile. Elijah.
He was in the pool next to Ryan. They were splashing water onto eachother and messing around with floaties. Rob pulled off his shirt, trousers, leaving him in just boxers and jumped in. Cannonball. Water flying all over Leah's pristine, white dress. She bit back a shout or an insult. He laughed at the mess he'd created.
Elijah pulled himself out of the water. Leah wouldn't even glance in his direction — she could see how girls turned their hands to catch a glimpse. She didn't like how she found him beautiful. It was a problem. She would draw him on summer evenings. When her cluttered desk was looking down on her with disdain. There were times he'd leave the garage with a cigarette in hand, sat down on Rob's rope swing and blew smoke away. His silhouette would be dark but sometimes — when the fairylights strung along the fence lit him up at the perfect angle — she'd be able to see the intricacy of his features. She would sketch him. A way to drag her thoughts away from homework or any kind of stress pent up during the day. It had turned into an almost daily habit. It was the saddest hobby known to man.
She ran straight back indoors, into the kitchen and grabbed the first bottle she saw. Didn't read the label, didn't check the percentage. She'd never properly had alcohol before. It was strong and weird and disgusting. She almost drank the whole bottle before a wet hand pulled the bottle away.
"Holy shit, Leah. That's way too much." It was him. The fountain of her inspiration. The embarassing muse. The wet-haired, dog out of water, hazel-eyed boy who now had an arm around her shoulders.
"I can drink as much as I want, dickhead." Leah pushed him away. His white shirt was glued to his chest and a denim jacket clung to his shoulders. His eyes scanned along her face, checking she was okay. She was attempting to reach for another bottle. He stopped her.
"Could we have a walk?" He breathed. "That will clear your head better than this will." He shook the transparent liquid around, contents splashing.
Leah felt the hand on her spine. Her backless dress meant that his calloused fingertips were cold against her. He'd never touched her before. She could sense how his hand caressed her gently, massaging to calm her down. The drink was already making her senses more heightened, making her focus only on his touch, how his lips were moving as he whispered, how her shoes crashed against the floor. Her body felt too heavy and the room felt too big. The music was becoming more bassy, slowing down until it was like she was moving in slow motion.
Elijah didn't even wait for her response. He knew that she had to be taken somewhere quiet. He managed to guide her to the gazebo in Anna's garden. It was unoccupied, thankfully. He had to peek over the door to ensure that he wouldn't walk in on anything weird. Leah sat down at the end of the wooden hexagon, stumbling around before she plonked herself down, legs stretched out completely. Elijah sat down opposite her. He watched her hold her head between her hands and groan.
"Why do people like drinking that? It's —" She couldn't even speak properly. Her words were slurring, the lights above her were simply hues of colour, Elijah was a blur.
"You drank half a bottle of vodka, love. It's not the tastiest first drink." Elijah couldn't believe what this evening had turned into. The boys had been fools for dragging her along. She'd be much happier at home, doing whatever she normally did on a Friday evening. He pictured her sat down at her desk, headphones on her ears and paintbrush in hand. He would purposely leave band practice to see her through that thin piece of glass. His view was far from remarkable and his excuse was slowly getting less believable but he missed being able to see her every day. Across the cantine, across the chemistry classroom or at the weekly assemblies. He would make it his mission to look for her in any crowd — no matter how big or how small.
Leah, the smartest person he'd ever met, the most geniune person stood on the soil of this very earth (in Elijah's most accurate opinion) was now sprawled helplessly across the splinter-inducing wood, eyes glued shut and teeth chattering. Somehow she was always cold. Elijah couldn't understand her at all.
"Are you hungry?" Elijah attempted. He knew his chance of a response were almost nil. But he'd try anyway. Anything to get her to talk, to open up to him. He'd been an idiot for distancing himself from her for the past months. She was an angel. Especially with her flowing white dress and endless black hair, he couldn't look away, couldn't even take his mind off of her.
He pulled out a box of pizza from under his arm. He'd stolen it from the house before they went outside. He slid it across the wood. She took off the lid. It had pepperoni all over it.
"You know I'm a vegetarian?" Leah grinned at his kindness. He seemed so proud of himself. His features drooped down at her comment.
"Sorry," was all he could manage to reply. He closed the box and moved it away.
"You can eat if you're hungry." She nodded towards the pizza.
He scratched his head. "I'm stuffed. Just ate about five slices of cake. It's my birthday."
"Shit? Is it? Seventeenth of August, right? I still remember those primary school birthday hats they'd give us. I wish I had one I could give to you."
Leaning back, he watched her smile as she reminisced. Those days felt so close yet so far away. He could hardly remember anything about primary school. Maybe flashes of teachers, or the world book day's where everyone would come in the strangest costumes, fingers crossed they'd win the prize. The birthday hat was something that had completely drained from his head, down to the sewers of memory. But Leah bringing it up made him remember when the teachers forced them to do a 'birthday dance' infront of the entire class. It made everyone dread their birthday every single year. People would skip school just to miss it.
"Do you remember on your eighth birthday Bono came in for a singalong?" Leah couldn't think straight anymore. She was spouting random thoughts out now, just hoping to get a reaction out of him.
He rolled his head back, adams apple shifting as he scoffed. "Don't even."
"I'm never going to let you live that down."
Elijah knew that his face was warming up as Leah looked at him. She was staring. Eyes drifting along his skin, biting down on her bottom lip. Then she was crawling towards him, seemingly finding it very difficult to move and plonked herself next to him.
"I never gave you your jacket back," she muttered. Her head was on his shoulder, her hair smelt like roses, strands were grazing his collarbone. Part of him ached to pull her even closer, to press his lips to her forehead but he was frozen. "Do you still want it?" She looked up at him, nose on his chin.
"I did leave my lighter in it, didn't I?" His whole plan at the beginning had been to plant that lighter in as a kind of bait. He wanted to have an excuse to talk to her, to ask her if she could give it back to him. He never built up the courage to go up to her. He was left borrowing Rob's lighter that hardly even worked. His final plan was to ask her when they got back to school, or to jump Rob's fence and try to muster up as much Romeo energy as possible. He'd imagined himself climbing up the pipe to her window, confessing how he felt toward her, how much she made his heart strain and palpitate. He had his chance now. To use the bait he'd created. To follow through and actually be honest with her. To tell her how he hadn't stopped thinking about her since he got full marks on that homework, only due to her help.
