Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He didn't get it. He didn't get it at all. 

He stared at her bundled up form, blankets tightly pulled around her, as she looked at him in question. He could see the marks made on her face by slight acne in the past, could see how her pores were visible on the apple of her cheeks, could see how chapped her small lips were, could see how perfectly normal her nose, cheekbones, jaw, everything was.

No sight of porcelain smooth skin or indications of a face made in the image of an angel.

Dark chocolate brown eyes bored into his blue ones and in them he found no specks of gold, no flashes of green, no sinful sinking black lurking around like how they described it in all her favorite books. They were just a simple dark brown and they were becoming more and more confused as the seconds passed.

"Are you alright?  You look like you just saw your whole life flash before your eyes." Her voice broke him out of his trance.

"Huh? Yeah, no. Sorry, I was just...thinking about something." He placed all the chips and instant noodles he had bought for her on the coffee table before joining her on the couch. 

"Oooh~ Sounds deep. What was it?" She asked, dragging her gaze away from the television which was playing an anime. Pressing the pause button, she twisted and faced him.

"Nothing." He replied. He felt a slight smile tug his lips up as she screeched inhumanely. 

"WhAt?! You can't just stare at someone for 17 minutes, thinking about something and then not tell them. That's just cruel!"  

All he could do was shrug in response. He was definitely not going to tell her what was on his mind. Plus, 17 minutes was a gross exaggeration. He had not been staring that long. Hopefully.

"Ugh. Meanie. You're telling me some day, mark my words." She declared stubbornly but they both knew she'd forget about it in half an hour. 

"Sure." Was the only half-hearted reply he could give her. She then turned back to the television, pressed play and shifted back to her weird position leaning on the arm rest of the couch, that looked nothing but painful to him.  

As she slowly sank into her world of animation, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

Her round face couldn't exactly be described as sharp or elegant. Her short, black hair was uncombed and beginning to resemble a pile of tangled straw. Though it wasn't exactly pleasant to look at, he knew that he didn't really mind. Many guys found their girlfriend's rat-nest hair cute but all he found it was amusing. 

She was... so normal. Average more like. When you fall annoyingly head over heels for someone, aren't you supposed to see them as a pariah or an angel of some sort? But, she...was still the same dork in his eyes.

How was it that he found his eyes always searching for her whenever he walked into a room? That he felt like he hadn't wasted a day if he managed to witness her laugh at least once. That he was completely content with just holding her hand and getting to kiss her. That he always, always wanted her around him.

"He's so cute~" She sang out as she rolled around on the couch like a puppy until her head came to rest on his arm. 

He simply rolled his eyes and looked at the pink haired character wearing  green glasses on the screen. What the hell? If you had pink hair, why would you wear green glasses? They'd clash horribly.

"Uh huh, I'm sure." He said, by now used to her gushing about gazillion characters and how hot/sweet/adorable/savage they were. A lesser man would've made the idiotic mistake of asking her to chose between the 2-dimensional, clearly color challenged character and himself but thankfully for him, he was not a lesser man. Most of the time anyway.

He knew that asking her that would be like asking to her chose and save only her mother or her brother. Plus he had a gut feeling the answer to the question would not be in his favor.

"Aww~ Are you jealous?" She crooned as she looked up at him, a lopsided grin plastered on her face.

"Yeah right. We're not in the same league so I don't really care but it's cute to see you fangirl over them I guess." He replied honestly, thinking about how her lips would spread in a full smile, eyes crinkling when she watched her favorite shows and characters.

He didn't consider that as competition and any guy who did was clearly stupid. He was, though he'd never admit it to her, slightly grateful for it after all because when he knew no way to console her, these shows always did.

"What?" She said, shock clearly shown on her face. "You...don't mind I'm a complete and total weird weeb? Like at all?"

"Well, I mean it gets a bit trying when you're always "Agh!!! Why can't they just kiss and have babies already?!?" or "I love him so much!!! Why isn't he real?!" but-" He was cut of by her shrieking laughter. He glanced down at her to find her holding her stomach as she struggled to catch a breathe.

"What the- I do NOT sound like that! You sounded like a deranged chipmunk on helium!! Did you just have to do the falsetto?!" She cried out still chuckling and holding her waist.

"That is how you sound, my sweetest." He teased and bent down to place a kiss on her cheek. 

