Warnings: sex drugs and rock n roll baby!! But on a real note there's also some mental health stuff in here so be warned!!!!
Summary: Y/N is a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with her complicated feelings for her best friend, Harry.
Alternatively: The one with some closure.
A/N: Hey guys :) Long time no see.
This chapter is starting to tie up all of our loose ends; we need happy endings for everyone! I kind of flip between alllllll the characters in this chapter so we can see a little bit of what they're all doing. Sorry its a little long! As always, please let me know what you think!
Here's what we've got lined up for the rest of the story:
chapter 38 will probably be around 16k of straight smut, plus an ending. 39 and 40 will be the epilogue and then we'll have as many blurbs as y'all want! thank you again everyone who still loves this story! I can't wait to finally see it through with you guys :)
Chapter 37
Rachel wasnāt a confrontational person.
She couldnāt tell if it was just the fact that sheād been born and raised to sit still, look pretty, and be pleasant, or if that was just the personality sheād been cursed with. Either way, she had been soft for as long as she could remember. She was kind and nurturing and never raised her voice, but that also meant she was constantly being stepped over, talked over, and told exactly what to do. She felt like a show dog who never learned to play fetch; all she was meant to do was sit, or speak, or jump.Ā
That was one of the many, many reasons she loved Logan so much. She was almost the complete opposite of Rachel; She never held her tongue, she never let anyone step on her toes, and she said what she meant with her chest. She was everything Rachel wanted to be and couldnāt. She was strong and brave and also soft in her own way without being weak.Ā
For some reason, the news of Harry and Y/Nās inevitable rekindling didnāt bring Rachel the same warm, sappy feelings it did for everyone else. Sure, she was happy for themā¦ But she had to fake the excitement in her voice while she listened to Logan go on and on about how amazing it was that her best friend had finally āgotten the ballsā to open up to Harry and fix the āgood thing they hadā.Ā
Instead of the nice, bubbly feeling Rachel knew she was supposed to have, she felt something else entirely. Something wicked and foreign and almost sinister. Because you know what? Rachel and Logan had a good thing, too, and yet here they were tiptoeing around and lying and covering up every track they left behind them. Here they were, going on nearly two months without having seen each other. Here they were, happy and in love and almost entirely secret.
She didnāt talk to Logan before she did what she did next. It was almost like she was possessed by someone else, someone like her beautiful, talented girlfriend who was brave and bold and decisive. She hung up the phone, after having spent a better part of an hour insisting that she was over the moon for Y/N when in reality she was feeling quite bitter and jealous and angry, and sat motionless on her bed for another 45 minutes. Then, as if someone else had come to rest their hand on her shoulder, she stood up and walked down the stairs to where she knew her parents were enjoying cocktails and fancy little finger foods.Ā
(She, as she marched down the marble stairs, thought how interesting it was that her parents were still having guests over in the height of a global pandemic but insisted it wasnāt āsafeā for her to go see Logan. Funny, she thought to herself. Hilarious, really! If Rachel didnāt know any better, she'd suspect they had different motives keeping her away from Logan! Imagine that!)
And then, still guided by some outside force completely out of her control, she found herself in the middle of the expansive kitchen of her parents enormous house, surrounded by at least 20 people she only sort of knew. People who ran companies her parents invested in or directed movies Rachel never bothered to watch or owned record labels that fucked over people like Logan and Y/N. She, in her pajama pants and hair undone, face bare of any makeup whatsoever, slapped her palms on the cool of the island counter and found herself smiling. Cheesing, actually. Nearly giddy with excitement.Ā
Her mom noticed her last, letting out what could be considered a gasp as she turned to see her perfect, hand-moulded daughter in front of all these people looking the way she did now. Hair thrown up on top of her head, not clean. Loganās oversized t-shirt over her narrow frame, covered in various stains. (The stains were an homage to the exciting, vibrant life Logan had lived before they met, one that Rachel would never experience or understand. Stains from house parties in basements and 9-5 jobs and public school. Rachel loved the spots where the material was stained blue or purple with paint, or slightly torn from a fight Logan had gotten into with some girl from Junior year. None of Rachelās clothes had stains. Not any of them. It was almost as if sheād never existed at all.)
It was after the gasp that Rachelās mother said: āOh! Oh, wow! Sweetheart, why donāt you go upstairs and get dressed and you can join us for dessert?ā
Rachel, quick with a response she hadnāt taken any time to think over or plan, shook her head. Her smile didnāt falter.Ā
āActually, mom, I donāt think I will.ā
Nervous laughter, from everywhere. It came in small spurts, someone elseās uncomfortable chuckle filling the silence one after the other.Ā
āOkay, wellā¦ā Her mom started, letting out her own high pitched chortle. āWhy donāt you-ā
āIām going to see Logan.ā Rachel interrupted. (She couldnāt remember one other time she had ever cut someone off while they were speaking, but she was already far from her usual self tonight). Rachel looked around at the confused faces around her, āLogan is my girlfriend.ā She clarified with a smile. Her mom laughed tightly again.Ā
āOh, no, sheās-ā
āYes, mom. Logan is my girlfriend and Iām going to go see her. I think I might stay there a while, actually. With the virus and everything, you know, I figure it would be safer than staying here with all of your lovely guests.ā
Now sheād done it. Her mothers face changed shades three times over, going from pink to red to a stark white that for some reason made Rachel feel even better than she already did. Her mom, after a quick excuse to her friends, walked herself up the stairs, knowing Rachel would follow.Ā
When she got to Loganās house later that night she didnāt recount the events of the evening. She didnāt tell her what her mom had said, all the threats sheād whispered under her breath. She didnāt tell her how sheād cried the whole time packing her bags, or how her dad had run out after her telling her to think it over or sleep on it. She didnāt tell Logan that her mom had, in her own words, told her she wasnāt welcome back in their home if she did anything āunsavoryā. She didnāt tell Logan that sheād essentially been cut off by her parents when she told her mom she was going public with her relationship. She didnāt feel that she needed to, not yet at least.Ā
Rachel didnāt need her family's money. She was successful in her own right, and the whole pandemic had given her a chance to start thinking about careers other than modeling, anyway. She didnāt take time to think it over. She didnāt have to.Ā
///
Logan was snuggled in her bed when Rachel knocked on the door. At first she wasnāt sure what sheād heard, knowing she had already had her daily DoorDash interaction and wasnāt expecting anything or anyone else. The second knock came once Logan had sat up in bed, ears perked and skin prickly with nervous goosebumps.Ā
To say she was surprised was a massive fucking understatement. Sheād never been so happy. She threw herself into Rachel, whose arms were slung with bags, and didnāt notice the way her cheeks were still a little puffy. She tugged her inside and she sat her down on the couch before running to the kitchen to whip up some of Rachelās favorite cookies.Ā
Rachel couldāve cared less about the cookies, but she knew Logan wouldnāt take no for an answer. So, she sat backwards on the couch, gazing into the kitchen just watching the love of her life pant and stress and measure and stir. Sheād never looked more beautiful, Rachel thought. Never ever ever.Ā
They stayed on the couch the rest of the night, catching up and kissing and saying over and over how theyād missed one another. Next to a half eaten tray of cookies is where Logan helped Rachel pick out all their favorite photos together for Rachel to post on Instagram. A post dedicated to her girlfriend. And in a way, a post dedicated to herself.Ā
And it was that easy. After so many months of lying and hiding and longing desperately for what all these other couples had, Rachel had it. She was free. She was cut-off and angry and hurt and scared but before all of that she was free. And, now, she was out.Ā
///
You didnāt see Rachelās post, or Loganās texts, or the countless tweets breaking the internet. You wereā¦ preoccupied.Ā
āYou look so fuckinā pretty like that.ā Harry praised, running a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your skull. āSo fucking pretty. Fucks sake.ā
You hummed around him, running your hands up the length of his thighs to rest on the soft part of his hips. Harry was laid back against the headboard, body at a slope while you nestled yourself between his parted thighs. Your head bobbed softly around his length, his hand applying no extra pressure but still making your scalp tingle warmly. You werenāt in any hurry, your movements slow and sleepy and delicate. Harry hummed softly above you, telling you again and again that you were so pretty, so pretty, so fucking good.Ā
The last few days had gone pretty much like this. Youād wake up wrapped up in Harryās gangly limbs, kiss his eyelids open, and stay in bed until one of you was desperate enough to go pee or eat. Youād sometimes lay in bed and talk or make out or, on days like this one, youād shuffle yourself down the length of Harryās body and take him into your mouth like you were starved. Harry would do the same for you, usually pulling you by your hips up his torso and onto his face or bending his leg just enough so you could situate yourself on top of his tiger tattoo and curl into his chest until you came.Ā
Life was so good. Everything was perfect. Harry was an angel, as usual. The weather was just right for leaving the windows open. No one texted you or called you about meetings or bothered you. It was just you and Harry and a kind of calm contentment you hadnāt felt in years.Ā
You still hadnāt had sex, but after listening in on Harryās conversation with Anders you decided not to push it. You thought maybe if you just proved yourself to him, heād be ready. You didnāt mind giving him time, even though you secretly hoped each night you curled up next to him that he might take you right there and press your face into the mattress until you couldnāt think or even speak. You would never ever want him to do something he didnāt want to, and he was giving you more than enough to hold you over. In fact, the amount of affection and love and attention heād showered you with the last few days had been enough to last a lifetime. Not a second went by that you didnāt know with every singular cell in your body how much he loved you. He wouldnāt allow it.Ā
Even when you had a nightmare a few days before, Harry had been awake and alert the moment you needed him. You didnāt even have time to get to the worst part of the dream and startle yourself awake before heād pulled you on top of his body and began whispering in your ears. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and his legs around your thighs, tying you to his front. You werenāt scared when you woke up and didnāt pull away from the touch. āIām right here.ā Heād whispered, shifting his weight to rock you slightly. āIām right here. Itās okay, flower. Iām here, Iām here, Iām here.ā
He must have heard you mumbling his name in your sleep, the same way you always did when you had these nightmares. You called his name like always and he was there. You were calm and back to sleep in a matter of minutes, something you wouldnāt have even thought possible a few months ago.Ā
And now, on another beautiful morning, you were leaving the half-moon indents of your nails on the inside of Harryās thighs. Feeling more alive than ever. On top of the world. Like the luckiest girl alive.Ā
///
Anders wasnāt sure what to do with himself.Ā
Heād not been doing his weekly therapy sessions like he was meant to, and hadnāt been for weeks. Talking about his feelings with some stiff old man was bad enough, and doing it over a Zoom call was just downright unbearable. Heād rather do anything else, and so he did. He crocheted and wrote songs and annoyed his parents to no end practicing his trumpet from middle school. He painted and talked to Harry and Y/N and learned the dances from three separate Justin Bieber music videos to a fucking T. He kept himself busy by any means necessary, because he had to. He even built a tiny house for a lady bug he found on his window still out of a cereal box. The ladybug died the next morning, but Anders liked to think it died comfortably at least.Ā
But on this day, Anders was inclined by some outside force (perhaps the same force that had moved Rachel all the way in LA) to find his laptop under all the dirty laundry and half-finished projects on the floor and open up the stupid fucking website and message his stupid fucking therapist that he was actually going to show today.Ā
He found himself talking about Y/N, and Jena, and Macy from the grocery store. (Sheād been the one to stop him from nearly overdosing that day heād bought all those drugs, after all. He thought about her all the time lately. He thought about her every time he ate one of his oranges heād bought that day, which was a lot. His mom told him he had to finish the entire bag as some sort of fucked up punishment, he supposed). His therapist, with his cable knit sweater and glasses slid half-way down his nose, had to basically force Anders to talk about his parents.Ā
āIt sucks, man. What else do you want to know?ā
The doctor, Dale, narrowed his eyes at Andersā answer to his question about how things were āat homeā. When he realized Anders wasnāt going to continue, he sighed and lifted his hands.Ā
āCould you be any more specific about what sucks so bad, man?ā Dale retorted. Over the weeks that Anders had spent with him before the pandemic, Dale had learned it worked better if he talked to Anders the way Anders talked to him. Dale thought, genuinely, that they bonded this way. Anders just thought it was funny.Ā
āEverything about it sucks.ā Was all he could think to say in return.Ā
By the end of the session, Dale had somehow convinced him that spending more time with his parents might help. If he didnāt put so much space between them, he said, he may feel less suffocated. So, in a desperate fucking attempt to feel a little less crazy, Anders decided to do just that.Ā
Every night his dad would hobble up the stairs and knock softly on the door and invite Anders to dinner, and every night Anders would decline. (Ever since the incident with the drugs, Andy couldnāt stand looking either of them in the eyes.) When Anders would inevitably turn him away, his dad would say something about how he would save some if he changed his mind and Anders would mumble a quick āthank youā and that would be that. He knew his dad was trying his best, and he believed it when he said he missed Anders and wanted to spend time with him. His mom never made any attempt to talk to him after the drug incident. Anders was okay with that, he thought.
