Actually On My Knees Begging For A Girl Next Door Blurb With Ellie

yandere!miguel o’hara x reader

hopping on the band wagon 🙈 i’m still in camp spot but i can appreciate miguel from afar…. so dreamy! also sorry for so much italics in this one i dont know what came over me…

MY SPIDERVERSE BRAINROT IS SO STRONG BAHAHAHHA

also if anyone wants to talk to me about miguel… OR THE SPOT!!! my inbox is open 😈

also if you want to check out my yandere spot fics…. HERES ONE! yandere the spot x reader

TWs: yandere, violence, drugging (VENOM FANGS YIPPEE!!!!), etc.

Afficher davantage

quite like this.

request: Haii uhm for the ff7 requests ! I don’t know if you have played rebirth but since there are the golden saucer dates, i was maybe thinking you could do a reader x cloud having a date? Maybe the two have feelings for each other but they are completely oblivious that the feeling is mutual, and they both think their feelings aren’t reciprocated. Maybe the others know about this and so they make it as if to leave them alone during their time there, and you know it all goes from there? Obviously if you don’t like the request that’s alright! by: anonymous.

a/n: eeeeeeee second ff7 imagine :))) i planned to write for zack next tbh but i couldn't pass up this request. it's so cute!

tw: obviously spoilers for rebirth! don't read if you haven't gotten to chapter 12 of the game

pairing: cloud strife x f!reader

It was the most colour you’d ever seen in your life.

And everyone looked so happy.

You could barely contain the excitement bursting through your chest, eyes wandering across with the brightest smile plastered across your lips. You’re blissfully unaware of the pair of eyes watching you, lost in your own thoughts as your feet shuffle beneath you, antsy.

But not sure what you’re antsy for. Or what you want to do.

“Me and Aerith are gonna go look at the chocobo racing.”

Blinking, you’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of Tifa. When you turn to look at her, she’s already looking at you, a warm smile on her lips as she gestures behind her to Aerith. 

You glance in the direction of the Chocobo racing and think that it could be fun. You’re overwhelmed with the amount of options at the Gold Saucer and you were happy as long as you were with your friends so you step towards them, lips parting to say you’ll join the two girls but then Aerith is grabbing Tifa’s wrist and the two girls are turning around before you even have the chance.

“We’ll see you later!”

Hand held out in front of you, you frown.

“I’m off too!” Yuffie calls in the next second, already shuffling backwards as she sends you a wink and a slap on Barret’s shoulder.

“Oh, but Yuffie–”

“I’m gonna try to get some rest,” Barret calls out gruffly, nudging Cloud who is standing beside you and sends you a nod. “I’ll be at the hotel.”

You blink, lips curved downwards and move to step towards him but he’s already turned his back to you.

“Me and the laddie are gonna look at the battle arena,” Cait calls out, perched on Red’s back as he tips his head at you. You meet his eyes before drifting down to Red’s who is staring up at you in return. “Red showed some interest, you see!”

“Thought I could take some notes,” Red nods at your questioning look. “We’ll see ya.”

And with a speed only Red seems to manage, the two are off before you can offer to join them.

Once they disappear from your sight, you slump back, a huff leaving your lips as you glance around, suddenly realizing that everyone except for Cloud had left, none of them giving you a single chance to ask if you could join them. Realistically, you’d expected to join Tifa and Aerith, but you would’ve had fun with any of your friends.

Well, you guessed Cloud was still here, but you’d imagined he wouldn’t necessarily want to go sightseeing with you; even if that reality hurt your heart in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Sighing, you turn to look at Cloud only to be surprised when his eyes are already on you.

“Did you have plans to?” Cloud asks, voice soft as he raises a brow in question.

Frowning, you shrug, turning away from Cloud to glance around you. “Not sure. Everyone ran off before I could ask to join them.”

“Well.”

And when Cloud doesn’t say anything else, you turn to him in curiosity, wondering if something was wrong, only to be surprised when you see he’d taken a step forward and his arm was held out towards you for you to grab. You blink, once, twice, eyes flickering from his outstretched arm back to his eyes that continue to stare at you in question, silently inviting you in a way you never would’ve expected.

“You want to?” You ask softly in return, feeling your cheeks warm as you lower your gaze, suddenly feeling a whole lot more bashful than you had seconds before. It was one thing to constantly feel Cloud’s presence beside you, a dominating aura that never left you in the way you loved.

He was always near, and it was hard to sometimes pull your gaze away. And the two of you had talked before, you felt that you actually got along well with the boy in the scheme of things given that the truth was he wasn’t all that chatty. But you’d never been alone with you. Not like this. And not in a place like this either.

A quick glance around you told you that you weren’t crazy for assuming this place felt more intimate. There were couples everywhere, holding hands, smiling at each other, kissing, in their own worlds with all the lights and chatter and the warmth of each other.

Being in a place like this, alone, with Cloud made your heart race in a way that made it hard to focus and the worst part was that he probably didn’t even realize it.

“If you want,” he answers gently, nodding, arm still held out towards you. “You looked disappointed that everyone else ran off. But… you don’t have to hang with me if you don’t–”

Feeling guilty you’d made him think you didn’t want to hang with him, and knowing that was quite literally the far opposite of the truth, you hastily shake your head, cutting off his words. You step forward, ignoring the lurch of your heart as you wrap your arm around his own, your hand falling against his bicep. You try to ignore how strong and toned his arm feels beneath your skin, and how instantly you feel a lot hotter than you had seconds ago, keeping your gaze strictly ahead of yourself.

You pray Cloud can’t feel how fast your heart is beating.

Cloud shuffles on his feet for a moment before he glances down at you; “where do you wanna go?”

-

You ended up wandering for a good while.

Nothing particularly caught either of your eyes but you didn’t mind. If you were being truthful, it was enough to just be able to spend this time with Cloud, alone.

Even if it didn’t feel the same to him, which you’re sure it didn’t. Even if this was just a courtesy he’d done for you because he’d seen how sad and pathetic you’d looked after everyone else had run off from you. It didn’t matter. Not at that moment. It was just enough for you then that you got to be with him, close to him like this.

“Do you wanna go on?”

It takes you a second to realize Cloud is speaking but you feel him shift and watch as he points before the both of you, your eyes following the point of his finger only to fall on the Skywheel. 

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks grow warm. “Don’t we need tickets for that?”

You glance around, trying to find the ticket booth, secretly hoping there were even tickets left before Cloud speaks up again.

“No worries,” he calls and your eyes fall on him as he holds two tickets before you. At your wide expression, he lets out a tiny smile. “Tifa handed these to me before her and Aerith ran off.”

Your eyes widen and suddenly it clicks.

Clearly, Tifa and Aerith hadn’t purposely left you like you’d worried. This had all been a plan from the beginning! A plan because you’d told them of your feelings for Cloud when the two had cornered you for the truth. Tifa was hard enough to dodge on her own like you’d grown to learn over the past few years but with the added addition of Aerith, the two were like an unstoppable force and your confession had practically been pulled out of you.

Your chest tightens with worry.

Poor Cloud. Being wrapped up in those twos’ schemes… You’d hoped he maybe did want to hang with you after all, but it was probably more likely that Aerith and Tifa had forced him to take you on the date and had left him no choice when they’d run off.

Which meant the others were probably in on it too…

Oh, you were so going to kill them.

“I’m so sorry,” you find yourself saying before you can stop yourself. Your hand falls to your forehead, pulling away from Cloud’s arm and you miss the way he frowns at the loss of your touch. Brushing back your hair, you meet his eyes. “Tifa and Aerith forced you to spend time with me tonight, didn’t they? That’s why they gave you the tickets… I’m sorry, Cloud. I know you probably would’ve preferred to do your own–”

You're cut off but his hand on your arm, holding tightly enough to pull your attention on him. He’s stepped towards you, closed the distance between the both of you, close enough that his chest presses against your own. Your eyes widen when you realize how close he actually is, feeling your breath get caught in the back of your throat as you stare back at him with parted lips.

“No,” he calls out, the words rushed. “I wanted to spend time with you! I mean, yes… Tifa and Aerith gave me the tickets but they didn’t force me to. I was actually trying to find the way to ask you but I didn’t know how and they saw that so they… Well, um, helped, I guess.”

Cloud desperately avoids your gaze, cheeks warm in a way you’ve never quite seen before and he actually seems genuinely embarrassed as the both of you stand there for a moment longer. His words are still processing in your mind, lips left parted as you feel your heart start to race all over again and the warmth floods you tenfold as his words finally click.

Cloud… Cloud wanted to spend time with you.

“Oh,” you finally manage, glancing at your feet. “Well… me too. I-I mean, I, um, wanted to spend time with you too…”

Cloud’s lips part, and then the two of you are staring at each other.

“Last call for the Skywheel!”

Both of your eyes snap to the attendant standing at the ferris wheel, and with one final look at each other, you both step forward. Cloud hands the ticket to him and then a cart pulls up a second later. You step in first, sitting down and Cloud follows a moment later, and when you expect him to take the seat opposite of you, he instead chooses to sit next to you.

The door to the cart shuts and the attendant wishes you well before you feel yourself moving, slowly going higher and higher. Hands resting at your sides, you try to ignore the nerves bubbling through you, letting your eyes drift across the fireworks dancing across the sky, taking in all the colours.

Then, at first faintly, you feel Cloud’s left hand ghost across your right one. You feel yourself freeze, but you hesitate glancing at him, letting your fingers shift slightly in return, inviting him, and a second later he obliges when you feel his fingers thread through your own. You flip your palm, letting him press his own against yours and smile when you feel him squeeze.

Finally, you let your eyes fall on him and he’s already looking at you, expression soft, not guarded in the way it usually is, and you smile, just faintly, swallowing your nerves.

“Cloud,” you find yourself whispering.

He’s leaning forward, inch by inch, hand never leaving your own. “You’re… beautiful,” he whispers in return to his name and you blink, that flutter returning.

That was the last thing you expected Cloud to say. You never knew he could be so… romantic when he wanted to. But you can tell he means the words, his sincerity floods his tone and it makes your heart burst with the warmth of the feelings you’ve desperately tried to ignore.

His lips are a breath away and all it takes is one more hesitant glance at his eyes before you close the gap and press your lips against his. Cloud doesn’t hesitate to respond, the hand holding your own holding tight as his eyes flutter shut and his free hand falls to your waist, pulling you closer.

You lean into his touch with ease, feeling his warmth envelope you in a way it never quite has before.

And then, as he leans back, and you both pull away, his forehead rests against your own, and you breathe in his scent and his presence, relishing in the way it feels to have him so close.

“I like you,” you whisper in the silence, eyes still shut. “I… really like you.”

Clouds hand twitches against your side and he nudges you with his nose. “Me too,” he mumbles, “if that wasn’t obvious.”

You let out a laugh, letting your eyes flicker open as you pull back, hands still intertwined and shoulders still touching but enough that you can see his face properly. He’s smiling, just faintly, in a very Cloud way but it still touches your heart to see you’d been able to make him smile, and the lights of the fireworks dance across his pale skin and butterflies flutter through your stomach.

It’s exactly and nothing like how you’d dreamed this moment would be.

And you love every second of it because no one has ever quite looked at you the way he does in that moment.

in which: bakugou only shows his dimples around you

sfw, fluff, dialogue heavy, humour, this is a quick drabble i whipped up from an idea i created ages ago bc my 8k word bkg fic WON'T POST AGHHH!

"i love dimples, they're so cute!" mina squeals from beside you whilst you were hunched over the dorm's coffee table, finishing outstanding calculus questions you hadn't completed during class.

"me too," you absentmindedly murmur, reaching for your calculator to input a definite integral. "people say that they are kisses from angels, as if that isn't the cutest thing ever."

the pink-haired wails, "stop it! i wish i had dimples."

"if you try hard enough, then maybe," you snort before turning the page of your maths textbook. "i remember people would press pencils to their cheeks to make it appear. it would work for like five minutes."

"well, duh they're not gonna be permanent, i'm not that stupid."

"you always ask me what two plus five is."

"uncalled for, that's not the same!" mina slaps the back of your head, causing you to hold it whilst hissing in pain.

"okay, i'm sorry!" you exclaim, shielding yourself in case she hits you again.

thankfully, mina is pacified again, returning her chin to her palm as she fiddles with her nails. she remains quiet for a few minutes, allowing you to concentrate on your work before she pipes up again. "jirou has cute dimples."

you hum in agreement. "yaomomo too, on both cheeks," you add.

"kaminari too!"

"and bakugou."

mina darts up, back now as straight as a pole as she gawks at you with the weirdest expression. did you grow two heads or something? what was so weird about bakugou having dimples?

"no he does not!" counters mina.

"he does! on his right cheek!" you even point to it for good measure. "surprised me too when i saw it for the first time but it's actually really prominent! i don't know how we never noticed it before."

"you're lying to me. bakugou katsuki could never have dimples, he's too evil for that."

"he's not that evil."

"are we talking to the same bakugou? he threatened to blow me up the other day."

you laugh at the memory, an action mina doesn't appreciate. "i was there for that. anyways. his dimple is just something he's born with, it's not ordained by personality, what's the big deal?"

"what part of bakugou being too evil to have something as pure as a dimple do you not understand?"

your homework now lays unfinished and forgotten as you begin having a quarrel about your classmate and the mystery surrounding a feature that was given to him from birth. the blond shows it quite often, how come mina's not seeing it?

she then begins pulling up numerous photos and selfies; none of which have the evidence of bakugou's dimples. you furrow your brows in confusion, swiping through and zooming in to no avail of finding any remnants of a dimple.

strange.

you know you can't be imagining this.

"yo mina, y/n!" a deep, raspy voice comes from the entrance of the common room. you both turn around in shock to see your fellow red-haired classmate approaching.

immediately, you turn off mina's photo to rid any evidence of your previous conversation. because wherever kirishima is, bakugou normally follows.

"i'm gonna kick your ass in mario kart!" comes an explosive voice from behind. there he was.

kirishima leans over the couch where mina was sitting on. "what are you both up to?"

"oh y/n and i were just chilling. why?"

"oh bakugou and i just wanted to play a round of mario kart, that's all! hope we're not bothering you."

you pipe up from where you were still trying to figure out maths equations, "mina talks my ear off whilst i'm trying to solve these questions. i think i'll be okay with you two."

before mina could slap the back of your head again, a shadow looms your textbook and tufts of blond hair appear in the corner of your eye.

"you got that wrong," bakugou says after not even two seconds of reading your equation.

"eyes off my book," you exclaim, about to cover the pages with your hands when the explosion-quirk user snatches it away from under you. he continues reading through it like it was some newspaper article.

he does this all with a proud smirk on his face. "question 2 wrong, question 7 wrong, question 15 wrong," rambles your classmate, ignoring the way you were demanding it back.

"i'm going to fuck you up. give me back my book."

"damn your handwriting is messy."

your punch his arm lightly. he laughs at the impact, uneffected. "yours is illegible!" you shout back, challenging him with a nasty glare.

mina and kirishima watch with amused expressions at the disputation occurring in front of them. however, the pink-haired feels the world stop for a moment when she notices something very interesting.

a dimple. on bakugou's right cheek. just like you said.

something she has never seen before.

then she notices the way he looks at you. despite teasing you and making fun of you, there's an undeniable look of fondness evident in his eyes, one that grows the more you threaten him with unspeakable acts of violence.

his smirk grows softer, becoming that of a lopsided grin when bakugou gives you your textbook, confessing that none of the questions were wrong and that he was just 'messin' around'.

as it turns out... bakugou katsuki does have dimples, but they only appear around you.

Eddie Munson’s house (With some details!)

It truly is perfection

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫  

part one | part two

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. now friends, you, eddie and junie take a trip to the city. queue oreos with double the cream, a sock related mishap, a display of strength, storybooks, matching pajamas, a velveteen rabbit and a tray of cupcakes to eat on the drive home [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, eddie’s mom implied to have passed away, mention of past falsely presumed self-harm (not graphic, just baby eddie scratching a rash and wayne worrying), hair tourniquet + intense panic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie doesn't mean to come knocking. He's staring at the ceiling with an open tray of Oreos on his chest, chewing through the boredom of a Monday evening and the pain of an aching back when he thinks of you and Junie. 

Toddlers like cookies, right?

He shoves his socked feet into poorly laced converse and turns out all the lights as he leaves. The door slams shut behind him, a rattling of metal ringing into the crisp night while he takes his steps two at a time. 

He starts up the street to your trailer and slows as your home comes into view. The lights are on, the curtains open. You stand in the middle of the room with your eyes closed, stretching to one side with your arms held high above your head. He can see the moment your back pops, see the tension of the day slip away just slightly. The exposed stretch of your tummy shines in the light.

