I'll Break Your Heart (Then Put the Pieces Back Together)
Part 4 - Azriel | AO3 | Gwynriel Weeks Masterpost | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |
A/N: I’m trying to write longer chapters because I feel like 2k words is barely anything…I also haven’t reread any of my work (I’m too scared to) so if you saw any spelling mistakes or grammar errors, no you didn’t!
“It’s all in my head but I want nonfiction”
-HOT TO GO!. Chappell Roan
Velaris, with its usual lovely weather, had decided to grace them all with an autumnal downpour. Rain lashed at the windows of Rhys’ flat, the sound almost ambient - comforting - in its violence.
Azriel, with nothing better to do on a Saturday evening, had once again walked over to Rhys’. It had become their default hangout spot - perhaps because it was the midpoint between his house and college - or perhaps because it was the place filled with the least grime.
They’d begun the afternoon by playing video games, but that quickly got boring. Eventually, they’d decided to just sit in the living room and talk, since there wasn’t much else to do anyway.
Most of their activities as a trio involved the outdoors, and since that wasn’t an option at the moment, they were holed up and extremely bored. There was only so much scrolling and gaming one could do before they were bored out of their skulls.
It appeared as if the universe was listening to Azriel’s plea for entertainment. Rhys’ phone rang not thirty seconds after he’d thought that particular thought.
“Hello, Feyre darling.” Rhys answered the phone in an instant, his face immediately lighting up. “Sure, why not? I mean, it’s not like we’re doing anything better. Yup, I’ll see you soon. Our usual? Yeah, alright. Mhm, yeah. Yeah, I love you too. Bye.”
“Gods, you are so pathetically in love,” Cassian teased once he’d hung up. “Helloooooo Feyre daaaaarling,” he mocked.
Rhys responded by throwing a pillow at his face and hiding behind his hands. “Shut up.”
“Rhysie’s blushing,” Azriel said, laughing. “Who knew the big, bad Rhysand we’re all terrified of would turn into a puddle of goo for his girlfriend?”
“Cut it out, will you?” He whined petulantly, sounding pretty damn close to a child throwing a tantrum.
“Fine, fine, we won’t annoy you now. We’ll annoy you once Feyre comes over and we can watch you both blush and get uncomfortable, then proceed to jump each other’s bones.”
“We do not jump each other’s bones,” Rhys hissed. “What the hell?”
“I don’t know man, it’s pretty damn obvious that you two fuck like rabbits.”
“Speaking of Feyre-” Rhys, ever the moderator and diplomat among the three of them, steered the conversation towards more civil grounds. “-she’s asked us if we want to meet her and Nesta at our usual bar for a night out. They’re free, and we haven’t had a double date in ages.” The last part of that statement was directed towards Cassian, and Azriel couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for himself.
He hadn’t been in a relationship. Ever. It was exactly as pathetic as it sounded. He’d had flings and crushes and situationships and every shade of in-between there was to have - half-assed commitments, cancelled plans, and last-minute bails had become the norm when he’d first begun dating.
It hadn’t taken long for him to decide that he didn’t want to date if the pool looked like that. He’d be fine being single - lonely, but fine. He’d make do, like he always did.
But it was nights like these that drove his insecurities home - double-date nights, when Rhys and Cassian sat drinking with Feyre and Nesta respectively, while Azriel moped around and pretended to be interested in picking a girl up. His brothers-in-arms tried setting him up with girls every time they went out, but Azriel just wasn’t interested - not in the roundabout games he knew some girls liked playing, nor was he interested in the shitty communication skills of a third-grader that a decent majority of the student body seemed to possess.
Part of the act of pretending was to avoid suspicion - he’d never told his friends why, exactly, he refused to date or even have one-night stands. Truth be told, they weren’t his style, and he wasn’t going to lead someone on.
“You’ll feel better once you get out of the house and quit moping like the sad, sorry nerd we know you are. Come on,” Cassian coaxed, already ushering Azriel out of his comfy lounge chair despite knowing that he never enjoyed these nights. “It’s karaoke night. You’re not going to miss that, are you?” Azriel would much rather be at home with a good book and his computer to keep him company, but he also didn’t have it in him to break his brother’s heart.
Of course, it was easy for Cassian and Rhys to say that he studied too much - their entire self-worth wasn’t based on what grade they got a quiz. Besides, if push came to shove, Rhys had a trust fund and his father’s company that he could run, and Cassian planned on starting his own training centre anyway. Neither of their future aspirations require having stellar grades - of course they wouldn’t understand his need to be the best at everything he did.
Azriel only bothered protesting half-heartedly, making up some flimsy excuse about studying for a test they had next week.
“Yeah, next week. You’ve got plenty of time. One night out won’t kill you.”