To put it plainly, Andersā dad was fucking bamboozled when he accepted his offer to come to dinner later that night. Heād been leaning against the door, his ear pressed to the wood to hear Andersā response when it had been thrown open to showcase a bright-eyed and surprisingly content son on the other side. āIād like that.ā Anders smiled, feeling like this was his first big step into fixing everything. āThank you for asking.ā
His dad had followed him down the steps, even the sound of his socked feet on the stairs sounding confused. Anders spun around the corner into the kitchen, throwinā a little razzle dazzle on his triumphant return to the family unit as he found a seat at the table. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He felt almost excited to be here.Ā
āWhatcha makinā?ā
His mom, at the sound of her only sonās voice, turned to face him and froze, serving spoon still in hand and dripping twice onto the tiled floor before she looked back at her husband.Ā
āI told you I didnāt make enough for three.ā She said to him.
Oh.Ā
And, just like that, it was over. The high Anders had felt following his talk with Dale fizzled out and settled into an ache in his abdomen. He was stunned for a second, looking back and forth between his parents. Surely he misunderstood.Ā
āIām sure thereās enough.ā His dad said, an over the top sunshine in his voice. When she didnāt answer right away his dad spoke again, his sunshine feeling a bit more shaded. āHe wants to have dinner with us, hun.ā
āWell, thereās not enough.ā She reiterated, literally throwing her spoon onto the stove. āIf he wanted to eat he shouldāve said something. Since when does he want to spend time with us?ā
āHe can have mine, then.ā
Before anyone else could speak, Anders stood up. He felt so small and yet too big, like he was taking up too much space no matter how far he folded into himself.Ā
āItās alright, Dad.ā Anders smiled, turning to face his mom. She met his eyes, finally, though she couldnāt have looked more uninterested. āI have oranges upstairs.ā
And he turned and walked back up the same stairs to his same room and collapsed on that same bed he spent all day every day in. He could hear the bickering, just like when he was a child. He covered his head with a pillow but he could still hear them.Ā
āThat was cruel.ā
āHe doesnāt want anything to do with us! Why should I continue making him dinner if he never eats any? Iām tired of cleaning out the tupperwares you insist on saving for him.ā
āIāll clean them, then.ā
There was a pause. Dishes clanging in the sink.Ā
āWhy do you do this? Why do you defend him after the way heās talked to us?ā
āYouāre holding him hostage here! What is he supposed to do?ā
āBe grateful, I donāt know!ā
Anders turned under his covers. He decided already he wouldnāt cry, but it was threatening to gurgle out of him anyway.Ā
āHe is our son. Weāre supposed to be helping. You read all those booksā¦ You- you went to classes! And now youāre not even going to let the boy eat?ā
āI'm tired of the books! I'm tired of the classes, and the coddling, and the fighting! I give up. I give up, okay? Iām done!ā
āYou give up? Havenāt we failed the boy enough?ā
āHe failed us! We gave him everything. He couldāve been anything and, and, andā¦ and look at him! Youāre proud of that? Iām tired of feeling responsible for how he turned out. He did that on his own.ā
āDamn right Iām proud. He may have hisā¦ struggles, but he is not a failure. The boys a goddamn rockstar!ā
āHeās not a rockstar, heās a junkie. And Iām tired of pretending that heās not.ā
Now, to anyone else hearing this conversation, thereās a few things you might miss.Ā
Number one:Ā Andersā dad never cursed. He had, in all of his sonās life, uttered at most 4 curse words and even that was a stretch. Him using the word ādamnā, and taking the lord's name in vain? Andersā couldāve thought hell had finally frozen over!Ā
Number two: Anders couldnāt remember a single time in his life that either of his parents had said they were proud of him. So, even if he hadnāt said it to his face, his dad saying those words was like winning the fucking lottery.Ā
Number three: In all of his years as a semi-professional drug addict, Anders had never been called a junkie by anyone. He hadnāt even seen it online, and he was called his fair share of names. So, to hear his mom say itā¦ It was like a kick in the back of the head. It was like a blow right in his chest. It was worse than going to therapy and making phone calls and being punched in the nose. It was worse than anything heād ever felt before.Ā
He sprang up out of bed, grabbing his car keys and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. He sauntered down the stairs, making no attempt to hide his presence. The conversation in the kitchen stopped as both parties watched him. With a captive audience, Anders thought, it was the perfect time to put on the performance of a lifetime.Ā
āIām heading out.ā He said, spinning the keys around his finger. āDonāt know when Iāll be back.ā
Anders, when his mom said nothing, thought he might have been hoping she would stop him. She didnāt.Ā
āI would ask you not to wait up, but seeing as youāve already eaten I suppose youāre about ready for bed.ā He continued. His dad followed him to the door.Ā
āDo you want me to come with you?ā He said, stopping a few feet away from Anders as if he was some feral cat that might be startled away. āWe can go grab a bite somewhere. It would be nice to spend some time together.ā
Anders actually thought about it. His dad, who his entire life had stood by like some decorative piece of furniture, was finally doing what Anders had always wished he would.
āIām just going to go do some shopping, but maybe we could watch a movie tomorrow, okay?ā
His dad smiled, a real smile, and nodded. āOkay, son.ā
āOkay.ā He said back.Ā
Anders gave one last look to his mom, waiting. Any second now sheād say sorry and tell him not to go. Sheād tell him at the very least to be careful, or be home by 10. She didnāt.Ā
āIāll be home by 10.ā He decided for himself. Maybe sheād hold him to it. Maybe sheād call a hundred times if he wasnāt home in two hours. Maybe sheād do what she used to and demand he be home by 9 instead.Ā
She didnāt say anything. She turned back into the kitchen and continued clanging against the pots and pans she had on the stove. His dad gave him a sad, knowing look, but forced a smile anyway.Ā
āCall me if you need anything.ā He said, giving a quick slap on the shoulder. āIāll still be up when you get home if you decide you want to hang out. Be safe, okay?ā
Anders nodded and because he was possessed by some much more kind hearted spirit tonight he wrapped his arms around his father with an awkward pat-pat on his shoulder blades. His dad took the opportunity to hug him tightly against his chest, even ruffling Andersā hair the way he had when he was only a kid.Ā
āI trust you.ā He whispered. āAnd Iām sorry.ā
///
The drive to Taco Bell didnāt take too long. Anders turned at the second stop light, hooked a left by the library, and took two more rights until he had made his way into the drive thru. He was the only car there, which was fitting.Ā
He ordered himself two soft tacos, a quesadilla, a cheesy gorrida crunch, and three spicy potato soft tacos. Instead of bringing it home he sat in the empty parking lot and ate there. He wasnāt hungry anymore after the first two tacos but he forced himself to eat the rest anyway. He kept eating and eating and even when it hurt he kept going. He didnāt need his mom to feed him when he could feed himself, he kept thinking. He didnāt need anyone when he could take care of himself. He was eating, wasnāt he? As long as he was eating it was proof he didnāt need anyone at all! He was doing just fine.
When heād finished the last scraps of food, he nestled himself further into his seat. It was 9:55. His mom would call any minute.Ā
He tried to call Y/N, but she didnāt answer. He tried calling Rachel. No answer. He almost called Logan, but knew he wouldnāt have shit to talk about with her. He was about to call Harry when he changed his mind, not really in the mood for someone who was going to try to fix his problems instead of just listening. He settled on sitting and waiting instead (for what, he wasnāt sure), watching the clock change numbers. He didnāt even put on any music.Ā
He bent forward, picking at a spot of dried paint on his pant leg. He hadnāt even noticed the red splotch there before, the paint somehow reaching his ankle while he painted a portrait of his now deceased lady bug that morning. He kept picking at it but somehow made it worse, chips of red shoved under his nails so deeply it was starting to hurt and the stain now more deeply embedded into the fibers of his sweats. He kept trying and trying and it just got worse and worse and it hurt more and more but he needed the stain out. He needed it out. It had to come out.Ā
When he looked up again, it was 10:37. His mom never called. The red paint was still on his pants.Ā
///
Youād already cum twice before you picked up your phone that morning. After Harry had finished, heād pulled you up onto him (as he was in the habit of doing), nestling his face against your belly as he pressed kisses into the spaces under your hip bones.Ā
You didnāt even notice all of the missed messages and the chaos online until Harry left to go to the bathroom an hour or two later. You were still foggy-headed and naked when you finally picked up your phone, quickly propping yourself up on an elbow when you realized that while youād been busy apparently the entire world had turned upside down.Ā
You sprang out of bed, nearly slipping as you hauled yourself down the hallway and into the bathroom where Harry had just finished washing his hands and was getting ready to brush his teeth.Ā
āHoly shit, holy shit, holy shit!ā You were spitting out, scaring the ever loving fuck out of Harry. He jumped almost out of his skin, smearing toothpaste on cheek.Ā
āWhat is it?ā He questioned, free hand pressed to his chest in shock. āIs everything okay?ā
You just shook your head, scrolling through the 40 messages Logan had sent so far that morning. (Or, really, that night for Logan).Ā
āEveryone knows about Logan and Rachel.ā You finally said, setting your phone down on the counter and tangling your fingers into your hair as you shoved it out of your face. Harry froze mid-brush, his face flashing with panic before settling into a determined, problem-solving stare.
(Harry had been in the habit of doing that lately. Something about him just seemed so much more at ease, more sensible, more calm. He was so much slower to boil. He had a tranquility about him that you hadnāt noticed before.)
āSomeone outted them?ā He asked, setting his toothbrush down on the counter. He cringed for a second, shaking his head. āDo you know who it was? I can talk to my team about having my lawyers reach out to them, not that Rachel doesnāt have her own lawyersā¦ā
You stared back at him, confused. āOh, noā¦ā You started, letting out a small chuckle. āThey didnāt-ā
āIāll talk to Logan myself if she already said no, but I canāt just let that happen to them.ā Harry grimaced again, leaning his elbows on the counter. āIs she okay? Is Rachel okay? Thatās so fucked up that someone would do that.ā
āRachel did it.ā You stopped him, cutting him off before he completely spiraled. āShe posted on Instagram. Apparently sheās moving into the house with Logan. Her, uh, her parentsā¦ā
āRight.ā Harry said, letting out a huff. He paused for a second, acting like he was about to speak again before stopping. It only took him a second for him to change his mind, turning his body to face you and resting a hand on the counter. āItās really fucking convenient of these parents to just kick their kids to the curb like this, innit? And for no fucking reason. Itās so fucked up.ā
You closed the gap between your bodies, wrapping your arms around Harryās waist as he put his attention back towards brushing his teeth. āIf it makes you feel any better, Logan says Rachelās okay. She never liked living with her parentās anyway, so she says they both just feel relieved.ā
Harry hummed along, bending forward slightly to spit into the sink. āAre people being nice to them? Online and allat?ā
You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, meeting his eyes in the mirror ahead of you. You nodded.Ā
āTheyāre being very nice.ā You told him. āTheyāre trending on Twitter.ā
///
Harry left a few minutes later, making you promise not to shower without him. You agreed, sending him off with a kiss and a promise that youād join him on his next run. You didnāt mean it, but Harry still seemed satisfied as he headed out.Ā
Youād been so distracted by the whole Logan/Rachel situation that you almost forgot Anders had called you until you were snuggled up back in bed. You figured since Harry would be back soon to take a shower that you would wait to get dressed and have a few extra minutes in the swaddle of covers on Harryās bed. So, back in your snug little cocoon, you decided to give Anders a call back.Ā
āHEY FUCKER.ā Anders yelled into the receiver almost the second youād pressed the call button. You giggled to yourself, pressing the phone between your ear and the pillow.