"You did." She recalled. He was warm. His chin was stubbly, his perfect mouth was centimetres away.
"I think I should take you home." Elijah's final decision was to make sure she got a good night's sleep. She was about to drift off there and then. He would let her. But he knew she wasn't comfortable.
"No...no don't. This is nice." She closed her eyes. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her. She traced his bicep softly. His cells weren't working. His brain wasn't working. She was killing him. Beneath her he was just a mess of flesh and bone, breathing into her skin, moulding into her touch.
He stroked her hair, fingers raking through the layers. Her dark eyelashes were long and blinking.
"I think I've got splinters." Leah pulled up her hand to find a thin piece of wood piercing her finger. It was swollen and red.
Elijah held onto her hand and tried to squeeze the piece out. It wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. She was seething against his arm until finally he caught it between his nails and threw it out of the gazebo.
"Thanks." She sucked onto her finger, draining the metallic flavour out. "I think that's our sign to get out of here. You should be in there having fun. It's your birthday. Go on. You're seventeen! You can listen to Dancing Queen and relate to it on a whole other level. I'm not ruining today for you."
"I'll walk you home first."
"No you won't. I'll go on my own."
"I'm going with you. End of."
"Hewson—"
"Come on. Get up. We can listen to Dancing Queen on the way there." He took out his airpod case from his jean pocket.
Leah gave up with arguing. He was being polite. Offering to keep her safe. It made her warm and fuzzy inside. In truth, if she'd tried to go home on her own, she would've gotten lost amidst the crooked streets of Dublin. It was hard enough to make her way their in daylight. Now, in the darkest part of the night, it would be all the more difficult.
Elijah helped her to the front door. He ignored any of the people called his name, only focused on finding the way out. It was hard to squeeze through the amount of people in there. He had to ensure he kept her close or he'd lose her.
"Eli? Leaving so early?" Anna caught the pair as he opened the door. She looked between the two of them with two raised eyebrows. "Is she drunk? She looks pissed. Holy shit. Are you okay taking her or do you need any help?" Anna had lost the baby voice. She actually sounded concerned... how strange.
"I'll get a taxi. It's okay." Elijah thanked Anna for inviting him. "I'll see you at school."
"See you. Make sure she gets home safe."
"I will."
-
Elijah had to carry Leah from the taxi to her front door. He was pacing back and forth with her in his arms, trying to figure what to say to her parents. He had to ring the doorbell about five times before they answered. Her dog was barking extremely loudly and kicking at the door. She looked so peaceful as she slept, her skin a ghostly white under the bright light of the entrance.
The lurid red door shot open to reveal two stupefied faces. They were both in pyjamas. Leah's mother grabbed onto her daughter, falling into hysterics with tears stinging her eyes, "Is she dead? Oh my God. Dear Jesus—"
"No! No, Mrs Vazquez. She isn't dead!" Elijah worriedly shouted. "She's just very tired." Definitely tired. Not black out drunk.
Her Dad took his daughter from Elijah with a kind smile. She was still wearing his jacket. "Thank you, my boy." His strong Spanish accent rang out though Elijah's ears like a sweet melody.
"No worries." He stepped away from the doorway, glad to see the family back together. The puppy had been biting his jeans like they were slippers. It was a wild beast. Probably not suitable for domestication. It'd be better off in a forest with a pack of wolves. It was tiny though. Pocket-sized.
When the door closed, Elijah sat down on the bottom step leading to the house. His head fell into his lap, his thoughts were far too loud. He wanted to bang his head down onto the pavement. He wanted to scream out curses up at the clouds. He wanted to lay out his heart on a silver platter and deliver it straight to Leah's bedroom. Everything was driving him crazy. The whistling wind, the flashing streetlights, the honk of cars at the roundabout.
He walked to Rob's house. Tomorrow he would become Romeo. Tomorrow he'd either fuck everything up or make things the slightest bit better.
-
Leah awoke with a a burning headache. She couldn't feel the pillow beneath her head or the duvet on her body. Her bedding smelt of Elijah. She was wearing his jacket. She was still breathing in that scent that followed her everywhere.
Then a knock at her window. She gasped and pulled open the blinds. She looked up. It was that face again. Hewson. He was outside her fucking window. How long had he been there? How the hell did he get up there? Too many questions. She didn't want to move. She didn't want to leave him there, probably not in a very stable position. She unlocked the window. He crawled in.
"What the fuck?" She rubbed a hand over her eyes. There was too much light shining into the room. She was a vampire. Sat down in her very own coffin. Probably just seeing hallucinations. Until she was proved wrong by the bed dipping under his weight. He'd made sure to peel off his shoes and throw them onto her floor before he jumped down. The springs squeaked, silence echoed.
Leah knew she looked a mess. Her hair was probably frizzy, eyebags made her look like a zombie, there was sleep in her eyes that she was trying to pick out.
"Thank you for taking me home," she said. Why was he looking at her like that? It was 9 in the morning. Grey clouds brimmed the sky. Birds sang in Rob's garden. A few were eating from his bird feeder.
In just a white vest and sweatpants, Elijah seemed so bare. He was always in jeans or band shirts. This was different. Too intimate. She was glad she wasn't in pyjamas.
"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He finally opened his mouth. She blushed beet-red, her eyes wide.
"Hewson, the actual hell?" She tried to wrestle with the fact that this was real life. That he was actually sitting only a metre away from her. That the eyes watching her weren't just part of a daydream. He had just said that. He had just scanned her whole frame and let those six words fall from his mouth like they were just milk to a cup of coffee, a sugar cube to a cup of tea. Something you don't even think about doing, something you just do without overthinking it.
"What's that on your wall?" He pointed up at one of the drawings above her bedpost. It was one of him. He was sat on the rope swing, smoke curling around him, lips around a cigarette.
She jumped to the side, leant back against it to keep it covered. This was not happening. This was not happening. She should've left him out there in the cold. Why did she even open that window?
"Is that me?" He tried to look over her shoulder.
"What are you talking about? You? Where?" She tried to laugh. It came out as a very nervous laugh.