"No, I don't but do I really say stuff like that out loud? My parents have got to think I'm insane." She finally quietened down and he draped his arm around her. Dark eyes looked up at him and he felt his stomach twist when he saw the beginnings of a smirk on her lips. 

"Shut up." He groaned before she could get out a single comment and pressed his lips against hers.

He felt her lips smile against his as they both sunk down on the couch. Fuck the how or when, he loved her and that was all he needed to know. 

 --  

"Love doesn't always mean that you find everything your partner does beautiful. Sometimes it simply means that you just want them to be with you. They may not look perfect, they may not agree with you, they may argue with you and constantly demand you to get them more instant noodles." He paused for a moment as laughter echoed through the hall, she narrowed her eyes at him and mouthed the words 'You'll pay.'

He felt his smile grow but continued. "Love isn't something like a curtain being lifted and suddenly you see birds singing, flowers blossoming, rabbits and deer frolicking around. Love, to me, is simply acceptance and I accept everything you possess and apparently lack as mine till the end of time." He finished and tightened his hold on her hands. One more line, one more sentence and they would be bound together forever.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

«⊙»

Chapter Text

She stared out the window, music playing on her earphones as people went about their life outside. 

Lost in her thoughts, she unconsciously smiled when she remembered how their clothes kind of matched today. His dark blue denim shirt, black trousers and her dark navy shirt with black jeans. Biting her lip to stop her smile from widening she closed her eyes, his image still so exasperatingly clear in her mind. The song changed and she turned back to people-watching as cars and buses passed by. 

Her thoughts changed tracks when she paid attention to the song. 

And I want to tell you everything

The words I never got to say the first time around.

She frowned as the memories came back - laughing with him, texting with him, going to different places for snacks, just sitting around talking about everything and anything. If it was with him, it just left a bitter-sweet aftertaste now. Would it, no, could it have been different if she opened up more? Talked more, let him know more or was it destined to fizzle out this one-sidedly. 

Gritting her teeth, she felt her annoyance build. How was she still stuck lamenting over a dumb guy more than 4 months later if they only actually interacted for 2 months?! Why was the heartache hitting in her waves like it was the goddamn tide?

Yeah, she had been heartbroken in the beginning, thinking maybe she was the one who put him off or read too much into his actions. Later, when he turned up with a girlfriend after less than three weeks, it turned to rage and mild disgust as she realised she may have just been a side-piece to flirt with. Sure, now in hindsight it may have been pretty obvious and he did give signs that he never wanted the same things she did but... she was still allowed to hate him, right? Then came the aggravating and ever so soul-crushing process of pushing him out of her life. No longer could she randomly message him without feeling weird, sending him reels or posts she thought he'd like was a big no-no and while doing so, she realised how easy it was. He...really had so easily let her in and cut her out of his life so neatly that she was now left grasping the straws. He really must have never even thought of her a fraction of what she thought of him and it was showing now. 

You still make me nervous when you walk in the room

Them butterflies they come alive when I'm next to you.

Over and over the only truth

Everything comes back to you 

But it didn't stop her. She always knew when he entered the room, following his figure from the corner of her eyes wherever he went. The concern still made her frown and worry about his well-being when he looked down or was quiter than usual. She was still realising new things about him in those small moments that she glanced him - like how pretty his eyes actually were and how they tended to scrunch up when he smiled genuinely; how he shielded most of himself from others, showing a very well made-up façade, that only made her curious about the parts he hid. 

The day's events came back rushing to her. How they had both been brushing up points outside the room, when he came up to her and reminded her how there had been another instance like this where he had explained a new concept to her just before and it had ended up coming; so now apparently it was on him to save her yet again. Little did that doofus know that that day was still crystal clear in her mind. The precise sunshine yellow polo (to be noted, this was the first time she had ever seen him in a polo t-shirt) that in the moment she saw him reminded her of a chick, his glasses askew, hair a scraggly mess. Yes, she remembered it quite clearly but for very different reasons than him. She remembered how she could barely pay attention to what he blabbered away because his focused gaze on her was too enrapturing to look away. The butterflies had been rampant in her stomach and a grin idiotically stuck on her face. 

Now though, it was something that brought an indistinct aching pain to her heart and the flurry of emotions dulled to a mere mixture of melancholy and regret. Even later on in the day, when she spotted him walking away she stopped and stared all the way until he entered his building. It was like she always found him no matter how much she wanted not to.  