āHey sweet pea. Whatās up?ā You asked, letting your eyes flutter closed. You could hear some kind ofā¦ banging on the other end, though it didnāt particularly surprise you considering who you were talking to. āWhat are you building a fucking rocking chair or something?ā
āIts a shelf, actually.ā He corrected, swinging what you assumed to be a hammer a few times before continuing. āIāve almost got it all finished, I just need to add some final touches.ā
āOhā¦ā You started, deciding whether or not you should even ask. āThat soundsā¦ fun?ā
āItās keeping me busy, at least. I got in a fight with my mom again so I decided to take matters into my own hands.ā He swung the hammer again before letting out a sigh. āShe wanted to act like a bitch and not let me eat dinner so I thought, yāknow, okay. Iāll go buy some fuckinā groceries and a shelf and Iāll feed my fucking self. I got a mini fridge and everything.ā
You paused, unsure what to say next. As close as you and Anders were, Harry was normally the person that he went to to talk about his family stuff, and you werenāt sure exactly how to navigate it.Ā
āWhy wouldnāt she let you eat?ā
āBecause she hates me.ā
āShe doesnāt-ā
āNo, she does.ā Anders stopped you, chuckling to himself. āBut Iām okay with it. Kinda come to terms with it, you know?ā
It got quiet for a second, both of you unsure what to say next.Ā
āShe called me a junkie.ā Anders added, instantly making your skin itch all over. You tried not to but let out an audible gasp, your hand not quick enough to stop it before it came out. āShe said all kinds of stuff, actually. But itās cool.ā
What were you even supposed to say to make this any better? āYou arenāt a junkie, Anders.ā
āNo, I am.ā He brushed you off. āItās all good though, seriously. You donāt have to make me feel better or anything. I just wanted to talk to you is all.ā
āOkay.. Well, if you were wanting to talk to Harry he should be home in a little bitā¦ā
āHarry? No, no..ā Anders responded. āI just want to talk to you for a bit if thatās okay.ā
āYeah, totally.ā You rushed out, realizing too late how desperate you must sound. āI mean, for sure. I can talk.ā
///
Anders filled you in on the rest of his night, telling you all about how he had spent half the night in a Taco Bell parking lot before coming home and watching a movie with his dad. He said his dad waited up for him just like heād promised he would, only to pass out less than 15 minutes into the movie.Ā You felt your chest swell slightly at the news but you didnāt make a big deal out of it. Youād always hoped Anders could work it out with his parents, and even if his mom still wasnāt on board, at least he had someone on his side now.Ā
(Anders made a point not to tell you that heād purposefully fallen asleep on the couch, too, his head ājust so happeningā to fall on his fathers shoulder next to him. Heād imagined theyād both wake up the next morning and laugh about how theyād dozed off. Andy woke up only an hour or so after heād drifted, though, neck stiff. He was never, ever able to get a full night's rest, even now. Once he woke he hobbled up the steps and got into bed like nothing had ever happened. He'd already decided heād never utter a word of it to anyone.)
When Harry got home you were still on the phone, and instead of listening in he decided to clean up the kitchen. (Youād decided to make homemade pizzas the night before, and to put it lightly the kitchen looked like a murder scene). You felt kind of guilty leaving him to deal with the mess, but you felt special being the one to have Andersā attention for once and you didnāt want to let it go just yet.Ā
āAnd so I built the little guy a house and everything, right? I made him a little couch and a bed and all thatā¦ā Anders was going on, telling you some story about a lady bug heād found in his bedroom. āHe was dead when I woke up, though. I googled it and I donāt think itās bad luck to find a dead lady bug but I still think itās, like, a sign or something. Like a bad omen.ā
āYou sound like youāve been cooped up too long, buddy.ā You laughed, imagining the comical frown on Andersā face when he found the bug. āYouāre thinking about it too much.ā
āThatās all I have to fucking do these days, man! Iāve been cooped up way too long.ā He spit out, exasperated. āYou never wanna fucking talk to me anymore so I have to resort to desperate measures.ā
You furrowed your brow. āWhat do you mean I never talk to you?ā You asked with a soft laugh, though you really werenāt joking. āYouāre the one who never calls me.ā
That wasnāt entirely true and you knew it, but it came out anyway. What you meant was that he didnāt call you as much as Harry.
āI never call you? What the fuck do you mean I never call you?ā He pushed back, his awkward laugh mimicking yours a moment ago but his tone a little bit harsh. āI would call you more if you actually wanted to talk to me.ā
āWhat are you even saying right now?ā You sighed, sitting up in bed so the comforter hung off of your chest. āI always want to talk to you. You just call Harry instead.ā
āYou want to talk to me now but you didnāt before I left LA.ā He said matter of factly. āYouāve barely wanted to talk to me for months now.ā
āThat is not true, Anders.ā You spoke, offended. You realized once youād said it that you had no reason to be offended; he was actually right. But that realization only annoyed you further, so you doubled down. āWe hung out all the time before you left LA.ā
āWell, first of all, we definitely did not. Not alone at least.ā He spoke again. He didnāt sound angry, only a little bit miffed. āAnd second of all, youāre my best friend. You seriously think I havenāt noticed how youāve been around me? Itās just likeā¦ if I did something, Iād rather you tell me what I did so we can talk about it.ā
For some reason your blood ran cold. If I did something, he said. You could almost laugh.Ā
āIām not your best friend, though. Donāt say that.ā
He barked out a laugh. āShut up.ā
āIām serious, Anders. I love you but I am not your best friend.ā
He didnāt say anything right away. āOkay then? Fucking ouch.ā
āIām just sayingā¦ā
You could hear him breathing unevenly. āSo could you, like, tell me why? Or?ā
āWhy what?ā
āWhy you donāt want to be my best friend anymore?ā
It was you who laughed this time, trying to lighten the mood and make your words a bit softer. You spoke like you were kidding but you meant every word. āItās not that I donāt, itās just that youāve clearly replaced me. Like I just mean donāt call me your best friend when itās obvious Iām not.ā
āReplace you? What the fuck are you even talking about?ā
āWhat is not clicking here, man?ā You tried to tease him.Ā āWeāre still friends Iām just saying that you and Harry are closer than us now, and thatās okay, but donāt-ā
āHarry? Are you out of your fucking mind?ā
āYes, Harry.ā
āFuck Harry! What the fuck? Youāre-ā
āYou canāt tell me it isnāt true!ā
āItās not!ā
āItās is!ā
Anders let out a long sigh. āY/N you are my best friendā¦ I couldnāt ever replace you even if I lived a thousand life times. Donāt be crazy.ā
You hated it when he called you crazy, even when he didnāt really mean it.Ā
āIām not your best friend and you know that.ā You let out, words coming faster than you could even comprehend them. āI can admit that I might have been distant but youāve been doing the exact same thing as me. You think I havenāt noticed how much you talk to Harry? You call him every day and tell him all about your life and whatās going on and when we talk you tell me everythingās fine. Itās likeā¦ Itās like you replaced me the second you got back fromā¦ā
āFrom where, Y/N? Say it.ā He prompted you. āWhereād I come back from? Hm? Could you just fucking say it for once instead of acting like it didnāt happen?āĀ
You frowned hard, biting your lip. āDid you even hear what I said?ā
āI did, I was just letting you finish before I tell you how ridiculous you sound.ā
Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head. āFuck you, Andy.ā
He let out a sigh. āNo, I didnāt- I just meant that youāre wrong about that. About Harry, I mean.ā
āOh, am I Anders?ā You questioned, free hand balling into the comforter. He tried backpedaling but you had already departed the station, the damn already split open. You were upset now and couldnāt hide it even though you wished you could. āYou tell him everything. Iāve heard how you guys talk to each other. And, yeah, I needed some space from you after everything butā¦ But Iām just saying it didnāt take you very long to find someone else. You act like I just fucked off and left you out to dry but you did the exact same thing to me.ā
He was quiet for a while, thinking. āI wasnāt trying to say that at all, dude. I think maybe weāre misunderstanding each other-ā
āOh, and speaking of rehab,ā You cut him off, words already caught in the avalanche. āWho did you have come visit you twice a fucking week? Not me, Andy. If I was your best friendā¦ fuck. I didnāt get to see you once, Andy, and Iām the one who fucking found-ā
You stopped suddenly, chest heaving. It was the first time either of you had come even remotely close to talking about that night. You decided to do what Anders tried and back pedal, but it was already too late. You kept going.
āWhatever. Iām just saying that, to me, it seems like you've already got a best friend. Iām sorry for not being around more but-ā
āHey! Hey! I wasnāt trying to pick a fight, okay? I just wanted to know if I did somethingā¦ā
Here he went with that shit again. If I did something. He could get bent.Ā
āIām not either.ā
āKind of seems like you are.ā
āIām just saying! Geez!ā You yelled, knowing you were just making it worse. You didnāt know why you couldnāt just stop yourself. āItās okay if Harryās your best friend. Itās fine. I just donāt think we need to lie to each other to make me feel better.ā
āHe is not my best fucking friend, Y/N. I could give a motherfuck about Harry.ā Anders spoke. He wasnāt often serious with you like this, so his tone made the words you wanted to throw at him disappear instantly on your tongue. āNot really, but you know what I mean. And Iā¦ I never even invited Harry to come see me at rehab, he just showed up.ā
āYeah, and you never even told me!ā You snipped.Ā
āYou told me not to talk about Harry! What was I supposed to-ā
āNo. You kept that from me purposefully, Anders. Thatās different and you know it is. I fuckingā¦ I fucking drove you there and you didnāt even let me see you.ā You caught your breath, panting. āIām sorry, I know Iām being mean right now itās justā¦ā
āItās been on your mind, I get it.ā He excused you. He was so kind, even now, letting you off the hook easily as always. āItās been on my mind, too. Iām glad itās out in the open at least.ā
āI guess.ā You grumbled. But he was right, and he was right to bring it up. You sighed, admitting defeat. āYouāre right, I justā¦ Its hard for me to talk about. Iām sorry.ā
āDonāt apologize.ā He waved off. āWhat else do you need to say?ā
You chuckled, wracking your brain. What could you say? There were a million things youād thought to yourself over the last few months, and the last few weeks in particular, and yet nothing came to mind.Ā
āThatās it, I think.ā You answered honestly. āIām sorry I talked to you like that, butā¦ I donāt know. It hurt my feelings when you said I donāt like talking to you because it isnāt true. I still care about you and I still love you as much as I always didā¦ā
āThen why doesnāt it feel like that, Y/N?ā He asked, voice wavering. āIām sorry for spending so much time with Harry, but I couldnāt be alone, man. Iā¦ I felt like you fucking disappeared. Iām not blaming you Iām just saying I wasnāt trying to replace you, ever. I- I genuinely didnāt know what else to do. I needed someone.ā
āSo did I!ā
āI know you did! I know! And I wouldāve been there if youād fucking let me.ā
āMaybe I wouldāve let you if you werenāt with your fucking boy Ā all the time!ā
He let out a small gasping sound. āThatās totally fucking unfair. I only spent so much time with him because you werenāt around.ā
āI know, Iām sorry. Iām sorry. But itās not just that you were hanging out with him, anyway. Itās the way you talk to himā¦ You know when I got here he knew things about your life that I didnāt even know? It was embarrassing, dude. You call him to talk about your feelings and you tell him whatās bothering you and when I call you just say itās fine.ā You let out. āYou donāt talk to me like that, and you never have. You didnāt before you went to rehab and you donāt nowā¦ And you know what, now that I think of it, it kind of did bother me how much time you spent with Harry. You couldāve befriended anyone in the world, Anders, and you chose him? I mean, part the reason we stopped seeing each other as much is because you were constantly with my ex boyfriend. It wasnāt the main reason, but it still fucking sucked for me.ā
āI was trying to get you guys back together the entire time!ā He defended weakly. āI wasnāt picking a side, man, I was trying to fucking help. I donāt fucking know. Iām sorry, okay? Iām sorry I spent so much time with him and I can totally understand why that would upset you. I shouldāve thought about that and Iām sorry.āĀ He paused, sheets ruffling as he must have been laying down. āBut we both know thatās not the reason you didnāt want to hang out with me. And, you know, I understand that and Iām not trying to act fucking stupid by pretending I donāt get it, butā¦ I mean, I want to know how I can fix it. Like how long is that going to last before you want to be around me again? I know I fucked up and if thereās nothing I can do I get it but I would like to at least try before I let this fucking ruin our friendship.ā
You werenāt sure what to say. He spoke again while you tried to figure it out.Ā
āSorry I didnāt fucking open with that.ā He giggled, letting out an exhausted huff. āI didnāt mean to come at you like that I just didnāt know how else to bring it up. I shouldāve just asked you how you were feeling.ā
āItās okay. Itās fine, I just donātā¦ā The words you searched for still eluded you. āWhy didnāt you let me visit you, Anders? When I found that out, Iā¦ That hurt super fucking bad, man. I mean, I asked you every single dayā¦ And, I mean, the whole Harry thing aside, I feel like I shouldāve been the one to get to be there. I think I earned that.ā