You say something to Junie. He decides to stop acting like a stalker and bumps up your steps, hesitating at the door with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

What the fuck was he going to say? Hey, guys, I brought a half-eaten tray of cookies. Um. Because I missed you both? Sorry if that's weird? 

"What kind of loser…" he scathes. He doesn't finish, bringing his hand to the door and knocking with a haphazard explanation waiting on the tip of his tongue. 

You open the door a short few seconds later. You smile wide, wide enough to open the yawning gap in his chest all over again. Tonight when he goes home he'll have to close it like he has to so often lately after seeing you. Pretend his feelings for you – whatever they are – are smaller, less terrifying. 

"Eddie," you say, and the gap stretches with how you say it, fond and warm and breezy. "Hey, where's your jacket? It's too cold to walk over here without one." 

He doesn't have to explain himself at all, as it turns out. You open the door and step aside to let him past. 

He grins at you. "Thought I'd brave the great outdoors without any armour." 

You nod like it isn't all nonsense to you and maybe it isn't, maybe being friends with him is clueing you in to all his fantastical lingo. He likes you more for it either way, especially when you say, "You need a healing potion. It's freezing."  

You're embarrassed at your attempt. Eddie can't believe how cute you are, lost for words and flailing. His chest warms with affection.

Junie saves you both, whizzing down out of the nest of pillows where she'd been buried on the couch and across the room with surprising speed and accuracy, barrelling for his knees. He grins as she wraps herself around them and starts talking. 

It's mostly unintelligible until she says, "Hi! Hi, Eddie!" 

He hugs her back with his hand. "Hi, Junie. Good evening." 

"Good," she manages in return. She's all but mastered good morning and afternoon but evening continues to elude her. 

"What were you watching? Your Muppet Babies?" He looks at the screen to find Kermit, the green frog, singing a song. "Been doing some singing practice for the band?" 

"You want coffee?" you ask. Aforementioned healing potion. "I have decaf." 

"I brought cookies." 

"Warm milk it is," you declare, disappearing behind one of the kitchen cabinets. 

Your bravado makes him laugh. 

He finds his attention stolen once again by your lovely daughter when she complains, glaring up at him fiercely and coveting his hand. He balances the Oreos on your table by the door and offers her both, naked of their usual rings bar one. 

Junie drags him over to her pillows and tries to climb back up. She refuses to let go of his hand, making it an insurmountable feat. Eddie awes at her efforts and helps her back into the nest, hands closing around her small waist and lifting. 

He drops her into the pillows with just enough roughness to garner a laugh. "Sorry, my hands slipped. Hey, what's going on here, junebug? This isn't your usual hangout." 

"I felt bad because she's always on the floor," you call from the kitchen. He can see your hands and your torso through the gap of countertop and cabinets. You pour milk into a pan on the stovetop and tap your fingers against the handle frenetically. He wonders if you're anxious about something. 

Junie whines until Eddie sits next to her. As soon as he's situated she takes his hand again insistently and turns her attention to the television. He rubs the soft, small back of her hand with a less soft thumb and peers down the way at you. 

"She loves the floor,” he says.

"I know," you mumble ruefully. A tad theatric. He must be rubbing off on you. "I had to bribe her into sitting on the couch." 

"Yeah? What's the tab?" 

"A few dozen kisses and all the pillows from my bed." 

"Shame it wasn't half a tray of cookies." 

"I think those might help me out." 

After you've poured the milk into two tall glasses, you admit to him in a smaller voice that you're not sure if Junie likes Oreos. 

"'Cos they're bitter?" he asks. 

Milk in hand, you sit in the free seat next to Eddie and try not to sound as embarrassed as he knows you're feeling when you say, "She's never had them." 

"I'll bring chocolate chip next time." 

You shake your head vehemently. "You don't have to bring anything, ever." 

"I like sugar." 

You smile at him like you know he's trying to make you feel better, a touch shame-faced. He smiles at you in return and hopes it shows how much it doesn't matter – bringing snacks with him when he visits is hardly a generosity. You're friends. 

He keeps trying to have that conversation with you, about sharing and money and all that terrible, embarrassing hardship that isn't embarrassing whatsoever but the words taste like chalk in his mouth.

Instead, he offers the hand that hasn't been stolen by Junie to you for a glass of milk. "One of those for me?" 

You pass it to him. 

"Why'd you feel bad? You're not forcing her," he says as he takes a sip. 

"You don't think it looks cruel?" 

"No way. She's one of the happiest babies I've ever met, who cares if she lies on the floor?" 

"How many babies do you know?" 

"One." 

You're laughing when you say, "I don't know. I think it's a habit. But we have a couch, so she should sit on it." 

Eddie retrieves the Oreos. Junie watches curiously as he peels open the tray, four rows, two empty and two full of black and white cookies. 

He takes one and passes it to you without looking at you. Eye contact gives you the opportunity to reject it. 

When he's heard the soft crunch of your first bite, glass of milk between his knees, Eddie holds an oreo up purposefully and twists. "See, Junie?"

He licks a big stripe over the vanilla cream. The cream spreads edge to edge as he pushes both sides back together. Softened by a generous dip in milk, he eats the cookie in one vagabond bite. 

"You wanna try?" he asks when he's done. 

Big hands over her small ones, Eddie shows her how to twist an Oreo open. She brings the cookie with the least of the cream to her mouth and bites it. Her pout wobbles in mild disgust. Eddie tries not to laugh. 

She has to like Oreos. They're a staple. 

"Let me show you," he says gently, taking the cream heavy side out of her hands. Dark crumbs stain his fingers as he holds it up to her face. "You gotta lick it." 

She doesn't want to, evidenced by her wrinkled nose and untrusting gaze. 

"You'll have to do it for her," he tells you gravely. 

Moving to kneel in front of him, you take the oreo out of his hands and lick it before stealing back the half of the cookie Junie had been munching on and squishing them back together. You dunk her sandwich in milk and press it to her lips until she deigns to take a small bite. 

"Yummy?" you ask.

She takes the cookie back, a mess of dark black mush collecting at the corners of her mouth as she eats it.

You gaze up at him from the floor. Your eyes look damn pretty, more so when he offers the tray to you, your smile a beacon. "I haven't had Oreos since I was a kid," you say excitedly.

"Do they taste like you remember?" 

You rest your hand on his knee and lean in. "They need more of the filling," you say secretively. 

"Yeah?" Eddie's in motion, twisting one oreo apart and then another. He takes the halves with the most cream and pushes them together. 

One oreo, twice the cream.

You giggle as he passes it to you. "Oh my god." You're giddy, arm heavy on his thigh. 

You eat it like it's something crazy expensive, all smiley and indulgent. You look so pleased that he immediately starts to make you another. 

"Eddie," you protest, covering your mouth, "don't, don't waste them." 

"I won’t waste them. I like the cookie more than the cream,” he lies. 

"Oh." 

You finish your oreo. Eddie can’t find it in himself to be modest about it; you’re smiling and it’s his doing and that fills him with pleasure. 

He watches you mistreat his jeans as you chew the second, your fingers pulling distractedly at the rips. You tuck your hand underneath, white threads tensing over your knuckles and fingerprints brushing over his kneecap, your entire face cringing as a thread snaps from the pressure. 

Eddie looks away quickly. He can feel your eyes on him and has to bite back a smile as you assess if you’ve been caught. 

You could ruin them completely for all he cares. 

Junie makes happy noises beside him. She’s realised the middle of the Oreo is the sweetest and has split one open in her hands. A terrible mess ensues, cocoa powder fingerprints smattered over the pillows she’s buried in and vanilla cream marring her nose in a sticky line.

“Could you make any more of a mess for your poor mom?” he asks. The rhetoric is lost on her; she says something cheerful and holds her hand out for another cookie. 

Her face — expectant, small, cute, all of it evokes an uncontrollable urge to do whatever it is she wants him to do. 

“Is that, like, a kid thing?” he asks. 

You pull your fingertips away from his skin and cock your head. “What?”

He splits an oreo and offers Junie the cream-heavy half, clarifying through a mouthful of dark cookie, “Following her every command.”

You sit at full height. He instantly misses the heat of your front to his knees, the way you’d draped yourself over him familiarly, and is wondering how he might begin to convince you to do so again as you think it over. 

“I don’t know. Maybe. It might just be a Junie thing, but I guess that’s immature to think. S’pose it’s hormones or something. Like when cats meow.”

He giggles at you. Hormones? Cats?

“What?” you ask, half defensive, half sheepish. 

“I just- I love it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?” 

He shrugs and takes another pull of milk to think of a way to say, Well, when you’re tired you get nonsensical, and it’s charming how confident you are but hard to follow without offending you. Is there a way to say that without offending you? Or worse, without revealing every wretched feeling he has for you?

“I sounded pretty stupid,” you summarise. 

“No! Never. I love that you think like that. That you’d think about cats meowing.”

“They do it to manipulate us,” you explain. 

He can almost see the heat of an embarrassed flush radiating off of your cheeks, the press of your lips so endearing he almost leans forward to feel it. He can imagine it, his thumb over your mouth, the pad pulling down your bottom lip. 

There’s an arrogance in thinking you’d let him. 

“Jungle cats, tigers and lions and stuff, they don’t meow,” and you’re still going! He has to cover his mouth with his hand to stop from bursting. “Because they don’t need to. They have no idea what a baby sounds like, and they don’t need us to take care of them so they’ve never learned how to meow. Babies are like that. We hear them crying and we want it to stop.” You have a smile on your face that says, I don’t know if what I’m saying is true, but I’m gonna pretend it is. Pretend with me?

Eddie’s all about pretending. “Cats are master manipulators,” he eggs you on, "but you realise not everyone wants babies to stop the way you do? Some people just don’t like babies.” 

“That’s okay. More babies for me.” You lean out to tap his forehead. “Touch wood.”

“What?” he asks. 

“Touch wood,” you repeat. “I don’t actually want more babies right now, don’t wanna jinx myself by saying it, so I had to touch wood. You don’t have that superstition?”

“Are you saying my head is made of wood?” 

Your sudden laugh is stunning; he can’t bring himself to be offended. 

When Junie's had more Oreos than she should've and the milk's all gone Eddie stands up before you can do it yourself and takes the empty glasses with him, putting them on the kitchen counter with a click. 

He grabs an almost empty pack of wet wipes off of the top of the refrigerator and sits down next to Junie, talking fast in hopes of distracting her.

"I got a call last night," he begins, pulling a wet wipe from the pack and taking Junie's wrist into his hand. He doesn't use the wipe at first, tryimg to convince her that this is all affection. "The phone went ring ring," he rolls the sound around, "and I was thinking, who the heck is calling me so late?" 

He plays up his outrage but keeps a huge smile in place as he works his thumb into Junie's palm, tickling in circles. 

"So I answer the phone, and I say, who is this? And you know who it is?" 

Junie waits, looking like she might be close to laughing. And he's just getting started. 

Eddie takes a deep breath. "Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here! Is this Junie on the other end?" 

What his impression lacks in accuracy it makes up in enthusiasm. 

Her little mouth opens. He wipes the corners with the wet wipe and then her chin. "So I said, no, Mr. Frog, I'm Junie's neighbour. I'm Eddie.

"Kermit said, you can call me Kermit, thank you very much. Mr. Frog was my father." 

You snort beside him. He tries not to look at you because he knows your happy face will stop him in his tracks, your laughter enough to make him smile and break character.

He squares his expression and begins again. "I need to talk to Juniper, it's very important." He wipes down her sticky hands, her stained fingers and palms, worse than smug when she doesn't complain and pull them away. "I said, I'm sorry Mr. Kermit but I can't put her on, she's all safe and snug in bed with her mom. And Kermit said, oh, okay. Well, please tell Junie this." 

Junie's looking up at him, surprised, very pleased, practically wiggling in her seat. She's lovely. Just like her mom. 

He doesn't want to do the voice for this part, struck with a sudden sense of awe. "She is… the smartest, most prettiest, loving little girl in the whole world." 

Eddie beams at her and drops her damp hands. When he impersonates Kermit this time, he's trying as hard as he can. "I'd only like her more if she were green!" 

-

You're clinging to sanity. 

It's Wednesday, it's washing day, and you haven't managed a single load of clothes since you got home because Junie won't stop crying. This isn't new; babies cry constantly and toddlers aren't much different. But, it's been three hours. She's too old for colic. 

Junie has screamed, she's sobbed, she's slapped her tiny hands into your chest. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you, she's just communicating her panic. That doesn't stop the growing distress. 

You're terrified. 

You've found yourself in tears, too. 

"Just tell me, baby," you plead. 

It's useless. She screams so loud her voice cracks, and you decide that nows the time. You have to go to the hospital. 

You don't think you can let her go long enough to strap her into her car seat. Immediately, you think of Eddie. You don't even lock the door. The small walk to his house feels a block long.

He must hear her crying as you approach because the door swings open just as you mount the first step. You backtrack. 

"I'm really sorry," you say quickly, knowing this isn't something he ever signed up for. "I don't know what to do, she won't stop and I think there's something wrong." Your voice wobbles.

There's a huge flash of something akin to the panic you're feeling over his face but he pushes it away, descending the steps two at a time. His hand immediately comes up to your shoulder, fingers curled into your shirt. 

"Chill out," he says, more stern than you've ever heard him. It’s surreal to see him turn like that. Almost like he’s become one of his characters, the voices he does for Junie’s story books. 

You take a ragged breath. 

"I'm serious. You need to calm down. You understand?" 

Junie gives a blistering shout and your face crumples. "Eddie," you say. 

"Can I hold her?" he asks, softer. 

You can see in his face that he isn't sure, that he's out of his depth, but you're so desperate for a life raft that you nod and squeeze your eyes closed, passing her into his waiting arms. Everytime she cries – every wicked intake of air and every subsequent bellowing sob makes your chest ache. You have a splitting headache. Honestly, you're worried you might fall over. 

"How long has she been crying?" he asks, looking over her face and shoulders with a perplexed frown. 

"Hours. At first I thought she was tired or- or hungry but I've tried everything, Eddie, everything." 

"She was like this when you picked her up?" 

You nod. 

He pats her back, the other hand rubbing down one of her legs soothingly. "Did she hurt herself?" He's looking at you without an ounce of judgement.

"Not- not that I know of." You'd looked under her shirt and trousers already. She doesn't have a single bruise. 

He starts to walk back towards your home. You don't follow at first and he reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you along as he says, "Come on, sweetheart. We'll go down to Hawkins general, yeah? Just to be safe." 

"Yeah." 

Junie screams. "It's okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, again and again and again. He doesn't hesitate, his voice velveteen. 

His hand stays on your arm until you're by the car. He's never done a car seat before and you can tell: he tucks her into it with infinite care but can't work out how to do the buckles. You laugh wetly and then feel very guilty. wiping your face with one hand before ducking down to do them yourself. Junie glares at you as you do, still very much crying and now incensed at being strapped in. 

You stand back to take her in and push your thumbs across her wet cheeks and under her snotty nose uselessly, feeling so sorry for her, so guilty. Why can't you work out what's wrong? Why can't you fix it? 

Eddie stands by your side, waiting.

“You got it,” he encourages as you pull back. "You're okay."

You smile weakly and then narrow your eyes, the two of you seeing it at the same time – Junie reaching desperately for her sock. 

You peel it off with shaking hands and feel another hot shock of tears. There, around one of her toes, is a tourniquet. The skin is swollen but looks unbroken, darkened by blood 

You smile because Oh my god, this is what's wrong, and then you panic twice as much as you had before, because Oh my god, her tiny toe. 

"Eddie, I need- I need something. I need a- a nail scissors or-" You drag your hands down your face, in the thick of it. Adrenaline or cortisol or something must race through your veins, your hands shaking with it.

Eddie pulls you back by the hem of your shirt. "We can't cut it away. You'll never get the blade under that- What is that? A hair?" 

"Yeah. A hair." 

A lightbulb moment. You brush past him and almost fall up the steps back into your trailer. 

"Stay there," you say without any explanation. 

You step over the mess you'd left behind and barrel into the bathroom, clipping your shoulder on the bathroom door and slamming onto your knees. 

You're lucky you have it, a tiny pot of hair removal cream in an old makeup bag under the sink. Resisting the urge to kiss the lid, you rush back out to the car where Eddie holds one of Junie's hands in his. He looks an impossible mixture of worried and relieved when you reappear. 

You elbow digs into his chest as you lean over, opening the cream and smearing a line over Junie's swollen toe. She whimpers and shouts and tries desperately to get out of the carseat and, to your devastation, away from you.

"What is that?" Eddie asks from behind you.