Cassian and Rhys had always been the more social type. They’d never miss a night out for the world. Azriel understood why their idea of fun was blaring music and flashing lights; he just didn’t appreciate the overwhelming sensations as much as they did.
He sighed, but refrained from mentioning how it was exactly this attitude that would get his grades - and subsequently him - utterly fucked. But It was useless fighting his brother anyway - Cassian would drag him outside if it was the last thing he did. He was nothing if not determined, and Azriel knew when to pick his battles.
That was how he found himself sitting by a low table at a bar filled with chatter and drinks half an hour later while Rhys ordered them all pints of beer, the rain showing no signs of stopping.
“It’s got an extremely low alcohol percentage. I promise you, your liver won’t give out by having a glass,” he’d insisted
He’d gone along with it, if only to get Rhys and Cassian off his back.
“And we need something to do until the girls get here,” Rhys added. “You know how long they take to get ready and all that.”
Azriel snorted. “Wonder if you’ll have the guts to say that to their face?”
“Never in a million years.” Rhys looked appalled. “I value my balls too much to do even dream of doing that.”
“Yeah, imagine how I feel,” Cassian chimed in. “Nesta would cut mine off for fun.”
“Not our fault you chose the bloodthirstiest one to pant after.”
He only smirked. “I happen to like her bloodthirstiness. Especially in other areas of my life. Keeps the boredom away, you know.”
The innuendo wasn’t lost on either of them - Rhys and Azriel only grimaced in unison, each with varying degrees of disgust on their faces.
“That really wasn’t necessary, but thanks anyway,” Rhys said, clapping him on the back.
While their sex lives weren’t exactly a secret, they didn’t make it a mission to go discussing them with each other either.
Thankfully, that unsavoury discussion was interrupted by a young dirty-blonde who gave Rhys a hug and folded her umbrella. “Hi Rhys,” she said smiling.
“Feyre darling. We were wondering when you’d show up.” They kissed, and Azriel’s heart gave another sorry pang. Gods, he really needed to get a life if he was getting sad-jealous over a fucking kiss.
“How was your guys’ week?” She asked, albeit breathlessly and cheeks noticeably redder than before, plopping down next to Azriel. “Busy, I’m assuming?”
“A little bit,” Rhys answered truthfully. “How was yours?”
“Oh, don’t even get me started,” Feyre groaned. “College and work have both been nightmares now that the year’s kicked off. I’ve had an absolute whirlwind of a week. I swear, my schedule’s packed so tightly I’m worried I won’t have room to breathe.”
“It does tend to be like that the first few semesters,” Azriel added from beside her. “It’ll get better next year; just hold on.”
“Next year?” She sighed dramatically. “You know, maybe they’re right. Maybe this whole college thing is a scam.”
Everyone knew she was joking, of course - out of all of them, Feyre was probably the one who worked the most.
From what Azriel knew, her family had been tight on money growing up, so she’d had to take a few years off after high school working all sorts of minimum-wage jobs to cover her college expenses.
Her father’s sudden death had only worsened things - he’d left behind a measly inheritance, of which each sister - Nesta, Elain, and Feyre respectively, had got a small a portion of. It hadn’t been enough to pay for much, hence the low-paying jobs.
In fact, she still worked alongside her classes now, juggling work, academics, and her social life with practiced ease. Azriel, quite frankly, didn’t understand how one person could go through so much and still shine like a beacon of light despite it all. It was a trait he admired in her, which was saying something, because Azriel rarely admired anyone.
“-and then he said I’d be better off pursuing a language degree or something,” she finished indignantly. “I honestly can’t believe it. You’d have thought college would be better, but apparently not. Turns out there are assholes everywhere, no matter how much you pay.”
“I’m sorry that happened, Feyre. Truly. That professor doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Your art’s wonderful.” Cassian’s tone, which always seemed to gentle around Feyre finally seemed to penetrate Azriel’s haze of thoughts.
Feyre had always dreamed of starting an art studio, Azriel knew. For one of her professors to attempt to crush that dream barely a month into her first semester was nothing short of heartbreaking. “Don’t listen to him. Besides, art is subjective. What does he know?”
She laughed. “Thanks Az, but it turns out he knows quite a lot, actually. I have to stay on his good side if I’m to get any sort of mentoring or help in the future.”
“Isn’t there anyone else you can turn to as an advisor, darling? Why does it have to be him?” Rhys asked, concern lining his face. “I mean, he can’t be the only person who knows about art. It’s a huge community.”
Feyre seemed to think over that for a moment. “True,” she said finally. “But it doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m going to have to deal with him for the foreseeable future, and there’s no amount of bitching that’ll get him off my back. In fact, knowing my luck, he’ll probably materialise, like, two steps away from me and reprimand me about an unprofessional attitude.”
