just found out the person iâve been seeing for the past few weeks is non monogamousâŠ. and im not⊠which is crazy because i like them so bad im now open to new experiences ijbol :)
so be on the look out for some new stuffâthis might be the inspiration i needed !
series: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three (youâre here!), chapter four , chapter five , chapter six (youâre here)
blurb: itâs been awhile since youâve been back home; in upstate new york where youâve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that mooâd and mehâd. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinnerâa troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.
cw: lmao flip phones, r and ellie might have beat the cheating allegations, more use of y/n then i would prefer, she/her pronouns, some vulgar language, jealous!ellie (kind of), the millers, r is a writer (she doesnât write much in this ch wink wink), ellie being insecure a bit, tommy and joel being brothers, r being a little self-deprecating, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, jealous ellie, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, abby is a plot device lmao, hella angst, rich!abby (one of râs evil exes), repressed emotions, a flirty/horny cliffhanger-ish.
note: thank you guys for flooding my inbox w untethered ch 6 demandsâŠ. i hear you, i see you, i understand you⊠AND HEREâS THAT CHAPTER!!! im sorry for making you guys wait so long. it wasnât easy writing this chapter, and i still feel like it sucks, but i hate keeping you guys waiting. like i genuinely feel bad đ. theres like one paragraph that i love in here and thats's it... but as always, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter⊠next chapter (and final chapter) should be even more angsty, and hopefully, sexy. bisouu my loves <3 (if something doesn't make sense... yes it does)
The smell of broiling honey ham filled your nostrils. Humored voices of your father and Joel echoed from the outside as they grilled their sirloins over burning charcoal. You set the counters with the food that was already cooked and ready to eat, leaving them out like it were a buffet. The warm desserts were placed after the savory vegetables plated on some of your motherâs finest china. You and Maria waited for the ham, as it was the last thing to be readyâshe wanted it to be fresh.
During this time, you changed into your evening clothes, which was none other than a pair of overall shorts, a white frilly crop top, and your cowboy boots. Clean ones, of course.
You havenât seen or heard from Ellie since your little squabble. Joel had come in with a nicely cooked pie in his hands, without her, claiming that she had to make a quick run. Then, you noticed Cat was gone, too. Perhaps, there was some correlation there. You didnât want to pester because of how tender everything was after your confession. That didnât mean you werenât curious, though. While you felt an immense pressure lifted from your shoulders, there was an underlying level of an unnerving feeling.
Old habits die hard, they say. And you find that to be true.
âSoâs⊠your friend still cominâ, honey?â Maria checks for the crispy brown on the shell of the ham in the oven. âOr is that called off since your realizationâŠâ
In the midst of sorting out your motherâs finest plates, you paused. âShit,â You cursed, clenching a fist and shutting your eyes, tightly. Abby was still coming over for dinnerâyou completely forgot all about that! Fuck. You looked at the time on the oven, squinting your eyes. 5:57. âIs it too late to cancel on her?â You muttered, peering at your mother.
âWhat time did you tell her to be here by?â
â6-ishâŠâ
Maria took in a deep breath, glancing up at her ceiling. âTo be frank, Bug,â She inhaled through her teeth. âAt some point you gotta throw in the asshole towelââ
There was a knock on the door. You cringed, gritting your teeth. âPlease, can you answer it?â You beg, furrowing your eyebrows.
âNo.â She deadpans.
âWell, I canât⊠Becauseâ because I have to go help dad and Joel with the steak.â You pressed your lips into a line, preparing to walk out to the back porch. You didnât know if the culprit of the door knocking was Abby, but all the odds were pointing to her. If it were Ellie, she wouldnât have knocked. And, if it were Cat, sheâd be behind Ellie.
Before you could get far, she tugged on the back of your overalls, pulling you to a stop. âAnswer the damn door.â Maria commanded, flashing her stern, bright eyes at you.