"A hair remover." 

You wipe the delapitor clumsily into your only good jeans so you can take both of Junie's arms into your hands. She doesn't want to be touched but you need to be holding her, at least a little bit. 

"How long does it take?"

"I'm not sure… Not long. If it doesn't work we'll still have to go to the hospital." 

Eddie pushes his hands into the top of your back in answer, his fingers curling either side of your neck like he might give you a massage. You shudder as he pulls you against him, as his fingers trace an invisible pattern.

Junie looks up at you both. Her wounded expression loosens. Maybe she's realised that you've figured out her problem, maybe she's just glad to be looked at. Either way, she subdues. 

The hair removal cream's acrid smell tickles your stuffed up nose. You sniffle and Eddie's fingers work into your neck lightly, a silent and unwavering It's okay.

You don't see the hair snap so much as you see the pressure wean. You smother a sob, your relief palpable as you pull your shirt sleeve down to cover your hand and wipe it away. Junie shrieks. 

You take the hair between your nails and pull.

"Oh my god," you say, holding it up between you. 

Everything feels a little bit hazy after that. Eddie rubs your shoulders placatingly before encouraging you away from the door so he can unclip Junie and pull her out of her car seat. He guides you away from the car and back into your trailer, over the mess and into the kitchen. 

You sit heavily in a battered kitchen chair. Eddie stands in front of you, Junie on his hip and a frown warping his pretty features. She grizzles, less when he sets her down in your lap carefully. 

"Is that okay?" he asks softly. Then, when you nod, "Are you okay? You look like you're gonna pass out." 

"I don't feel well." 

"No, I bet you don't. Take it easy."  

You pull Junie's leg up to examine her foot. Her toes are covered in hair remover still. "Could you get me the baby wipes, please?" 

"Sure can. It'll cost you, though." His joke falls a little flat. You try to smile anyhow, your little huff forcing a last tear. You blink until it's gone, aggravated with yourself. 

After all, her toe looks better. Sore, still swollen, but better. Though you could just be seeing what you want to see. 

Eddie tries to pass you the baby wipes but your hands are shaking too badly to take them. Without a word he opens the pack, kneeling on the floor in front of you to wipe down her foot tenderly. His eyebrows pinch together when she whimpers, and he murmurs a sorry, "I know, I know." 

You're trying very hard to calm down.

"All done," he tells her, parentese in play. "You are so brave, junebug. You're the bravest little girl I've ever met. That's why me and your mom decided you were Juniper the Brave, and you proved us both right." 

He taps the tip of a ring-heavy finger under her chin. You watch from over her shoulder. "Really brave. You did a good job, the best job ever," he praises, tilting his head to catch your eye as he says it. 

You smile at him the best that you can. He holds your gaze for a weighted second and then drops it back to Junie. "Do you feel better?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, only tips her head against your chest. 

Eddie pulls off her remaining sock and waves it at her. "Don't need this." 

"Do you think she'll throw up if I make her some dinner?" you ask, the kind of question you don't usually get to ask someone else. A luxury to defer judgement.

"Maybe. Does it matter?" 

"I don't want to clean up puke," you say pathetically. 

Eddie softens. "I'll clean it up if she pukes. Don't worry about it." 

You don't have to, you want to say. Of course he doesn't have to. 

"Thank you," you say instead, feeling like you could burst into an entirely fresh wave of tears. 

Again, he looks up at you. His smile fades from a cheesy exuberance to something sweeter, a melty-warm thing that has your breath catching. 

"I'm really sorry for just showing up like that," you say tentatively, flushed with heat as you realise what you've done.  

"Don't be." 

"No, because she's- I know you never-" She's mine alone. You never signed up for this. You can't make yourself say it, distracted by his ever-growing smile. "I should've handled it on my own." 

"Your mom really doesn't understand how much I like her," he tells Junie humorously, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "She doesn't have a clue. How much I like you," he adds, hand on your thigh, his finger stroking a line down the length of her leg.

"You didn't have to-" You try, stopping again as he huffs out of the side of his mouth. 

His hand closes around your thigh. You can feel the heat of each of his fingers, the bulk of every heavy ring. 

"It's okay. I promise," he says seriously.

"I got so freaked out, I just…"  You give up. Whatever. He knows what you're trying to say. Hopefully.

Eddie leans forward to kiss your knee. His eyes close, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly over your thigh. 

You blink to yourself in a vain attempt at processing what's just happened when he asks, "Do you still feel sick?"

"No.” Your chest burns.

"In that case, I'll make dinner. A feast." 

Things start to feel better. Details sink in. Your heart slows. What was only Eddie behind the stovetop becomes his dark hair scraped up and wrapped in a hair tie, his sweatpants and unlaced shoes, his white t-shirt with sharpie writing all over. Sounds filter in; the spoon scraping the bottom of the saucepan and his frenetic humming, the sound of his rubber-bottomed cons squeaking over linoleum. 

Junie doesn't cry so much as whine. You press kisses that are more for you than her into her hair and on her forehead, jogging your knee. She's fine. She's okay, and she's here in your lap, and there's nothing to panic over now. 

You try to push away the lingering worry. In the moment, a million thoughts had coalesced into only one. What if she's dying? Meningitis, an aneurysm, cancer. Anything. And now those thoughts fall away, leaving behind only the sharp smell of the hair remover and the salty stick of tears. 

"Do you think I have time to give her a shower before dinner?" you ask softly, clearing your throat for what feels like the twentieth time today. 

"You got it. I'll simmer. You could have one, too, if you want." 

"Do I look that bad?" 

"Worse." He grins at your expression. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful as always, sweetheart."

You carry Junie into the bathroom. There's no tub and she's too big for the kitchen sink, so a shower it is. You stand her up under warm spray and turn her back so the spray misses her eyes. She smiles at the warm water running down her back. The relief to see her happy can't be understated. You hop in at the same time and clean her off, wash her hair, and bedeck her tiny features in big big kisses.

Wrapped in her baby towel – a pink poncho type thing with a hood – you walk her to the bedroom and dry her off as fast as you can. 

"Which ones?" you ask, holding up two pairs of pajamas. 

Junie points at the pink shirt and bottoms printed in bright red strawberries with light green tops, letting you dress her and plonk her at the end of the bed without any fuss. 

"No socks for you," you say lightly, sitting beside her in your towel. 

"No socks," she agrees. 

Even though Eddie's been good to you, you can't help wishing that he wasn't here. What you want more than anything in that second is for Junie to be asleep and for your head to be wedged firmly under your pillow, the sheets to your shoulders, dead to the world. 

Not truly dead, of course. But a minute of silence. 

Junie doesn't seem to know what to do with herself, sitting in companionable silence and stillness with you. Her head falls onto your arm. 

"Are you tired?" you ask quietly, too exhausted for bubbly talk. 

She sighs. You sigh too. 

Eddie hums from the kitchen. 

He kissed my knee.

You think you might have imagined it, if you're honest. It could've been anything against your stockings, the brush off his palm or the back of a warm knuckle, but you'd seen it. His lips, his face turned toward your thigh.

"I think he likes me," you tell Junie. 

She doesn't say anything. When you look down at her she's already looking up, eyes wide with confusion. 

"He kissed me," you whisper, leaning down. "I don't know about you, junebug, but I only kiss the people I care about. For a long time, that's been a really short list." You bump your nose against hers. 

You've just finished getting into your own pajamas when Eddie calls out, "Girls? I know ladies like yourselves need longer to get ready but the mac and cheese is acting weird." 

"Weird?" you mumble, hooking your hands under Junie's armpits. You'd let her walk if you weren't worried for her foot. 

Eddie has created a working man's feast, three identical plates heaping with food. Hills of mac and cheese topped with bacon bits take up half of each plate, fried broccoli and collard greens the other. They're golden, almost red with spices. 

"You can cook," you say, surprised. 

"Don't sound so shocked," he says defensively. He can only hold his facade for a moment, deflating. "I really can’t. I tried to copy what you do, I've seen it enough times…" He shrugs and flops down into his usual chair. "Don't tell me if it's gross." 

"I doubt it's gross." 

You can't be bothered for the high chair. Junie looks like she might be too tired to move so you take the chance and sit her between you and Eddie behind the smaller portion (though using small at all feels like a lie, he's made a lot of food). She can barely see over the table.

"Did you use two boxes?" you ask, picking up Junie's spoon. 

It's all the perfect temperature for a baby, maybe a little cold for an adult. You're so happy to have somebody else cook for you that you'd die before you complained. 

He taps his nose. You pass Junie her spoon.

"What do you mean?" You tap your own nose in imitation. "I'll know when I look." 

"So don't look. Eat." 

You eat. Without asking him too – because you wouldn’t, you never do – he starts to feed Junie.

He might be the nicest boy on this whole damn planet. You look at him thoughtfully. How come we always end up here? At the kitchen table?

He looks right. Too right. He looks like he’s meant to be here, smiling and talking to your baby in hushed, fond tones, airplaning roasted broccoli towards her mouth. 

-

“You’ll stay to watch a movie?” you ask later, trying to hide how lethargic you are with your hands deep in dishwater. 

Eddie wipes a fleck of water off of your cheek with a rag. "Duh." 

On the couch, Eddie sneaks a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re pretending to watch the TV and doing a bad job, your attention stolen over and over by Junie where she sleeps in your lap. Your hand rubs over her small, distended tummy, the other holding her foot carefully. You keep glancing at her toe, much less swollen now and with a healthier complexion, though a cruel line remains from where the hair had cut into her skin. 

You don't touch it, only looking. He worries as a wrinkle appears between your eyebrows. 

Listening intently as he is, he can hear the hitch in your breath. Eddie doesn’t want you to cry again — the first time had been awful enough. Your face covered in tears, coming fast and panicked. It was like you’d hardly noticed you were crying. You’d been so scared that Eddie, despite knowing close to nothing about babies or how to make them feel better, had clung to his calm. He’d stomped down every flicker of panic that had surged and tried his damn best to keep a level head. 

Now, with your sad face and the crisis averted, Eddie feels a pang of terror. Just one. You are completely out of your element, Munson. 

You’re definitely the kind of friends now that can sit on the couch together and not care too much about personal space. Eddie uses this to his advantage and spreads his legs just enough to brush his thigh against yours. You look at him and hide your lingering upset with a small smile. It’s a far cry from the genuine happy grin he’s become familiar with, but you're still beautiful. 

Eddie shuffles across the couch toward you until he can push his hand under your arm. He pulls it to his chest, beware of your tenuously sleeping daughter, and hugs it. 

“I was thinking,” he starts casually, looking down at you. 

Your eyes crease with a playful smile. “Oh yeah?” Like you can’t believe it.

“Yeah, I was,” he says, quiet so as not to wake Junie but extremely passionate. “What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?”

“Nothing." You laugh under your breath.

He glares, faux-offended. Any real offense is swallowed instantly by the sound of your laugh.

“Hm. Anyway, I was thinking,” he begins again, hand running down your arm in what he hopes is a soothing gesture, “that I’d head into the city this weekend. Go to the bookstore ‘n’ the big goodwill by the bus station. I was hoping you’d wanna come with me.” Is he pushing his luck? Maybe. 

You look like you want to say yes, but, “Eddie, I don’t really have the money.”

“I’d pay.” He tries to sell it before you can protest. “I’m asking you to come. Stealing your Sunday. We’d leave early, get breakfast on the way. I don't want to go alone.” I want your company. 

He tries not to show how terrified he is that you’ll say no. 

“I can’t- I couldn’t let you pay for us,” you say, eyes on his chest. 

“Can I tell you something?” You nod. “It would make me… really happy if you did.”

He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t think there’s a way to tell you that won’t involve unveiling his new and shiny feelings for you, feelings that don’t seem to want to slow, or abate, or moderate themselves. Honestly, he doesn’t want them to. 

He wants you to be happy. He wants to take care of you.

It's embarrassing in its intensity. 

You reach over Junie to wrap your hand around his bicep, though you still don’t look like you’re going to say yes. 

He leans in close, tracing the details of your face with a greedy kind of curiosity. “You wouldn’t let me give you anything for the haircut,” he says. “It’s the same, you know? Doing things for the people you care about." 

He says it like the idiot he is, all rough and insincere, like caring about people is dumb. You smile anyways and finally, finally, give him a nod. So small it’s near imperceptible. 

“If you’re sure,” you say. 

“Positive.”

-

Eddie looks good behind the wheel of your car. The wind whips at his hair, curls that had been neat and pretty only an hour ago now starting to frizz. You think the chaos of it suits him. 

He’s singing along to the radio and it’s a song you don’t know. You don’t think Junie knows it either, but she’s signing it like she does, hands flailing in the air and Mr. Bear bouncing in her lap with the force of her dancing. Eddie looks at her in the rear view mirror, beaming brilliantly. 

“Yeah, sing it, junebug!" he encourages. Her voice peaks. 

You laugh and stretch your hands out in your lap, knuckles brushing the sandwiches you’d packed. You’d let Eddie pay for gas, you might even let him buy Junie a book from the bookstore if he’s feeling generous, but you’re really trying to keep his expenses low. Hence, sandwiches. Even now, the idea of him spending money on you makes you feel guilty. 

Deep down – deep, deep down – you want him to. You’re hoping he’ll pick up a book for you, and that fills you with so much shame you have to look away from him, your face to the window. The highway blurs past, the early morning sun lighting the blacktop and bouncing between cars of all kinds coming into the city for a Sunday outing. 

Eddie turns down the radio a tiny bit and reaches across the seat to squeeze your shoulder. “You alright?” he asks without looking at you. 

You tip your head toward his hand. His rings bite into your cheek. 

You’re in the car on a nice day with a nice boy and your pretty baby listening to the radio, the sun at your side and the breeze kissing your warm skin. 

You’d even managed to find a nice shirt to wear. Today is a good day. You won't weigh it down with silly feelings. 

“I’m great.”

He gives you that smile like he doesn’t believe you and his eyes go back to the road. “Can a guy get another sandwich or does he have to beg?” 

You imagine what it might be like to lean over and kiss his cheek. He deserves a good kiss, you think, and then wince as heat blooms from your chest up to your cheeks. You can’t hold in a pleased smile as you click open the Tupperware. 

“Do you want PB&J or bacon and lettuce?” The tomatoes have already been accosted by a ravenous Junie. 

“I’ll have half of whatever you’re having.”

You weren’t going to have one, and you both know that. You offer him half the PB&J and he takes it, eyes flitting between you and the road. You take a showful bite to release him. He gives you a grateful smile in turn. 

Chewing, you take half of the bacon and lettuce sandwich into your hands and pull it apart. You divide the contents and tuck half into one slice to make a quarter sandwich before leaning over the seats to offer it to Junie where she waits in her car seat. She accepts it hungrily. 

One-handed, Eddie pulls the car off of the highway. “There’s a parking garage somewhere around here,” he tells you.

Once he's found it he jumps out to go pay. You turn in your seat and smile at Junie. She's mauling her sandwich, face smeared in butter. 

"Are you ready for some fun?" you ask. 

She looks at you curiously. 

You try again, really smiling. "Are you excited? We're gonna go find a book, something fun like Red Cat, Blue Cat, and we're gonna see the stores and the people and maybe mommy can get you a new teddy." 

A spark of something. She gets happy when you're happy and today's no exception, her tiny features soon plucked up with joy. When you round the car and open her door to wipe down her greasy fingers and face she barely cares, and she receives your loving kisses with a big smile. 

Eddie returns with the parking ticket and slides it onto the dashboard. You leave Junie's door open now he's back to pop the trunk and unfold her stroller. The sound echoes through the parking garage and the sun struggles to find a way in, your arms wracked with goosebumps.

"Hey, junebug," you hear Eddie murmuring. 

He messes with the buckles on her car seat until they pop open, his triumphant laugh almost as pretty as his face. Junie's is prettier, your daughter laughing up a storm as Eddie scoops her up and sits her on his hip. 

He looks like he had when you first met but with ten times the confidence in holding her and a clear affection. Her hands are in his hair like usual, petting and pulling gently. 

"Brush out the tangles for me," he tells her seriously, bumping the door shut. 

She hums like she's agreed to his task and continues her exploring. 

You hang the baby bag over the stroller's handlebar and Eddie sits her in the padded chair. 

"Junie, have I told you how pretty you look today?" he asks, pulling the straps over her shoulders and from between her legs. He uses parentese like you would, distracting her as he locks her in. When the lock click, he plays affectionately with her hair. "You're like a princess. Your mom has talented hands, huh? And a good eye." 