āEarned it?ā He whispered incredulously. āY/N, I didnāt want you there because I was a fucking mess. I- I- I was a fucking disaster! I had already done enough to you at that point it felt unfair to drag you into that. And I was embarrassed, man. I didnāt want anyone to see me, and the only reason I was okay with Harry being there was because I didnāt know him and I honestly didnāt give a shit what he thought. I care what you think, a lot. I always have. I couldnāt let you see me like that.ā
It made sense, but it didnāt make you feel much better. You didnāt even realize how badly youād been hurt by the news of Harry going to visit him until youād spoken it out loud, and it was hitting you like a truck.Ā
āI still wanted to be there.ā You replied, words like glass ready to shatter. āI wanted to be there for you the entire time, after rehab, butā¦ā
āBut you were mad at me. I know.ā
āMad at you?ā You snapped, shaking your head for no audience. āI wasnātā¦ No, Andy. I couldnāt be around you becauseā¦ā You had to stop, inhaling a shaky breath. You didnāt want to think about it. āBecause every time I was around you, all I could think ofā¦ I still saw it every time I looked at you. I could see how purple your lips were, and you were so paleā¦ā
You couldnāt continue, throat closed tight. You shook your head again but didnāt know why. Maybe to shake the sight out of your brain.Ā
āIām so sorry I did that to you, Y/N. I am so, so fucking sorry.ā He whispered again. You could tell he was crying. āI spend every second of every day wishing I didnāt do that. And, you know, sometimes I think thatā¦ I donāt know, if Iād only done it an hour earlier, or locked my door, you never wouldāve-ā
āAnders! Stop it!ā You broke, cutting him off before he could rip your heart out entirely. You were crying now, too. āYou canāt say stuff like that. Itās a good thing I was there. I was supposed to be there.ā
āYou were never supposed to be there.ā He argued. āThat wasnāt supposed to happen like that. And if- If I thought for a second that youād come there and see that then I wouldnāt haveā¦ Or I wouldāve done it differently, or something. And then you wouldnāt have had to see anything and you wouldnāt have had to drive me to rehab and we wouldnāt be having this conversation right now. And you wouldnāt have even known me that well back then to even really miss me for that long.ā
āIt would have ruined my life, Anders.ā You clarified. He couldnāt have been more wrong, about any of it. āI never wouldāve fucking forgiven myself for that shit. I still canāt forgive myself now! You canāt- You donāt get to say you wish youād done it better, or that Iād be better off or whatever dumb shit youāre gonna say. I was there for a reason and I am grateful every day that you werenāt alone.ā
āI know. I know.ā Anders repeated over and over while you finished, voice hushed and tired. āI know, I didnāt mean all of thatā¦ I just feel so guilty about everything, and the only way I can think to fix it is if I wouldāve-ā
āYou donāt need to feel guilty.ā
āYes, I do.ā
āYou do not.ā
āYou just fucking said you canāt forgive yourself for what happened! You just said that! I fucking ruined your life as it is! I didnāt need to die to do that, itās already fucking done!ā He went off suddenly, nearly making you jump out of your skin. āI know what I did to you. And Iām sorry. But that is exactly fucking why I call Harry to bitch about my life, or talk about my fucking mom, or whatever. I canāt talk to you about that shit.ā
āWhy not, Anders? Why not?ā You croaked. āThatās what friends do. I want you to know how you're doing, I want to helpā¦ā
āI canāt fucking talk to you about it! I canāt! I have burdened you since I fucking met you, Iāve scarred you for fucking life. Iām not calling you to complain about how shit my life is.ā He huffed for a second, bordering more on angry now than he did upset. āAs far as Iām concerned, for the rest of my fucking life Iām going to be perfectly fine every time you ask me how Iām doing. I have to be okay for you. I donāt get to complain to you, ever again.ā
āI donāt want you to always be okay. I want you to be honest with me.ā
āBecause youāve been honest with me, right? Like you ever tell me whatās going on with you. You hardly even talked about the breakup with Harry with me. You donāt tell me shit.ā He spilled out. āEvery time I ask, you lie to me just like I lie to you. Youāre telling me youāve been perfectly fine this whole time? There hasnāt been one thing thatās bothered you? Not one bad day?ā
You didnāt realize just how clueless Anders was on what youād been through while he was off dealing with his own stuff. Youād kept just as much from him as he had from you, from the breakup to the nightmares to the way you were constantly haunted by that pale, purple version of your best friend.Ā
āYouāre right. I havenāt been honest with you, either.ā You admitted. You wiped your face, frustrated tears threatening to make their way down your neck. āCan we just agree not to lie to each other anymore? Iāll tell you whatās going on with me but only if you agree to do the same. I want to be there for you.ā
āPromise?ā
āI promise.ā
It was quiet, both of you catching your breath and slowing your brains. Everything was coming at you so fast it was like you couldnāt keep up. You thought about everything, about how angry you had been and how hurt and how confusedā¦ You thought about everything that had pinched at the back of your brain for months now that you always steadfastly ignored.Ā
āYou shouldāve told me what was going on, before all of this.ā You said without meaning to. āIt never shouldāve gotten so bad if you just told me.ā
āItās not that simple, Y/N.ā
āIt is, though. Iā¦ I fucking asked you if you were on drugs, and you lied to me. I asked you all the time if you were okay. I tried calling you every single day after you broke your nose.ā It was all bubbling over now, nothing stopping it. You were angry again, about everything. All at once. āI know I shouldāve tried harder and I will always carry that with me, but you shouldāve talked to me, man. You shouldāve told me.ā
āWhat was I supposed to do, huh? What do you want from me?ā He snapped, a chord obviously struck. āYou wanted me to tell the girl I hardly knew that I was fucking su*cidal? That wouldāve gone over super well, Iām sure.ā
āThatās not what I mean-ā
āI can tell you how that conversation wouldāve gone, actually. Hey girl I just met, do you want to hear about how fucked up I am?ā He stopped to laugh. āYou wanted me to tell you that I was on drugs, again? Should I have told you how many fucking times Iād already done the exact same thing since I was, like, 17? That wouldāve been really comforting to you, Iām sure. It wouldnāt have totally made you lose faith in me or anything, like everybody else.ā He stopped for a second to laugh, again, the idea of this imaginary conversation obviously tickling him. āOr, better yet, I couldāve told you at the hospital that that wasnāt even the first time Iād tried to fucking k*ll myself! Or the second! Or the fucking third! Iām sure that wouldāve helped soooo much had you known that.ā
Instead of saying anything you just cried quietly into your bent elbow, head resting on your knees. When you didnāt say anything Anders sighed sadly, speaking again.Ā
āI shouldnāt have said that. I know thatās not what you meant, and Iām sorry. But you have to see where Iām coming from, right? If Iā¦ā He choked on his words for a second, clearing his throat. āY/N, if I knew how to ask for help you wouldāve been the first one I went to. If I knew how to ask I would have. You have to believe me.ā
You did believe him. It was unfair of you to blame him for not coming to you, but you still couldnāt help how angry you were at him. It was fucked up but you just felt soā¦ fucked over by him. It was so wrong and you knew it but you couldn't help being mad that he didnāt think more about your feelings. You knew it wasnāt about you and it never was, and yet it still hurt you. Maybe you were just selfish, you werenāt sure.Ā
āYou didnāt even leave me a note, Andy.ā Was what you decided on saying. Youād never brought that fact up to anyone, deciding it was too morbid for your mom or Logan or even Harry. But it had always been there, in the back of your mind, gnawing away at the space you used to use for your fond memories of Anders. Itās like with every second you didnāt say anything about it it just continued eating at the image of him you had in your head. Each day that passed just eroded at the soil more and more. āI called and I texted and I showed up to your houseā¦ I was the only one who didnāt think I was being irrational. I was worried fucking sick about you for weeks and weeks after the Halloween party, and you couldnāt even write me a fucking su*cide note?ā
Saying it out loud like that made your stomach lurch. You were nearly hysterical but you kept talking anyway.Ā
āI deserved a fucking note, Anders. If you were going to leave me all on my own the least you couldāve done was write me a fucking note. And I know there wasnāt one hidden because I cleaned every square inch of that apartment after I dropped you off at rehab.ā You choked back a sob, so upset the phone in your hand shook fiercely against your ear. āThere was nothing there, Anders. Nothing. I know I sound selfish and Iām being a brat, but honestly Anders when youā¦ when you took those pills I felt so abandoned by you. How do you think I felt? I know itās not about me and Iām fucked for feeling that way but I felt like you never even cared about me at all when you did that shit. And I tried ignoring that part, I chalked it up to being bigger than me, butā¦ but I didnāt even get a note? I wasnāt even important enough to you for a note?ā
He didnāt say anything, for a long, long time. You both just cried and cried and cried and you wished more than anything you couldāve had this conversation face to face. You wanted to hold him like you did at the hospital. You wanted to play with his hair. You wanted to put a hand on him, just to prove he really was okay.
āThere was a note. On my phone.ā He whispered after that long, long time had passed. His voice was so quiet you could hardly hear it over your own ragged breath. āThere was one for you, and for Rachel. And there was one for my mom. I thought that you guys would, like, go through my phone or whatever, afterā¦ā
You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You hated the way your shoulders relaxed, like something had been proven to you by that fact. You hated how relieved you felt. It made you sick.
āYou are important to me and you always have been. And I donāt think youāre fucked for feeling that way. I knew you must feel that way and I thoughtā¦ I thought if I just went back to normal I could make up for it. I thought Iād make it go away.ā His breath rattled his chest for a second. āIām sorry we didnāt talk about this sooner. If I could go back, even to February, Iād do it all differently. I swear on my life I would.ā
āIām so sorryā¦ā Was what you said, unsure what else could fill in the silence. āI shouldnāt have even brought the note thing up, itās just been.. on my mind, I guess.ā
āNo, I get it.ā He spoke sweetly, voice still soft by the tears mostly gone. āI actually thought about telling you I wrote it a few times, but I didnāt know if youād even realized and I thought itād be weird to just randomly tell youā¦ā
He started laughing at that, a real, genuine laugh. You started laughing too, unable to ignore how silly the whole thing was. You wished softly that youād talked about all of this sooner, but you did your best not to think too much about it.Ā
āIt wouldāve been weird, yeah.ā You snickered, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. āImagine we just went out for lunch and you drop that on me over a salad. Like a casual, hey by the wayā¦ā
Anders laughed harder, the sound healing some part of you that had snapped during the conversation. āRight like we go out to fucking Bella Vino and I just slide my notes app across the table to you.ā He had to stop, cackling with laughter. āLike, I wrote this for you, just so you know.ā
āNot the notes app.ā You shrieked, wiping at your eyes.Ā
āYou know what they say, right? The only thing better than a notes app apologyā¦ā
You both giggled a while longer, eventually sighing exhausted and overwhelmed but somehow peaceful.Ā
āYou know youāre important to me, right?ā Anders asked once your stomach was sore. āI mean that. You saved my life, Y/N, and I could never, everā¦. I could never replace you, or stop caring, or any of that. You saved my fucking life. And I never even said thank you! I neverā¦ Iām fucked for that, I know I am. I just didnāt know how I could possibly-ā
āYou donāt have to thank me.ā You assured him. āYou donāt owe me anything.ā
āI owe you my life, man. I owe you everything.ā He choked up again, blowing out a deep breath. āBecause, you know, I bitch a lot to Harry, and this has been the hardest fucking thing Iāve ever done, but.. but Iām really happy Iām alive. Iām so happy Iām alive.ā He stopped again, giggling. He sounded like a little kid. āI got to watch a movie with my dad because Iām alive. I owe you for that, big time.ā
///
The rest of the conversation went easily after that, or at least easier. You talked more about everything, both of you letting out everything youād been meaning to. For as scared as you were of this inevitable conversation, it really wasnāt as hard as you expected once the first bit was over.Ā
The topics floated around elsewhere, too. Anders caught you up on how life with his parents had been and even told you a bit more about his relationship with his mom in particular. He told you stories from his childhood about being locked out of the house for a day and a half because his mom was mad at him or not being able to go on a feild trip in eighth grade because āshe thought he liked his friends at school more than herā. He told you about Jena, too, more than he ever had before. He told you how she used to force him to have sex or literally push his head down to snort pills off the coffee table even when he said no. He told you how he still had panic attacks every single time he took a shower. He couldnāt wear wet clothes, either, like if it was raining or his sleeve got damp in the sink. āIt makes me feel like Iām dying.ā He told you. āOne time I got caught in the rain and I was so upset I threw up in a parking lot.ā
Harry walked in as Anders finished a story about his sixth grade band recital, a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel set on your lap. You asked Anders if he wanted to say hello, but he politely declined.