She still found herself hoping that he would talk to her, hoped that he at least remembered her a bit fondly. Not just as some goofy girl who couldn't hide how giddy she was when he did the bare minimum... But that was the truth wasn't it. He didn't really seem to mind either her presence or her absence and the truth finally hit home, she never mattered to him. She never would.

How pathetic and stupid. She heard the words echo in her head. 

And I know that it's wrong that I can't move on

But there's something about you

But even then, it was easier said than done. Even though at the time it hadn't seemed that big, but it was like the aftereffects were crashing down on her now, which she didn't really get. All she could reason it to in the end was that each person loved in their own way and had their own ways to cope, maybe this was hers. 

In the end when she came to know that he had broken up with his girlfriend but she didn't feel like how she thought would have. She didn't feel a vindictive joy or celebration, nor was she hopeful to get close to him again. She felt heartbroken for him and honestly wished it hadn't happened to him. She wanted to see him smiling and overflowing with life, not quiet and tired all the time. Neither was she in a position to comfort him nor was he the type to ever seek out comfort, but she really wished she could be there for him. However, it wasn't her place, it never was. So all she could do was pass along a chocolate to their mutual friend and ask him to pass it along, and seeing him smile with glee upon getting it from his best friend was maybe just enough for her. 

She had done all that she could to help heal him, and now it was her turn to heal.

As she started slowly scrutinising her emotions, she realised that she rarely, truly fell but if she did, it was fast and hard. Acceptance finally made her let go the hope and agony that was festering, finally allowing her to start closing the wound left on her battered heart. Sure, it was going to be annoying and she was almost 100% sure she'd act like an idiot, but she'd be fine. 

Who knows maybe someday she'd be able to finally look him in the eye and finally smile genuinely at him without having to hide anything. So she'd wait; wait until that day came. 

«⊙»

Chapter Text

Love. It was a funny thing truly. It could send you on the biggest and wildest rollercoasters of your life. From fluttery butterflies and giggles to a stabbing throb in your heart, that would probably hurt less if you could just stop paying attention to him.

But no, controlling what you felt, how you reacted, the words that flew out of your mouth, the eagerness with which you greeted him were herculean tasks for you if he was around. Eyes constantly darting to him to steal a glance, hands fidgeting to look busy and hopefully a bit less pathetic, gears whirring at a mile a minute just too think of ways to talk with him and prolong the conversation. 

Those three months that he spent with you - talking, awkwardly flirting and getting to know each other - were the best you had had for a few years, at least they were before he hit you with “You’re like my little sister.” and promptly getting himself a girlfriend mere weeks after he had gotten you to confess.

The heartbreak and despair that followed were most definitely not proportionate to the time you had spent together.

Incredulity and confusion, disbelief and contempt, all soon melted and shaped themselves into an ugly lump of melancholy and grief as you realised that you would now have to continue watching him go on with his life. Day after day, week after week, you felt the pain grow as your eyes continued to follow him, continued to notice small things about him, continued to worry and fret over him, continued to… disgustingly fawn over him.

After all, don’t habits die hard?

You were not allowed a respite, not allowed to cut away and heal your own wounds but left for them to fester as they were opened over, and over, and over again as he treated you just the same. Still the regular morning greeting, still the occasional touches, still the same goddamned smile beaming down on you as if you were not slowly suffocating because of it.

His offer of continuing to remain friends, that you had taken out of sheer desperation to remain in his presence, had now become your daily torment. Months later, when you were finally allowed to bid him goodbye and flee, would you realise that if his obtuse rejection after leading you on wasn’t your downfall, it was your absolute irrational and reckless need to be in his life that did. 

Icarus never did seem to see how the Sun would harm him, did he? After all, in its glorious embrace who would ever not be blinded by its warm glow.

But before this day of fateful parting was to come, you would first have to suffer through days filled with anguish and despondency because you see, when one loves a person who is adored by all you are not given the chance to heal by confiding in others and being comforted. After all, between you and him, wasn’t it obvious who was the fool who had just been lead on because of her little head going miles per minute?

So, it was on you to bite the side of your cheek when he came and talked to your friends; it was on you to look away when he openly complimented your friends who knew you liked him; it was always, always, always on you to act normal when he talked to you. After all, it’s not like you’re talking to the man you love after he flat out ignored your confession, right?

Haah, but you would heal over time right? He would soon stop being the first person you recognised in a crowd, stop being the one… for you.

Days turned into nights, spring to summer, fall to winter and then it came. The gloriously clear summer day when you walked by him and his friends and for the first time he wasn’t the first person to catch your eye. You had in fact walked past him, busy chatting and laughing with your friends until he called out to all of you.