It was Feyre’s pragmatic approach towards her life - her logic - that had initially started this friendship between the two of them. Yes, part of the reason why Azriel and Feyre were friends was also because of their mutual connection to Rhysand - but even then, Azriel truly did enjoy talking to her. It was nice to have a sane person to talk to, he supposed. His brothers could hardly be counted as rational or coherent.
“Whose unprofessional attitude?” A taller blonde, dressed in formals, three-inch heels and with slicked-back hair asked, holding a handbag that likely cost more than most people’s monthly rent.
“Nesta! There you are!” Cassian’s booming roar echoed throughout the club. “Great to see you babe.”
She attempted to squeeze in beside her boyfriend, until she gave up and sat on his lap instead. The smug bastard was grinning. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes. Typical Cassian.
“Great to see you too. I swear we don’t meet up enough. All of us like this, I mean.”
It was true - Nesta’s job as the owner and founder of the city’s most prestigious PR firm meant that she had very little time for socialising - and that crises could pop up any moment. She was constantly putting out fires.
If Feyre was dedicated to her work, Nesta was nothing if not religiously devoted. Azriel swore that she’d marry her job if she could. Honestly, he applauded how the Archerons had seemingly been born with some innate ability to juggle all aspects of their lives.
“Oh, and before I forget, I brought Gwyn along.”
Azriel’s hackles rose. She had to be kidding. No sane person would invite Gwyn of all people unless they wanted to end up in a bar fight, in prison, kicked out of a club, or some unearthly combination of all three which he was not keen on discovering for himself tonight.
“She wanted a night of fun. This group is nothing short of entertaining, I promise you,” Nesta added to her redhead friend.
“Hi everyone,” Gwyn said with a sunny voice and a wave. “I’m sorry for butting in like this unexpectedly, but Nesta told me you wouldn’t mind.” Her denim mini skirt and ombre tube top were making her glow despite the bar’s shitty lighting, and her hair was curled. What did girls do to make their hair look like that?
“Nonsense, you’re not butting in at all,” Feyre said warmly. She patted the seat beside her. “Come, have a seat.”
The booth was beginning to become cramped now. Azriel, Feyre and Gwyn sat on one side while Rhys, Nesta, and Cassian were on the other.
“I thought Emerie was coming too?” Rhys asked Nesta, curiosity lining his voice.
“No, she had to get some things done for uni, so she’s at home tonight. Shame really. We tried to convince her that a night out wouldn’t be the end of the world, but maybe next time.”
“We were dealing with the same level of insane workaholic-ness this evening,” Cassian added sombrely. “I literally had to shove Azriel out of his seat so that his ass wouldn’t permanently be glued to the couch.”
Azriel only rolled his eyes. “I just don’t see the appeal with getting blackout drunk, that’s all.”
“Or you prefer your little hermit abode a bit too much,” Nesta laughed. “You’ve got to get out sometimes, Az. It’s good for you.”
The conversation wound its way through a lot of different topics after that - the latest football matches, the newest movie releases, celebrity scandals, and college life.
Suddenly, Azriel felt Feyre from beside him get up. He turned to see her heading towards the bathrooms with a few muttered words to Gwyn, and to his immediate horror - realise that Gwyn was now sitting beside him instead.
He’d avoided the auburn-haired firecracker for nearly two weeks - neither had talked about the night when he’d picked her up from the police station. It seemed that she was content on doing the same. Besides, there was nothing to say: he’d owed Nesta a favour, and it was done now. Azriel wasn’t in the mood to flirt or push her on it, so he hadn’t brought it up, either.
However, it appeared that she had different intentions tonight.
“You don’t talk much, tonight?” Her voice - much closer to him and far more intimately than he would have liked - sounded from beside him.
“There’s not much to say,” he shrugged, attempting to end the conversation as smoothly and as quickly as possible.
“Bullshit. You were talking two weeks ago.”
“That was also your first time interacting with me. You don’t know me.”
Gwyn rolled her eyes, moving closer and unknowingly letting Azriel smell her delicate floral perfume. “Look, Mr. Tough Guy, lemme tell you something. You’re not as cool or mysterious as you think you are.”
“Who said I was trying to be cool or mysterious?”
“You don’t have to say it. I know it.”
“How?”
“By taking one look at you, genius. Your entire demeanour screams ‘I’m macho and trying to act all unbothered.’”
“And is it working?” He asked without missing a beat.
“This supposed macho demeanour of mine? Is it working?”
“Absolutely not,” she huffed, and promptly busied herself with attacking the chicken wings that the waiter had placed on their table not too long ago, offering the occasional quip or snarky remark that made everyone laugh.
He could have played it off as a normal reply, but…she’d responded far too quickly for someone to pretend like they were unbothered. That, or his brain was so thoroughly fried from a lack of social interaction that he was overanalysing a two-word answer to a question. Maybe Nesta was right - maybe he did need to get out of the house more if he couldn’t have one conversation without jumping to dangerous conclusions like these.