āI just want to talk to you for a while.ā Heād said. āIāll call Harry later today.ā
And so you told him everything, too. You told him about what happened with Christian and the nightmares (which he did not take well, by the way). You told him that you also hated taking showers at home because it reminded you of what happened. You both shared song recommendations that you used on your shower playlists that made it a little bit easier.Ā
///
By the time you made your way downstairs, Harry had already cleaned up from breakfast, folded your clothes in the dryer, and was neck deep in your old guest bedroom.Ā
He turned to look over his shoulder as you walked in behind him, smiling broadly. He had your suitcases dumped out onto the floor, though most of their contents was already scattered around the room.Ā
āThere you are!ā He beamed, setting a tube of mascara in a pile heād set aside for makeup. āI was starting to miss you.ā
āI got distracted talking to Andy.ā You brushed off, sitting down next to him where you could find the smallest amount of clear floor. āWe got into a fight.ā
Harry furrowed his brow, setting a pair of socks into the sock pile. āA fight? What about?ā
āAbout you.ā You teased. Harry snapped his head to look at you, mouth falling open.
āDid I do something?ā He asked, abandoning the t-shirt in his hands. You only smiled, shaking your head.
āNo, no.. Iām just kidding.ā You laughed, āI kind of told him off for calling you all the time instead of me.ā
He didnāt laugh with you. āBaby, you shouldāve told me it bothered you.ā He began, putting a hand on your cheek. āI didnāt knowā¦ā
āItās okay!ā You insisted. āI was feeling kind of bitter but we talked about it and itās okay. I was just jealous, I guess.ā
āYou were jealous?ā
You paused. āYeah, kind of.ā You admitted, taking Harryās hand in yours and pulling it off your cheek and into your lap. āI felt like you guys were closer than me and him, andā¦ I donāt know. He called and told me I was his best friend and I kind of lost it on him.ā
āBut you are his best friend?ā Harry responded, confused and looking guilty. āI couldāve told you that. He tells me every day he doesnāt like me as much as you.ā
You smiled, maybe a little bit too satisfied. āI am his best friend.ā You agreed.
Harry smiled, confused. āOkay?ā
āWeāre good now, though. Like, actually.ā You said, picking up a pair of leggings out of the mess and throwing it in the clothes pile. āWe finally talked about everything.ā
Harry followed your lead and grabbed your lap top off of the floor and set it on the bed. āYou did?ā He beamed, nudging your shoulder with his own. āThatās awesome, sunflower. Iām really happy you guys did that.ā
āMe too. He said heās call you later today.ā
Harry picked up a bottle of lotion out of the pile, revealing how it had leaked out onto everything below it. He closed his eyes, sighing.Ā
āYou know you donāt have to live like this, right?ā He nagged. āYouāre lucky that didnāt get all over your laptop. Which shouldnāt have been on the floor anyway.ā
āItās fine.ā
āYeah, well if youāre going to be living with me you need to start living like a real person.ā He rasped, rubbing his brow. He stopped suddenly, realizing what heād said. āNot that you live here now, or anything. I just mean since youāre gonna stay here for a while. You donāt have to live out of suitcases.ā
You shrugged, brushing off the exchange about the living situation. āI like living out of suitcases. Iām used to it.ā
āWell you donāt have to do that anymore.ā
āItās not a big dealā¦ā
It was quiet for a second, you still helping Harry clean your disaster of a bedroom despite you saying it wasnāt an issue. Harry stopped after a minute or two.Ā
āIs there a reason you donāt want to move your stuff into our room?ā He questioned, looking you in the eyes. You frowned, stunned.Ā
āI just havenāt gotten around to it.ā You said honestly. Harry knew that, the two of your spending nearly every second of every day together. āYou know how I am about cleaning.ā
Harry didnāt laugh at your joke, just nodding along. āFeels like you have one foot out the door.ā He mumbled, chucking a pair of shoes into the shoe pile with a bit of extra frustrated force.Ā
You looked at him, but he just kept organizing. You thought about what heād said, realizing how it must look from his perspective. Your suitcases were literally still packed.
You thought about his conversation with Anders the other night, how Harry had told him how afraid he was that you would change your mind or leave. You picked up a pair of jeans.Ā
āDo you think you have room in your dresser for my stuff to go in there?ā You asked, folding the pants carefully. āWe could probably move everything to our room before lunch, if you think we can make space.ā
Harry whipped his head around, ignoring your question. āReally?ā
You furrowed your brows. āYes?ā
āYou want to put it all in our room?ā
āYeah, I do.ā You answered honestly. It would be nice to not have to go down the hall every time you needed socks, anyway. āDo you think it will all fit?ā
Harry leaped up, a ridiculous kind of look on his face as he cheesed down at you.Ā
āYes!ā He squeaked. āYeah, I can make room! I can go move some stuff right now!ā
āOkay. Awesome.ā You commented, just looking up at him. You couldnāt help smiling just as goofily as he was. āDo you want help?ā
He looked back and forth for a second, running his fingers through his hair. āNo, no, Iām good. Iāll just move some shit and you stay here and get your stuff ready, okay?ā
āOkay.ā
āOkay.ā
He didnāt leave, though, just staring at you. His legs were wiggling with nervous excitement.
āThis is great.ā He said, letting out a giggle. He covered his mouth, trying to force the smile off of his face and failing. āThis makes me really happy, Y/N. Thank you.ā
You crinkled your nose at him. āYou donāt need to thank me, you pest.ā
He continued staring at you for a second, his smile now a permanent fixture on his face. He knelt beside you, pulling your face to his with a hand on either cheek.Ā
āI love you so much.ā He gushed into the kiss, hands clammy. āI love you. Thank you.ā
āI love you more.ā You promised, pulling away from the kiss with a smile of your own. āNow go get ready for all my junk, okay?ā
He stood again, his entire body tense and excited and giddy. āOkay! Yeah, okay.. Iām gonna go do that.ā He turned to leave, looking back at you every step or two to give you another grin. āIāll be in our room if you need me.ā
āOkay.ā
āOkay.ā
And then he left the room, his giggling following him down the hall. āLetās fucking go!ā He said to himself, his footsteps in the pattern of a little happy skip. āLetās fucking go!ā.
///
You werenāt done by lunch time, the entire ordeal becoming much more ofĀ a thing than youād expected. You sorted through all of Harryās shit, him deciding what items he wanted to move out of the closet to make room for your own. He threw sweaters youād seen him wear in paparazzi photos onto the bed, discarded as if you hadnāt memorized the patterns staring at those pictures of him while you were broken up. āI never fucking wear this.ā He said, throwing another jacket onto the bed. āOr this. Or this.ā
You watched him take nearly all of his clothes across the hall to another empty bedroom, leaving them on the bed in there to be put away later. He took out things youād seen him wear within the week, insisting he hadnāt worn them in years and didnāt mind them being in the other room. You didnāt argue with him on any of it, his mood so bubbly and excited and just about over the moon. You hadnāt seen him this excited, even the night you first got back together. He talked the entire time, going on and on about how happy he was and all of his plans for your new room youād be sharing.Ā
āWe can paint the walls yellow, too, since thatās your favorite.ā He was saying, taking the last load ofĀ clothes out of his dresser. āIāve been meaning to paint the walls in here anyway.ā
āYou definitely donāt have to do that.ā Youād laughed, thinking he was kidding. He just looked at you like you were crazy.Ā
āYou donāt like yellow anymore?ā
āI do, I just donāt want you to have to-ā
āItās fine.ā He cut you off. āI want it to feel like your room, too.ā
You didnāt say anything for a second, just looking at him. He looked so in love. You smiled, nodding. āWe can paint it together, then.ā
He grinned back at you, shoulders relaxing. āYes! Wouldnāt that be fun?ā He gushed, back to his rambling now. āWe could buy a new duvet, too. We could hang up some of the paintings Andyās done for you, too! And all your awards can go over here if we add a shelf.ā
You didnāt say anything about the fact that Harry most certainly wouldnāt hang any of his own awards in his bedroom and that you didnāt want to do that, either, just letting him continue. You just listened to him talk, believing everything he said and every promise he made. You wanted to kiss him, so you did, over and over and over. Before you knew it, you had moved everything onto his room and the two of you were picking out a new silk duvet cover online. It had tiny flowers on it.Ā
///
You didnāt get around to lunch until after 3, the two of you close to starvation by the time youād finished up everything upstairs. You sat on some stools at the kitchen island, scarfing down the Thai food youād had ordered in. You were almost done with your entire plate when Bethany called you.Ā
āHey Beth!ā You chirped, Harryās good mood infecting you and making everything seem a little more sparkly. āWhatās up?ā
She sighed. Bad sign.
āHave you been on the internet at all today?ā She asked, not bothering with niceties.Ā
You paused, looking over at Harry who was just as confused as you. You set your phone down on the counter, turning it on speaker.Ā
āI havenāt really been on since early this morning.ā You explained. āWhy, whatās up?ā
āWell, its officially happened. Cats out of the bag.ā
You relaxed, realizing what she meant. āOh, yeah. I saw everything with Logan and Rachel already.ā You explained. āLogan texted me this morning to talk about it.ā
Bethany let out a short laugh. āNope, not that Peach. Try again.ā
Your breathing stopped for a second, your head whipping to look at Harry the same moment his turned to face you. You had matching expressions on your faces, eyes wide and eyebrows bunched together. Harry leaned towards the phone, speaking.
āWhat do you mean, Bethany?ā He asked, his plate pushed away with the back of his hand.Ā
āHarry, great. Iām glad youāre here.ā Bethany went on. She had that tone to her voice right now that she always had when she was really, really pissed. Not at you, but at everything else. It was the way she talked after meetings with Tom, or when someone posted something about you online that was particularly searing. āYou should be here for this so you can reiterate all of this to Jeff.ā
Oh, fuck. You looked back at him, mouth opening and closing over and over again but no words actually coming out. Harry looked just as dumb and confused as you felt. Finally he spoke.Ā
āWhat happened?ā
His expression changed into the kind he always got when he talked about work. (You selfishly hated that version of him, the one who was all serious and analytical. It didnāt feel like him.)
āWell, Harry, your girlfriend wore your pants on Jimmy Fucking Fallon.ā She snipped, sighing. You knew she wasnāt mad at you two, but you still felt like a child being chastised. āAnd you have a scuff on your wall.ā
āWhat the fuck are you taking about?ā You asked, put opened on your stomach.Ā
āWell,ā (You could envision her pulling glasses off the top of her head, sliding them down her nose.) āAubrey on Twitter says, āY/N was literally wearing Harryās pants on Fallon tonight Iām gonna kms.ā And attached is a picture of you, my dear, wearing some black sweats and another picture of Harry last week on BBC wearing the same ones.ā
You looked at each other, mouths agape.Ā
āHow do they know we donāt have the same pants?ā You asked. You were trying not to panic yet, remembering how Beth had always been the one to brush off incidents like this. āThat doesnāt mean anything.ā
āYeah, except thereās a stain on the back.ā She explained. āA big white splotch on the butt. Paint, or something.ā
Harry groaned, leaning his head onto the counter and banging his fist once in defeat. He stayed like that for a second before sitting back up, his head in his hands.Ā
āAndy and I got into a paint fight.ā He started, voice small.