Pleasure from his compliment drips in thick and fast. You bite back a smile and squeeze the clean baby socks in your hands, waiting for him to stand so you can fight them onto Junie’s feet. Ever since her ordeal you’ve been waiting as long as you can before putting on socks and shoes. The first thing you do when you pick her up from daycare is take them off. 

If Eddie thinks you’re overzealous in your fretting he hasn't said anything. He holds his hand out for the socks and you give them to him, nonplussed though you shouldn’t be as he bunches them up and pushes them over her wiggling feet with patience and bemusement. 

“Stay still… Do you want frostbite? Or gangrene?” he asks her.

“Eddie.”

“Sorry." He looks at you guiltily. “In my defense, she doesn’t know what gangrene is.”

“It’s weird, though. To hear you say it like it’s a good thing. S’creepy.”

He squeezes the sole of one of her small feet and stands, much too close to you as he whispers cheerily, “Gangrene. Septicemia. Pneumonia.”

You laugh and push him away from you. “Shut up.”

“You first. Where’re her shoes?” 

You procure them with a smug smile. “You’ll never get them on.”

His fingers brush yours as he takes them, his eyes blazing at the challenge. 

-

“Will you sulk all day?” Eddie asks you.

The sulking is for show. You frown like you’re really angry and tighten your grip on the stroller, the wind ruffling your clothes. After a moment the facade falls away and you smile at him, unable to hide your reluctant affection any longer. “How did you get her to sit still like that? You vex me.” Said with equal parts envy and pride. 

“I vex you,” he says, voice coloured by good humour. 

He’s fallen into step beside you, your jacket tied around his waist. 

You should bring your jacket. In case you get cold, he’d said. 

I don’t want to carry it, you’d said. 

Don’t patronise me.

You glance over the top of the stroller to make sure Junie’s blanket is still in place. She’s quiet. You’ve decided that she’s in shock to be somewhere that isn’t your home or the daycare. 

“Yeah, you vex me. Infuriate me. I’ve been a mom for two years and I can’t get her shoes on without a fight, and you’ve been-“ You stop dead, stutter, and quickly adjust what you'd been saying like it has been a slip up of the tongue rather than a thought you shouldn't entertain.  “You’ve known her for what, three months? And-“

“Four months,” he corrects, sounding much too proud. 

“Four months,” you amend. “And you can do all this stuff that took me years to work out.” You’re a little bit vexed for real. 

He nods like he’s considering what you’ve said before tipping his head. “But…”

You wait. He doesn’t further his point. “But what?”

“Well.” Eddie brushes something off of your arm. “I guess I have a great teacher, right?” His voice hikes up high and he steamrolls, “I just copy you. You didn’t really get to copy anyone.”

You feel something melty hot in your chest, another affection for Eddie to add to a growing list. “Oh.”

He takes your shoulder into his hand and you draw to a pause, his other hand pointing off into the distance. “There’s the bookstore.”

You follow his finger. Across a landscape of cobblestone, situated firmly between a Domino’s pizza place and a cafe with a peppering of metal wrought tables stands Morgan’s Books. To your surprise, it’s a glass-fronted building with a big clean sign made up of red, yellow, and blue. It's a children's bookstore. 

Eddie has obviously tricked you. You turn to glare at him and find him very close. He doesn’t shy away and you try not to in return. You try, but something about his pretty mouth so close sends shocks like pins and needles to your hands and you have to keep walking lest you embarrass yourself. His hand falls from your shoulder and trails down your back. You swear you can feel even the last millimetre of his fingertip before it falls away. 

You get a good look at the landscape ahead and your eyes narrow. Eddie almost bumps into you when you stop abruptly. 

“What?” he asks. 

"There’s, like, a thousand steps.”

“Gross hyperbole," he argues. A gap of quiet furthers your point; while you had been exaggerating, there are a lot of steps, and he needs time to take them all in.

“Is there a way around?”

“Don’t be dumb, sweetheart. You’ll grab June and I’ll carry the stroller.”

“It’s really heavy. Heavier than it looks.”

He grins like a fiend. “I’m strong.”

Junie’s more than happy to be released, less when you take her into your arms and won’t put her down. You help Eddie snap the stroller back up, indicating which lever to pull with the rubber toe of your converse. He kneels down to guide it into place and looks up at you swiftly afterward, self-satisfied and much too happy considering the task afoot. 

“Maybe we should find another way.”

“Y/N,” he says, like your name is inherently funny, like a joke rolled around over his tongue, “I’m starting to get offended.”

You blow air out of the side of your mouth. 

Eddie slugs the stroller under one arm and holds it tight with the other, giving you a very determined smile. “Ready?”

You balance the baby bag over one shoulder and start on the stairs. Junie's heavy but she’s a heavy you’ve grown used to, and she doesn’t complain enough to warrant any stress. 

You’re impressed when Eddie takes each step at your pace and doesn’t break a sweat. “I thought you were a bus boy. What do you bus? Weights?” you ask incredulously.

He laughs. “I don’t bus weights, but amps are heavy, and I’m not a big shot. I don’t have any roadies to carry them for me.”

You feel terrible then for forgettting. Right. He plays music, you think. You’ve never once seen him play any music, on stage or at home. You’ve seen him play guitar over Junie’s leg to tickle her and tap out a rhythm when he’s heating up desserts in your kitchen, but you’ve never seen him play guitar for real. 

“Is that going okay?” you ask, ignoring the small burn beginning to grow in your arms. 

“Bussing? Sure. Why’d you ask?”

“Not bussing, music. I never ask- I’ve never asked you how it’s going.” 

Eddie winces as the stroller starts to open and pulls it tighter under his arm. It takes him a few seconds to calibrate what you’ve said, and he’s quickly reassuring. “What? Why would you worry about that? You have enough to think about without adding my moonlighting at the Hideout.” He says the Hideout like it’s something to be looked down on. You almost trip up a step and Eddie can’t do anything but watch. “Careful," he begs. 

You keep your eyes on your footing until you’re at the very top, worried you'll fall flat on your face and get Junie hurt.. Eddie comes up two behind you and puts the stroller down, wiping his hands together dramatically. 

“Conquered. Great job, team. Especially you,” he says, poking Junie’s cheek. 

She puts her arms out, vying for his attention now she’s had a taste. He raises his eyebrows at her and offers his arms. You hand her over eagerly, arms aching. You can’t imagine what his feel like. 

“I care about it,” you say firmly. It rather than you, but it rings the same. “I want to know, Eddie, I swear. I’m sorry for not asking.”

He looks up from where he’d been making playful faces at Junie to stare at you. It’s not a mean stare, but it unnerves you all the same. 

She pushes a hand into his hair like she always does and starts to try and pull her fingers through it. It’s knottier than usual because of the wind, and she struggles to make sense of it. His eyes fall to her tugging. 

“Sweetheart,” he says slowly. You know it’s meant for you, even if he’s not looking at you. "If there was something worth telling you, I would’ve told you. I don't doubt that you care.”

You don’t feel better. “No, ‘cos-”

“Why are you so upset?” he asks genuinely. 

You hadn’t realised your face revealed the extent of it. “Because we’re friends. You’re the- the best friend I’ve ever had.”

He smiles, sudden and wide. “I’m your best friend?”

“Like we’re twelve?” you deflect. 

“Yeah, like we’re twelve.”

You ignore him and try to cool down. A hot flush attacks your skin as you stretch out the stroller and click the supports back into place, shucking off your baby bag to hang over the handlebar with a relieved sigh. 

Eddie moves Junie to one side. You anticipate his touch before it happens, his free arm behind your back and pulling you to him. “We’re totally best friends. I’m your best friend,” he says smugly, hand curling around your shoulder. It’s a good hug, friendly and warm and heart-racingly close; you can feel his chest on your back, the curve of a pec through thin fabric. 

You turn toward him indulgently but keep your head down. It’s so nice to be hugged that you can’t make yourself move away.

He rubs the top of your arm, the bump of his rings biting into your skin. “You don’t deny it?”

“No. I don’t deny it.”

“Hear that, June?” Again, he calls her June. Not Junie or junebug, June. You like the way he says it. “I’m your mom's best friend. I win.”

You nod happily, warm under his touch.

Wait. “What?”

“She likes me more,” he teases her childishly. 

“Eddie!”

“What? Am I wrong?” He leans away from you and feigns confusion. 

“Yes! Of course you’re wrong! That’s my baby. Give her to me right now." You join in on his melodramatics, grinning even as you continue, “How could you say that? Sicko." 

“That got frosty quickly,” he grumbles, holding her away from you. 

You move in to plaster Junie in kisses. Not apology kisses because you didn’t say anything wrong, but kisses all the same. 

“Can I get in on one of those?”

You huff at him. He bursts into boyish laughter and holds his hands up. “Kidding!”

“Should we go?” Before you say something stupid.

Eddie carries Junie and you push the empty stroller until you're all looking up at the store's bright sign. "This is where you wanted to come?" you ask him, eyes falling to the window where a sign brags a children's reading nook and their Read Before You Buy promotion. 

He shrugs. "Bookstore's a bookstore." 

"No, this is for kids. We're never gonna find what you wanted in here. I doubt they have King of the Rings between Red Cat, Blue Cat and Pony Girl."

"King of the Rings," he repeats jovially. 

"Whatever it's called." 

He pulls a squirming Junie higher up the length of his chest, the fabric of his shirt rides up with her. You pull it down. You're flustered enough, his naked skin is the last thing you need. 

"Sweetheart, I'm sure they'll have what I want," he says flippantly, pushing the door open with his elbow. 

"If you're sure…" you say, following him in

The bookstore smells fancy. You breathe in the scent of plastic wrap and paper, your eyes searching over floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and pyramids of craft kits. Box sets of Enid Blyton and A. A. Milne sporting classic, whimsy spines are stacked in a towering and precarious looking arch. Signs on either side promise a children's wonderland inside. You follow Eddie around pen displays and jigsaw puzzles, ducking under the archway with an awed, "Oh, wow." 

"Watch out," he warns quietly, taking a step down into the kids' reading nook. 

You bump the stroller to the bottom of the steps and have to stop, amazed. 

Junie is a picture of you as Eddie sets her down, gazing around the room in shock. There's a lot of older kids scattered throughout on big circle pillows with books in their laps and a guardian beside them, but the real wonder is in the decoration. The walls are bedecked in murals; Kermit and Funnybones, The Very Busy Spider and the mouse from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Junie sees Kermit on the walls and gasps, running up to the painting with wide eyes. 

Eddie follows her without saying anything. When he catches up to her, he offers her his hand. She takes it. She's practically shouting, their joined hands restless as excitement courses through her in waves. 

You find two big pillows and a couple of books for Junie to look at. The three of you take to an empty corner and sit, looking over a big picture book full of stills from The Muppets Take Manhattan. Junie makes a lot of excited sounds and nonsense words, talking very confidently though half of it's lost on you both. 

"Kermit," she says, pointing at the page passionately. 

You wrap your arms around her tummy to keep her comfortable and hum. "Yeah, baby. Kermit, Miss Piggy, Gonzo. They're going to New York," you start to describe the page. 

Eddie leans in, his arm pressed to your arm, his skin a heat where it rubs into you as he helps hold open the book. 

The further you read the closer he gets.

Junie gets bored quickly, like toddlers tend to, and wants to go look at the walls again. Eddie stays with the stroller and you pick her up to let her touch her hands to the characters. 

"That's Spot," you tell her quietly, her fingertips brushing over flat fur. "Spot the doggy." 

Junie's never read anything Spot before. He's a popular character. There's three picture books to choose from. You pick up the first, Where's Spot? and offer it to her. 

She likes the look of him. You carry her back to your pillows and struggle to sit back down in the tight gap between the wall and Eddie's knee. He stretches his arms out to take her. . 

"What'd you find, sweetheart?" he murmurs as he balances her on his thigh. 

He reads to her. He has the voice for it, soft and sweet. 

-

"We had sandwiches," you argue, two hours and what feels like fifty stories later. 

Eddie had known before he suggested it that you were gonna fight him on this. He’s managed to end up behind the stroller, weaving between unlucky bystanders as his eyes search for somewhere to eat. 

“And they were awesome."

“Eddie,” you complain softly. 

He peeks at you by his side, grinning at the plastic bag full of books you’d insisted on carrying where it dangles from your fingers. 

You take his smile for teasing and sigh. “Come on. I’ll make dinner when we get home.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I love your cooking that’s hours away. We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. Look, there’s a McDonald’s right there,” he says, pointing toward the yellow ‘M’ sign where it flickers, breaking up a white sky. 

“I’m not hungry,” you say. He senses your proposition before you offer it. “But if you wanna get food, that’s fine.”

“You don’t like McDonald’s?” he asks. 

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Just think of it like- like using the bathroom before a long car ride. You might not need to, but it’s never a bad idea.”

Inside of McDonald’s, Eddie can tell how unhappy you are, your eyes drifting to the menu and your fingers squeezing both handles of the plastic bag. 

He parks Junie’s stroller next to a low table and you slide into the booth beside her. He doesn't sit right away.  

“You remember what I said?” he asks quietly, leaning on the table with one arm, head inclined to yours. 

Your eyes flicker between his face and his arm. You measure his gaze “Doing things for the people you care about,” you say, equally hushed.

Eddie reaches out to squeeze your wrist. “Exactly.” He tries not to squeeze too hard in case his rings dig into your skin. 

When you smile, he grabs the high chair and transfers one unhappy toddler into its constraints. There's a little basket of crayons and colouring papers near the registers that you plunder while he orders. By the time he gets back with a greasy tray of food and drinks Junie's made a masterpiece.

"Is that supposed to be me?" he asks brightly. 

Of course it isn't – there's a shock of blue and a red blob almost shaped like a heart next to the dark printed outline of Ronald McDonald. It's worth the risk of sounding like an idiot because you start to laugh so hard you can't scold him for the desserts. 

After wiping down the highchair's tray with a baby wipe, you peel open Junie's cheeseburger and start to break it into small pieces, blowing on each one vigorously before passing them over. You're about to start on fries when Eddie flicks your hand. 

"Eat," is all he says, swiping her fries out of your reach to copy your process. 

Tray laden with an abundance of bite-sized fast food, she grabs a cheesy looking slice of burger and screams loudly. 

Eddie gawps. "What was that? Is it too hot?" 

You swallow a sip of your drink and the cup sheds condensation like a spattering of raindrops when you put it down. "I think she's having a really good day," you say.. 

"Well fu-" he amends his cuss word quickly, "-dge, me too, junebug. Best day out ever. We got books, burgers, and I'm with my two favourite girls." 

It might have sounded more romantic if he hadn't said it around a mouthful of big mac. You look almost as happy as Junie does anyway, 

-

When Junies just about finished you carry her off into the ladies to change her diaper and freshen up. You have a baby in one arm and a bag full of diapers and bottles and onesies in the other, and you stare into the mirror and can't work out Eddie's angle. 

Eddie is loud and crude and clumsy. He smells like his close friend Mary Jane half the time and he doesn't know how to style his hair. He laughs loud, sings louder. Almost everything about him is unapologetic and brash, his dark looks and ripped up clothes, his van, his smile. 

And he's nice. He's so nice. Down to the bone, maybe down to his soul, there's a kindness that floors you every single time. He smiles and he squeezes and he says sorry for things that aren't his fault. He helps without being asked. How many times now has he knocked the door, found you kneeling on the living room floor folding clothes and thrown himself opposite you? Bet you I can do double what you've done in five minutes flat. Or stationed himself at Benny's for lunch to check you're having a good day? Here's five for the pretty waitress I saw earlier, make sure she gets it, won't you? How many times has he, hair limp and clothes rumpled, burst beaming into the kitchen with enough dessert for a family of five and a gallon of juice? Why wouldn't I get a gallon? Junebug'll have drank half by the time you sit down, sweetheart. 

You look at yourself in the mirror and you can't work out why. 

"Hi, girls," Eddie says when you return. 

He's cleared off the table, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Like this, the lean trim of his waist is emphasised, as is the slight curve to the tops of his thighs. 

"Hi," Junie says. You echo her greeting. 

"D'you have fun? Powder your noses?" 

"Can't you tell?" you ask. You did not powder your nose. 

He straightens up and peers at you assessingly. "Definitely. S'like you got prettier, and I thought it was impossible." His voice is sugar sweet by the end, attention on Junie. She's aching to be put down and writhing in your grip, but his voice catches and holds her attention until you're back outside. 

It's cooler. The air cleaner. You put Junie down and clasp her hand firmly in your own, bending at the waist to tell her face to face, "No running off, alright? You hold mommy's hand tight." You squish her little fingers until she giggles. "Okay?" 

"Okay," she says. 

"Okay, thank you." Then, because she looks so sweet and this has been one of the best days of your life, "I love you." 

You kiss her cheek. 