He started to properly laugh. He tried to catch her off guard by throwing a pillow at her. She dodged it. That left the painting in perfect view.
"Elijah... it's not what you think it is." She saw him smile up to his ears. A cheshire cat. Elvis-like. Cheesy. His eyes crinkled at the corners, dimples forming. "You're just always there. I know it's creepy—"
"It's not." They were sat like they were the night before. But this time he had his head on her shoulder. "You're not only really fucking smart but also great at painting."
She was still blushing. More with every passing second. His hands were warm against her thighs. He just let one hand linger there. She stared at it. The dextrous fingers, the veins, the rings.
"Thank you," she managed to whisper. She kissed his forehead without even thinking about it. His heart was pounding. "Why are you here?"
"Why do you think I'm here?" He watched her grab her duvet, threw it over them. The whole room smelt only of her. He wanted to stay in that position forever. Feeling each movement of her shoulder, feeling her heartbeat against his ear, feeling her play with his hair.
"To embarrass me." She was referring to the painting. She pulled it off the wall and dropped it beneath her bed. Her plan was to throw it into the fireplace and watch it burn.
"That and something else." Elijah was now tracing over her silky dress, along her stomach, across her back.
"What's that?" She felt the weight of him drift away. He moved back to look at her.
"For you."
Then both of his hands were on her cheeks. They were cold. Her skin was boiling. Still bright red. He'd never seen her blush like that. Sure, whenever she got an answer wrong in class, she might stare down at the textbook and have a little splatter of pink graze her ears. But this, this was completely different. He lowered his head, parted his lips. He was taking his sweet time. She grabbed onto his vest and pulled him straight onto her, making their lips crash together in the movement. Hands on his waist, nose bumping into each other, his smile wide in the kiss. She couldn't believe what this had all turned into. Thinking was one of the most difficult things to do as Elijah Hewson pulled her onto his lap to get her even closer. His mouth fell down to her neck, peppering kisses along her collarbones, tasting her skin like it was a delicacy that had never once been tasted before.
"Leah! Are you awake! Breakfast is ready!" Knocks crashed on her door.
Elijah and Leah both stared at each other with complete terror in their eyes. She jumped off of his lap and dragged him straight into the closet, leaving him to pull his lighter out of the leather jacket. He also found that extra cash that she'd never used. He left it there for her instead of taking it.
Leah's mum gave her daughter a pointed look. "What was that about last night?"
"Nothing, Ma. I was just at a party. I got really sleepy."
"I bet you had fun with Elijah. You're always talking about him—"
"Ma!! No I don't." Leah snorted. Her words came out really loudly.
"Ever since primary school you've been talking about him. Don't lie, Leah. He's a handsome boy. I get it."
"Ma! Stop!"
"Breakfast. Chop chop."
Leah nodded. She stared at the closet. "Let me just get my clothes on."
Her mum looked around suspiciously. "Alright."
The door closed. Leah wanted to lock Elijah in the closet. She knew exactly what the look on his face would be when he got out.
He jumped out as quickly as possible.
"None of that was true. She's a compulsive liar."
"Sure, sure." He rolled out of the closet and jumped back onto her bed.
Then they were kissing again.
What he wouldn't tell her was that he had liked her since he was eight. Since the stupid Bono singalong. She'd wished him happy birthday as they stood in the lunch queue. Plastic trays in their hands, trying to look for their friends in the crowd of seated people, glancing over the dessert options with excitement. He had never known he could smile so much. Or so widely.
#elijah hewson#inhaler dublin#inhaler fanfiction#hewson#ryan mcmahon#bobby skeetz#robert keating#inhaler#inhaler band#eli hewson#imagines#inhaler imagines#inhaler oneshots
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You Might Get What You Want | ROBERT KEATING
PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character
GENRE: childhood frenemies to lovers
SUMMARY: lucia (luz), nieve ella’s keyboardist, has an estranged history with inhaler—especially with the band’s bassist, bobby. their fiery hatred for eachother rapidly blossoms into something sweet, especially when she learns that he wrote a song about her.
WORDS: 5.8k
WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use, mild sexual content
Being Nieve Ella's keyboardist has completely altered the course of my life. Only eight months ago, I was doing my second year of uni, trying to get through a Music course and completely regretting all of my life choices. My favourite part of the day would be getting home and sitting at my piano, writing songs and posting them on Tiktok. Views racked up, followers kept coming in and I think I realised how well everything was going when Laufey commented on my cover of 'Like The Movies'. Then about two weeks later, an email shot through my phone—literally like a bullet to skin. I dropped the rectangular device to the ground mid-lecture, hand on my mouth, teeth in my lip.
Nieve Ella had asked me to join her on tour. With Inhaler.
At first I was laughing, then I was bawling with endless tears of happiness and now I'm on my final show still feeling woozy and adrenaline is banging through my brain. The whole band have become my best friends. And, quite shockingly, me and Inhaler have a weird shared history. I've known them since I was really young. I used to watch their first gigs at tiny venues where they'd run around in the crowd and hardly anyone knew the lyrics. I went to the same school as Bobby, Eli and Ryan who were a bunch of madmen. They'd let me hang out with them backstage or at practice and jam before they finally found a 'proper' keyboardist (Louis). To be honest, I'd always been slightly salty that I never got into the band. But I guess we were never close enough and I could be quite horrible to Bobby — but honestly, he deserved it. He was a whiny, teenage nightmare. Still is. Except he's not a teenager anymore.
Thankfully, Nieve Ella and the band take a train separate to Inhaler. I don't have to hear Bobby's jests 24/7. Today we're heading to Dublin. The final stop of the Cuts and Bruises tour. It's been a long ride but it's all been worth it. I've had the best time ever. I'm listening to the Strokes, a song Bobby recommended to me a few weeks ago. It's been on my mind ever since and I can't stop hearing the same chords and riffs over and over. Even when my headphones leave my ears. The song is 12:51 and funnily enough Bobby has a tattoo right on his bicep with those exact numbers. The lads gave us a rather enjoyable tattoo tour with reasons for each of their inked designs.
