i saw someone saying on twitter about a woman who said that her boyfriend was so nervous when propose her that he forgot everything and ended up just getting on his knees saying “please”.
i hope every writer who reads this makes the best of it
For the first time in 2 years, you come face-to-face with your ex at his best friend’s wedding.
Ex-Boyfriend!Noah x F!reader
Content warning: none
Word count: 4.1k
A/N: This was supposed to be a long ass oneshot, but I decided to post the first half now to help me regain my writing momentum. More importantly, I also wanted to post this before Nick gets married irl since I started drafting this when he announced his engagement bc all I could think about was best man Noah in suit and tie 🥺 So yeah, this one’s open-ended; I’ll post another part sooner or later. Lastly, I’d say the title was inspired by Saosin’s Seven Years, but i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m not sure :> lol
“Imagine if you caught the bouquet,” Natalie snickered, throwing you a shit-eating grin through the mirror as she reapplied her mascara while you washed your hands in the sink. “Noah would lose his shit.”
Rolling your eyes at your best friend’s remark, you tried to keep your focus on the soap you’re lathering, on the bubbles your hands were producing way more than necessary, on the grey marbled sink, on literally anything to make you ignore the familiar warmth creeping up your cheeks.
For once, you hoped your blush makeup had concealed it enough for her to notice.
“How long has it been? Two years? Bro’s still hung up on you, I swear. Bryan said he couldn’t even find–”
“Cut it out, Nat,” you interjected, groaning as you finally rinsed and dried your hands with a paper towel. “Please don’t make things awkward.”
“Hey, I’m just stating facts!” She smirked, raising her hands in surrender, obviously trying (and failing miserably) to keep herself from teasing you further.
“Then I don’t wanna hear it,” you muttered while narrowing your eyes at your giggling best friend. “You guys promised me you won’t make it weird if I came.”
Natalie snorted. “Then you certainly don’t wanna know about the bet they’ve been doing since your ex went stiff like a tree when you…” she paused, smirking as she slightly faced you to look at you from head to toe. “…when you walked in looking like that earlier.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she sing-songed, dropping her mascara tube back to her vanity pouch. “I was just saying, you’re making some heads turn, babe. And a certain someone is surely not liking it.”
“Natalie–”
“Let’s go; I think they’re serving dinner soon!”
Groaning, you followed her out of the washroom and back to the hall where Nicholas’ and Nadine’s wedding reception would be held in a bit.
A few weeks ago, the thought of dressing up for one of your closest friends’ wedding never crossed your mind. It was still fresh in your memory how you sent your regrets to Nick’s invitation, despite his thoughtful personal delivery of the textured blue envelope with a gold ‘N&N’ stamp to your doorstep. As an advanced planner, you had already made your decision even before you got the chic linen paper in your hands— even before confirming that he would actually want you there after everything.
Who in their right mind would invite their best man's ex-girlfriend to their wedding, anyway?
Yeah, no one. No one but Nicholas Ruffilo.
Sure, you were all friends before things went south, but was inviting you to their momentous occasion really worth the trouble? Save for a few inevitable meetups, you successfully stayed away from almost all of them over the last two years. What difference would it make if you came now?
Despite these questions running through your head, Nicholas was insistent. Annoyingly, at that matter, like his life depended on it. Therefore, after all his persuasion tactics and with Natalie promising you so many tempting favors in exchange (you swore those two were conniving), you eventually gave in.
What’s the worst thing that could happen, anyway? It’s not like your ex would deliberately corner you and make you uncomfortable on his best friend’s wedding day, right?
Besides, it would be nice to reunite with everyone after two long years. The thought of catching up with the boys rather than just hearing unsolicited updates from Natalie— who started dating their photographer— sounded enticing, despite the setup you knew you’d be in.
So after days of contemplation, you RSVPed ‘Yes’ on the condition that none of your friends pull any moves to make you uncomfortable in the presence of your ex-boyfriend. You wrote those exact words on the response card that you sent back to the groom. To which he happily agreed and even promised to keep Folio on a leash throughout the event. Nick made a mental note to assign that task to Jolly and Davis.