Eddie won't let you push the stroller. "You concentrate on little miss trouble," he says mildly, kicking the brakes with a frown. "I got this. Maybe." 

Half a block to the goodwill. It's not as big as you'd expected but there's a fun furniture section that draws Junies attention. You're reluctant to let her climb on the furniture in case anything is dirty or infested, though you do sit her in a wicker chair for a tree swing and a huge velvet loveseat like she's goldilocks, asking, "How's that? Comfy?"

Hidden away, there's a bookshelf painted green and pink that threatens to topple over hiding a grandfather clock still ticking. You lift Junie up so that the three of you can look at the clock face, a small silver disk with illustrations on either side. A gorgeous swelling of purples and melty blues in a ring behind the man in the moon. The sun, a buttery yellow buffeted by white-blue clouds. 

"Grand," Eddie praises. 

"What did you want to come here for?" 

He grins at you and nods his head to the left. "It's over there." 

'It' ends up being a clothes rack longer than your trailer home partitioned by size. Every t-shirt different but bragging the same premise – band merchandise. A riot of rock bands peppered in popular duo's like Tears for Fears and the occasional Cyndi Lauper tour shirt, each one sticking out like a sore thumb; a rainbow array besides faded blacks and slate greys. 

"Why'd they have so many?" 

Eddie shrugs, though he tries to explain his theory anyways. "There's a venue maybe… four blocks away? That has these vendors outside all the time shelling knock-offs."

"So these are knock-offs?" 

"Most of them. They're usually in good condition though." 

He's right. You find all kinds of shirts in varying qualities. Some obviously real, thick fabric and perfect prints. He picks up a Judas Priest tour shirt that he claims to be the real deal, a Metallica long sleeve that most certainly is not. There's a Twisted Sister shirt with a mysterious brown stain and a Ghoulie Girls muscle tee that's almost completely split down one side. 

You shuffle through the things in your size, absent-minded. Junie's not interested in the slightest and is starting to complain. You fend off an oncoming tantrum with a pack of fruit snacks, offering them to her one at a time. 

Eddie whistles where he's standing a short distance away, "Oh, fuck." 

He unhooks a hanger and holds it out, amazed. "Oh, shit." 

"Eddie," you chastise. Not because you care, but Junie saying either of those words at daycare would suck. 

"Sorry, sorry. You like these guys, right?" He holds up a t-shirt for The Mamas and The Papas, a group from the sixties. It looks new. 

It's the only cassette you own where you can stand to listen to both sides all the way through. "Yeah. Like Cass Elliott's stuff more." 

"Who's that?" 

You point at Elliott on the shirt. "Her." 

"Guess how much they want for it," he demands.

You think. Junie whines for another snack and you give her the packet. "Ten dollars?" 

"A dollar." He passes the shirt to you so you can see it for yourself and leans down to bundle up your sighing daughter. She can't decide whether she's enjoying it for a good few seconds, her annoyance at being somewhere this underwhelming for so long clear but fading as Eddie shushes her gently. "Isn't that sick?" he asks you. 

"It would be sick, if you liked them." 

He shrugs. "I'll wear it as pajamas. A dollar for a shirt? You can't steal it that cheap." 

You laugh and drop it into his basket. He bumps his shoulder into yours until you move down the rack, his fingers searching for something with focus. You're in awe at how he's handling it, a basket heavy in the crook of his elbow and Junie on his hip trying to share her fruit snacks with him unsuccessfully. 

"Ah-ha!" He pulls out a black t-shirt. The back to you, you can't tell what's so interesting about it until he flips it around. "What do you think?" 

It's the same The Mamas and The Papas shirt. 

"You want?" he asks. 

You check the price tag before answering and find yourself laughing gleefully, almost smug. "Hey, this one's fifty cents." 

He gasps. "What?" 

"I can afford that one myself." 

He pulls it out of your hand, quick but not cruel, and tucks it into the basket. "Don't care. Wanna see if they have one in Junie's size?" 

"They won't." 

"What about a small and we cut the excess off? She can wear it like a dress. We'll all match." 

Eddie picks up a bunch of t-shirts for you, some funny, a lot plain bad. You wonder if you're being made fun of but from the gleeful expression on his face you know he's just having a good time. It's sweet, really, how he seems to pick the more feminine looking ones for you. You try your best to calculate how much he's spending on you – it feels tacky and silly, but urgent – and end up losing the thread. He must've passed ten dollars by now. It makes you feel sick. 

You see your saving grace across the way. 

"Oh my god!" you feign surprise. Both Eddie and Junie look up at you, startled. "You know what mommy just saw?" 

Junie perks up. 

"What did I just see? What did mommy see?" you encourage. 

"What?" she asks. 

"I saw… teddies!" 

"Mr. Bear?" she asks. 

You beam at her. "Mr. Bear's brothers and sisters, I think. Should we go look at them?" 

She says yes and then something else you don't catch, squirming aggressively to be put down.

Eddie says, "Sorry sorry sorry," and lets her down gently.

She snatches your hand and starts to tug you away. You glance over your shoulder to make sure Eddie's following you and he is, a melty-warm smile on his face. You navigate the store floor and almost knock down a bucket of hats with the stroller on the way to the teddies. There's a few of them, all lined up in a row next to jigsaw puzzles and old board games. 

"I didn't think this through," you say, watching as Junie picks through the teddies with a huge smile on her face. She starts to hug them towards her and you try not to cringe. 

"You can scrub her when we go home," Eddie assures you leaning against the stroller, hair behind his ears.

You grab the end of a curl and pull it back in front of his face, messing with it until it falls the way you want it to. He stays very still. "I might need to de-flea her." 

He laughs and it's a shock, an abrupt sound that makes your chest ache with fondness. 

"You might. I got some tea tree oil lying around somewhere if you need it," he says. 

"And if she gets dermatitis?" 

His grins turns embarrassed. "I don't know what that is."

"It's like-" You tilt your head to the side to mimic his own and drop your hand from his hair. "It's gross. Like a bad rash." 

"Oh, then we'll give her a tomato soup bath." 

You burst into laughter and have to grab his arm to stop from toppling over, or at least that's what you tell yourself. "That's for skunks," you manage to tell him, giggling loudly. 

"Shit, really?"

You nod at him, wanting to kiss the sheepishness straight off of his lips. "You're thinking of an oats bath," you say. "Oats are good for the skin. And milk." 

"So we just rub her down with oatmeal. Case solved." 

Your hand rubs over the curve of his forearm until you reach the cold bite of his chain bracelet. It brings your attention back to what it is you're doing. You pull your hand away. 

You have enough money to get Junie any teddy she wants. You'd made sure of that. You'll just have to hide the train in your tights and wear your waitressing skirt low on your hips for a week or three until you can afford a new pair of pantyhose. 

You move to kneel next to Junie. She's pulled every teddy off the shelf and sits half-buried in them, talking a hundred words a minute. You think she might be make-believing, catching the slightest difference in her tone as she shakes one bear and then the other. 

After checking the price tags stuck sloppily to each ear, you realise you can afford two. 

Best day ever. 

"Junie," you say with intent, heavy so she'll look at you. "I want you to pick your two favourite bears. Yeah? Pick which ones you like the best. And we're gonna take them home, okay? Give them a bath, brush out their fur, get them some jammies." 

Watching the way her expression changes as she realises what you're saying is confirmation. This is the best day ever. 

She decides eventually on one too many. There's a pastel green-blue rabbit with floppy ears and a ribbon tied around his neck, half a face of whiskers that make him quite charming and a worn tail. Next to him is a classic teddy bear who could be Mr. Bear's younger brother who seems in very good condition. Last, a bigger, softer golden teddy with an enamel nose and eyes lies over her lap.

You can't afford all three. 

You've barely opened your mouth to tell her, a weak smile on your lips ready to placate when Eddie says, "The rabbit is classic. You'll have to let me get her that one." 

"Eddie," you say, looking up at him as you shake your head, "you can't. I can't let you." 

"She'll have to share him with me, obviously. He's punk rock." 

It's the least punk rock plushie you've ever seen. 

"Eddie," you say again, quietly. 

He scoops the hair away from his face like he's going to tie it up. "Y/N." He says your name expectantly. When you don't budge he lets his hair fall back to his shoulders and turns serious. "You can pay me back, if you want to." 

"Really?" 

"Only for the rabbit." 

You purse your lips to fight a smile. 

Junie throws herself into your lap with her new treasures. "For the rabbit," she parrots factually, gazing up at you with eyes full of content. Her small smile means everything. 

"He's a bunny," you murmur, fingers brushing his rough ear. 

"He's sweet." Eddie crouches in front of you. He smells like something nice though you can't think of what it is. Cologne, something dark and deep hiding under a woody scent. Maybe sandalwood. His knee taps your thigh and his hand wraps around your shoulder for balance. "Got a dirty nose though. Who does that remind you of?"

You giggle and tap Junie's nose. "I wonder." 

-

Down what feels like a thousand steps and back into the parking garage, your legs are hurting in the best way and Junie's half asleep in her stroller. You'd reluctantly let her keep the blue-green rabbit in hand, and she snuggles him close to her chest. 

"I'm actually genuinely worried she's gonna get something from him," you confide. 

Eddie weaves his arm through yours. "Like rabies?" 

"A rash." 

"I'm allergic to gain detergent tablets," he says, his hand slipping away from you so he can put both on his hips. "When I moved in with my Uncle Wayne he didn't know that, obviously, not at first. We didn't notice for a while. One day I'm scratching my chest and he says to me, boy, what are you doing always itching like that? You ever take a shower?" He impersonates his uncle's disappointed frown.

You laugh. "Poor baby." 

"I mean, I probably wasn't showering." He laughs. "I was like, wow, thanks Uncle Wayne, I love you too.

"He lifts my shirt up in the middle of the kitchen and we both just stare at this rash. It was the first time I'd really noticed. I didn't… I was a skinny kid, I didn't really find any pleasure in looking at myself. And- He got so serious. Asking me if I was okay, if school was stressing me out." 

"He thought you were hurting yourself?" 

"In a way… It wasn't the first time he tried to get me to talk about how I was feeling, but it was the first time I thought- I mean, the first time I realised that it was permanent. That we were-" He cuts off with a laugh. "I'm being weird."

"No weirder than usual," you tease. Your expression softens. 

You slow, trying to convey how much you want to hear it with a smile. You don't want to say something that'll weigh on the impossibly light mood you're both in; the ground practically glows yellow under your shoes, the two of you walking on sunshine or something remarkably similar. 

"I guess I realised he was gonna take care of me. I told him all about school, stuff I'd been lying about, how the Walton twins kept taking my lunch money, how I was failing algebra. How much I," he licks his lips and then smiles, "how much I missed my mom." 

"Do you still miss her a lot?" you ask, though you know the answer. 

"Yeah, I do. I don't remember everything, but I remember the way she talked sometimes. I don't remember her voice," he concedes, "just… the way she moved. She would lean back whenever I was getting into trouble, and she'd get this look on her face like I was the funniest thing on the planet." 

You grin at him. Your cheeks ache from what must be a hundred smiles today. It's a really nice memory to have. 

"You are pretty funny," you say.

"What was that? You think I'm pretty and funny? Baby, you spoil me." 

You stop altogether and press your fists into your eyes, defeated. "I should've seen that one coming." 

"Yeah, you should've." 

Soft snores, so quiet you almost miss them. By the time you've got back to your car Junie's sleeping with her chin to her chest and the rabbit's ear held tight in her small hand. 

"Will she wake up?" Eddie asks quietly. 

"Not if I'm very, very careful," you whisper. 

You scoop her up and tuck her into her carseat, holding your breath all the while. Eddie tries his best to fold down the stroller. 

You emerge from the backseat and make a soft pitying sound. "Stuck?" 

"I can do it," he promises, head and face hidden behind the padded seat. His hands fight with the metal bars holding it in place. Again, you tap the right strut with your shoe to help him out. 

He says thank you but refuses to look at you. You swear you're gonna kiss his cheek this time for real because he deserves one and you really want to give him one, but he puts the stroller into the trunk and touches your waist as he opens the driver's side. Any bravery gets turned into mush. 

He rolls down the window and sticks his head out, ever amused. "Are you coming?" 

You pause at the door and get closer than you mean to, close enough to find yourself distracted by the beauty mark along his jawline. 

"You want me to drive?" you ask. 

"No, sweetheart. You're good." 

You smile at each other. It's a strange sort of smile, strange to be taller than him, strange to have your faces this near. There's a lot to say but maybe now isn't the right time to say it, or maybe now is exactly when you should, and his face lifts up just a touch and your hands feel heavy at your sides.

"Eddie…" 

You close your fingers over the door, braced as his body turns to yours. You get the sense that he's waiting for you to say – or do – something. To lean down. To take the leap. 

He's the prettiest boy you've ever seen. 

You waver. 

"You know," he says lightly, blinking his long lashes at you in a way that has your heart skipping beat after beat, "if we hurry, I think we can get on the highway before the work rush. We'll be back in Hawkins before dark." 

You bring your hand to his cheek. A sorry and a thank you at the same time. "I don't want to be back in Hawkins before dark." I really want to spend more time with you. 

"I'll crawl." 

You press your lips together, tongue in your cheek to stop from giggling like a loser as you walk around the hood and climb in. He turns the key in the ignition and switches off the radio before it can wake up Junie. True to his word, Eddie goes what must be a half a mile an hour out of the parking garage. The car behind you beeps aggressively. 

Your eyes flicker between the rearview and his grinning face. "What are you- oh." 

"Crawling," he murmurs smugly. 

The sun starts its slow descent. You use his knee for leverage and pull down his sun visor, then your own, blocking the light. Eddie says, "Thank you," very sweetly and you get comfortable and clip yourself in, anticipating a long drive home. 

The stores turn on their neon, fast food and take out restaurants open for the night. The smell of warm oregano and olive oil is strong as you drive through the side avenue past a pizza place with its door thrown open. 

Eddie asks if you're hungry and you decline. He takes it with grace and doesn't say much besides passing commentary until you realise he's going the wrong way. 

"Eddie," you start. 

"I know. Just- one last thing. Let me get one more thing and then we'll go home and you never have to let me spend money on you ever again." 

You look over his pinched, pleading brows and his slight pout for any insincerity and find it in droves. "Until Friday," you say, dejected.

"Now you're getting it." 

He pulls up to a small bakery and weasels his way inside. You wait, car idling, hands rubbing over the cracked leather of your seats wondering what sweet treat he's going to emerge with. 

You have a nightmare – a heaping bag of donuts and shortbread and pastries, things you could never pay him back for, more to add to the impossible pile of things he's given you. 

Doing things for the people you care about, you repeat to yourself wearily. 

You hadn't expected anything for the haircut, but this is more than a haircut. It's difficult not to think of every dollar as an attribute of every hour he's worked. What makes you deserving of his literal physical labour? 

I didn't force him. He likes me. 

He certainly looks like he likes you as he appears again, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his black jeans and wielding a flat looking plastic platter with an exuberant expression. He almost drops them trying to show you. Your heart shoots into your throat.

He's still chuckling when he throws himself into the driver's side. "Shit, did you see that? Almost lost 'em. Here, sweet thing. Hold the sweets. Makes sense, right? Sweet thing holding sweet things."  

You accept the tray of what looks like a rainbow of blobs and go to peel off the lid. "Can I?" you ask. 

"Of course you can." 

You pull off the lid. Twelve cupcakes of all different colours in rows of four. The first four are chocolate cupcakes, one with green icing shaped like a frog, one with a white rabbit, one with an orange fox and one with a blue fish. The second row seems fancier. By the third and fourth row there's no pattern, just an assortment of flavours and decorations, chocolate curls and glitter, a half a strawberry, a smattering of mini marshmallows. 

"What flavours that one?" you ask, pointing at a golden cake topped with multicoloured icing, a swirl covered in little crystal like sprinkles. 

"I don't have a clue. I picked the first four and then realised it was taking too long. Told 'em to give me whatever."

"Eager to get back?" 

"Eager as a cry for life. Try it." 

"You don't want one before you start driving?" you ask. 

"I'll try that one after you." 

You peel back crisp, metallic shiny paper and take a cautious bite. It's a bourbon vanilla cake with a coffee flavour buttercream to cut the sweetness. You can't tell whether you like it or not at first, so you take another bite. 

"Leave some for me." 

"Sorry!" you say through a giggly mouthful. "Here." 

He has both hands on the wheel. You don't know what possesses you – though you're starting to wonder if it can be called possession at all, more like a hunger that won't let things lie – to do it, but you bring the cupcake up to his face and hold it so he can take a bite. 

