pairing: james marriott x reader
genre: angsty fluff..fluffy angst??
tw: whimsy's backbone in full force, kinda got inspiration from little women, james grovels a bit
Your song had gone viral.Â
and whilst the love from fans had been enormous and heartwarming, you couldnât help but feel slightly regretful over your, letâs face it, impulsive decision to post it without some proper consideration.Â
you werenât usually so spontaneous or capricious, and youâd felt a little bashful on reflection. the song was good, you knew that, but youâd never done something so direct, for you truly were very nonconfrontational. Youâd go to bat for your friends whenever someone did something to hurt them, but never for yourself. standing up for yourself truly seemed like an impossible action that whenever you did, it felt like your alter ego had taken over and done some ludicrous action that the real you would have to traverse alone.
but that small part of you rings in your ear, with whispers of encouragement and pride for finally standing up for yourself, for no longer taking anyoneâs bullshit. james couldnât pick and choose when to be affectionate, when to be there and when to not. it felt like just yesterday that he wanted all of your attention, wanting the good and bad your life offered. sometimes you wonder if you can find a way to go back in time, before the kiss ever happened, so you can stop it and allow things to return it to how you liked it.
but this is your reality now, james staring across from you like youâd humiliated him beyond belief. you probably had, to be honest. it was likely clear to your friends what and who your song was about, but still, that part of you felt no regret.
âhello.â surprisingly, you sound very unaffected by his presence. youâd expected to duck and run the second you saw his figure, but you had reminded yourself that he was the one who had done you wrong, and not the other way around.
âi heard your song.â the grip of his coffee is notably tighter than usual, and almost comical at that.Â
âthoughts?â you fix him with a piercing yet simultaneously unbothered stare, warmth blooming in your chest. pride this time, rather than the usual bashful feeling you usually got.Â
he sighs, clenching his jaw, and staring down at his docks, rocking on the balls of his feet as he tries to articulate how exactly heâs feeling. âi donât know why you couldnât just talk to me.â
you almost laugh. well, you do. itâs a small laugh, more shocked and dumbfounded than anything, but you manage to find some humour in it. The audacity of this to man to stand in front of you and argue that you should be more communicative with him, when he barely spoke to you after the kiss.Â
âwhat, like you did?â you donât want to argue in the middle of the street, with the throngs of strangers traversing around the pair of you, but the complete absurdity of the entire thing makes you lose all sense of rationale. âjames, you canât just kiss me, then disappear. thatâs not how this works.âÂ
âwell, if youâd just let me-â
âno, iâm not just going to let you do anything.â youâre on a roll now, feeling bashful at your unusual confidence but not wanting to lose momentum. âiâm not going to let you keep doing this to me. its not fair, and its just..mean.â
and with that, you turn on your heels and head back to your apartment, because if you stay a second longer, you might cry and youâve already embarrassed yourself enough for one day.
self-realisation. james decides he needs to work on that, as he stares up at the ceiling of his apartment. otto keeps nudging his knee with his head, but he offers him no attention.Â
mean. it was so simple, so innocent, that it sticks to his brain like honey. heâd been so preoccupied with his own issues and his own internal conflict surrounding the kiss, that heâd completely forgotten that his action and lack of action afterwards may have caused you some upset.
it was ignorant, of course, but he couldnât quite work out his own feelings.
it was the first time in some time since he had a crush on someone. they way you met, there was no romantic intention behind it and it had all developed in such an unforced and natural way, that a part of it felt unnatural. somehow. he hadnât felt such a feeling in so long that he didnât truly know how to navigate it.Â
and you were so easy-going and agreeable, that he never really expected that the kiss would affect you in such a way, as ignorant as that is. coming home to your video as a form of argument rather than a call or message felt so foreign, and he couldnât help but feel the teeniest bit (very) humiliated.
so, he didnât quite know how to go about it when seeing you again today. he knew he was wrong, but he didnât know how to explain that he was being stupid, rather than cruel. but, by accident, he was cruel.Â
james knew he burned bright, but slowly his flame fizzled until there was little energy left. he didnât want to be like that with you, he simply needed to learn how.Â
he feels a little silly, stood outside your new and unfamiliar apartment, staring at the door like it was a boggart. but this was a fear he must face. if not for himself, for you.
once you answer the door, you give him a look so piercing that heâs half convinced youâre about to slam the door on him. but youâre too polite, and you still have that stupid soft spot for him that is currently working against you.Â
âi wanted to say iâm sorry.â it all feels a little dramatic, standing outside your door in the warm glow of the streetlamps. a bit rom-com-y, and that seems to raise the stakes of it all. his palms are sweating and his chest aching just a tad. âi was selfish, and didnât understand what was happening, and you were hurt because of my stupidity and i just..â
âno, listen.â he continues. âwhat i did was unfair, and mean, you were right. i let my own confusion hurt you, and i just hope you can forgive me, because if nothing else, i still wish youâd be my friend.â
âjames.â he keeps rambling on erratically, and you can barely understand a word of it. you donât think he even knows what heâs saying anymore, lost in his own world.
âjames.â finally, he stops. finally, he hears you.
you cup his cheeks, his big brown eyes staring into yours, imploring your forgiveness with just a look. you think about it for just a second, before you lift your lips to his, pressing ever so softly, feeling the bristles of his jaw against your palms. luckily for the steps up to your apartment, youâre on level with each other. no longer any need for your straining to reach him. finally, heâs just there.Â
it takes a second for him to react. to be honest, heâd assumed you werenât going to forgive him, that you were simply going to slam the door and that would be that. but once he realises that this is reality, he eagerly kisses you back. softly, but assuredly. the reciprocation makes this kiss so much more than the last, so much more than just a brush of your lips with not enough to time to react in any way.Â
it fills you both with a warmth and security that neither of you feel in any way questioning or unsure. you no longer question his feelings, and he finally understands his own. it erases all of those anxieties and the worries and all of the negative, replacing it was a positivity you canât quite put a word on.Â