āA paint fight?ā You asked incredulously. āWhat even is that?ā
āWell, babe, itās a lot like a fight but with paint involved.ā He snipped back at you. āI shouldāve remembered. I was so pissed he ruined those pantsā¦ā
You just shook your head, mimicking Harry and throwing your head into your hands.Ā
āWhat about the scuff on the wall?ā You asked, remembering that other detail. āWhat does that have to do with anything?ā
āWell itās in the same spot in every single interview the two of you have done the last month.ā
Of fucking course it was. You grumbled, laying your head down completely. Youād spent so much time picking an inconspicuous place to set up your camera, and this was still happening.Ā
āSo everyone has put it together, then?ā Harry asked.Ā
āYup.ā Bethany answered. āAnd thereās no denying it. I mean, we can say you arenāt a coupleā¦ We can say whatever you want, but thereās no denying that youāre living together. Everyone knows it. And, now that they have that, theyāre putting everything else together, too.ā
Harry shook his head, eyes closing. āBut is it like, a couple people saying this? Or is it, like, everyone?ā
āWell you're trending on Twitter. Right under Rachel.āĀ
It was quiet for a second, the three of you all waiting for someone else to pipe up. It gave you enough time, in the three or so seconds it was silent, to make up your mind.Ā
Harry needed to know you meant it. He needed to know you werenāt going anywhere. Youād already moved your clothes out of their suitcases and you promised to meet his mom, and there was only one more thing to do. There was only one more thing you could do to prove you meant it.Ā
āIām happy this is happening.ā You said out loud, unsure if Harry would feel the same considering but taking a chance. You watched his face out of the corner of your eye. āIā¦ I donāt want it to be a secret anymore. I want everyone to know.ā
Harry snapped around to look at you, expression unreadable.Ā
āAs long as Harry is okay with that.ā You added, adding some cushioning in case this went sour. āIām okay with it, though. Iām excited, actually.ā
It was true. Youād spent so much time forced to keep it a secret that youād forgotten that wasnāt ever what you wanted at all. Bethany still sounded just as stressed when she spoke.Ā
āYou guys can talk about it. And Harry?ā
āYeah?ā
āYou need to talk to Jeff. Once you guys talk let me know and weāll go from there.ā
He agreed, both of you saying your goodbyes to Beth before hanging up. You pressed the big red button, waiting a beat before looking up at Harry.Ā
āSoā¦ā You started, not able to get much further before Harry cut you off.
āDid you mean that?ā He asked, eyes cautious. āAbout wanting everyone to know? You meant that?ā
You nodded weakly. āWeāre only supposed to say the stuff we mean, right?ā
He looked at you a beat before realization set in and his face broke out into a smile, a giggle ripping through the tension around you.Ā
āReally?ā
āReally.ā
He sprang foreword, kissing you firmly in the mouth. He held your face the way he always did lately, a hand on either cheek. He mumbled into your mouth, too, the way heād been keen to do lately.Ā
āI fucking love you. I love you.ā He rushed out, biting your lip. āIām so happy. Iām so fucking happy.ā
You kissed him back, telling him you were too. You were too. You were too.Ā
āWe can go on a date now.ā He went on. āI can take you to get that spaghetti I was telling you about, after everything opens again. Youāll love it, itās the best spaghetti Iāve ever had I swear to God. We wonāt have to lie to anyone anymore.ā
You, out of nowhere, felt your eyes grow hot with tears. You didnāt say anything else, just continuing to kiss him. You hoped if you kissed him enough times he would just know everything you wanted to say this whole time. Your dirty dishes still sat on the counter, forgotten.Ā
///
A few days later, Anders woke up on a Sunday in the best mood heād been in for days.Ā
Since his conversation with Y/N heād felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders, but rehashing everything that way adding an entirely different kind of pressure. But today was Sunday, and Sundayās were good.
On Sundayās, his parents left the house to go to church. His parents, even in the pandemic, still went and sat with everyone else who was too stupid to stay out of large crowds, and even though that shouldāve annoyed him Anders loved it. He didnāt care if his parents brought the virus home. The possibility of dying was worth the 180 minutes he got to spend without them in the house. (His mom no longer asked him to go with them. She actually still hadnāt said a single word to him since heād gone to Mattās house).
Anders threw open his door once he heard the car roll out of the driveway, feeling as if he had the entire world at his fingertips. He was wearing a pair of sweats, the same ones heād had on for 6 days, not bothering to put on a shirt before bouncing down to the kitchen.Ā
His plans for breakfast were foiled as soon as he turned the corner.Ā
āHey son!ā His dad smiled brightly, standing over the stove. He was just pulling out a pan, a carton of eggs out on the counter. āI thought I was gonna have to wake you up.ā
āWhy are you here?ā
He knew he shouldāve said something else, but itās all he could think. In the last 24 years heād never once seen his dad skip church. Ever.
āI wanted to have breakfast with you.ā He said simply. āAre you hungry at all?ā
Anders just shook his head. āBut itās Sunday.ā
āWe canāt have breakfast on a Sunday?ā
Anders laughed, deciding to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. He realized that he wasnāt actually upset his dad was here.Ā
āI figured youād be at church is all.ā He explained. āIm starving though.ā
His dad just smiled. āFantastic. Do you want bacon, too?ā
Anders, suddenly, was bombarded by memories of Christmas morning when his dad would always make bacon after the gifts were opened. He stopped doing that when Anders was in middle school, but he could still smell it when he really tried. Back before everything was bad all the time.Ā
āFuck yeah.ā Anders said, knowing his dad would chastise him for that but not able to resist pissing his parents off even when he didnāt want to. It was a defect of his he couldnāt help.
His dad turned to look at him, mouth pinched to hide a grin. āFuck yeah.ā His dad agreed, the word sounding bizarre coming out in his voice. Anders threw his head back in a howl of laughter, tears accumulating.
āDid you just say fuck? My father, the Saint?ā
His dad was giggling now, the sound almost identical to Anders' own laugh. Heād never noticed that before. āFuck yeah I did.ā He said, only causing them both to giggle harder.Ā
āFuck yeah, dad! Let it out!ā
āFuck yeah!ā
āYou can do better than thatā
āFuuuuuuuuuuck yeah!!!ā
Anders was in fucking stitches, his sides literally pinching his ribs as he died laughing.Ā
āFeels good doesnāt it?ā He asked. His dad nodded enthusiastically.Ā
āIt feels good.ā He agreed, pulling a pack of bacon out of the fridge. āFeels fucking good.ā
āI'm surprised you chose a Sunday to say your first curse with me, dad.ā Anders joked. āI'm surprised youāre here at all.ā
āWell I am, arenāt I?ā
āJust figured youād be, like, praising the son of god right now. Or whatever.ā
His dad was quiet for a second, using the same scissor he always used when Anders was baby Anderson to open the bacon.Ā
āI have my own son to worry about.ā He said quietly, looking over his shoulder. He smiled shyly. āYou ever make bacon before?ā
Of course he had. Everyone had. But for some reason Anders shook his head.Ā
āCan you show me?ā
His dad smiled even bigger now. āYeah! Of course I can! Grab the tongs out of the drawer over there and Iāll get us started.ā
āOkay.ā
Anders did what he said and grabbed the tongs. He stood next to his dad, feeling awkward but also strangely good. He was almost as tall as his dad. The last time heād watched his dad cook he had to stand on a chair. Part of him wanted to stand on a chair anyway, just for old times sake. Or maybe he just wanted to feel like baby Anderson again. Baby Anderson never had a care in the world. Baby Andersonās parents were always crazy about him.Ā
āMoms gonna be pissed at you, huh?ā Anders asked, laughing lightly but meaning it. His dad shrugged, turning on one of the burners.Ā
āShe can be mad at both of us, then.ā He as all he said. āSo now we have to wait for the pan to get hotā¦ā
///
āHow much shit do you own?ā Logan asked, a hand over her eyes to block out the sun above her. Rachel was grabbing another box out of her Range Rover, hobbling up the steps to the door.Ā
āYou could help me.ā Rachel squeaked, barely managing to make it inside before the box slipped from her fingers. Logan shut the door behind them both, coming up to take Rachel by the waist.Ā
āWhy donāt you just stop for a while?ā She whispered, pressing a kiss to her girlfriends hair. āLetās relax. I miss you.ā
Rachel only blushed, as always, pushing her hair behind her ears. āI have a lot to unpack.ā
āYou can unpack tomorrow.ā
Rachel looked around the living room, full of boxes and suitcases and all sorts of junk. It was a fucking disaster in here. Rachelās house, or her parents house, technically, was never dirty. Ever.Ā
Rachel thought maybe she liked it being dirty. She threw the bag off of her shoulder sheād grabbed from the car, letting it land right in middle of the floor. Her heart beat funny at the thought that sheād just leave it there, right in middle of the walkway.Ā
āTomorrow.ā She agreed, leaning into Logan. Logan chirped triumphantly, immediately pulling Rachel to the couch. They both laughed together, happy.Ā
The house was a nightmare, Rachelās parents wouldnāt talk to her, and she didnāt know what the fuck she was going to do when the pandemic ended and she had to go back to work. She didnāt feel like taking pictures anymore, or doing her hair every time she left the house. She didnāt want to hang out with Margot or Kira, ever again. She had a millions things running through her head, all of them spiraling and twisting and bumping into each other until she couldnāt make sense of a single second of it. For some reason she didnāt mind though.Ā
āYou know I was never allowed to have short hair.ā She said without knowing why. Logan hummed. āIāve always wanted to cut it.ā
Logan sprang off the couch. āBabe! I used to go to beauty school! Iām, like, so good at cutting hair!ā
āYou did?ā
Logan frowned, her nose scrunching up in the way that always made Rachel feel especially soft. āWell, I went for like a week before I quit. But I am really good at cutting hair! I swear!ā
This wasnāt entirely true. Logan had enrolled in beauty school, but never actually went. And she was only decent at cutting hair, at best.
But Rachel couldnāt give a fuck if she was any good at it. āOkay.ā She agreed, standing. āDo you think itāll look good?ā
Logan nodded frantically. āOf course! You know what, Iāll cut mine first so you can make sure you like it. Then you can decide.ā
Rachel was objecting the best she could but Logan was already in the kitchen, scissors in hand.Ā
(The scissors, funnily enough, weāre the exact same pair Andyās dad always used for the bacon on Christmas morning.)
Before Rachel could even catch up Logan grabbed a fist full of hair, lobbing it all of just under her chin. Her eyes widened as the blonde strands scattered on the floor. Then, she started laughing. And so did Rachel.Ā
They both laughed until they were crying, making their way to the bathroom with Loganās hair half to her waist and half to her chin. It only took an hour or so for both of them to be made over, making eye contact through the mirror. Both with matching hair cuts, both equally as drastic. They looked fine, but not great.Ā
āI love it.ā Rachel beamed, eyes teary again for a whole new reason. āI love it.ā
She shook her head around, watching the bob swing around her face. She looked like a completely different person, someone sheād never met before. She loved it.Ā
āI didnāt know you had so many tattoos.ā Andersā dad said through a mouthful.Ā
Anders shrugged. āI did that on purpose.ā He said honestly, referring to his mostly blank arms and covered chest. (Not covered, but he had a few.)