I lay back my head against the cushioned seat. I like this, I prefer it to what I was doing before. The constant stress, the exams, the structure. I like the freedom of doing shows and seeing new people and travelling to new places. Never sure what you're in for. Crowd after crowd with all different energies and enthusiasm. The adrenaline rush is the best part of the day but when you wake up the following morning, it's like the life has been sucked out of you. You feel like nothing. Human. A person with legs and arms. Flailing around with no thoughts in your head. A billion times worse than a hangover. Post concert depression. The lull after such a powerful high. It's nice to go through that hell with a group of friends who all feel the same way. Becomes a strange group therapy.
For the past hour, I've been begging Josh to tell me what is on the set list. I'm praying they'll add some different songs. Older ones. Seeing as it's the last show of the tour. Something to surprise the fans. Maybe 'Falling In' or 'There's No Other Place' or even my favourite 'You Might Get What You Want'. That was one that was written when Rob was the lead singer of the band. When I'd bang the keys in that garage. When we'd sing the lyrics together and sound like an awful church choir. I never got the chance to listen to it live, performed properly by the band. I'm still heartbroken they didn't leave it on the track list for the album. I have to resort to listening to illegal Spotify versions.
I feel like crying everytime I remember this is the last show I might ever do with Inhaler. The last time I might see the lot of them. They'll surely disappear off into the shadows once tour is over, making their next album, cutting off all contact to focus solely on their music. After spending so much time with a group of people, then completely losing them from your life, you just feel so very empty. Like a swimming pool with no water. Or a mug of tea left hollow after spilling it all by accident. Last night — I would never dare to admit this to anyone — I cried for two hours straight into the pillow of my hotel room. Tour is a glorious thing. Fun, exciting, terrifying all at the same time. But the thought of finality is what split me into pieces, broke me up and squeezed tear after tear from my eyes.
Fran keeps looking at me with raised eyebrows like she's about to ask a question. She's scribbling on her set list, making sure she knows exactly what's happening and when. Her earrings twinkle as she tilts her head, her eyeliner sharp and perfect. Her mouth parts the slightest bit to reveal white teeth, a small smile. "You alright there, Luz?"
God, anytime someone asks me that, it makes me want to cry ten times more. I look down the train compartment, stare at the bathroom and decide whether to make my move. Do I run and hide in there for the duration of the trip, two hours of crying into mouldy train toilet paper? Or do I try to brave it and tell her how I feel? Or just lie through gritted teeth? She's good at reading me. She'll know that I'm not telling the truth.
"Don't tell Nieve this but I feel like absolute shite." There it is. I said it. Fire sinks into my skin, blood rushes up to my head. I squeeze my cheek to make sure I am actually sitting here and that I'm not hallucinating. Lack of sleep had made me seem some weird shit. I need caffeine. Quick.
"We all do." Fran puts her hand on top of mine. "Look, one more show, then we can sleep for as long as we want."
"That's the thing. I don't want this to end."
Fran gets up from her seat and swivels around the table. She sits down beside me, arms opening up and embraces me until I think I see stars. No one has ever hugged me so tightly. My bones seem to audibly shift.
"Nieve's doing a few shows in February, remember? And I'm sure next time Inhaler tours, they'll be on their hands and knees begging for us to come back." She strokes my hair. "Although, Bobby might be telling us to bugger off instead. You two need to sort out this drama. It's driving us all mad."
"He started it." I sound like a three-year-old irritated at my brother.
Fran laughs to herself. "Fucking hell. I bet he did."
—
Arguing. It's happened again. Our last day together has gone to a great start.
First stop of the day—a random restaurant that Ryan dragged us to. Hugs were shared, kind words uttered, teeth glowing under dim lights. I sit down on a wooden chair, peel my jacket from my body and place it on the back. The cool wind is slamming against the windows. I'd forgotten how cold Dublin was. Especially in November. Some Christmas lights adorn the streets and pubs are lively with masses of people. We were stopped a only once on the way there by a group of fans—even our attempt at scuttling through empty alleyways didn't work when five friends with Inhaler-themed cowboy-hats impeded our trail. They were lovely. Photos taken and compliments exchanged. Sadly, Bobby was in a bad mood. When I say a bad mood, I mean a 'I want to kill everyone on this planet and throw myself on a train track' kind of bad mood. He hid away from the fans, behind me and Nieve. His height wasn't particularly helpful in that instant. The blonde, 'Amelie', had said in her thick French accent, "Is that Bobby? I was wondering where he was."
Caught. Found. He thought staying there for a while longer would make them think he wasn't there at all. Amelie was persistent, however, and said softly, "Please could I take a picture with you?"
Her friends all started whispering. Eli was tapping his friend on the shoulder to get him to move. He was frozen. Eli frowned and shook his head.
"Sorry but Rob's being a bit weird today," Josh explained. "I don't think he wants any photos."
Amelie nodded, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent. "That's okay."
I felt bad for the girl. I turned around, looked at Bobby. He was on his phone. Scrolling through Tiktok still crouched down. A quick look at his phone screen showed me that he was watching edits — edits of himself. I had to take a double take to actually believe what I'd just seen. He was staring at clips of himself, smiling, and wouldn't even stand for five seconds next to a girl who'd paid to see his band. He continued to swipe his thumb against the screen, blue eyes lit up by his bright phone.
Then his eyes caught mine and he closed the Tiktok tab. "You didn't see that, did you?" He worriedly spoke so unbelievably quickly, I had to scramble my brain to decipher the words. His smile flipped upside down. Shock written all over him. Blush rising right up to the tips of his ears.
"The hell is wrong with you?" I muttered. Nieve heard. She stepped away. She did not want to be involved in whatever the two of us were plotting.
"What's wrong with me?" He breathed. It's like he was asking himself the question but there was an unyielding harshness to his voice, raspy and agitated. I was sure that this argument was going to be just as bad as the Sid Vicious incident, or worse. Halloween Bobby was on a different wavelength — bordering on depravity.
"You're watching fucking Tiktok edits of yourself. Didn't think you could be that self-centered—"
"Can we not do this now? Please?" Bobby tried to get me to calm down. Amelie and her friends were still only metres away, asking Josh about the tour, about the next album. Fran was listening in. She was smiling to herself. Part of her definitely enjoyed the beef between us.
"Show me your Tiktok."
"No."
"Now."