You pouted, stomping your foot. Nervousness arose in your chest, tightening and constricting. With a sigh, you approached the front door. When you pulled it open, the sight of a tall, muscular blonde grinning at youâcaused a knowing smile creep onto your face. âAbby,â You sighed her name, taking in a deep inhale, leaning on the door.
A bottle of wine was held in her hands. âI hope Iâm not too early.â She chuckled with a hint of nervousness. It was sweet.
âNo⊠Not at all.â You ran your tongue over your lips, awkwardly reaching to hug her. You slid your arm around her waist, instead of her neck like usualâpressing your sides together, platonically. As if she were an acquaintance. Donât think she didnât take notice to that. âCome on in.â Gently, you take the bottle from her hands, peering at the label. It was a red wine, Pinot Noir, not your favorite.
You shut the door behind her, sighing once it clicked with your hands braced against the cool wood. Like that could cure the queasiness building in your stomach. With dragging legs, you walked her to the kitchen. Where your mother feigned unawareness. âMaria, this is my friend, Abby.â You introduced her without focus, setting the bottle on the kitchen counter behind the desserts. The use of your motherâs name was you trying to quip at her for making you answer the door.
She tucked her long, golden hair behind her ears, reaching a hand out to shake motherâs hand. âItâs a pleasure to put a name to a face.â Maria spoke, firmly taking hers. âHow did you meet my daughter?â She followed up, quickly.
You rolled your eyes, scoffing under your breath. That was question was irrelevant to ask. She was asking her with the tone of a protective parent, but Abby was only ever going to be a friendâespecially, after the last few days.
âWe met at a fundraising event last year. My dad, he was a top bidder, and her agent, Isa, was a very persistent businesswoman.â Abby chortled, charmingly. She always managed to slip her financial status within her conversationâshe was good at it. In that statement alone, she announced to your mother just how much she knew you. Enough to know the name of your agent, enunciating Isaâs name in a way to exploit your closenessâbecause how would she know how grueling that woman was at times? As well as letting her know that she could support you in ways others probably couldnât.
My dad, he was a top bidder.
What the fuck did that matter? Her presence alone was getting under your skin; more than it ever had. And you werenât sure if it was her fault, or your own.
You yearned for the girl who claimed to love you earlier in the day. Thatâs youâre fuckinâ problem. Always wanting to be perfectâ but youâre not! Not even close. And I fucking love you for it. You could hear her raspy voice crowding over Abbyâs friendly words. How Ellie achieved simultaneously calling you out, while passionately confessing her love for youâagainâseamlessly⊠Youâll never know.
âAbby,â You spoke up. âWhy donât you help set the table? Iâm gonna go check on the steaks⊠Maybe, after, I can give you a quick tour before dinner.â The only way to survive that was to push throughâmake her feel at home, try not to be weird.
âSounds great!â She rubbed her hands together, excitedly. You hand her the delicate plates, giving a smile that barely met your eyes.
On the way toward the porch, you make eye contact with your mother. Curt. Stern. Irritated. Maria didnât care to give a reactionâyou must lie in the bed you made. Even though, you didnât intend to forget to call things off with Abby. Itâs been a very busy, dramatic two days.
Slipping through the back door, you look for the comfort of your fatherâs eyes. âBug! Come taste this!â Tommy clamped his tongs, motioning to his tray of steak.
âI think you should taste mine firstââ
âNo! Sheâs my daughterâ sheâs tastinâ mine first.â
You waved a dismissive hand, chuckling under pouty lips. âIâll taste both, but⊠I have to ask you somethinâ first, Joel.â Your face fell into a serious expression.
His brown eyes twitched, amused features melting from his aged face. âYeahâŠâ
âEllieâs coming back, right?â Your fingers intertwined with themselves, while you chewed on the soft skin inside of your mouth. âThe secrets out now, so⊠She can come back.â You shrugged, childishly. âAnd dinnerâs gonna be ready any minute nowâ momâs only gonna hold off for so long. She likes her ham hot.â Words flooded from your glossy lip, followed by a timid gulp.