And here you were, a couple of weeks later, all dolled up and clad in a navy blue maxi dress, walking beside Natalie towards the rest of the boys, who all looked dapper as Nick’s entourage. Sitting at your assigned table were your old friends Vince, Jolly, Folio, Bryan, and Davis in their color-coordinated suits and ties. You couldn’t help but tease them earlier for looking so out of character in such formal attire compared to their usual all-black alternative outfits. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve surely mistaken them for men who worked 9 to 5 in corporate.
You chuckled at the thought, and as if right on cue, Folio turned his head your way and greeted you with his signature mischievous grin. It was the same annoying grin he had been throwing at you since the ceremony began— since your ex, who also looked as uncharacteristically sharp as they all did (especially with his overgrown hair slicked back and his shirt collar hugging his inked neck), stood beside Ruffilo at the altar earlier.
“Hey, neighbor, sit next to me,” Folio called enthusiastically like a golden retriever, tapping the empty seat to his left. As much as you wanted to be with Natalie, her boyfriend Bryan had already saved her a spot between him and Jolly.
You narrowed your eyes at the drummer, your gaze moving from the seat he was offering to the other empty chair beside it, which had a black suit jacket draped over its backrest.
Seeing how the boys at your table had theirs on, you were not stupid not to piece it together and tell who was (and would soon be) occupying the other seat next to yours.
So much for not making things awkward, huh.
“Nick, just stop whatever you’re planning,” you groaned.
“Have I told you how glad I am to see you tonight?” Your younger friend ignored your remark and practically pulled you down next to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing you against his side. “I was so excited when I knew you were coming! Noah was— ow! What did I do?”
Before he could even continue, you swatted his arm with your purse, making the other guys chuckle at your antics. Just like the old times.
–
If it wasn’t obvious enough, you, Folio, and the rest of the boys were once part of a tightly-knit circle bound by the same taste in music and hobbies.
That was until you had to date one of them for seven years, and unfortunately, break up with the said guy and eventually with the rest of the group.
You knew from the start it was a package deal. The guys had been friends for so long before you came, so it was just appropriate for them to be on Noah’s side when you separated.
Noah.
Noah Sebastian Davis.
Lead singer of a now-popular metalcore band you once witnessed struggle and grow.
Tall, charming, heavily tattooed, with a perfect nose and cute smile, now with thousands of girls throwing themselves at his feet.
The guy who could sing you a lullaby to sleep one moment and growl like a man possessed in the next.
The guy who used to hold your heart around those long tattooed fingers.
The guy you once thought of as your endgame.
Well, everyone else did. Even your grumpy work supervisor back then, who always complained about that one tattooed ‘Asian white boy’ ‘loitering’ in the shop all day, silently rooted for the two of you.
You and Noah met in your late teens, back when Bad Omens was still barely getting out of Folio’s garage, a few years before they released their first LP. You used to work part-time at a coffee shop across the tattoo parlor where Ruffilo apprenticed, so you earned yourself a couple of new regulars after their group made it a habit to rendezvous at the shop to discuss band stuff or just to hang out. You clicking with the long-haired guys covered in tattoos and piercings was a no-brainer. Growing up with an older brother who used to lead a mediocre metal garage band made it easy for you to connect with their music taste and other interests. It was also an advantage that you lived on the same street as Folio, so you’d easily get invited to their band practices and dive bar gigs.
It was all fun and platonic until two years later, the tallest among them had to ruin it and start showing interest in dating you.