He sighed. I grabbed his phone, opened Tiktok straight away. His whole 'For You' page was edits of himself. The account he was on was a fake user account. I couldn't believe my eyes.
"What the hell..." Was all I could manage to say.
"I can explain."
"Can you? Go on then."
He didn't say anything. Took his phone back and kicked the brick wall beside him. He shook his phone around like he was going to throw it as well. That wouldn't change anything. I'd seen the worst of it — at least I hoped I'd seen the worst of it.
"Take that photo with those girls and I'll shut up about this." I gave him an option. A way to let him get out of the hole he'd dug for himself.
He was so tall. Sometimes I forgot that. But there, back straight, no longer slouched and his neck craned to meet my eyes. I couldn't hold eye contact. His clenched jaw was making me nervous.
"Fine." He finally concluded the argument with a single word. His index finger then pointed towards me, just beneath my neck. "But you don't tell anyone about this."
I grinned. "I promise."
Stepping over towards Amelie, he smiled widely, put an arm over her shoulder and allowed Fran to take the picture of the group. Moments later he was complaining about his shoes. How they were too small. If Robert Keating had a chance to complain about anything, he'd take it and wouldn't shut up about it. I just knew at that point that we'd be hearing about his shoes for the rest of the day.
Tension is thick in the restaurant. I can almost taste it in my mouth. Rob sits beside me. I don't want to look at him, don't want to hear him talk, don't want to have anything to do with him. He's only the only person I won't miss once this tour is over.
Before anyone can get a word out, Eli taps his fork against his glass. All eyes fall to him. Grace is next to him, she's appeared out of nowhere.
"I just want to say thank you to Nieve, Fran, Lucia, Finn and Matt for being such great openers on our tour. We're so grateful for all of you. This wouldn't have been the same without you."
"Aw, Eli, I might cry a bit, please stop." Nieve shakes her head, holding her napkin to her eyes. "This has been such a dream. We should be thanking you for giving us this opportunity."
"We need to do this again sometime." Ryan pitches in. "Next time we tour, you're coming with us."
"Yeah. That would be grand," Josh exclaims, pulling up his pint of Guinness and crashing it against everyone else's.
Bobby, after all his hours of complaining, has gone back to silent, angry mode. Playing around with his fork, he stares blankly at the menu, fingers tracing the lettering. I watch him as the others melt into conversation. I just want to know what is going through his head. Why is he acting like this? Last week, he was fun to be around and we had a good time. Especially when he's drunk, he loosens up a bit and stops with the facade. He even kissed me once. As a joke. I think.
It was a mess of alcohol. A 'midnight tour bus party'. We were in London and instead of going to the hotel, we ended up spending the night in the lovely green tour bus. We all got so drunk we could hardly speak. I can't remember all that we got up to but when we were sobering up, Bobby dragged me outside of the bus. He gave me his jacket, placed it over my shoulders. We sat down on a random doorstep, hugging each other to keep warm. Two penguins. Two people who usually hated eachothers guts, finding comfort in the warmth that emanated from our bodies. I'd never thought his hair was nice until that moment. How it grazed over my neck. How the curls twisted perfectly and his overgrown mullet framed his face. Or how pretty his eyes were as they shone under streetlights. Dreamy, long eyelashes, sea-like waves. He'd kissed me. His long fingers over my cheeks. His pink lips slotting between mine. I pulled away, shocked. Electricity had sparked between us, my heart was pounding, my body was a torch. Then I ran away from him. I couldn't understand what If just felt. I had never seen him in that way. We never mentioned it again.
Maybe that's what has made him colder. I still haven't acknowledged what happened that night. I keep thinking that he was too drunk to even remember it, but maybe he does. I'm not going to bring it up. Especially now. Especially in this restaurant with everyone sat with us.
"I'm sorry, Lucia."
My heart drops. Bobby is looking at me. Downcast. Entire state is disjointed. His mouth just said that, his brain just formulated those words.
"What?" I must've heard him wrong. Imagining it. This time I must be hallucinating.
"I'm sorry about that night."
Mindreader. He knew what I was thinking about. What my mind has been lingering on. The weather reminds me, his scent reminds me, his hands remind me, his jacket reminds me. That night. London. The night after Troxy. The wind — cut-throat, sharp, steely — the rain, and my tear-stained bedsheets. The taste of his mouth and the dejction locked into his eyes as I left him. Like I'd made a terrible mistake. Like running into my hotel room, alone, was the worst possible option I could've chosen.
I'm wearing the same earrings as I did that night — these ribbon ones that a fan made for me. Bobby had pointed them out — which he shifted between his fingertips and said they suited me. He's eyeing them now, hands curving, resisting any urge to touch them again, to drag us back to that moment.
The waiter takes my order. Bobby's words properly forage the depths of my mind, the veins and the arteries circling around my body, the aching crevices of my heart. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and a Fanta. I want to stay sober. I want to savour all that will happen beyond this second. Bobby also doesn't get alcohol. Shockingly. The Bobby I know would never turn down a pint of Guinness. But he gets a 7up instead and takes a long, hard gulp of it when the waiter comes back. I'm counting the cracks on the table, how squeaky the chair is, the coffee stain on the ceiling — trying to guess how they managed to get up there. Musicians like to occupy their brains. They don't like to think too much - just do.
"I'm sorry..." I whisper. Finally giving him a reponse after a long pause for thought.
He had been waiting for an answer. He catches it. Twists uneasily in his seat. Wood creaks. Rain patters.
"...It was wrong of me to leave you." The image of his despair still rings through my bones. I swear when my cells divide they keep trying to recreate that look on his face.
"I shouldn't have..." his voice lowers, heat pf his mouth glides by my ear "...kissed you."
I'm trying to drink my Fanta with no reaction. Sugary greatness. Cold, slightly wet fingers. Orangey flavouring. But his voice is so low, trickling, burning, goosebump-inducing. I can't look at him. He's too close to me. It's too hot in the restaurant. Soundcheck is in 20 minutes. I want to run away again. I always want to run away.
Down my Fanta, smooth my skirt, breathe in deeply.
"I liked it." I similarly glide my lips over his ear when he's least expecting it, returning the favour.