The joy and pride that coursed through your veins after that simple encounter was all of the push you needed. So goodbye to that little fucker (in hindsight, this is probably a bit mean, but you should be able to bitch about him right?) and after quite a long time, there finally rested a sincere grin on your face, eyes alight with glee at your progress.

So, to the first boy I think I loved, thanks for the memories and filling that spring with colours I never knew existed.

Chapter Text

It all began so innocently. Honestly.

From hand holding conspicuously in public to kisses that melted her bones that was now slipping into a slightly alarming pleasure when he touched her. The way he'd gently nudge her to guide while they walked on the roads, hand slipping from shoulder to waist, only to intertwine with her fingers.

Her heart would skip a bit, smallest of smiles quickly hidden when she caught a glimpse of his hand darting for hers but missing. Mind racing miles per minute whether she was boring him or whether he was even paying attention when she yapped and he watched her.

But something had changed now. She didn't know what or even why. Hell, she'd give anything if she could just place where all of this confusion, doubt and sadness was coming from. It was like this prickly little knot growing in her heart, easily ignored when he was there in front of her to distract her, but once he left... his words, the things he'd send, the way she felt he simply let go of issues she was trying to subtly hint.

... but it wasn't his place right? It made sense that if he was tired he would let it be unless she brought it up. Why should he be bothered to follow up with her minutest mood swings and hissy fits just because they were dating? She wasn't his ward, not someone he was supposed to baby about, but was it unreasonable on her side? That she wanted her boyfriend to pick up some hints when she was angry or pissed about some things rather than just think "Oh. okay, cool" and just leave it at that.

Was this how a relationship was supposed to work? Did she have to be an adult about shit and objectively analyse everything just to stop herself from feeling bad? His annoying one line messages and responses to her paragraphs, even his reassurance felt like words flowing off a broken record on. Different each time yet with the same intention and same hollow feeling they left in her.

The memories flashed before her eyes, floodgates now broken.

Him on his phone almost minutes after they, for a lack of better choice of words, made out. The way he was distracted on dates and zoned out, she understood it happening sometimes and if he was tired or just had a lot on his plate, then couldn't he just fucking tell her instead of dragging her around thinking she was the shittiest companion. The way she was pretty sure he had never worn the bracelet she had given him (yes, she was that petty). The way he made her so fucking conscious of her body through no fault of his own, but a certain part of her that loved him died when he commented on how big her ass was.

He was so concerned about minding his own actions just to not fuck up, he was fabulously side-lining hers. Or... maybe she was still wearing her mask too perfectly and he didn't even notice? But god, she wanted flowers from him, she wanted him to have her deep talks not just want to nap and "cuddle" every time they met nice as both activities were.  

Did he know the first time he fucked up, she had secretly dedicated the song Locksmith to him desperately ignoring the smallest shred of self-respect and dignity screaming at her. She knew back then, even a year and half ago, that if he ever asked her to take him back she would. That a small part of her was always going to accept him with open arms, because he was her dopamine. He made her do things she would never contemplate, he brought out sides of her she didn't know existed.   

She was almost dangerously in love with everything he did. The smiles, the corny pickup lines, the shameless flirting, those moments spent telling him about the small things. When they met on video calls to talk about the most random topics under the Sun. She could feel his hand like a ghost haunting her palms, as if all she needed to do was close her fingers and she'd feel that sturdy, calloused warm hand that held hers in a grip so soft yet firm that made her brain switch off. She could somehow envision him when she closed her eyes. When he revealed how he remembered the most random, smallest detail about her that even she had forgotten about.

So, what was her prognosis? 

Wasn't he also just another dumb young adult trying his best at his first try in life too? Or was she making excuses for him? Wasn't he trying to show his love in his own ways, in ways she didn't understand yet. It had only been 3 months after all, and they must have spent maybe less than a third of that together. Or was she just so goddamned terrified of losing him now that she'd rather suffer and slowly drown as her thoughts suffocated her? What was right and what was wrong? He had blurred the lines so much, she could no longer tell. Was he the reason for the pain she felt when he was gone or was that her own doing?  

There was one thing though that she always knew with painstaking clarity, he would leave her with more scars, whether they'd be ones she would embrace in the future with nostalgic fondness or bitter regret.   

«⊙»

Addiction to a person is leagues more dangerous than a drug.