Noah tried to be subtle at first. He would send you random text messages that you were sure he sent to everyone else, which he later admitted were only sent to you. He would tend to come alone to the coffee shop during your shift, casually chatting you up while pretending to be waiting for Nicholas (even during those times when you knew Nick went home to Virginia; you just played along). He would randomly appear at your favorite salad stop during your break, making awkward excuses like he was in the area or Nick or Vince sent him on a salad run (even though it’s a known fact in the group that the aforementioned guys had an aversion to vegetables). Every night out or gig, Noah always made sure he had an excuse to be the one to drive you home, countless times not even allowing your neighbor Folio to come with. And in every hangout, he always had your favorite snacks on hand, while not even bothering to get anything for his other friends.
With those, among so many things, it didn’t take the rest of the guys too long to decipher his feelings towards you.
And once they did, it was pure chaos that the then 21-year-old frontman had to prematurely confess to you after their set at Chain Reaction (RIP) one spring night.
It was peer pressure at its finest, you couldn’t help but gush at how Noah rambled nervously like a schoolboy talking to his crush for the first time. Funny and endearing– certainly not what your lanky long-haired friend was aiming for.
To his (and the rest of your friends’) delight, his feelings were happily reciprocated. It would be hard not to when you had been on the receiving end of Noah’s kindheartedness, his silly antics, his thoughtful acts of service, and his overall protectiveness. Not to mention his terrible flirting skills that always left you cringing and blushing at the same time. And to top it off, the guy was eye candy despite Natalie describing him as ‘too thin and tall like a praying mantis’.
How your best friend had to shut up when Noah finally got buffed a few years later was forever etched in your memory.
So, the 20-year-old you took the risk and went on a series of dates with Noah Davis. Your friendship was at stake; you knew that. But in your defense, you never thought your relationship would go seriously far; you were sure it would be over by the next weekend. And in no time, you’d be back to just being friends again, casually hanging out with the other guys at the coffee shop or Folio’s garage.
But you and Noah morphed organically. The two of you became inseparable and hopelessly in love that after a few months of dating, you did not hesitate to make it official. And just before marking your first anniversary as a couple, you moved with him and the rest of the guys to LA, with you and Noah sharing a small one-bedroom apartment.
In your second year, Bad Omens released their second album. It was in the same year that they started to get more attention and obtain an even wider audience reach. They started touring with bigger bands across the US and overseas, and in no time, their traction grew exponentially.
Young and in love, the two of you tried to live your life together and separately at the same time. As more shows and touring opportunities opened up for the band, you were also starting to build a career you were happy with. While Noah would miss your company whenever he’s on the road, not once did he ever think of asking you to drop everything to be with him 24/7. Sure, you lived on the same roof, acting like a married couple. But you also had your life, and he had his own.
You were pretty much happy with your arrangement. Both of you allowed each other to chase your own dreams without affecting your relationship. At the very least, you made sure you had time for each other despite everything. Month-long tours were almost nonstop, so you’d set aside a week or two to be with your boyfriend on the road. Noah, on the other hand, always got himself a non-negotiable minimum of 1 month break to come home to you before hopping into another long grind.
That became your routine for a couple of years– your normal. Your time apart surely tested your relationship, but like soulmates in a Hallmark movie, things always worked out for the two of you.
Until it didn’t.
After the pandemic, Bad Omens started headlining shows and selling out venues left and right. Noah, in particular, had become so sought after that he slowly started to become… absent.
At first, the unanswered texts, missed calls, and coming home late were understandable. He was just overwhelmed with the hustle from his newfound fame, you thought. You were lenient and considerate enough to give him time to adjust. This was his dream after all. You knew he would do the same for you.
But then it happened again and again that the alarms in your head just started blaring from every corner. Despite the countless apologies and promises to do better, the situation worsened to the point that he would miss important occasions. Noah had let his rockstar life consume him that his supposedly “non-negotiable” month-long breaks with you were cut short to two weeks, and during those weeks, he would still be cooped up in the other guys’ house producing their next hits, planning tours, brainstorming merch designs, and whatnot.
Save for the occasional dinner dates and sex, it was as if you never even existed.
Doubts had long been plaguing your head, but still, you tried to understand. That’s your Noah; he’d come around eventually– you tried to make yourself believe that.