He coughs. Chokes a bit on his drink. Then he eats his Pesto pasta with the pinkest neck I've ever seen on a person. Jacket off to reveal long, tattoo-covered arms, and the muscles that have progressively been getting bigger over the months. I join Ryan and Matt's drummer conversation to stop staring. It's weird. Being attracted to him feels wrong. Teenage Lucia would be ashamed. She’d slap some sense into me.
Dinner ends quickly. We're thrusted back into Dublin air before we can even adjust to the complete switch in environment. Running to the venue, through alleyways, shooting splashes of water all over the place, we realise how late we are. I feel better than I did in the morning. That dreaded train ride. Bobbys giving me the silent treatment again. I hate it. I hate it more than when he's being downright horrible to me.
-
Our set was unbelievable. The best show I've ever done. The crowd was unreal, the size of the place was absurd. We had never sounded so great. Everything went according to plan. We're crying now that we're offstage. We need something to uplift us. Nieve's idea is to party in the back. Which is one of the best parts of the night.
We find a spot just before Inhaler goes on. Screams bleed through the room, adoration written in teenage faces, phones held up to capture the moment. The five lads on stage. One final time. I scream like I'm sixteen all over again, dancing as the first song 'These Are The Days' begins to play. Shouting along, throwing my hands in the air. I don't think I've ever been so happy and fulfilled before.
The setlist is the usual. I didn't expect them to change it. Eli gives a little 'thank you' speech, mentioning us at the end. Then suddenly encore starts and I'm met by a mildly unfamiliar song. The crowd seems just as confused as I am. Bobby is wearing that stupid black vest and I swear his bass has been lowered all the more. The next time they perform, it'll surely be grazing the floor.
Bobby doesn't normally speak to the crowd at shows. It's always Eli. But as they play the intro, he begins to speak, "Hi everyone. Hope you're all having a good time." Commotion, screams, chanting 'Bobby' as if it's a cult gathering, not a concert. His eyes are searching through the crowd. The party in the back turned into moshpits and luckily I got pushed near to the front. His eyes land on mine. I can tell he's looking at when he plays with his earring — like it's a code between us. He keeps playing the same few notes on the bass lazily as he grabs the mic stand. Everyone is silent and listening as he says, "This is 'You Might Get What You Want'.
I recognise it now. I'm sent back to high school. 6 years ago. Practice room at school. Instrument cases strewn all over tha place, broken drumsticks leant against the wall. I'm sat at the piano as Bobby announces, "This is a new song I wrote." He passes me the chords starts singing. My thoughts are quiet. The external world is too loud for me to think. I'm lost in the music. The song is beautiful — lyrics, chords, arrangement, Bobby's voice. That was the day when I wanted to ask to join the band. Then Bobby was horrible to me so I changed my mind. I even asked him what the song was about. He looked at the Jim Morrison poster on the door, hand against his buzzed head as he thought up a response. "A girl," was his final conclusion. I thanked him for his specificity. He told me, quite frustratedly, it was 'none of my business'. Then he was riled up and told me to leave because I was 'playing it all wrong'. One of the last times I ever played with the band. So when I hear the song again — I'm back, sitting at the piano with my school uniform, waiting for cues to play the next chord.
The crowd goes wild at the fact that Bobby is singing alone. This is unusual. The majority of the crowd don't know the song. Reminds me of their first gigs in tiny venues. I sing along, staring at Bobby as he stares back. I wonder which girl the song was actually about. At seventeen, he hung out with every girl in sight - parties, random town meetups, gigs. The way he is looking at me is shattering me down to my core — eyes painted with affection and how he keeps moving his earring. For some reason, I wish the song is about me. Then he sings, 'You Might Get What You Want' whilst pointing right at me. Has anyone else noticed his staring? Nieve and Fran seem clueless. It could all be in my head. His face appears on the screen. I stare. Not ashamed. Appreciating his beauty for as long as we have left. Only tonight. Then nothing. Only the possibility of seeing eachother once again. It won't be set in stone.
I'm a sweaty mess by the end of the show. Last goodbyes, last waves, last shocked stares at the extent of the crowd. I always forget how boiling it gets in the standing area. I'm almost at the point of suffocating. We leave with the crowd, taking a few selfies with fans along the way. I stand in the merch queue. I need something to remember this. Something I can keep and wear and just be brought back to this venue, to this atmosphere. I buy a black tour shirt with the bubbly lettering, slipping it over my tank top. I just know the change in temperature will murder me. The more layers I have on, the better.
We slip through the crowd. Thankfully, it's quieter after my long time in the merch queue. I'd never seen such a long amalgamation of people.
Back at the hotel, I crash straight down onto my bed. Don't even turn on the lights or take off my clothes. I just close my eyes and stretch out my body like a cat. It all happened too quickly. I left the band early to head back, although I heard the rest of them were going to the tour bus to get drunk. I've already had so much fun. I just need to relax. Alone time. Silence. Comfort.
A knock on the door.
I jump up. Still in my Inhaler shirt and lacy white skirt, I feel like taking a shower. But whoever just knocked has impeded any plans. I could just pretend I didn't hear them. I could fall asleep and they'll just walk away.
Another knock. I jolt up this time. It's louder.
This time I reach the door. Sliding the keyhole open, I see him. Of course it's him. Of course. Of all the people that could be here right now. His hair is wet, mussed up. He's holding his jacket under his arm as it's completely drenched. Looking from side to side, he seems to contemplate giving up and leaving me solitary.
I open the door. Let my guard down. I want to talk. Rant. Let out all the garble mixing up and stuffing my skull. He'd listen to me.
"What are you doing here?" I ask. I don't say it rudely. Make sure to keep my tone quiet and curious. The rise of his head to meet my eyes is almost film-like, tracing along my skin, photographic.
"I need to talk to you."
"Come in then."
Close the door behind him. He drops his jacket onto the floor. Slides off those shoes with a groan. They really are too small on him. He can hardly untie the laces without sucking in a quick breath. He looks at himself in the dodgy mirror, trying to fix any flying pieces of hair. His beard is growing a little — little moustache fading in above his mouth.
He sits down on a chair by the table. His lengthy legs reach up to the end of the bed where I'm sat. He picks up a tea bag, sniffs it then puts it back. I'm worried about what he's about to say. He looks like he's gone through hell and back to get here. I've never seen him so dishevelled.