He licks a big dollop of icing as it threatens to fall down his chin, head tilted high. "Oh my god. What is that? Is that coffee?" 

"I think so." 

"Okay, awesome. Let's try another one." 

"What?" 

"Let's try another one. There's still eleven left! We can save the cute ones for Juniper the Loveliest, but that's still a ton of flavours. C'mon, let me try the one with the chocolate curl. If I remember, it has white chocolate melted inside." 

"If you remember?" you ask, peeling back the paper of his requested cupcake. "You've had these before?" 

"A long time ago." 

You tilt your head toward your shoulder and watch his lashes kiss. "Here," you say warmly. 

He accepts the proferred cake and takes a good bite. His eyes roll back into his head dramatically and he goes stiff, shoulders tense and then suddenly not. You watch the muscle of his bicep flex as he tips his head back in pleasure. 

You chortle and you're so happy you don't care how silly you sound, nor how unattractive you might look as you hit him in the arm. "Stop! You're enjoying it too much!" 

"I'm enjoying it the right amount! Try it, try it," he says quickly. His eyes flick back to the tray. "I wanna try that strawberry one next." 

"Watch the road, Munson, god! I'll pass you whatever one you want, just don't crash the car!" 

You forget yourselves. Laughing, eating icing with your noses scrunched up, you don't remember to stay hushed, and soon Junie's awake and annoyed. 

You worry for a second that her crying will dampen the mood, but Eddie beams wider still. He's more smile than boy. 

"Junie baby! What cupcake do you want, sweetheart?" he asks her, watching her in the rearview mirror. 

"Cake?" she asks. 

"Cupcake! Yeah, baby, what one do you want? There's a froggy and a fishy and a bunny-" He stops to take a turn onto the highway. The road evens out underneath, the plastic tray stops crinkling. "And a fox," he finishes. "All for you." 

You twist in your seat, bunny and fish held in your hands. "Fishy or bunny?" you echo. 

"Fishy and bunny," she says clumsily, eyes widened with excitement. 

"Just one for now, baby. Let's pick the bunny," you say gently.

There's no hopes of her eating it cleanly. You don't bother with any precaution. It's your car and her seat and her clothes and if she wants to cover it all in soft fondant you don't mind, anything she wants if you get to see this look on her face. Pure happiness, her eyes closing in bliss as she takes her first bite. 

"Good, huh?" Eddie asks, speaking glances at her. 

"Good!" she says loudly, cheeks plastered in white icing and fluffy golden crumbs. 

Then, like the good girl she is, she tries to offer up the cupcake and almost drops it. 

"S'that for me? Aw, you keep it. You keep it. Mom's gonna share hers with me." He grins at you. "Isn't that right?" 

You share that entire tray of cupcakes right there in the car. By the time you get home, back to Hawkins, it's dark, your stomach hurts, and every cupcake bears two missing bites. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | multi-chapter

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

illusion [ethan landry x reader]

requests for ethan are open!

pre - ghostface / no ghostface alternate! no spoilers for scream 6!

pairing: ethan landry x gender neutral reader

notes: enemies/academic rivals to lovers trope <3__<3, not proofread, this is almost 10k words,,

"Pop quiz."

The key words that sent the classroom of college students into despair as soon as they left the professor's mouth. The unpreparedness of the young adults was gauged by the groans and soft curses that followed the announcement before quiet fell upon the classroom, only the sounds of keys clacking and frustrated pens tapping heard against the silence. You were ready despite the surprise, having taken detailed notes and studied over them without the knowledge or pressure of a quiz.

The inability to change their fates led to complaints mumbled all around you. You listened intently to the grievances, realizing that the only ones who remained quiet in the sea of traveling whispers were you and the antagonist of your life - Ethan Landry.

There was an unspoken competition between you and Ethan that neither of you verbally acknowledged but were both acutely aware of. It was a race to see who scored better most often, carefully kept up with by your classmate. You were vaguely aware of the lack of supporters on your side, the overwhelming majority rooting for Ethan. The way Ethan rallied people effortlessly while you sat in silence each class fueled your anger, each whisper and laugh from behind you making your heart thump.

Usually, you were on par with Ethan despite your lack of fans, but math was always a tough subject; a few simple mistakes have led to your downfall. You devoted hours to secure your place as a top performer - time and effort you were positive Ethan didn't match. His smiles were too easy, body too relaxed throughout each grade returned. Ethan was overconfident and you wished for nothing more than for his arrogance to bite him in the ass one day.

You didn't allow yourself to view your score after you submitted your quiz, moving out of the tab without a peek. Your desire to find out Ethan's score before yours became a routine of staying in your seat until the whispers behind you revealed what you wanted to know. Knowing Ethan's score first intensified either the satisfaction or disappointment you would feel upon viewing your own score. Pretty soon, beating Ethan had become your biggest motivation. You measured your value through these constant comparisons, for you were worthless when you stood on your own.

A storm of whispers began once someone peeked at Ethan's screen. It didn't take long for the voices to move toward your area from its origin in the row behind you, hushed voices repeating the words "failed" and "30." You rolled the information over in your hear; if Ethan had scored 30 points, he didn't do that poorly, but a 30%? He had to be upset over a 30/35; there wasn't a chance that Ethan Landry could've made a 30%. The absurdity made you shake your head and smile. The whispers stopped suddenly as a laptop shut with too much force and shuffling sounds followed. You turned your head slightly to see Ethan walk out of the room, unable to figure him out.

By the time you gathered your things and stepped out into the empty hallway, Ethan was long gone.

「 ... 」

The next time you were forced into the same room as Ethan Landry was Thursday. Class ended but you were stuck to your seat, copious notes filling the pages of your notebook. They were not neat; those would be created in the library while the information was fresh. You picked up after yourself quickly; students flocked to the library in waves at this hour.

-

Ethan waited until class was officially over before moving out of his seat, feet feeling unusually heavy in his slow strides toward you. It didn't take him long to reach you, considering he was seated behind you, but he delayed reaching his destination as much as he could. He stood a few feet away from where you were, quickly shoving your things into your bag. He thought you'd be more organized.

As Ethan stood in your vicinity, he had shamelessly assumed you'd notice him without him having to utter a word to you.

Ethan's opinion of you changed drastically during the class; in the beginning, Ethan Landry thought you were gorgeous.

It wasn't long before Ethan realized you were a hard worker too and he wondered how someone could be so perfect. But you were everything he wasn't and Ethan Landry was not good at romance so he gave up on the insane idea of ever speaking to you.

His biggest mistake was sitting so close to you, his nerves controlling him for the better part of those first few weeks. This nervousness when it came to anything related to you was obvious when his face dropped the second he glanced at you or accidentally made eye contact; it was obvious when he would quickly turn his head away whenever you came near. You'd never spoken to him and he'd rather keep it that way - Ethan didn't know what horrific things would leave his mouth in your presence.

These developments only fueled your dislike for Ethan. All you could find yourself doing was complaining about Ethan with more frequency to the point your best friend was tired of you, this close to making an Ethan Jar where you'd put money in any time you talked about him.

Ethan wasn't sure when his feelings toward you changed - perhaps it was the intimidating aura that surrounded you, which quickly crushed any fantasy he had of acquainting himself with you. The fear that you were an awful person overtook everything else and was supported by your refusal to help the classmates around you that were clearly struggling in the class, the uninterested and cold looks you gave out burned into the back of his brain. Despite his hesitancy to accept it, Ethan was starting to believe that you had some sort of superiority complex over everyone else.

Yet here he was, about to find out how accurate his suspicions were as he begged for your help.

You didn't acknowledge Ethan as you continued packing up your things. Giving you the benefit of the doubt, Ethan called out your name.

You didn't answer.

Were you seriously ignoring him?

Ethan was growing annoyed now, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand your behavior. How could a person be so rude?

"Holy shit!" Your voice rang loud in the empty classroom and Ethan jumped at the sound. You mirrored the action, hand on your chest in shock. You hadn't realized he was there.

You took your earbuds out and watched curiously as a bright red flush passed over Ethan's face.

Oh.

"Did you... need something?" You tried to keep your distaste for Ethan out of your voice, confusion and curiosity keeping you from walking away.

"Yeah... I mean, no," Ethan's confidence faltered from his mistake and he suddenly remembered how beginning-of-the-year Ethan would've never dared to do this.

"O...kay?" You were starting to get weirded out now, your contempt for the boy in front of you becoming more apparent by the second. You moved past him, sighing in irritation as you tapped your phone screen for the time; the library would be booked by now.

You began the route to the library regardless, knowing you wouldn't get any work done in the cramped space you shared with your messy roommate.

You hadn't realized or, more accurately, didn't want to assume Ethan was following you until you had been walking for a while and the heavier thud of a pair of footsteps didn't fade or falter. You stopped and turned around, even more annoyed now.

"What?" You demanded expectedly.

Ethan bit back his pride and irritation. "I do. Actually need something."

You couldn't help the roll of your eyes and the tone of your voice. "I asked you - "

"Yeah, I know," Ethan snapped back.

Kittens. Puppies. Rainbows. You took a deep breath, calming the bubbling exasperation in your throat.

"What is it that you need, Ethan?"

A jolt ran through Ethan and struck him speechless as he realized that was the first time he'd ever heard his name leave your mouth. It was -

"Seriously?" Your arms were crossed, unimpressed and frustrated. Every second that you wasted entertaining Ethan was another seat lost in the library.

"I failed the pop quiz. Like... failed," Ethan confessed without a bite in his voice, causing your arms to drop to your sides in surprise.

"Oh," you said softly, suddenly feeling guilty that your nonverbal wish for his failure had come true.

"I didn't really understand the lesson, I guess," Ethan closed his eyes, attempting to swallow his pride for just another second. "So, can you help me? I know you're the only one who actually passed."

You briefly wondered how Ethan knew, considering no one was interested in peeking at your score like they were with Ethan and you'd made quick work of closing out of your score the second you received it.  

You didn't answer for a moment, debating on what you should do. You could laugh in his face and walk away. You could.

But you didn't.

"Come on," you turned back around as you replied, continuing the route you had been interrupted from following. "The library's probably packed."

「 ... 」

The severity of your situation over weighed the feeling of satisfaction that came with being right as you entered the overcrowded library, your favorite seat taken. You sighed as you scanned the library for a place you and Ethan could sit. The universe seemed to laugh at you when you realized the only available spot you'd both fit in was the tiniest couch in the room.

You grabbed Ethan's arm and dragged him over to the spot, trying to keep the flush on your face down as you took a seat, squeezing into the edge of the couch as much as you could. You were expressionless as Ethan took a hesitant seat next to you, tension in the air as the two of you tried to create as much space between the two of you as possible. It was counterproductive, considering each attempt brought you two uncomfortably closer. You finally cleared your throat, reaching for your bag and taking out your notes. You refrained from sighing as you flipped past your most recent ones - they would have to wait.

"So," your voice was low despite the secluded area you found yourselves in, landing on the lessons the pop quiz had focused on. The pages of orderly and precise notes surprised Ethan; you put more effort into those notes than Ethan had into anything. "Where do you wanna start?"

「 ... 」

The library was closing soon and the two of you gathered your things. You walked in front of Ethan, unsure of where he was going; but you didn't walk fast enough for him not to be able to catch up.

Ethan had no idea where you were going but you didn't stop him from walking with you, a sign he took as good.

The study session had gone well, but it frustrated him how well you taught him the material. When he didn't quite grasp something you switched it up and explained it differently until he did, recognizing his learning patterns and using them to try to help him as much as possible. He thought you'd be a pain in the ass about the whole thing and brag about how well you'd done compared to him. He expected you to beat you down while he was low but you remained civil, even showed him kindness and Ethan was slowly starting to think that maybe he didn't really know you.

Though something about your behavior bothered him. It wasn't like you were terrible at teaching difficult concepts to others. Of course, you didn't owe anyone anything, but wasn't it the polite thing to do? He'd always heard complaints from his classmates that you were unhelpful and the difference in the way you treated people fired something up in Ethan.

Ethan simply couldn't understand you and those unresolved feelings got him angry all over again.

He stopped walking just as you began wondering how long he'd trail you in silence for. You stopped too, turning to give him a curious glance.

“Why are you so mean?” He asked suddenly, brows furrowed in anger and confusion.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed, clearly offended. You'd just spent hours of your own time helping Ethan and he called you mean?

“To everyone else,” Ethan clarified. “Why don't you help people when they need? Do you think you're better than them or something? You ignore anyone who makes below an A?”

“Are you fucking joking?” You were as angry as Ethan was now, taking a heated step in his direction. “If you thought I was such an asshole, why'd you ask me for help?” You questioned rhetorically, interrupting Ethan as you saw him open his mouth. You felt abnormally hot, anger the only thing fueling you now. It was suddenly clear now and you could hear your heart pound in anger at Ethan's accusations. Like it was your fault no one approached you.

“Well, I’m sorry I don't insert myself when it's not my business. I can't read people's minds. Do you think anyone actually...” You took a breath as your voice shook with frustration. “No one fucking talks to me.” It was the sad truth of your situation; your classmates ignored you so you ignored them. You weren't one to strike up awkward conversations just for the sake of it.

Ethan’s anger melted away as his composure fell, just slightly. Regret washed over him as he realized, too late again, his mistake.

You wanted to say something else, to prove to him that it didn't bother you, but your embarrassment mixed with your anger in the worst way as you felt tears begin to sting your eyes. Don't cry in front of him, please, fuck.

You turned around swiftly, deciding it was better to get back to your dorm than continue making a fool of yourself. By the end of the night, you were only sure of one thing; you absolutely hated Ethan Landry.

「 ... 」

You hadn't expected Ethan to come up to you again, praying the embarrassment of his misjudgments would keep him away from you. You were right for a week or two, classes passing by with no contact with Ethan Landry except for accidental eye contact that flustered you both.

To think you had been beginning to warm up to him while studying. Maybe he wasn't so bad, you had been close to admitting defeat. You scoffed at that thought now. The only thing you hated more than arrogant people were people who couldn't form opinions on their own. Ethan had told you all you needed to know with the simple accusations he threw your way.

However, Ethan didn't stay away for long. The scene gave you deja vu; you were packing up your stuff when a figure approached and something in you knew it was Ethan. It was eerie how quiet he could be compared to how boisterous he usually was in class.

You ignored Ethan's quiet advances towards you on purpose this time, gathering your materials in a hurry. You moved too quickly, your notebook dropping and loose papers scattering all over the floor. Ethan dropped to the floor before you could protest, picking up the sheets. By the time you crouched down he had collected them all, neatly shaking them into a pile. Ethan tried for a smile as he handed the stack to you.

"Thanks," you muttered, collecting your things off the ground. Despite it all, you remained polite. The both of you stared at each other and you slung your bag onto your shoulder, its heaviness creating an ache where it rested. You two stood there a moment just like you had all those weeks ago, though this time there was a thick tension in the air, both of you unsure of what the other would say next.

"Could we..." Ethan gulped, nervousness evident in the way he tapped his shoulders nervously against the strap of his bag. "Could we talk? We could get something to eat, or a coffee, or just... talk?"

Your expression didn't falter from the cold stare you gave him, outwardly unresponsive to his words as you internally thought it over.

“You know, I'd really prefer it if we didn't," you responded coolly. "You're welcome never to speak to me again, though?" You made a move to continue forward and Ethan instinctively stepped closer.

“I'm sorry.” Ethan tried desperately, shoulders slumping and eyes pleading.

Maybe he did mean it, but you didn't want to accept it.You weren't sure what it mattered to him so much. He could've pretended you were the person he thought you were and moved on. After all, you'd barely given him, weren't giving him, any reason to believe otherwise.

“Sure.” You pushed past him. It was immature and you knew it, but you didn't stop yourself from doing it anyway.

Although there was something that bothered you about Ethan Landry, something different than before. You couldn't quite place your finger on what it was about him despite you rolling over all your conversations and interactions.

That conversation played over and over in your head. You could see it clearly every time; the way anger flayed Ethan's features and created cruel words to fall out of his mouth. The way the anger in you pooled and you did the same.

You remembered the way Ethan was consumed with regret. You only saw a portion of it, you were sure. A part of you knew it ran deeper than you'd ever be able to see and maybe even understand.

After another afternoon of thinking it over, you laid in bed and picked over each detail once again. There was a problem here, one that was hiding its solution from you. There was a missing piece, you were sure, a fatal flaw with the equation that kept you up all night. You sat up suddenly, as the awful realization hit you. You realized, with urgency, that you might've just become the world's biggest hypocrite.

「 ... 」

Ethan hadn't realized that his opinion of you was capable of changing. He maybe, definitely shouldn't have thought so little of you before he even spoke to you. He rolled over in bed each night, your voice echoing in his head. The hurt in your eyes, your guarded body language. Ethan had to do something.