But then came the night when you finally had enough.
It was your birthday, and the day started nicely with Noah making you your favorite breakfast after making love with you at 7 in the morning. You blushed profusely like a teenager when he’d drawn you a bath and surprised you right after with a big bouquet of roses on the bed and a gift box containing a new dress and a diamond necklace with a note saying, ‘Can’t wait to see you in this for our date tonight. Happy birthday, my love.’
For the rest of the day, it was just impossible to wipe that giddy smile off your face.
Everything finally felt right. It was as if the sweet, lanky, non-famous Noah Davis from Richmond, Virginia, with the wolf-cut hair, had finally returned home to you.
For the first time in a long time, your heart was happy.
But as hours passed and it was finally time for your scheduled dinner date, your chest gradually felt heavy, and you started wishing Noah were sincere enough to at least let you keep that happiness until your day ended… to let you pretend things between you were fine, even just on your special day.
Because clad in your new elegant black dress, you were buzzing with excitement when you entered the restaurant he had booked for your intimate dinner.
Because you were very much looking forward to having your boyfriend again, all to yourself, after he had spent the whole afternoon at the studio. On your own birthday.
Because you didn’t expect your nerves to creep in when 30 minutes had passed and there was still no sign of Noah Sebastian— no ounce of decency to send you a text or call to tell you he was running late.
Because the 30 minutes of waiting dragged on to an hour that the servers started looking at you sympathetically; you couldn’t gauge if the public humiliation was worse than the heavy feeling weighing down your chest.
Because as you finished your wine and placed a $100 bill on the table when you decided to leave, your worry surprisingly did not turn into anger, but disappointment— disappointment in Noah for tonight and all the other empty promises he made, and disappointment in yourself, most especially, for still believing things between you could still get better.
Because for the first time since he started drifting away, you cried yourself to sleep, not because of him, but because of you and how much you were to blame for letting the situation get this far.
So after seven long years, you finally made the hard decision to let him go. It was high time to set Noah free into a life with no burdens, with no you to worry about and hold him back.
You didn’t cry when you talked to him the next morning, not even when he didn’t say anything other than a quiet ‘I’m sorry.’
You didn’t cry when you started packing up almost a decade of your life from every corner of your shared house, with him not even attempting to stop you.
You didn’t cry when you hung your house keys on your designated hook beside his for the last time.
You didn’t cry when you started driving away from the familiar neighborhood… and from the man that you could no longer call home.
Tears only blurred your vision and started trickling down your cheeks when you drove by a random taco truck.
Because memories of you and Noah grabbing your first dinner in LA came flooding back: two ambitious young adults freshly out of Virginia exploring the downtown plaza hand in hand, with nary a care in the world— no thoughts about tours, fans, or the pressure from record labels just yet; you being dragged by your tall ass boyfriend in front of the Mexican food truck because it’s the only thing he could afford that time, and your only concern was you couldn’t choose between the soft and hard shell tacos; you stealing a bite off his soft tacos as he bit off your hard ones; him placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek with his breath disgustingly smelling like cilantro.
‘I love you so much, I’d get you one of these taco trucks when I’m rich.’
‘Wow, are you gonna make me sell tacos while your band gets to see the world?’
‘Nah, you’re coming with me when our music finally gets us to places we’ve never been… And when we’ve made it big, I’ll buy us a house with many rooms and a backyard for our kids to play around.’
‘And who said I want snotty little babies with you?’
‘I know you do, because you love me.’
Fat tears streamed down your face at the memory as you pressed on the gas pedal.
You had so many questions you wanted to ask him, but what difference would they have made?
You knew it was a losing fight from the beginning, but you still took the risk. It was impossible to compete when you’re up against none other than his biggest dream.
You just wished he cared enough to realize that he never had to choose between you and his career in the first place.
–
Heaving out a sigh, you settled in your seat beside Folio and just hoped for the best.