"You were amazing today." I hate the silence. I fill it up. "You all get better every time."
He's been so serious since he came in but the ghost of a smile haunts his lips. They twitch then fall. "So do you."
“Is this about your weird For You page because I’m pretty fucking worried.” I’m trying to forget I saw any of those edits.
“It’s not that.” He shakes his head. He's hugging his chest, arms shivering. My eyes narrow. Each hair on his arm is stood to attention.
"Do you want a blanket?" I'm about to look for something to warm him up when his hand clasps around my wrist. He's stood up. I'm sat down, looking up at him. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, over a bracelet I have. One that he gave me when I was sixteen. A friendship bracelet he'd brought to one of the rehearsal sessions. I wore it just to get a reaction out of him. This is the first time he’s noticed it.
I want to ask him what he's doing. But then he's sat next to me with his arms around my body and I forget what I was going to say.
"Robert..." I don't normally say his full name. It's the only word that's coming to mind. His wet hair is dripping all over my skirt, his head is against my chest, he won't look up at me.
When I pick up his face, stretch my hands over his cheeks, I find his crystal eyes glossed over. Tears. He's crying. I don't know how to react. He buries his head back into the crook of my neck like he's embarrassed. Then he's breathing heavily. Heaving. Sniffling.
"What is it?" I whisper. I stroke every inch of his hair, the nape of his neck, the thin material of his vest. I trace the tattoos on his arm. Finally landing on the music notation inked into his wrist.
"I don't want you to leave." He holds onto my waist, under my shirt, cold skin. "Stay here. With me. Please."
I wipe the tears from his face. I must look like a beetroot. I'm boiling.
"Really?" I think I'm crying as well. I can't help it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him so unguarded, so helpless.
"I only sang that song so you'd hear it." He looks up at the ceiling, cogs turning in his brain. "It's not just about a girl. It's about you."
"You're kidding." I have to laugh.
"I'm not. I wrote it during the summer holidays before high school. I had some weird thought that you were going to call me and ask me out. I was always a prick to you so I don't know where that idea was coming from exactly. It's just when you want something so badly—I guess your brain manifests it into reality. Like every time I turned around a corner, I thought you'd magically appear. I thought you'd say that you liked me. But then you went off to Uni, the band got big. And now this. You're in fucking Nieve Ella's band. I thought I was going to throw up when I saw you get out of the train. Everything just came back. I didn't put the song on the album because every time I hear it, I just remember what an idiot I am for not treating you well and for not telling you how I feel. Singing it brought me back to the practice room, to that shitty piano with pedals falling off the hinges. How you made such a disgusting piano sound divine. I don't want to make the same mistake. If I let you go now, I'll be regretting it for the rest of my life."
"So you were looking at me? When you were singing?" I tilt my head, thumb below his eye.
"I might have been." He's not crying anymore. His voice is less rough. He sounds like normal Bobby again.
"I'll stay with you. As long as you want."
"Forever?"
"Bit too long. I can only deal with you for about three hours at a time."
"Then we should make good use of the—" He looks down at his watch. "—Two hours and 43 minutes we have left."
"What do you have planned?" I'm getting closer to him. His nose bumps against mine.
"What do you want to do, Luz?" He's challenging me. Thumb swirling over my lips.
"This." I kiss him. Lips to lips. Two notes in perfect harmony. Everything we've been through culminating into one simple kiss. It's a peck. A tease. I pull away as I feel him yank me closer.
His hands find my ears and it's like that night again. His mouth tastes the same. Sweet. Lukewarm. He still grazes my bottom lip with his teeth when he feels me shift back.
"You're an angel," he says.
At that, I'm kissing him again. This time with more passion. Exploding fireworks. Jumping into the ocean, water floating around you. The ringing in your eyes after an explosion. An earthquake. A tidal wave. So many feelings at once. He's trying to take my shirt off. I let him. Pulled it over my head so quickly I thought he might get my neck off as well. He throws it onto the nearby chair, looking at me, with those glimmering eyes and perfect eyebrows. Beauty spots and smooth skin. I attempt to take off his shirt too, although it's pretty much stuck to his chest. He helps me out, laughing at my stress.
"It's not that hard." He smirks, tugging at the top as I manage to unstick the bottom.
"Fuck off." I roll my eyes.
He pushes me down onto the bedsheets, helping me up until my head is on the pillow. I look over his frame. Long torso, large biceps, chain around his neck. It's too much to deal with. Hooded eyes, smirk on his lips, happy trail leading down to his belt. He knows how he's making me dizzy. He leans down, curling over me, scent hanging, cool skin against mine. I throw my head back. I've never been touched like this. So precise. So gentle. Like I'm his favourite bass guitar. I'd never noticed how long his fingers were until they were splayed over my bra, until the other hand was sliding up my thigh.
He kisses my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, tongue flat, teeth sharp. I hold onto his hair, then onto his toned shoulders. This morning, I would never have expected that this would happen. That the boy I loathed was admiring me and tasting me with unrelenting adoration. Now, the thought of leaving him makes me sick to my stomach. I pull him a little closer, kiss him a little harder and remember just how red teenage Bobby's face was after he'd sang that song to me. How defensive he was when I asked him about it. Now it all makes sense.
I won't ever leave him again.
#robert keating#bobby skeetz#inhaler dublin#inhaler band#inhaler imagines#inhaler fanfiction#fanfiction#inhaler oneshots#elijah hewson#josh jenkinson#ryan mcmahon#nieve ella#inhaler fanfic#inhaler#eli hewson#robert keating fanfiction#bobby skeetz fanfiction#louis lambo#inhaler imagine#fanfics
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lover → r. mcmahon
pairing —ryan mcmahon x fem!reader
summary —what ryan would be like as your silly little rockstar boyfriend <3
can i go where you go? can we always be this close? forever and ever
watching father ted together
you'd probably end up learning some of the quotes with him
randomly reciting said quotes while the band are just sitting around
it's giving mother and father
it's giving cutest couple of the year
it's giving got together late teens and will stay together eternally
i have a really cute idea of you being the band's photographer
like imagine you grew up living in the same estate as josh so when he officially joined the band, he ended up introducing you to them
you became great friends with them all and started to take their pictures at gigs and sending them out to media and agencies and venues and everything
you'd film the tour diary videos
there's a very popular clip of ryan taking the camera off of you and bullying you into doing a little talking piece but you keep laughing and looking at him
you're every inhaler fan's fashion inspo
they get sooooo excited to see your fits every gig
you've worn a shirt that says "i ❤️ drummers" at least once
you have the rockstar gf pinterest girlies eating out of the palm of your hand
you'd take so many pictures with, and of, fans too
he'd be giving you sneaky little looks during their set xx
tiktok is full of his cheeky winks to you
the band love you, except for one week in 2022 when you released almost every photo you took on your secondary school film camera
inhaler meme pages across the world will forever be in debt to you
after a few pints you join in on the drummer slander
"my little pocket sized baby"
he's not a big pda guy
BUT he will always hold your hand. anytime, anyplace.