āTheyāre cool.ā His dad said, making Anders furrow his brow in surprise. āI always wanted to get a tattoo.ā
He couldnāt help snorting. This was the best day heād had in as long as he could remember. Maybe his whole life. āI canāt imagine you with a tattoo.ā
āIāve still got time.ā His dad grinned, taking another bite. āMaybe Iāll get one.ā
āIāll take you to get one.ā Anders offered, saying it like a joke but not at all kidding. āYou could get a face tat, dad. Youād look so fucking sick.ā
His dad just shook his head. āWhatās that one?ā He questioned, pointing to the mysterious blob on his torso. It was on his ribs, just under his heart.Ā
āIt was supposed to be a frog.ā Anders laughed. āMy friend Y/N did it.ā
āWith a tattoo gun?ā
āWith a needle.ā
His dad didnāt tell him off like he was expecting. āWhatās she like?ā
His parents never asked about his friends. Theyād always hated his friends growing up.Ā
āSheās fuckin sick.ā Anders answered, realizing theyād both finished their plates but werenāt getting up. āSheās my best friend.ā
āMaybe I can go see her show one day.ā His dad said casually. āOr am I too old for that?ā
āAre you fucking kidding me right now? You could totally go!ā Anders gushed. He imagined it, his dad bobbing awkwardly along like dads do. āYou could come see Harry, too.ā
āCould I come see you?ā His dad asked, making Andersā heart skip a beat. Heād never invited his parents to a show, figuring they wouldnāt want to go. His mom definitely wouldnāt.Ā
āOf course you could.ā Anders said. He felt his face get hot. āIt would actually mean a lot to me, dad. If you came, I mean.ā
His dad smiled to himself, shaking his head. āI canāt believe my kids a rockstar. Thatās pretty cool, huh?ā His dad chuckled for a second. āSorry. Thatās pretty fucking cool, isnāt it?ā
The praise made him embarrassed. āItās alright.ā
āI always wanted to be a rockstar.ā His dad mused. He almost didnāt even look like his dad right now. He looked younger somehow. More like a person. āLike Jimi Hendrix, you know? I used to be pretty good at the guitar. Not that good, but I think youād be impressed if you heard it. I was never as good as you, though.ā
For some reason Anders wanted to cry. For every reason and no reason. His dad wanted to be a rockstar. His dad used to be young. He used to want things. He used to have dreams. He felt overwhelmed by the realization that heād lived an entire life before Anders was born, and part of himself hated the other for ruining his dad's plans. Maybe that was why neither of them liked him for so long.Ā
āI love you, Dad.ā Anders said, immediately feeling the need to cry multiply at the embarrassment of saying that out loud. āThank you for making me breakfast.ā
His dad smiled, speechless for a second. āI love you so much, son.ā He spoke, his face growing warm in a similar pattern to Andersā. āI always did, even before I met you.ā
Anders started crying. His dad stood up, pulling Anders to stand with him. He wrapped him up in his arms and baby Anderson was crying, too.Ā
āIām gonna fix this. The best I can.ā His dad spoke, voice sounding strained through all the sincerity. āWe can have breakfast again next week, okay? It can be our thing.āĀ
Anders wiped his eyes. āWonāt mom start to get upset if you donāt go to church?āĀ
His dad wanted to say something, but he didnāt. He shook his head, staying quiet for a long time but not letting his son out of his grip. āI have done this entire thing wrong, for a long time.ā He said finally. He gestured between father and son, nearly identical copies of each other. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders. They slanted at the same angle as Andersā. āIf your mother wants to be mad at me for fixing my mistakes, she can be. Iām done making her mistakes with her.ā He cleared his throat again. āOne day sheāll come around. I know she will.ā
Anders just nodded, understanding. He didnāt believe what his dad said about his mom, but he believed the rest. He was still sniffling like a child. The front door opened, signaling the end of the moment. Anders quickly rubbed his face clean.Ā
āIām gonna go.ā Anders told him, hating his mom extra for ruining the only good thing that had ever happened to him. His dad nodded knowingly, looking just as upset as Anders did. āIāve got, like, four guitars in my room if you ever want to borrow one.ā
āOkay, son.ā His dad smiled, staying put while Anders tip toed out. Just when he was about to reach the living room his dad called his name, making him pause. āI think we should go get those tattoos. If you want another one.ā
Anders laughed, resisting the urge to look to his left where his mother was setting down her purse and kicking off her heels. She didnāt look at him either.Ā
āThat sounds fucking sick, Dad. You just say the word.ā
///
On Sunday, after Anders had made his breakfast with his dad and Logan had cut her hair and Rachel had moved everything sheād ever owned into her new home, Harry was having an equally as exciting day.Ā
He walked down the stairs, having slept in way later than he ever did. Heād been a little miffed when heād checked his phone, realizing youād let him spend half his day sleeping. Heād grunted, sitting up. The windows were open, and it smelled like spring today. It felt like spring all over, really, in a way he couldnāt even explain.Ā
By the time heād made his way to the stairs his bad mood had vanished. He couldnāt be in a bad mood these days if heād wanted to. How could he be mad at Y/N for letting him sleep in when she was here? How could he be mad at anything when she was here?
Even when heād heard the voices coming from the lower level of the house as he descended the stairs, he still wasnāt mad. Worried, obviously. But still in a good mood.Ā
āWhat is happening?ā He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from the corners of his eyes. The entire house looked like it had been ransacked, things missing and random men wearing masks walking around. It was more like the opposite of a robbery, Harry noticed, seeing the boxes and random pieces of furniture scattered around. He came to his senses, slowly but surely, taking it all in.Ā
āBaby!!ā Y/N shouted, rushing over to him. Before Harry could speak at all sheād covered his eyes with one of her tiny hands, using her other to grip his t-shirt firmly. āYouāre not supposed to be awake yet!ā
Harry pushed her hand away softly, looking around the room. He took in her subtle disappointment, her lower lip sticking out ever so slightly. (Upon seeing that he actually had to hop off his train of thought to take it between his own lips for a moment). He cleared his sleepy throat.Ā
āWhat is going on?ā He asked again, trying to force both of his eyes to open as he squinted at his girlfriend. She sighed, frowning.Ā
āIt was a surprise.ā She huffed, crossing her arms. She shook her head, disappointed. āI shouldāve known you wouldnāt sleep long enough.ā
Harry couldnāt help leaning down and kissing her again, longer this time. He kissed her until she let out that breath she was always holding, her feet relaxing off their tippy toes so she could give all of her attention to him. Harry loved the way she always did that, he thought. He should tell her how nice it is.Ā
Harry forgot about the commotion around them, stopping the conversation entirely for a second to tell Y/N that he loved her so, so, so much. It was true, more so today than ever before. As he continued to kiss her he whispered all the things heād missed out on saying by staying asleep for so long. Heād wasted so much time, he thought. He couldāve had, like, four more hours with her than he did if heād woken up earlier. He brushed her hair away from her face, deciding that he wouldnāt tell her about that little breath-holding thing she did when he kissed her just in case she thought too much about it and stopped doing it. Heād die if she stopped doing it, he thought. He knew he would.Ā
āItās already 10:30.ā He said finally when Y/N pulled away from him all too soon to continue pouting. āHow late was I supposed to sleep?ā
āAt least until 12.ā She answered seriously, making Harryās eyes pinched shut with laughter. He didnāt expect her to actually have had a time in mind. āI purposefully kept you up until, like, 3 just so you would sleep in.ā
She never ceased to amaze him. āYou fuckinā what?ā He giggled, overwhelmed in that moment by how much he loved her. He was so overwhelmed with gratitude towards the universe that he almost felt choked up.Ā
āI had a whole thing plannedā¦.ā She sighed, shaking her head. āAnders said it wouldnāt work but I just thoughtā¦.ā
Holy shit. āDid you ask Anders to call me last night and keep me up?ā
āYeah. He said he kept you as long as he couldā¦ā
Harry couldnāt fucking believe his ears. It was all too perfect. Maybe he was just so delirious with affection that he was missing something, but to him this seemed like the funniest thing in the world. Men still wandered about, moving shit here or there and yelling across the room to each other. Harry didnāt even hear them.Ā
āWhat was the master plan, huh?ā Harry asked, completely oblivious but not even minding it.Ā
āThe plan was to keep you up as long as I could before having Anders call you and keep you up longer so I could sleep and wake up early and youād be extra sleepy.ā
(Harry had spoken to Andy for three and a half hours last night. About literally nothing. Harry figured Anders was in one of those moods where he just didnāt want to be alone and heād forced himself to stay up as long as he could so he could be there for him. Turns out it was just a silly little trick and not a mental breakdown at all, which was nice.)
āAnd why am I supposed to be so sleepy?ā Harry asked, pulling Y/N into his chest. He looked around again, realizing it wasnāt just new furniture being delivered here but Y/Nās furniture from home. Y/Nās makeup table. Her bean bag chair she never let anyone else but him use. A box with Loganās handwriting on the side labeled āwinter clothesā. He looked closer, realizing all at once what was going on. āWhatās happening?ā He asked again before Y/N could answer his first question. He pushed her back so he could see her face, heart beating erratically. āWhat is all of this?ā
Y/N just huffed. āItās my stuff from home. Or some of it, at least.āĀ
Harry heard himself gasp, Y/N confirming what he already knew. He looked around again, and it was true. It was her stuff from home.Ā
āI was going to ask if it was okay, but then I just decided to go for it. It was supposed to be a surprise once everything was, like, unpacked and everythingā¦ā She grimaced, eyeing Harry nervously. āYouāre mad, arenāt you? I know I shouldāve asked, I just got carried away-ā
āMad?ā Harry laughed, both hands coming to cover his mouth as he looked around. He let his head fall forward, his eyes closing. He recovered, looking up again. āThis is all your stuff?ā
āMost of it.ā She nodded, looking uneasy. āIs that okay? I just thought since weāre moved in togetherā¦ā
āMoved in together?ā
āNo, I mean- I just meant-ā Her cheeks flushed bright red, her eyes widening. Harry also loved it when she did that, when she got super embarrassed and made that face she always made. He didnāt tell her how much he loved that, either, just so she would always do it. āLike, living together.ā
He couldnāt believe his fucking eyes. Sheād had all of this shit brought to fucking London from LA, sheād gone through the trouble of getting her own movers and even conspired against Harry so heād be surprised when it was all done. She brought winter clothes. For winter. He couldnāt help it when his eyes started to sting and he teared up. His throat was tight suddenly.Ā
āThis is amazing, baby.ā He choked out, smiling the best he could at her. Her shoulders relaxed, her own smile replacing the worry on her face. āIā¦ I canāt believe you did all of this.ā
āI was so worried youād be mad.ā She gasped, taking a deep breath as she deflated. She giggled, relieved. āI was up all night getting ready and I almost called the whole thing offā¦.ā
āHow early were you awake?ā Harry asked incredulously. It was all too good to be true.Ā
āI told Anders to call me thirty minutes after you guys got off the phone and you were out like a light.ā She admitted, looking embarrassed though Harry couldnāt for the life of him understand why. āSo like, 3:45 I think. Somewhere around there.ā
Harry choked on his next breath, having to turn away for a second to compose himself. He was still a mess when he turned around to face the amazing, chaotic, beautiful girl before him. He pulled her back to him, hugging her tightly. He felt like a little kid on Christmas.Ā
āThank you.ā He whispered, burrying his face in his hair. She did the thing she always did where she tells him not to thank her, but he did the thing he always did and ignored her. āThis means so much to me, baby. This is the nicest thing anyoneās ever done.ā
She didnāt say anything else, just taking his face and pulling his mouth to hers. He loved the way she kissed him, he thought. Like she was trying to tell him something.Ā
āNow youāre stuck with me.ā She snickered into his lips, thinking she was being cheeky. But as she said it all Harry could think was that this meant she really was going to stay. She wasnāt going anywhere, at least until winter. He choked back the emotion that threatened to bring him to his knees, pushing his hands into Y/Nās hair as he kissed her. He kissed her the way she always did, like she was telling him something. And with every kiss Harry was saying to her, in his own silent way, everything heād ever wanted to.Ā
Thank you for not leaving me, he told her. Thank you for being the person who stuck around. Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for letting me grow when I needed to. Thank you for loving me even when you hated me. Thank you for being here. Thank you for bringing winter clothes. Thank you for making me feel like Harry, without the rest. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. I love you, I love you, I love you.Ā
And then Y/N did that thing she always did where she gasped for breath between kisses, thinking Harry didnāt hear the way she had to gulp for air. He thought about slowing down, about letting her catch her breath, but he selfishly liked the way she gasped like that. He liked everything about her. He liked the way she gasped and the way she said his name and the way she would say āpleeeeaseā when he had her really wound up. He liked the way her hands felt on his stomach. He liked the way her legs felt over his, the way her stomach moved when she breathed really hard. He liked the way her cheeks started to turn pink all the way up to her ears and down her neck.Ā
āCome here.ā He mumbled to her, trying to maintain the kiss as he pulled her through the mess towards the stairs. They both stumbled their way across, tripping over a box they hadnāt noticed. It only took them a second to be wound together again, tumbling up the stairs like they were drunk or high or dizzy.Ā
āYou know I love you, right?ā Y/N panted, reaching for the doorknob behind her. Harry had his hands around her waist, keeping her against him. He moved his kisses to her neck, mumbling an mhmm.Ā
āTell me again so I donāt forget.ā He pleaded, throwing the door closed behind them once theyād made their way into the room. āTell me again.ā
āI love you.ā She whispered. They bumped into the edge of the bed, tumbling onto their new bedspread that had just arrived a few days earlier.Ā
āAgain.ā
āI love you.ā
Harry pushed her body down so she was laying, situating himself between her legs. His heart was pounding out of his chest, with excitement and an indescribable fondness. He was overwhelmed again by how much he liked her. She smelled like strawberries today, just like the lotion sheād gotten in the mail from her mom. Harry breathed her in, overwhelmed. Forever overwhelmed.Ā
āI love you, too.ā He rasped to her, āYou know that, yeah? You know how much I love you?ā
āYes, baby.ā
āNo you donāt.ā He giggled. āYou have no idea. No idea.ā
He remembered saying something like that to her at the house party a lifetime ago. It was still true.Ā
Harry realized suddenly why he must have taken her up here. He must have known the entire time what he was about to do. His stomach flipped, considering it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes extra tight as if to hide himself, though Y/N wouldnāt have noticed.Ā
āBabyā¦ā He managed to force out, āSunflowerā¦.ā
āWhat baby?āĀ
He wanted to say it so bad. It was just there, behind his front teeth. His heart stuttered for a second.Ā
āCan I show you have much I love you, sunflower?ā He whispered, not able to say it any louder. āI want to show you how much I love you. I need to show you.ā
The sound Y/N made was enough to put Harry in the dirt. She chirped like a little bird, a short giggle following. Everything felt lighthearted and easy. She hummed into the kiss, letting the sound turn into a soft moan.Ā
āI want you to show me.ā She whispered back. āI love you so much, baby. I want you to show me.ā
She mumbled it all, broken up between kisses. She told him again that she loved him, saying it over and over again as the curtain next to the bed whipped around in the breeze. Harry believed her entirely, and he was scared and excited and awestruck and giddy all at once.Ā
He was finally going to do it, he thought to himself. It was finally happening. He thought about backing out again, but Y/N did that thing again where she slides her hand under his shirt and touches his belly. The butterflies under her fingers flapped harder and Harry folded immediately. He was so nervous he almost felt blinded by it. He took a hand and placed it over hers where she touched him, just under the tattoo.Ā
āIām nervous.ā He said out loud even though he didnāt want to. She tried to remove her hand but he pressed it down harder so it wouldnāt leave.Ā
āSorry-ā
āI want it there.ā He whispered. āI always wanted to tell you I like it when you touch me like that.ā
He wanted to keep that to himself, like all the other secret little things she did and had no idea about, but it just came out. He supposed she could know about one of her little things, at least. He could keep everything else for himself, which was more than enough.Ā
///
It was while you and Harry were whispering all these sweet little things to each other that the world, already turned upside down, flipped even further. Sunday wasnāt over yet, after all, and that same outside force that pushed Rachel to leave her home and cut her hair, the same propulsion that pushed Anders to tell his dad he loved him, the same hand that guided Harry and yourself up the stairsā¦. It was moving someone else, too. Right to your doorstep. The one in LA, at least.Ā
That outside force came in the form of a hard knock on the front door of the house youād paid for but hadnāt been to in weeks. Logan and Rachel were already knee deep in an episode of New Girl, making it a particularly bad time for visitors, even more so than the pandemic.Ā
Logan shuffled to the door, annoyed. Sheād been alone and totally fucking bored out of her mind with nothing to do for weeks but now that Rachel was here she suddenly had a million things that needed her attention. As minor as it was, she was still pissed.Ā
But when she opened the door, she didnāt know what to feel. Immediately she was hit with the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. She felt everything at once.