Thankfully, your ex decided to stay and catch up with Nicholas’ family throughout the dinner service, so you were able to talk freely with the guys. Your heart warmed with their stories of how much they had accomplished over the past two years. You had read the news and seen the trending videos online, but you still couldn’t stop your eyes from welling up when you finally heard from them how they sold out arenas across the country and overseas.
Noah finally got what he had long deserved after all.
A part of you wished you could tell him how proud you were of him.
A part of you wondered if things would be different if you didn’t let him go.
Folio wolf-whistling on your side snapped you out of your thoughts.
Brows furrowed, you glanced at him and mouthed ‘what?’
He just smirked in response as his focus moved towards the stage area, where a very familiar, tall, tattooed guy in a crisp grey dress shirt now stood awkwardly in front of a microphone stand, smiling sheepishly as if he didn’t pick up one for a living. His long sleeves were now rolled up to his elbows, perfectly showing his fully decorated forearms.
After all this time, Noah was still hunched like a shrimp, looking like he wanted to look smaller, as though he wanted to hide or run away from everyone’s line of sight.
His eyes briefly met yours before he cleared his throat, making you snort internally. Two years ago, you would’ve annoyingly sung ‘Dear Maria, Count Me In’ to him after hearing that.
But sadly, all you could do now was swallow nervously as you averted your gaze and decided to glare at your seatmate instead, who was throwing you his signature grin that screamed nothing but mischief.
“Oh, shut up, Nick,” you muttered before taking a small sip of your cold water.
“I haven’t said anything.” The drummer giggled quietly beside you.
It did not take long for Noah to start talking, and you swore you tried your best to drown his voice out with your own thoughts. Instead of listening to how he spoke about his and Ruffilo’s childhood, you tried thinking about your cats at home and if the automatic feeder had dispensed their dinner. Instead of paying attention to how Noah knew Nadine was the one for Nick, you tried to daydream about your upcoming trip to Bali– about the nice villa you booked, the pristine beaches, the warm weather, the sun finally kissing your skin.
You tried to let your thoughts wander from your pending work deliverables, to your next meal plan, to the hot gym guy you had been crushing on– anything to cancel the noise coming out of your ex’s mouth.
If only it weren’t rude, you would’ve put on your AirPods and had Will Ramos’ squeals usher you into oblivion.
But fate did not seem to be on your side as Noah said his parting words at the very same time your brain deliberately stopped thinking of anything else to further distract you.
“Cheers to Nick and Nadine,” he said, a little bit more enthusiastic than his usual self as a smile danced around the corners of his mouth.
And just when you thought it was over, your ex-boyfriend huffed and pursed his lips before uttering his next words slowly, as if wishing worms would not get out of the can if he were careful enough.
“What you two have is… is something… I… I wish I still had for myself...”
Swallowing, you stiffened in your seat as your heart started hammering against your ribcage. Your eyes trailed towards Noah’s face, now adorned with his signature tight-lipped smile that instantly activated your fight-or-flight response. With brows slightly furrowed, you blinked away and glanced at the groom, who sensed your unease but could only give you an apologetic smile. And as if everyone else shared the same brain cells, the whole table’s eyes were on you, Folio giving your wrist a gentle squeeze.
The words rang in your ears as your chest tightened.
Something I wish I still had for myself.
I wish I still had for myself…
I wish I still had…
You wanted to scoff hard at your ex’s stupid face.
How could he say that when a whole lot of Nick’s guests knew you two used to be together? When he knew that you, his ex-girlfriend of seven years whom he promised to build a life with, were there listening to him stutter those words out?
As Noah ended his speech with everyone raising their glasses, you found yourself standing up– carelessly for that matter– feeling the sudden need for fresh air.
“Um… I’ll be right back,” you mumbled to no one in particular before you hurried your way out of the hall towards the adjacent veranda.
You dryly laughed to yourself as you pushed past strangers and acquaintances alike to get to the ballroom exit.
How silly of you to believe this whole time that it was Folio whom Nick needed to put a leash on.
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