“Come on,” Gwyn whined, drawing out the last word. She was practically tugging on his arm now, her eyes pleading as she sat beside him.
Azriel didn’t spare her a glance. “No.”
“Because I don’t like karaoke .” His curt, one- or two-word replies didn’t seem to dissuade her from her mission.
“Have you ever tried it?”
Gwyn grinned. “Well then, that settles it.”
Azriel groaned, throwing his head back against the booth’s cushions. “There’s no way I’m getting out of this, am I?”
Everyone else had proceeded to submit their names to the staff for a chill karaoke contest after the appetizers and drinks had run dry - and after the small talk had come to an end. Feyre claimed she hadn’t let loose like this in quite a while, and Rhys was more than happy to oblige her. Where Rhys went, Cassian did, which meant that he dragged Nesta along with him too.
That had left Gwyn and Azriel to sit beside each other in silence, both refusing to sing despite the low-stakes environment. Instead, they watched their friends and the other patrons clumsily sway and waltz throughout the establishment, or sing their own versions of popular songs.
It wasn’t necessarily the singing that bothered Azriel, it was…well, he didn’t really know. The fear that he had to be amazing at whatever he tried, he supposed. As irrational as it was, it rang true no matter what he did, and he didn’t feel particularly up to facing his fears tonight.
Gwyn’s grin devolved into a laugh. “Nope.”
When Azriel didn’t make to move, she softened her voice, her face morphing into consideration and something that looked sickeningly like pity. “We don’t have to sing if you really don’t want to. I was only joking.”
Ironically, it was precisely that comment which got Azriel up and moving.
“You know what, maybe I do need to loosen up.”
Gwyn’s smile was nothing short of devilish. “I’m glad we’re finally seeing eye to eye.”
She sauntered off, leaving Azriel with a view of her hips moving to the rhythm of the latest catchy pop song. Why was he looking at her hips? He had no business doing that. You sick pervert. What the hell was wrong with him?
Shaking his head to clear his mind of God knew which thoughts had materialized in his traitorous mind, he too, followed her onto the stage.
He didn’t even know Gwyn that well, and he could already tell that she was an entirely different person when she sang. Gone was the rowdy, chaos-causing girl he happened to be acquainted with because of their mutual friend group. Gone was the incoherence and clumsiness, the loud chatter and sarcastic nature, replaced instead by something more…contemplative. Calm. Grounded.
Her entire appearance had changed the minute she’d stepped up on stage - not physically, but the way she carried herself. It was more graceful; laid-back. Ethereal, almost.
Shoulders set back, eyes glinting with determination, and a killer’s seductive smile on her face, she sang like she was a nymph and it was her last day on Earth - her last opportunity to convey whatever it was in that heart of hers.
She swayed gently to the instrumentals that were playing from speakers beside them, eyes closed and mouth open as she vocalised.
But nothing - absolutely nothing - could beat Gwyn’s voice. Rich and warm, it flowed over Azriel, pouring so deep into his heart he wondered if he’d ever be able to get it out.
He understood now why some people had been lured to watery deaths by alluring sirens. It was impossible to ignore their call. It was coming home and experiencing all the wonders of the world at once - the most peculiar feeling, and yet one that felt just right.
There was something in the way she sang - something so completely, unequivocally hers - that tugged on his heartstrings, playing them like the world’s most intimate symphony as she crooned liquid gold into his ears.
He wasn’t focusing on the words any longer - it was her that mattered.
The way her auburn hair glinted in the light and the way her jewellery complimented her; the way her throat was bared to the audience - a rare show of vulnerability, Azriel realised - and the peace that was undoubtedly etched onto her face, if only for a moment.
Suddenly - too soon - the song ended, and Azriel realised that he was supposed to sing with her - and that he hadn’t uttered a single word. He’d been staring at her, transfixed, like some weird creep, and everyone had seen him do that. Fuck.
Gwyn stepped off the stage, entirely oblivious to the battle raging within his mind. She handed the microphone over to the staff, thanking them.
She was just walking back to their table - the others now having returned to their seats; cheering and whistling for her in encouragement - when a man bumped into her.
It was subtle - subtle enough that Azriel wouldn’t have noticed it had his feet not been glued to the damn stage and had the vantage point not been advantageous. She gave him a brief smile, uttered something that looked like sorry, and attempted to make her way past him.
But he didn’t let her. He leaned in, whispering something in her ear. Gwyn jerked back, stepping away from him - now clearly uncomfortable.
That was when all hell broke loose.
A/N: I find Gwyn’s love for music and singing so intriguing, and I wanted to explore it in this modern AU! I totally imagine Az being whipped for her after she sings and I also imagine her singing Lana Del Rey because omg the vibes?!
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