No Sooner Looked, Part 3 - Fangs x Reader
A/N: Sorry the last one was so short. To make up for it I think this one is like three times longer.
Fangs couldn’t help but think about you in the times you weren’t around. Lunchtimes became a regular thing, but there were still too many hours in the day that he couldn’t see you.
Sometimes he felt like kicking himself because he never got this way about anyone, but then he’d close his eyes and picture your face, and he’d remember that you weren’t anyone. You were special.
He didn’t really know why you were special, maybe it was the way your eyes sparkled like nothing he’d seen before; or the sense of humour you kept tucked away, cropping up at the best times; or how beautiful you were, despite how you endlessly tried to cover it up, denying its existence.
All Fangs knew was that he wantedーneeded to know everything about you. Find out everything there was to know until there was nothing left and then you and he could just… be. He’d never tell you that of course. He’d never be able to get the words out.
Nevertheless, he set all that aside the next time he saw you.
“Do I have your number yet? If not then I think I need it,” He said coolly.
“Are you hitting on me?” You said it like a joke but it really wasn’t.
He couldn’t help it, he said it almost reflexively, “I can be.”
The problem was, you knew it was habitual. He could see it on your face. Your smile dropped by a tiny stretch, weighed down by disappointment.
That was it, the careless flirting. With one sentence you were lumped in with all the other meaningless distractions. You knew it didn’t make him a bad person ー he never led anyone on or manipulated them ー but it was always with people he didn’t know very well, even you when he was just getting to know you, like the wink in the cafeteria. But it had been a while since you’d first met, and you honestly thought he had more respect for you than that.
Even so, you tried to brush it off by writing your number on the back page of his textbook. You regretted that later, you should’ve asked for his. This way he’d be deciding when to talk, and it would be you waiting by the phone, something that would only confirm your fears of being another nothing.
Fangs hated that he’d made you feel like that. Of course, he didn’t know exactly what was going through your head but your eyes betrayed your emotions enough. That was something else he liked about you; your eyes really were the windows to your soul.
So, when he got back to his trailer that afternoon, he pulled out his phone immediately. With his friends’ voices ringing in his ears saying, ‘texting so soon makes you look needy’, he pulled out his phone.
Hey, it’s Fangs, he texted, You home yet?
A few minutes went by before a message popped up on his screen.
Yeah, just listening to music
Fangs and you texted for a while about the most insignificant topics. Without seeing each others’ faces conversation was strained. It was like the use of texting created a separation between you. Eventually, the messages dissolved, the response times getting longer and the content blunter.
However, late at night, when you were starting to think about getting ready for bed, another ping sounded through your room.
We’re at the Whyte Wyrm rn, you wanna come?
Through your (truthfully limited) messaging, Fangs hadn’t abbreviated at all. That might’ve meant he’d had a drink or two already.
You weren’t allowed to go out at this time and if anyone else had asked, you would’ve used that as an excuse. But this was Fangs. Fangs could ask you to do anything and you’d do it in a heartbeat.
You texted back and found something to wear as quietly as possible so as not to alert your mom.
It was Sweet Pea’s idea to go out. He usually wanted to whether it was Friday or not but most of the time they didn’t have the spare cash for it. Any money they made usually had to go towards rent and food. However, after a couple odd jobs that month they’d scrounged up enough for a decent few drinks.
Telling you to come was probably a mistake. Fangs was a pretty forthcoming person anyway but after even a small amount of alcohol, any filter he did have went out the window. Sometimes it got him in trouble but what he was worried about then wasn’t that he would say anything negative, but that he would say something too positive. If that meant he had to cut himself off for the rest of the night, so be it.
That couldn’t stop his instincts though, because as soon as you slipped through the doors, though shivering in only a sweater and a denim jacket, a smile crept onto his face. He pulled a beer from across the bar and handed it to you when you approached.
“No thanks,” You said. “I try not to drink all that much.”
He slid the glass back which was happily picked up by Sweet Pea and downed. “Are you okay?” Fangs asked.
Your eyes were wide and kept flitting back and forth, every muscle was tense and you were pulling your sleeves down, something Fangs had seen you do a lot when you were nervous.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just pretty loud in here.”
He furrowed his brow a little. Sure, there were a lot of people there but the noise level wasn’t too high. He was about to mention it when it hit him. Crowded places made you anxious. You’d never told him but it made sense. You barely ever sat in the cafeteria before you became friends with the Serpents, and even then you always sat on the end, never in the middle. He remembered thinking before that it looked like you were ready to run at a moment’s notice. Then he thought of the headphones that poked out of your jumpers and how you always kept your hood up, drowning out the rest of the world.