He didn't need you to accept your apology. He didn't crave forgiveness. He just needed to know you. That had been the root of all his issues with you. He'd believed things without ever actually seeing them for himself, picking and choosing what supported his assumptions. Ethan never had the full story and that had been his biggest mistake.

Ethan spent the next few days with nothing but you on his mind, spending hours deciding on a course of action. He wasn't sure how you'd react given your last interaction. You had remained calm and composed but he knew you didn't like him. He didn't like him. Your response was entirely justified and Ethan knew, whatever the outcome was, he would accept it. If you truly never wanted to speak to him again, he would stay as far away from you as he could manage.

Ethan waited for you after class, relief washing over as he spotted you in the large crowd that had formed. He started walking backwards in front of you, forcing you to keep your attention on him.

"Before you tell me to go away," Ethan began, making sure your earbuds weren't in. You stopped walking suddenly and his heart dropped - but you reached out to grab him.

"Watch where you're going," you muttered, but there was no heat to it, motioning back to the person Ethan had almost bumped in to.

"Thanks." Ethan grinned at you, his excitement almost overflowing out of him.

"Do you have a second?" Ethan asked cautiously, glancing at your expression.

"You're already talking." You put your hands on your hips, a tiredness suddenly becoming evident as your face and shoulders fell.

Ethan had a sudden urge to reach out and comfort you, though he refrained.

"I came up with a really great idea. I promise it's a win-win," Ethan stopped to check your face, unrelenting eyes staring back at him.

"We hang out - " Ethan began and you rolled your eyes. "Three times. Just three. I get to know you. You get to bask in the fact that I'm wrong and you're right and call me an idiot?" Ethan's plan came out more like a question than a statement, his confidence dropping with your unimpressed demeanor.

"Why?" You asked suddenly and genuinely, unable to understand why Ethan Landry, out of all people, wanted to admit he was wrong.

"I..." Ethan held his bottom lip between his teeth nervously, rocking on his feet as he continued. "You're not the person I thought you were." He confessed honestly, hoping that his eyes revealed the truth.

You weren't sure why you agreed. It was a completely stupid idea. Maybe the loneliness of your limited social circle was catching up to you, or the weary glances everyone threw your way were beginning to sting. Perhaps if you realized Ethan was really as bad as you thought, you wouldn't have to feel so guilty about your hypocritical speculation. Maybe it was that part of you that wanted to change, to break the cycle of unrealistic comparisons and the high bar you held yourself to. Maybe if you came to the grand realization that you could be wrong sometimes, you could become just a little bit happier with yourself.

「 ... 」

Ethan, unsurprisingly, texted you first. You assumed he'd only use it to create plans, but his name popped up on your screen with increasing frequency.

you

this wasnt part of the deal.

ethan

we never set any rules about texting...

:|>

you

wtf is that supposed to be?

ethan

... im sticking my tongue out at you?

you

?????

You shook your head at the strangest emoticon you'd seen, your screen slowly fading to black after you sent your reply. In your phone's reflection, you caught yourself smiling.

「 ... 」

Ethan wasted no time in creating plants, asking you if you were free that weekend. You were, and he thought it was "cool." You stared longer at the text than you should've, a little curious as to what he would plan.

Ethan caught up with you after class, graduating from sending friendly smiles and small waves to you from across the room. He fell into step with you, matching your shorter strides.

"I was thinking about what to do this weekend," Ethan began casually, as if the two of you hanging out was the most normal thing in the world. "How about the movies?" Ethan asked with a bright smile.

You laughed, a little taken aback as you saw Ethan's expression.

“No way.” You responded.

“What? Why?” Ethan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Are you kidding? You seriously don't know?” You asked in a bit of disbelief.

Ethan shook his head and you almost felt sorry that he was so clueless.

“When a guy asks someone to the movies, he usually wants to... you know...”

You watched as the realization hit Ethan, his eyes widening and his face reddening.

“Ohmygod, I didn't mean - “

Then you laughed. You truly, genuinely laughed at Ethan's expression and perhaps a bit at his expense. Despite this, Ethan's face transformed into a small smile and he let out a little laugh along with you.

“Ok, bad idea. We can watch a movie at my dorm?"

You gave Ethan a look, a light smile still lingering on your face. “Ethan. that's even worse.”

“Shit, sorry, let's just scrap the movie. Wanna get lunch?”

「 ... 」

The weekend came quickly and you found yourself looking forward to hanging out with Ethan. His texts were no longer getting on your nerves and you found yourself replying almost instantly each time, no matter what you were in the middle of doing.

Ethan waited outside your dorm building for you. He didn't have to but he did anyway, eyes lighting up as soon as he saw you.

"Lead the way." You smiled gently and despite his nod, Ethan walked next to you. He began talking, nervously at first, then you joined in here and there and eventually the two of you walked in comfortable conversation. It wasn't long before you reached your destination, a simple campus cafe with mediocre food but didn't require traveling out to the city.

The two of you walked up to the counter, ordering the best things the menu had to offer despite its limited options. Ethan went first, opting for a sandwich and a lemonade. He paid and moved out of the way for you. Once you confirmed your separate order with the worker, Ethan's hand hurried to try to tap his card against the screen. You looked at him quizzically as you placed a firm hand on his, trapping it against the counter. "What are you doing?" You seemed to ask him and he moved his hand away apologetically, neither of you wanting to argue. You paid for your meal - you would not be indebted to Ethan Landry.

The two of you sat near one of the giant windows that doubled as a wall for the cafe, allowing you to peer out and watch students walk by. You and Ethan sat across from each other and the silence that swallowed the two of you was awkward, a complete 180 from the easy-flowing conversation from earlier.

Ethan's eyes flickered from you to the window and back, fingers tapping nervously on the table. Although you couldn't see it directly, you knew his leg was bouncing from under the table, a habit you had picked up on.

It was up to you to start talking. You forced your eyes back to Ethan, offering him a resigning smile. Your eyes landed on his as your mouth opened to speak, but your words failed. The sun was shining just the right way on Ethan, rays of warm light creating a curious glint in his eyes. You'd thought they were a basic brown before but realized the depth of them now, the sun exposing the warmth in them. Ethan raised a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh light, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching. The sudden realization that Ethan was beautiful hit you suddenly and with urgency as if it were a revolutionary breakthrough you had to proclaim.

You cleared your throat and your mind and Ethan's hand dropped, moving to support his chin as he moved his focus from the sun to you.

"So, you like Star Wars?" You asked rather softly, wondering where to place the thought that had suddenly intruded your brain.

Ethan's eyes widened and he straightened. "How'd you know?"

You motioned downwards toward Ethan's Star Wars wallet, still resting on the table. Ethan's face visibly fired up as he grabbed his wallet and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Are you... a fan?" Ethan asked weakly.

"No way. I mean, the movies are so long and they get so boring. The entire thing is so confusing - I mean, no offense..." You trailed off, realizing that if Ethan owned a Star Wars wallet, Ethan probably really liked Star Wars.

And clearly, Ethan had taken offense.

"Well, first of all, the movies are not long and boring. The story itself is so intricate you have to pay close attention - but it's actually good. Plus, the first movie was super revolutionary and completely ahead of its time - "

You stifled a giggle as Ethan avidly attempted to defend his favorite franchise, hands flailing as he emphasized his points. You had never seen him so passionate.

"Hey, this is a very serious debate," Ethan said, although there was a widening smile on his face.

"No, no, you're right. Please keep going," you encouraged and Ethan rolled his eyes with a smile.

"What is your biggest issue with the franchise?"

"Hmmm..." You placed your hand on your chin, deep in thought. "I always fall asleep while trying to watch the movies."

Ethan leaned back with a sigh. "That is literally a you problem."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "No way. It's not my fault the movies are so boring I fall asleep."

"It totally is!" Ethan's eyebrows moved with the fluctuations of his voice, hands exasperatedly pointed at you while you continued laughing.

“I can't back down from this one. You're gonna have to admit you're wrong this time."

"Hey, I never said I was right," you countered. "I just told you what I thought."

"Well, you seem like you always want to be right. Are you?" Ethan's tone was gentle and curious, not condescending like you expected, seemingly wanting to know more.

Your shoulders rose in a small shrug as you thought the question over.

"I do want to be... it does feel nice," you answered decisively. "But I don't have to be. Sometimes you have to sacrifice it to keep the peace, you know?" That was a lesson you'd learned the hard way, the loud mouth you had during your childhood slowly giving way to a calmer, harder disposition.

"Yeah," Ethan said softly. "I get that." And something in his voice told you he really did.

「 ... 」

It wasn't long until Ethan became your personal Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, appearing with increasing frequency seemingly out of nowhere. You were greeted by the sight of him on your way to classes you didn't share, Ethan engaging in conversation with you until he was forced to let you go. You weren't aware that most of Ethan's classes were on the opposite side of campus - if he even had them at all.

Ethan's habit of walking you to class mixed with his recurring texts, his name popping up at the top of your screen multiple times a day.

Ethan had become an integral part of your routine. His texts would come in as soon as your classes ended, inquiring about how they went. The two of you would text until one of you wiped out (usually Ethan and usually before 10 p.m.).

You hung around until you spotted Ethan, hard to miss with his curly hair and his tall stature. The overcast day presaged the cold winter months that would soon reach their peak. You watched as his eyes scanned for you, face breaking out into a smile as soon as he spotted you. Your expression mirrored his as the two of you weaved between the bodies making up a small crowd until finally, you stood in front of each other.

"Hey," you greeted, lips stretching into an even wider smile.

"Hey." Ethan's teeth made an appearance as he rocked back and forth. Nervous habit. He had something to say, you could tell. However, you weren't going to force it out of him.

Even in the gray wash of light Ethan was radiant. He brought a warmth that took off the bite of the cold New York air.

The two of you began talking about anything, beginning the journey to your first class of the morning. Ethan's shoulders bumped yours as you walked, quickly approaching your destination.

Ethan took a breath as the two of you stopped just outside your classroom, turning his body to face you finally.

"So, I was thinking," Ethan started, carefully watching the changes in your expression.

"Woah, that's new," you teased as Ethan sighed cordially.

"Okay, now I don't feel bad for what I'm about to say," Ethan continued and your heart stammered anxiously. "Our next official hangout is watching Star Wars."

You groaned.

"Before you say anything, please keep in mind - I don't care." Ethan said proudly, watching as your expression contorting into one of displeasure while your shoulders sagged.

"You're the worst," you started, but Ethan just smiled, nodding for you to go on. "And I could totally overrule you. I can literally block you and never speak to you again."

Ethan's eyes widened and his mouth opened to say something. Did you take it too far?

"I'm kidding," you said quickly before embarrassment could stop you. "I will... give Star Wars another chance."

You turned away from Ethan in an attempt to hide the prominent flush on your cheeks, missing the way his cheeks lit up to match yours.

"Wait!" Ethan called before you could enter your class, which you were almost going to be late to. "Where are we gonna watch it?"

You turned around once again, giving him a curious glance as his face turned a bright red.

"You know... because of what you said last time?"

You stared at him for a second before you finally laughed, comprehending what he was referencing.

"Ethan, we can watch it at your dorm, it's fine. I trust you. I mean, as long as you don't mind?"

Ethan visibly gulped, his heart acting so wildly his chest was starting to hurt.

"No. No, I don't mind."

"Okay," you placed your hand on the door of your classroom, sending Ethan one last smile. "Text me," you said, as if he wouldn't have regardless.

「 ... 」

Ethan warned you that his shared dorm was small, but you didn't mind. Nothing could be as bad as yours.

Ethan's room was much more spacious than yours, considering he resided in a different building notoriously known for its larger spaces. Ethan and his roommate had a bathroom and a washer/dryer set right in their dorms along with a kitchen! To say you were jealous was an understatement - communal kitchens were your walking nightmare.

There was a lack of living room space, forcing you and Ethan to share his bed. He took a seat against the wall with his laptop and a variety of snacks respectfully placed between the two of you, creating a barrier you almost caught yourself wishing wasn't there. Ethan's roommate was the only thing missing from the picture, but you weren't curious enough to inquire; Ethan didn't mention him and you didn't weren't interested enough to care.

Ethan at least gave you the choice of starting the series with the first movie release-date wise or the first movie in the Star Wars time line. You didn't really know what that meant, so you chose what would hopefully be the less confusing one for you to grasp. You wondered, for a moment, if Ethan thought about watching the entire franchise with you. You wondered if you'd let him.

You took the time Ethan spent on loading up The Phantom Menace to look around his room, the distinction between his side and his roommate's made evident by Ethan's posters. They ranged from video games to movie posters and what you assumed were his favorite artists. You examined them carefully, trying to memorize each one. They seemed special, like a part of Ethan that you didn't know just yet.

Ethan tapped your shoulder softly, motioning towards his laptop screen, indicating the movie was ready to start. Ethan's smile was one of the most genuine you'd seen to date, parted lips showing off the perfect teeth that made you suspicious when he swore he'd never had braces. Some people are just born perfect.

No, you chided yourself, he's smiling this hard over Star Wars.

You laughed at your own thoughts. "You're such a nerd."

Ethan's smile faltered and panic took over your system. "I didn't mean - It's not bad -" You sighed in an attempt to compose yourself.

"It's cute." You stated finally, decisively, and Ethan's smile returned. He didn't say anything, which you were thankful for, instead pressing play on the movie. You could only hope the opening scene muffled the sound of your heart racing.

Star Wars wasn't as boring as you remembered, though you weren't sure how much of your excitement you could contribute to the actual movie when Ethan would make small comments every-so-often that would make you smile. Whether they were jokes, criticisms, or history about the scene, each one left you craving the sound of Ethan's voice, low and steady, in your ear again.

You weren't sure how you ended up so close to Ethan but everything about the scene was lulling you to sleep: the scent of fresh laundry mixing with a scent on Ethan's skin you couldn't quite place. the warmth he radiated against the creeping cold of the night, his smooth voice whispering stupid pieces of information in your ear, especially the lullaby of a movie in the background.

You drifted off at some unknown time despite your efforts to fight the heavy weight of sleep. You'd really tried to stay up to watch the movie in its entirety, to give it and Ethan's opinion of it a fighting chance, but your body wouldn't have it. Your head fell, finding a place on Ethan's shoulder rather uncomfortably considering his long torso. Ethan panicked for a moment once he realized the sudden weight on his shoulder was you, fast and peacefully asleep on him. It took him a few seconds to react as he sat there starting before he slumped down slowly, carefully guiding your head, trying to prevent you from straining your neck.

From what he could recall, there were about thirty minutes left of the movie. It was one of his favorite parts yet all Ethan could do was focus on your soft breaths and the way his heart pounded, hoping the loud thumping wouldn't wake you up.

The movie ended and Ethan's laptop joined you in sleep, leaving him stranded in the dark. He made no motion to move, however, choosing the ache that was starting to form in his back over disrupting your sleep. It was the most peaceful he'd ever seen you, so different from the witty comments you sent his way now that you two were... friends? 

Ethan wasn't sure what it was and he didn't want to think about it, considering it only came to be out of a stupid agreement. One that was almost up; only one more chance to be with you before the two of you either continued whatever you had going on or went your separate ways. For someone who strongly disliked you just a few weeks ago, Ethan suddenly had a hard time getting behind the idea of never speaking to you again. Never being close to you like this again.

Ethan sprang out of his thoughts as the door opened as loudly as it could've possibly sounded, breaking the soft silence that had encompassed the two of you. Chad's loud voice boomed throughout the small room - as if the door hadn't properly announced his arrival.

The sound woke you up and the presence of someone else jolted you away from Ethan as if you got caught doing something you shouldn't. Ethan's back was the only part of him that felt relieved, already missing the distinct scent of you.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't realize you had someone over," Chad said with a small laugh and Ethan tried his best not to be annoyed.

"I don't - It's not like that," Ethan insisted with a blush on his face as he shut his laptop.

"Yeah, sure," Chad sent you a wink and a small, awkward laugh escaped you. "I'm Chad."

You introduced yourself with a smile and Ethan couldn't help but glance between the two of you. Of course Chad had to be wearing one of his tightest shirts, one of the ones that showed off his array of bulging muscles. Ethan wondered if you preferred guys like him, a sudden urge to know your type bursting within him.

You checked your phone, a yawn interrupting you as you checked the time. "I should probably get back," you said to no one in particular, though your eyes were glancing at Ethan with a hopeful glance in your eyes.

"I'll walk you?" Ethan suggested, moving to get up off his bed.

You smiled and nodded and Ethan was relieved he'd finally gotten you right.

