Sorry I’m a bit tipsy since it was pride walk, pride day or I don’t know the words in English soooo ! No synopsis, I’ll put it myself tomorrow :)
Love yourself and love who you want, as long as it’s not weirdddd i see you creeps ! Have funnn and shine !!! 🩵
That’s a sweet one I’m posting, I wrote that before the « party » so maybe it’s terrible !
🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
Beau Maxwell knew something was wrong the second he saw you.
Not because you were drunk.
Everyone at the party was drunk.
Not because you were laughing.
You always laughed.
No.
It was because your laugh sounded wrong.
Too loud.
Too forced.
Too desperate.
Like you were trying to convince yourself you were having fun.
Beau watched from across the room while some guy said something that made you smile automatically.
The smile disappeared the second he looked away.
And suddenly Beau couldn’t focus on anything else.
Not Dean talking beside him.
Not the music.
Not the football team celebrating their win.
Just you.
You.
You.
Always you.
Which was becoming a problem.
A very big problem.
Because Beau Maxwell wasn’t supposed to want one girl this much.
Yet somehow his eyes searched for you in every room.
Every party.
Every football game.
Every stupid campus event.
And tonight was no different.
The guy beside you touched your arm.
You visibly flinched.
That was enough.
Beau was moving before he even realized it.
“Hey.”
Your head snapped up instantly.
And God.
The relief on your face nearly ruined him.
“Beau.”
Just his name.
Nothing special.
Nothing dramatic.
Yet somehow hearing you say it always felt different.
Like his name belonged there.
On your lips.
His chest tightened.
“You okay, Bunny?”
You nodded immediately.
Too quickly.
Beau raised an eyebrow.
“Liar.”
A tiny laugh escaped you.
“There he is.”
“There who is?”
“The annoying version of Beau.”
“That’s all the versions.”
For the first time all night your smile looked real.
And Beau felt something unclench inside him.
The guy beside you noticed the conversation and quietly disappeared.
Smart man.
Because Beau wasn’t sure he trusted himself right now.
Not when you looked exhausted.
Not when your eyes were glassy.
Not when you immediately leaned toward him like you were seeking warmth.
“Can we leave?”
The question came out small.
Soft.
Almost shy.
And Beau swore his heart stopped.
“Yeah,” he answered instantly.
No hesitation.
No questions.
Just yes.
Always yes when it came to you.
—
The drive home was quiet.
You sat in the passenger seat with your forehead against the window.
Sleepy.
Comfortable.
Safe.
Every few minutes Beau glanced over just to make sure you were still okay.
“You know,” you mumbled eventually.
“Hm?”
“You’re pretty.”
Beau nearly drove into a curb.
“What?”
You pointed lazily at him.
“Pretty.”
He laughed.
“You are incredibly drunk.”
“I’m right though.”
“You are.”
You frowned.
“I just called you pretty.”
“Exactly.”
That made you giggle.
And Beau had to physically stop himself from reaching over and taking your hand.
Because lately every small thing felt dangerous.
Every smile.
Every laugh.
Every accidental touch.
He wanted too much.
And wanting too much was terrifying.
—
When you got home, Beau helped you up the stairs.
One hand resting carefully against your back.
Guiding.
Protecting.
Never pushing.
Inside your apartment he immediately grabbed water.
Then a blanket.
Then another blanket because you complained the first one wasn’t fluffy enough.
“You spoil me.”
Beau snorted.
“No. You spoil yourself.”
“Still counts.”
A few minutes later you were curled up on the couch wrapped in approximately seventeen blankets.
Beau sat beside you.
Close.
Not touching.
Trying very hard to behave himself.
You stared at him.
Then slowly shuffled closer.
Then closer.
Then closer.
Until your head landed on his shoulder.
Beau froze.
Completely froze.
Because drunk you apparently had no concept of self-preservation.
Meanwhile sober Beau was hanging on by a thread.
“You smell nice.”
Jesus Christ.
His eyes closed briefly.
“Thanks.”
“You always smell nice.”
“You’re making this difficult.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
You hummed softly.
Then wrapped your arms around his.
And that—
That nearly destroyed him.
Because you did it so naturally.
Like being close to him was the easiest thing in the world.
Meanwhile Beau felt like his entire heart was trying to climb out of his chest.
“You know what I think?” you whispered sleepily.
“What do you think, Bunny?”
“I think you’re lonely.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Beau stared ahead.
Silent.
Because the worst part?
You were right.
Not because he lacked friends.
Or attention.
Or girls.
God knew he had enough of those.
He was lonely because none of them were you.
And that was a very different kind of loneliness.
Your head shifted slightly against him.
“I don’t like when you’re sad.”
His throat tightened.
“I’m not sad.”
“Liar.”
You sounded so pleased saying it.
Throwing his own word back at him.
Beau laughed quietly.
Then before he could stop himself, he pressed his cheek lightly against your hair.
Just for a second.
Just enough.
“You should sleep.”
You shook your head immediately.
“No.”
“Bunny.”
“No.”
“You can barely keep your eyes open.”
“Stay.”
The single word came out tiny.
Needy.
Trusting.
And Beau was helpless against both.
So he stayed.
Of course he stayed.
Hours later, after you’d finally fallen asleep curled against his side, Beau looked down at you.
At the peaceful expression.
The relaxed shoulders.
The tiny smile.
And he realized something terrifying.
He could spend the rest of his life doing this.
Taking care of you.
Listening to you.
Being the person you called when things got hard.
Being your safe place.
The realization should’ve scared him.
Instead it felt like peace.
Beau carefully brushed a strand of hair away from your face.
Then smiled softly.
“Goodnight, Bunny.”
His voice was barely above a whisper.
But for the first time all night—
He didn’t feel lonely anymore.