āWhat in the ever living fuck are you doing here?ā She asked. The visitor nearly tipped over, eyes glazed. He shrugged.Ā
āI came to- fucking shit-ā The guest spoke, steadying himself on the wall with an outstretched arm. His hair had grown out since the VMAs, and it looked like shit. āI came to talk to Y/N. Is she here?ā
molly molly mollyyyy, I was literally thinking about you today and I canāt believe youāre back!! Iām glad you got the help you need š„ŗ thank you for coming back to us š«¶
Thank you so much šš this means so much to me ILYYY! Thank you for having me back!
OMG I MISSED YOU SO MUCH BESTIE!!! CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR WEDDING!!! IM SO GLADD YOUR BACK AND I CANT WAIT TO READ CH 37 IVE LITERALLY WAITED SO LONG ILYYYYYšššš
I KNOW IM SOOOO SORRY I KNOW YALL HAVE BEEN WAITING BUT IM BACK BABY!!!! FEELING SO AMAZING!!!!!!!!! Thank you thank you thank you ššā¤ļø
I know itās been a minute, but your girl is back and better than ever!!!
The truth is that Iāve been having my Anders moment fr fr. Sheās not been doing good. BUTTTTTTTT Iām clean and I got help and Iāve started a new job and I literally got married?????? Iām feeling much more like my old self and Iām actually excited about writing again. Chapter 37 is done for those of you who are still interested in seeing how BOBH plays out, it just needs to be edited and posted. So think this weekend!
To everyone who messaged me while I was away, THANK YOU. I know I havenāt been responding, but all of the messages have meant a lot while Iāve been kind of going through some stuff. Iām so sorry to everyone who loves or loved this story whoāve been waiting around for me. If I couldāve had things go differently, I would have. ā¤ļø
PLEASE SEND ME BLURB IDEAS ONCE YOU READ 37 SO I CAN KEEP THE MOMENTUM GOING! Love you all sm sm sm!
These are a few random snippets of the newest oneeeeeeee!
Rachel wasnāt a confrontational person.
She couldnāt tell if it was just the fact that sheād been born and raised to sit still, look pretty, and be pleasant, or if that was just her personality. Either way, she had been soft for as long as she could remember. She was kind and nurturing and never raised her voice, but that also meant she was constantly being stepped over, talked over, and told exactly what to do.Ā
That was one of the many, many reasons she loved Logan so much. She was almost the complete opposite of Rachel; She never held her tongue, she never let anyone step on her toes, and she said what she meant with her chest. She was everything Rachel wanted to be and couldnāt. She was strong and brave and also soft in her own way without being weak.Ā
For some reason, the news of Harry and Y/Nās inevitable rekindling didnāt bring Rachel the same warm, sappy feelings it did for everyone else. Sure, she was happy for themā¦ But she had to fake the excitement in her voice while she listened to Logan go on and on about how amazing it was that her best friend had finally āgotten the ballsā to open up to Harry and fix the āgood thing they hadā.Ā
Instead of the warm, bubbling feeling Rachel knew she was supposed to have, she felt something else entirely. Something wicked and foreign and almost sinister. Because you know what? Rachel and Logan had a good thing, too, and yet here they were tiptoeing around and lying and covering up every track they left behind them. Here they were, going on nearly two months without having seen each other. Here they were, happy and in love and almost entirely secret.
She didnāt talk to Logan before she did what she did next. It was almost like she was possessed by someone else, someone like her beautiful, talented girlfriend who was brave and bold and decisive. She hung up the phone, after having spent a better part of an hour insisting that she was over the moon for Y/N when in reality she was feeling quite bitter and jealous and angry, and sat motionless on her bed for another 45 minutes. Then, as if someone else had come to rest their hand on her shoulder, she stood up and walked down the stairs to where she knew her parents were enjoying cocktails and fancy little finger foods.Ā
(She, as she marched down the marble stairs, thought how interesting it was that her parents were still having guests over in the height of a global pandemic but insisted it wasnāt āsafeā for her to go see Logan. Funny, she thought to herself. Hilarious, really! If Rachel didnāt know any better, she'd suspect they had different motives keeping her away from Logan! Imagine that!)
///////////////
You didnāt see the post, or Loganās texts, or the countless tweets breaking the internet. You wereā¦ preoccupied.Ā
āYou look so fuckinā pretty like that.ā Harry praised, running a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your skull. āSo fucking pretty. Fucks sake.ā
You hummed around him, running your hands up the length of his thighs to rest on the soft part of his hips. Harry was laid back against the headboard, body at a slope while you nestled yourself between his parted thighs. Your head bobbed softly around his length, his hand applying no extra pressure but still making your scalp tingle warmly. You werenāt in any hurry, your movements slow and sleepy and delicate. Harry hummed softly above you, telling you again and again that you were so pretty, so pretty, so fucking good.Ā
The last few days had gone pretty much like this. Youād wake up wrapped up in Harryās gangly limbs, kiss his eyelids open, and stay in bed until one of you was desperate enough to go pee or eat. Youād sometimes lay in bed and talk or make out or, on days like this one, youād shuffle yourself down the length of Harryās body and take him into your mouth like you were starved. Harry would do the same for you, usually pulling you by your hips up his torso and onto his face or bending his leg just enough so you could situate yourself on top of his tiger tattoo and curl into his chest until you came.Ā
Life was so good. Everything was perfect. Harry was an angel, as usual. The weather was just right for leaving the windows open. No one texted you or called you about meetings or bothered you. It was just you and Harry and a kind of calm contentment you hadnāt felt in years.Ā
/////////
He sprang up out of bed, grabbing his car keys and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. He sauntered down the stairs, making no attempt to hide his presence. The conversation in the kitchen stopped as both parties watched him. With a captive audience, Anders thought, it was the perfect time to put on the performance of a lifetime.Ā
āIām heading out.ā He said, spinning the keys around his finger. āDonāt know when Iāll be back.ā
Anders, when his mom said nothing, thought he might have actually been hoping she would stop him. She didnāt.Ā
āI would ask you not to wait up, but seeing as youāve already eaten I suppose youāre about ready for bed.ā He continued. His dad followed him to the door.Ā
āDo you want me to come with you?ā He said, stopping a few feet away from Anders as if he was some feral cat that might be startled away. āWe can go grab a bite somewhere. It would be nice to spend some time together.ā
Anders actually thought about it. His dad, who his entire life had stood by like some decorative piece of furniture, was finally doing what Anders had always wished he would.
āIām just going to go do some shopping, but maybe we could watch a movie tomorrow, okay?ā
His dad smiled, a real smile, and nodded. āOkay, son.ā
āOkay.ā He said back.Ā
Anders gave one last look to his mom, waiting. Any second now sheād say sorry and tell him not to go. Sheād tell him at the very least to be careful, or be home by 10. She didnāt.Ā
āIāll be home by 10.ā He decided for himself. Maybe sheād hold him to it. Maybe sheād call a hundred times if he wasnāt home in two hours. Maybe sheād do what she used to and demand he be home by 9 instead.Ā
She didnāt say anything. She turned back into the kitchen and continued clanging against the pots and pans she had on the stove. His dad gave him a sad, knowing look, but forced a smile anyway.Ā
āCall me if you need anything.ā He said, giving a quick slap on the shoulder. āIāll still be up when you get home if you decide you want to hang out. Be safe, okay?ā
Anders nodded and because he was possessed by some much more kind hearted spirit tonight he wrapped his arms around his father with an awkward pat-pat on his shoulder blades. His dad took the opportunity to bud him tightly against his chest, even ruffling Andersā hair the way he had when he was only a kid.Ā
āI trust you.ā He whispered. āAnd Iām sorry.ā
girlll whats the chapter w the whole harry being mad at himself, at yn, at that girl for not being yn shit like it djsksks me
HMM I have a couple that could be it? If these aren't it lmk and I'll keep looking!
There's chapter 29
(Things had been fine, for a while. He went on living, plowing himself into a girl who was nothing like the one he really wanted and never would be. But it was enough to distract him. It was almost enough to convince himself he was happy.
He had seen Y/N there that night at Christianās party, but he pretended like he didnāt. So far what he was doing was working and he knew a single second of eye contact would change all of that. He took the model upstairs to Christianās guest room and fucked her almost until she was begging him to stop, just so he had a reason not to be downstairs. He really did like this girl, really. He just had to remind himself of that sometimes.
But he didnāt love her. He didnāt know why he said that to Y/N when he finally did get to see her again. Maybe because she was so mad at him, and that made him mad back. He didnāt know how else to handle it.)
Or chapter 16
(āAnd you have to know, I thought about that moment for so many months. I daydreamed about it when you fell asleep on my lap, or touched my hand. I thought about it when I was with her..ā
///
āI thought it was over for us, after I tried to kiss you that night. And I tried to be okay with that. I texted some girl I had hooked up with once or twice and told myself I had moved on.ā
āSo you knew her for a while, then?ā You asked. You werenāt angry, only curious. For some reason the tension didnāt seem as suffocating now. You were going to listen to him, really listen, for once.
āYeah.ā He admitted, his face pinching with guilt. āSheās a nice girl and all, but it never turned into anything serious before. I knew she would answer, though, so I just.. picked her. And that was fine for a while. But when everything happened with Christian, I couldnāt think about anything else. I couldnāt keep pretending to be happy with her. I didnāt call you because I was jealous, I didnāt.ā
āI know.ā
āThen you asked if I loved her and I didnāt. I knew I didnāt. But I was still angry, and I wanted to wrong you the way I felt Iād been wronged. I never loved her. Sheās lovely and sheās kind and sheās beautiful, but sheās not you. She never could be.)