「 ... 」

"Sorry I fell asleep." You said sincerely on the walk back.

"Pfft. It's fine. You technically warned me."

"I promise I'll make it up to you."

"As long as it doesn't count towards our three hangouts." Ethan said it with a smile, yet it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"It'll be Hangout 2.5," you promised with a smile, though the thought of the end of your agreement with Ethan had been terrorizing you as much as it had him.

You were approaching your dorm now, the walk going by quicker than it would've without Ethan by your side; you suddenly wished you'd gotten assigned the furthest building from Ethan's.

"So, what'd you think of... Chad?" Ethan's words were slow yet sudden and in a tone you'd never heard him use before.

"Chad?" You asked, the information taking a moment before you realized you'd just met Chad less than 15 minutes ago. "Chad," you repeated, the name sounding strange on your tongue. "I think his name doesn't really suit him. He kind of looks like a James or something."

Ethan laughed, shaking his head at your comment.

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

You had a sneaking suspicion Ethan was lying, but lacked any solid evidence to back it up. Though his voice... it was different. Ethan either had a crush on you or had a crush on Chad. You could've believed the latter if Ethan spoke of his roommate more often and more fondly.

That only left one option: Ethan Landry had a crush on you.

It was a reach, you were sure. All the evidence against Ethan could be easily dismissed as him trying to get to know you, which he was. You shook the thought out of your head. There was no way he liked you.

But what if he did?

The two of you were stopped by your door now, Ethan waiting for your final comment of the night before making his way back. He looked at you with big eyes and a shy smile and you had the sudden urge to kiss him.

So you did.

Your lips made contact with Ethan's cheek, slowly and softly, inch by inch. You barely pressed your lips against his skin but you felt the effects immediately, face so warm it radiated. You pulled back and admired Ethan's embarrassed and partially confused smile.

"Thanks for walking me."

Ethan stood there, speechless, and you offered a final wave before opening the door and disappearing behind it.

Ethan stood there, speechless, as he processed what had just happened, if it was just a figment of his imagination.

He stayed there, speechless, as seconds ticked into minutes, confirming that yes, you had just kissed him goodnight.

Ethan's hand was glued to the spot on his cheek where your lips made contact with his cheek, fingertips ghosting over it in an attempt to replicate the feeling.

It was official. His grave was dug. Ethan Landry was totally fucked.

「 ... 」

You'd pretended like nothing had happened, unsure of how to deal with the consequences of your actions. There seemed to be no change in the nature of your relationship with Ethan and you weren't sure if you were grateful or not.

The next (and final) time Ethan invited you to hang out was his riskiest idea yet. He wanted you to travel into the city with him, something you'd always been too busy to do on your own. It was something you'd mentioned to him once or twice and you wondered if he only came up with the idea because of you.

Ethan was a self-proclaimed expert on the area immediately surrounding Blackmore's campus, challenging you to notify him of any cravings you had throughout the day, promising to fulfill your every wish.

He'd asked you to meet you at one of the local campus spots, a coffee shop to start off your adventure. Ethan was shocked when he learned you'd never visited it, insisting it was the best in the area despite its inconvenient location. You rolled your eyes but took his word for it.

You arrived at your destination early, basking in the warmth the small shop provided, sheltering you from the cold air outside. Perhaps it would be the perfect excuse to walk a little too close to Ethan today.

8:49 became 9:03 yet there was no sign of Ethan. It was strange, considering you two agreed on nine on the dot and Ethan was never late. Not when it came to you.

You tried to calm the beat of your heart with scrolling but the distraction didn't work for long. You kept swiping back to the message thread exchanged with Ethan, your message notifying Ethan of your arrival on... delivered.

He couldn't be ignoring you.

An hour passed and you sat in disbelief. You weren't sure why you waited, rifling for excuses that Ethan could possibly present. Excuses you'd accept in a heartbeat. One of the workers was starting to eye you and you were mortified. Ethan Landry had embarrassed you without even showing up.

Your confusion became anger as you picked up your stuff and walked out of the stupid shop, frustrated tears forming in your eyes. You were eerily reminded of that day with Ethan and you wondered with a cold laugh if this had been his plan all along.

Make you fall for him and then teach you a lesson? Did he get back to his room after you kissed him, laughing his head off? Was it that kiss that made him stand you up?

You wondered why you cared, before the agonizing realization that you cared about Ethan Landry struck you. You weren't sure when it happened or how you had allowed it to, but you guessed it didn't matter much now.

You were right about Ethan Landry.

Though, being right had never been so painful.

~

Your phone vibrated obnoxiously in your pocket and a feeling of dread overcame you as you turned it over. Ethan. The angry tears came back and you were far past accepting excuses. You'd left that idea in the shop, putting more distance between you and the last good things you thought of Ethan Landry with each quick stride.

You declined the call and it came in again and again, desperately. Your phone hovered over that red button, no longer giving Ethan a chance. You stopped walking, wiping your eyes as you clicked Ethan's contact. You had just begun furiously typing when you heard your name shouted distantly. Please, no.

Ethan was running towards you, dressed inappropriately for the weather. His hair was messy and his face was red. He gasped for breath once he reached you, his long legs aiding him in his goal while you stood there, unable to move.

“I'm so sorry, I fell asleep - “ Ethan's voice was deeper than usual, raspier. “It's not an excuse, and I'm sorry - “ Ethan stopped and turned to sneeze into the crook of his arm. He sneezed once, twice, three times. No wonder his voice sounded so different.

The coldness of your stature melted away with quick realization, though a hint of anger was still detectable in your voice.

“Jesus, Ethan, are you sick? You could've just told me.” You reached up to cup Ethan's face, pressing your hands against his cheeks and forehead. No fever, at least.

“I'm okay - “

“No, you're not.” The frustration was clear in your voice and Ethan decided it was best not to argue.

“I'm sorry.”

You sighed, taking off your jacket and throwing it around Ethan's shoulders, unsure of how effective the item would be. You wanted to sit there and scold him for coming out in cold weather with the lack of clothes he had on but the look in his eye told you it could wait. You took his hand and shoved it in your pocket as you led him back to where he came from, trying to make the walk back to his dorm quick. The trip with silent save for the occasional sniffles and sneezes, anger mixing with concern. You weren't sure what to feel, too many emotions overcoming you in too short of a time frame.

Ethan opened his dorm weakly, glancing at you as if expecting you to walk away. The rush of his departure was evident and only strengthened the feelings of guilt you carried for doubting Ethan. But what else were you supposed to think?

"Get changed," you ordered, looking disapprovingly at Ethan's current outfit.

You moved to the kitchen, searching for anything warm to make Ethan. He emerged from the bathroom in holiday pajamas, which you supposed where his warmest pair. Ethan folded up your jacket nervously, placing it on a stray table.

You forced him into bed, wrapping him up in as many layers as you could. You came over with a mug of tea, warning Ethan of its temperature before setting it down on his bedside table.

The silence was tense as you took a seat on the edge of Ethan's bed, both of you glancing at the other expectantly.

If Ethan was completely honest, he expected you to be angry. He could've taken more preventative measures to prevent what he'd done. The guilt at the thought of you sitting alone, waiting in vain for him made his chest hurt.

"I'm sorry," Ethan said with emotion cracking through his words.

"I'm not mad, Ethan," you shook your head, turning your body to face him properly.

"I would be. Or at least upset."

"Maybe I'm a little upset," you half-shrugged with a smile that warmed Ethan's heart.

Ethan laughed lightly, though the sweet sound became strained as his nose was blocked off completely, forcing Ethan to begin breathing through his mouth.

"Tissues?" You inquired, looking around the room to see if you could spot any.

"Don't have any," Ethan shook his head. "You should go, I don't want to get you sick." His voice, despite its hoarseness, was filled with sincerity.

You nodded your agreement and Ethan couldn't help but feel an ache as you walked out of his room.

~

You made the trek to the nearest convenience store, searching the aisles for anything Ethan may need. You went for the tissues and the medicine first, hesitating before you doubled back toward the snack aisle.

However, your plan wasn't exactly thought through. You stood, stumped, in front of Ethan's dorm with no way of getting it open.

Your solution walked up to you in jeans and a hoodie, the curious gaze of Chad inspecting the bags of groceries in your arms.

"Ethan's sick," you explained and the concern on Chad's face grew.

"With what?" Chad opened the door for the two of you, allowing you to step inside first.

"I think it's just a cold." You entered gratefully, setting the bags down on the small, shared kitchen counter. You glanced back at Chad, who was looking over Ethan while keeping his distance as much as he could.

Ethan had become one with his blankets, rolled over against the wall. At least he was getting some rest.

"Here, let me help you with that," Chad offered, observing the way you struggled to find the correct places for each item.

You thanked him, setting aside a box of tissues and some medicine for Ethan once he woke up.

"So," Chad began and although you barely knew him, the teasing tone of his voice made you suspicious of what he would say next. "You and Ethan?"

You couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement or an invitation to let Chad in on something he was missing.

"We're just friends," you insisted despite the warmth of your cheeks and the smile fighting its way onto your face.

"Just friends don't look at each other like that."

You could've brought up the fact that Chad had barely even seen you and Ethan interact but you knew there was no point in arguing. A part of you didn't want to, anyways.

"Do you like him? Honestly?" You weren't sure which inflection gave it away; Chad cared for Ethan despite the distance in their relationship. Learning to live together had done them a favor, after all.

"I do," you confessed quietly, a part of you wondering why you'd done it to essentially a complete stranger.

Chad just smiled, a wide one that only solidified your earlier theory.

"I think he does too."

You shrugged despite yourself, the cycle of your memories occasionally bringing up the beginning of your relationship with Ethan Landry despite how much you'd grown from then.

"You should go," you began after a few moments of silence. "I can take care of him."

Chad complied easily, commenting that he had work to get done anyway. You suspected it was a lie.

There was movement from Ethan's bed and you moved towards its source, bottle of medicine and tissues in hand.

Ethan was suddenly awake now, pink cheeks grinning like he had just won the lottery.

"Are you that excited about tissues...?" You wondered out loud with a small, nervous laugh.

"Chad was right," Ethan blurted and terror struck you as you realized he heard.

"I do like you."

Emotions hit you one after the other, disbelief the most prominent of all.

"I thought you were asleep."

"I'm really glad I wasn't."

"Asshole."

"Hey, you can't be mean to me while I'm sick. I get a pass."

"Just wait until you're better," you threatened emptily.

Ethan's lips curved into a small pout, flushed face only serving to make him look cuter despite the circumstances.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he confessed unsteadily.

"Absolutely not. We have a test on Thursday and I'm not missing it," you retorted, Ethan's light laughter flooding your ears.

"That was my plan all along. Get you sick so I can finally redeem myself," Ethan joked but something in your eyes flickered and he worried he said the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry, I was kidding - "

Ethan's stammering was interrupted by the sweet sound of your laughter, relief spreading through his body.

You leaned down to press a kiss to Ethan's forehead. You quickly moved to press kisses to other empty spots of Ethan's face, no longer denying yourself the urge to pepper his face like you had so many times before.

You weren't sure how you wound up here, taking care of the boy you swore you'd hated, kissing him until he smiled despite the pain he was in. It was an accident, a series of events neither of you had predicted or expected. What began as a trade-off became an ordeal that had trapped both your hearts and refused to let go until the two of you complied.

The warmth of Ethan Landry had overcome you, though it was not too much to bear. It was just the right temperature to comfort you in the cold and shine in the summer. Ethan Landry was wide smiles and soft touches, not at all arrogant like you had initially assumed. He was the feeling of a shirt fresh out of the dryer, comforting you through every inch of your being.

That was just the beginning of what you knew about him. You weren't done exploring all of Ethan Landry and he wasn't done with you. Each misconception held had dissolved and become something else, an invitation to continue learning about each other. You weren't sure what this was or what it would become, but you took the lesson the world wanted to teach you and ran with its potential. If your happiness came because of Ethan Landry, who were you to refuse?

"I know," you whispered, placing a gentle kiss to Ethan's head. The first of many, you were sure.

And for the first time, the two of you understood each other perfectly.

have you ever considerated yourself as unloveable ??

Wanna Be My Cliché?

➺ Pairing: Ethan Landry x fem! reader

➺ Warnings: fluff and fluff, Ethan beign adorable and that's it.

➺ Word count: 993.

➺ Authors note: So this is my first post btw English is not my mother tongue, so I'm sorry if there are some mistakes. And I just did it cause the lovely @cerealzzz request this to me, hope you like it sweetheart.

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To say Ethan was nervous was an understatement, he swore he almost fainted when asked you out and hearing you say an excited "yes" made his stomach flutter with butterflies. His plan was simple: a night date having dinner at your favorite restaurante and after, walk you home with all his confession speech memorized in his head.

Ethan spent a lot of time trying the best outfits he had with the help of a also excited Chad with eyes full of pride who kept saying something like 'my shy boy had grown so much'. The curly boy checked himself in the mirror one last time before leave the dorm to get at your apartment and when he finally arrived all the butterflies starting to fly again with the thought of seeing you.

Ethan sent a message saying that he was in the lobby of the building waiting for you and when his eyes landed on your figure coming down the stairs the boy swallowed hard, how could someone be so beautiful? He didn't know where to keep his eyes as he wanted to record that scene in his mind in smallest details, your beauty was breathtaking to his eyes and he still didn't understand how such a perfect girl had agreed to go out with him.

"Do you like what you see?" the joking question made Ethan's cheeks flush and your smile made him even more delighted - if that was even possible.

"You look beautiful"  Ethan murmured embarrassed, but the sparkle in his eyes reflected the purest sincerity and adoration, to him you were a work of art that could never be replicated, because you were unique.

The way to the restaurant was smooth, Ethan managed to calm his heartbeats and tried to talk to you without blushing every five minutes or stuttering. The meeting place was a simple but nice restaurant that you used to go with your friend group and for the first time it was just the two of you at the dinner table. It took a few minutes for Ethan to relax in his chair, but when the agitation left his body completely he found himself talking excitedly with you, and it was remarkable how all the boy's attention was on you, even if you were just telling him a silly story from your childhood, he listened to everything with a smile on his face. 

After dinner Ethan insisted on paying for everything even though you had complained that you two could split the bill. As you left the restaurant the cold wind hit your bodies and without think twice the curly removed his coat when he noticed how shrunk you were hugging yourself to kept you warm. The brunette boy put the coat over your shoulders leaning down to adjust his large coat making sure you were protected and felt his legs weaken when he noticed your closeness, the way you had a smile adorning your beautiful lips and your bright eyes stared at him with the same adoration he had for you, there he found himself clinging to the hope that maybe you would reciprocate his feelings.

"Can we take a walk in the park?" your soft voice questioned him and he nodded immediately, he would agree to anything you wanted to do if it made a smile appear on your face.

Ethan was surprised by the softness of your hand that subtly held his hand intertwining your fingers as you pulled him to go to the park near the restaurant, you swore you heard the boy's breath hitch, but you just suppressed a litlle laughed finding him adorable. What Ethan didn't know was that you had fallen in love with the silly, clumsy and adorable boy who always blushed when he looked at you.

The park was empty due to the nighttime and also the cloudy weather didn't help matters, everyone was already waiting for the rain, but you were too distracted on your walk enjoying the view of the illuminated garden and the music playing somewhere nearby. When the first drops started to fall Ethan got despaired, the world was not cooperating with your first date, but he couldn't hold his smile when he saw you laughing feeling the rain getting you all wet.

"We should go, I don't want you to get a cold" The concern was evident in Ethan's voice and that only made your heart warm even though the freezing drops were slowly soaking you both.

"I have a better idea" With that simple sentence you approached the curly one with a tender smile, your arms rest around his neck bringing him closer and Ethan felt his heart leap.

Your fingers caressed the boy's damp curls, Ethan's hands found their way around your waist holding you close as if you were going to disappear in the next instant and when you leaned in against him leaving your lips just inches away he was sure the world had stopped.

"I've always wanted to live the cliché of being kissed in the rain so wanna be my cliché, Ethan?"

Nothing more needed to be said, his whole confession speech had been forgotten the moment your lips collided, Ethan could be inexperienced, but he kissed you so calmly enjoying every second, his lips moved slowly and his kiss overflowed the feelings he had hidden for long months, his hands caressed the small of your back with fondness. Your lips seemed like they were meant to be together, but the need for air made you apart from each other and Ethan smiled when he felt you give him a few more sweet pecks before pulling away.

"If you still had any doubt before, just to clarify I wanna be your cliché"

You smiled before pulling him into another kiss, it didn't matter if the world was falling apart in a rainstorm, at that moment all that mattered to Ethan was having you in his arms.

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Thanks for reading, bye bye💗