he's such a cutie pie
every picture you take of him have with the cutest heart eyes past the camera, solely on you
before you got with ryan you thought that people who said it was possible to feel loved by just a look were full of shit
not anymore baby
he makes you feel like the only girl in the world
to him, you are
he's so loml coded
#inhaler dublin x reader#inhaler oneshot#inhaler x reader#inhaler dublin#inhaler#ryan mcmahon#ryan mcmahon x reader#elijah hewson#robert keating#bobby skeetz#josh jenkinson
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park: pool party, pt. two ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ eli hewson
✧: part one
paring: eli x fem!oc
summary: surprise date with eli
a/n: a little follow-up blurb for eli's birthday!!
wc: 1.02k
*reblogs, notes, and feedback are greatly appreciated!!
The music gently plays through my headphones, one of my hands twirling my pencil as I look down at my textbook. My head feels dizzy with knowledge, causing me to look out the cafe window. The leaves were finally starting to change color, beautiful reds and oranges littering their crowns.
My phone gently vibrated on the cafe table's wooden surface. A little break would be alright. I pushed the headphones off my head, allowing them to rest around my neck before flipping over my phone. A sense of relief wafted over my body as I saw a text from Eli appear on my screen. It had been a couple of months since the two of us had finally confessed and started dating, and honestly, it had been the best months of my life. But, because of my busy University schedule and his touring, we hadn't been able to see each super often.
I slipped my pen into my textbook as I swiped the message open.
How's the studying going?
I quickly responded; It's fucking brutal. If I read another thing about dead white guys, I might burst into tears
I'm sorry, love. Hang in there. I believe in you xx
I smiled down at my phone. Even though such a simple encouragement came from him, it meant the world. I decided not to put my headphones back on and just enjoy the sound of the cafe around me; people chatting, the rustling of the baristas behind the counter, and the soft chime of a bell that went off every time someone entered the cafe.
The faint clicking of boots was added to the noise but soon stopped as they reached the other side of my small table. "Is this seat taken?" they said. I glanced up, but only for a second. "No, you're all good." I looked up again, trying to seem somewhat friendly, and that's when I realized it was my wonderful boyfriend. "Elijah!" I practically tackle him into a hug, his familiar smokey wooden scent filling my lungs. His arms wrapped tightly around me a smile spread across his lips.
"I thought you said you wouldn't be back until next week," I say, arms still wrapped around him, trying to convince myself that I wasn't in a dream.
He brushes some of my hair back, his smile widening, "Well... I might have lied so that I could surprise you. So surprise!"
"You are so fucking cute," I kiss him gently, a feeling of pressure being released in my body after not being able to be with him for so long.
He hums happily as I pull away, "Why don't you take a study break so we can have some fun?"
"That sounds grand!"
By the time I was shoving all my things into my bag, everyone in the cafe had their eyes on the two of us. A group of girls about my age, maybe younger whispering to each other with wide eyes. Honestly, they could stare all they wanted. I was just happy to be back with my boy.
"Here, let me take that," Eli said, taking my backpack from my hands and slipping it over one of his shoulders. "Such a gentleman," I kiss his cheek, my arm lacing around his as we walk out of the cafe. "So where are we going exactly?" My fingers laced between his, the cold metal of his rings pressing into my skin. "It's a surprise," he said with a cheeky smile. Laughing, I roll my eyes slightly. "You are your surprises."
Once the two of us reached Eli's car, he threw my stuff into the back, and we got in and drove to the undisclosed location. The windows were rolled down, allowing the cold fall air to whip my hair around and prickle my skin. Music was blasting, the two of us singing along at the top of our lungs. Eli always looked the most beautiful when he was like this; happy, cheeks turned pink from the cold air, eyes shining like they held the universe.
After driving for a little while, we finally reached a small park. It was dotted with people laid out on blankets or couples walking dogs together as they talked, their words forming clouds in front of them. Large trees were placed randomly, piles of leaves close by as they started to shed them as the colder months crept closer. The two of us exited the car, Eli's arm finding its natural place around my waist. "Do you remember this place? We used to come here all the time when we were kids." I nod, looking up at him and smiling. "Yeah! Ugh, we used to have so much fun." I take his hand into my own, our arms swinging as we walk down one of the various paths.
"I bet I can beat you to that tree," I say, pointing to a big oak tree a few meters away. He cocked his eyebrow, laughing, "Oh really?" he nudged my arm. "Yep! Okay, ready? Go!" I say in one big breath, my hand breaking away from his as I start to run. "You little-!" He yells out, chasing after me. Before I could reach the tree, Eli's arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back and causing us to fall into a pile of leaves.
The two of us couldn't control our laughter. Laughing until we almost started crying. Once we settled, I shifted to get a better view of Eli. Leaves of red and yellow surrounded him, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the cold. I couldn't help but feel so in love at that moment. I moved some hair out of his face, allowing his shining eyes to become clearer.
"I love you," I smiled, my hand cupping his cold cheek. "I love you more," He leaned into my touch, eyes never wavering from mine. "I love you most," He chuckled gently, rolling his eyes before pulling me closer. "Oh shut up," He said before the two of us melted into the most perfect kiss.
We were drunk with love in a pile of leaves like nothing else mattered.
#eli hewson#elijah hewson#bobby skeetz#inhaler band#inhaler dublin#josh jenkinson#robert keating#inhaler#inhaler dublin x reader#inhaler oneshot#ryan mcmahon
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