the ever terrifying and exhausting cycle of “i don’t want to share my writing bc it feels disheartening when not many people are interested in it” and “i have to post the writing for people to become interested in it”
idk i wrote this when i was listening to the strokes x
Warnings: fluff, distress, anxiety, angst
You're at a pub, watching Alex across the room as he laughs with a few people, probably talking about his music. A wave of pride washes over you just seeing him like that. But then, you hear your name—someone’s said it, you're sure. You don’t turn around. You just listen, hoping it's nothing.
But it is your name. "Oh my god, did you see the girl Turner brought with him?" one of them laughs, and the second you hear it, your stomach twists. You told yourself not to care what people think, but it still stings. What if, one day, Alex thinks the same way?
"I know, right? Aren’t rockstars supposed to date models?" another chimes in, her voice dripping with mockery. "Maybe Alex is doing charity work," a third one cackles.
Your eyes find them—three women, laughing at your expense. You don’t know them, and you don’t care to. But the damage is done. Anxiety flares, insecurity sinks its claws in. You glance back at Alex, who looks over and gives you a warm, reassuring smile.
But suddenly, it feels like a lie. You don’t deserve him. They’re right. What the hell is he doing with you?
Without a second thought, you walked out of the pub, slamming the door behind you as tears streamed down your face.
The night air felt suffocating as you hurried down the street, the sound of your footsteps lost in the whirl of your emotions. Then, you hear the door open behind you.
"Y/N?" Alex calls out, but you keep walking, pretending you didn’t hear him.
"Y/N!" he calls again, more urgent this time, but you still ignore him. You hear his footsteps, and before you know it, he's in front of you, grabbing your shoulders, forcing you to stop. You roll your eyes, wiping at the tears stubbornly clinging to your cheeks.
"What happened?" he asks, concerned.
"Nothing," you mutter, your voice tight.
"Come on, tell me what happened," he presses, clearly not buying it.
"Nothing! Why are you even with me?" The words spill out before you can stop them.
"What?" His face shifts, shocked, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. "Did someone say something?"
"Yes—no! I-I don’t know!" You frown, avoiding his eyes. "Why do you care what they think?" he asks, his tone gentle but that question hits you in the worst way.
That was it. You snap. “I’m not like you, Alex. I care what people think about me!" you scoff, shoving past him.
"Y/N—wait, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!" he says, his voice catching, stepping in front of you again, desperate to keep you from walking away.
Alex looks at you, his eyes full of concern and panic as you keep walking. He falls in step beside you, refusing to let you out of his sight. “Please, Y/N. Just let me take you home. i’m not letting you walk home. alone.”
You stop for a second, considering it, but then shake your head and keep walking. “Do you know what it’s like, Alex? To walk into a room and have everyone stare at you? Yeah, they look at you because you’re famous, but then they see me, and I can practically hear them wondering why I’m even there.”
Alex slows down, forcing you to stop with him. He takes a deep breath, his voice soft but firm. “Y/N, I don’t care what they think. I’m with you because I want to be. Not because of how you look in a room or what people say. I’m with you because… you’re you.”
You glance at him, searching for any sign of doubt, but there’s none. Just sincerity. He gently touches your arm. “Come on, let me take you home. Please.”
Finally, you nod, the fight draining out of you. Alex leads you to his car, and the ride back is quiet, your thoughts still tangled but less sharp now. When he pulls up outside your flat, the silence feels heavy, and without warning, the tears start again.
You look out the window, trying to hold them back, but you can’t. "I wish I was normal," you whisper, your voice breaking. “I wish I didn’t have to feel like this.”
Alex reaches over, his hand resting on yours. “You’re not normal,” he says softly. “You’re better. You’re real. And I wouldn’t want anything less.”
As the tears fall, you keep your eyes fixed on the window, barely able to get the words out. "I wish I didn’t care what people thought about me. I wish I could just… let it go.”
Alex looks at you, his expression soft but intense. He reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. "You don’t have to be like that. I don’t care what they think, and I love you, Y/N. I love you just as you are."
The words hit you like a wave, and for a second, you’re stunned, unsure if you even heard him right. You finally turn to look at him, eyes wide and wet with tears. “You…what?” you whisper, your voice trembling.
“I love you. I don’t need you to change. I just need you to be you.” he says quietly, brushing a tear from your cheek.
You can’t hold back anymore. Before you know it, you’re leaning in, and he meets you halfway, your lips connecting in a kiss that’s both soft and desperate, full of all the words you haven’t said until now. It’s messy, tear-soaked, but perfect in its own way.
When you finally pull back, you feel lighter, like the weight of the night has finally lifted. Alex looks at you, smiling gently, his forehead resting against yours. "Come on," he says softly. "Let’s go inside."
You step inside your apartment, the familiar warmth of the space does little to ease the tension still coiled in your chest. You shrug off your jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair, when Alex’s voice breaks the silence.
“Can you tell me what they said? who said it?” he asks quietly, his concern laced with curiosity.
Instantly, your chest tightens, and it’s like the walls around you are closing in. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding harder with each passing second.
You feel the anxiety creep up, that familiar suffocating grip tightening around your lungs. The room starts to blur as your thoughts spiral out of control.
Should you tell him? The words echo in your mind, battling each other. If you tell him, will it change the way he sees you? Will he think less of you for caring so much?
The doubt swirls faster, like a storm you can’t escape. You stare at the floor, chewing your lip, suddenly hyperaware of every noise, every breath, even the weight of his gaze on you. What if saying it out loud makes it more real?
“Y/N?” Alex's voice cuts through the fog, pulling you back into the moment. You blink, still unsure whether you should say it or not. “I dunno…” you trail off, your voice shaky and uncertain.
He steps closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “you can tell me,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, trying to comfort you, to bring you back to him.
You take a deep breath, the words finally tumbling out, almost too quietly. “They were just saying… you were doing charity work with me. That you’re supposed to be dating a model.” The second it’s out, you feel exposed, the harshness of it hanging in the air between you.
Alex sighs deeply, but instead of pulling away, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “You know that’s bollocks, right?” he asks softly, his voice steady against your ear.
You shrug, feeling small, like those words still cling to you. “It is,” he repeats, this time with more conviction, pulling you tighter into his chest. “I don’t care what they think and you shouldn’t either.”
For a moment, the weight of his embrace makes everything else fade. His words settle over you like a blanket, calming the storm in your mind, and as you rest your head against him, the anxiety loosens its grip just a little.
“NAMI is the National Alliance on Mental Illness, the nation’s largest grassroots mental health organization dedicated to building better lives for the millions of Americans affected by mental illness.”
dededos
theartofmadeline
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
stormborns
origamiaround
ellievsbear