It broke Fangs' heart that just being there was hurting you so he reached forward and took your hand in his.
Before you registered what he was doing, Fangs was leading you through the bar and up the stairs. He was gentle about it, turning around every few seconds to shoot you a reassuring smile.
Fangs opened a door with a label on it that was so scratched and scribbled on, it was impossible to tell what it originally said. Inside there a few shelves of stock on the walls, and a beaten up sofa mattress on the floor. It was only once the door clicked shut that he let go of you.
Suddenly, a rush of cold went through you, as if Fangs was the only thing giving you warmth.
“Are you okay?” Fangs asked again.
“Sorry... sometimes things get a little much…”
Your voice had gone quiet, and your breathing shook a little. Maybe it was a mistake to bring her upstairs, Fangs thought, I might’ve made her uncomfortable. Still, he crashed onto the mattress, cursing when he realised it wasn’t as thick as expected. That pulled out a laugh from you and you sat cross-legged in front of him, a little more delicately.
A few moments of silence went by before you spoke again. “Fangs, why did you invite me out tonight? It seems like this is kind of a... strictly-Serpent affair.”
He sighed. His back was against the wall, one leg propped up. “I don’t like texting you.”
He didn’t say it as an answer, more like a statement from a different conversation. “It feels like I’m talking to someone else. You choose your answers differently.”
You didn’t respond, you just shifted forward until there were only a few inches of space between you.
“I want to know you. Not some pseudo-version of you,” He continued, and your heart fluttered.
“You know me.” You swallowed.
He leaned forward a little and you suddenly registered how close he was. When you breathed in you noticed that he smelled sweet and sugary. Like caramel. Or vanilla.
“But I don’t. Not really. I know the basics about you but you won’t let me in any more than that.”
There was a tinge of pleading and hurt in his voice and it made you want to tell him everything.
But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to show a little part of yourself, just enough to appease him and to appease yourself.
“Well, what do you want to know, Fogarty?” You teased breathlessly.
He had a thousand things he wanted to ask. “What do you want to be? To do?”
You sighed, “I… want to change the world, I guess. I just haven’t figured out how I'm gonna do that yet.” You braced yourself for the ridicule, but none came.
Fangs was smiling to himself. It was the perfect answer in his book. “Can I ask another question?”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer this one. You said things got too much sometimes. Why?”
There it was. The question. It was like there was an invisible barrier between them, keeping them apart, and it could only be broken by answering his question in full. You ached to knock it down. Then you could let people in again, maybe start being okay again, but a big part of you fought to keep it up. Because the problem with letting people in is that you not just let in the good, you also open yourself up to the bad. You weren’t good at filtering it, it was always either nothing, or everything.
“I… I don’t know. It hasn’t always been like that. Everyone’s got shit. I try to move past it, try to believe that there’s still good in the world, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. Sometimes I’m afraid that good doesn’t exist because there’s so much hate, even just in this town. I tend to avoid people so I can keep denying that, but when there are all these people around and I can’t think and the noise is too loud, everything in my mind just stops.” You were rambling and tumbling over your words and you caught yourself before you spilled. Your paranoia was boiling over and you convinced yourself that Fangs would either run for the hills or ignore it completely.
But he didn’t. He just looked at you with those chocolate eyes you could lose yourself in forever, and whispered reassurances.
You wanted to stay there for eternity, and just when you thought the moment was perfect, it got better. Fangs gently lifted his hand to your face. His thumb brushed your cheek.
Fangs bit the inside of his lip as he worked up the courage. All he had to do was see your unwavering gaze to decide, and he leant forward. When your lips met, everything changed.
You were holding your breath but really, you were breathing for the first time. Like you’d spent your whole life learning to survive underwater and now you’d finally come up for air. When he wrapped his arms around you, it felt more like home than your house ever did.
Fangs kissed exactly the way you expected ー with all the softness and sweetness of a velvet cake ー but it still made your stomach do somersaults.
You eventually broke away, but neither of you moved any further than that. Fangs’s arms were still on your waist and your hands were pressed against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat. You wanted to memorise the rhythm and play it instead of music.
The two of you stayed there for a while in near silence, the only sound being each other’s breathing, your chests rising and falling as one.