âWhat made you think she wouldnât come back, sweetheart?â
âItâs not like you explained where she went, Joel.â You deadpanned. âI was left to my own devicesâ as in, my own dysfunctional brain. You know what happens when I do that.â
He pursed his lips, fighting the grin he wanted to share. Joel glanced at his brother, huffing. âYou didnât ask, either, Bug.â
You paused, crossing your arms. âDid you ever consider that I didnât want to? If you havenât noticedâ which I know that you haveâ sheâs pissed at me.â
Joel inhaled, cutting off a piece of his steak for you. âIâm not pissed at you, though.â He hands it over to you on a fork, and you take it mindlessly. You werenât known for having anger issues, but it seemed as if Joel was testing you.
âJoel, can you stop being a dick and tell me where she is?â You whined, childishly, before putting the square piece of meat into your mouth, chewing with identifying eyebrows. You looked up at the darkening sky, humming. His piece blossomed with flavor. It was a little tough, but you didnât mind it because of how flavorful it was. âThis is⊠Great. A little toughââ The voice of your father cut you off, mid-thought. Joel shrugged, nudging Tommyâs shoulder, teasingly.
Tommy scoffed, cutting a piece for you. âHe manipulated you into trying his steak firstâ hereâs mine.â He gasped, leaning the fork your way.
With a shrug, you took the fork, pulling the meat from the prongs with your front teeth. You hummed, again, peering at your father with wide eyes. Tommyâs was more tender, with a softer, pinker inside between the char. âOkayâŠâ You roll your tongue in your mouth. âWhichever one of you tells me where Ellie is first, wins.â
âHoney, thatâs not fairââ
âSheâs dropping off Cat at the train station. I suggested they break up, and Iâm sure they didâ Ellie should be on her way back by now.â
A mischievous grin coursed over your features that were being bitten by the crisp, autumn air. âSilly, silly, Joel.â You shook your head. âYou win on flavor⊠Dad, you win on textureâ meaning overall, my favorite is yours. Congratulations.â You pat your fathersâ shoulder, pressing your lips into a tight smile.
You pivoted on your feet, chewing on the inside of your lips in thought. Ellie was dropping Cat off at the train stationâyou wondered what brought her from the ledge of revenge to return home on Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, you didnât get the chance to apologize to her for your thoughtless behavior. But⊠Partially, you were relieved that you didnât have to face her. However, there was a pull in your gut that you had to apologize regardless of her absence.
It was a tug of war with your morals and ego.
Basically, you snatched the screen door open, huffing and getting the attention of the chatty blonde and your mother. She was chewing on a piece of ham, moaning in delight. âMrs. Miller, I hope you donât mind if I have more than one serving laterâŠâ
âThereâs plenty of ham to go around, hon.â She waved a hand, the ends of her lips curling.
Your eyebrows jut together, but you covered that small change of expression with a tight smile. âYou ready for that tour, Abs?â You snapped your fingers. It was an awkward and very rare movement from you, but it was barely noticed. Not by Abby, at least.
She wiped her lips with a napkin, dusting her hands on her tight jeans. âIf you donât mind?â Abby politely spoke to your mother, and for a moment, it didnât bother you. A few months ago, these little moments were what you wished for. You envisioned her eating your momâs cooking with a smile, conversing with her in your childhood homeâbut she didnât want that. It was bitterly humorous how much of a natural she was in the scope of things.
Maria nodded, giving you an off glance, and jutting her blonde eyebrows upwards. You took her hand, dragging her out the front door, shoving through the screen door. Once you were out in the brisk, autumn air, you slid your hand from hersâcrossing your arms over your chest like a shield of some sort.
âI thought your bedroom would be the first stopâŠâ Abby chortled to herself, glancing down at you. However, you barely reacted. Perhaps, she was joking or jestingâtrying to make you laugh.
Internally, you cringed. âMy bedroom is the least fascinating thing here.â You narrowed your eyes at her, leading the woman down the porch. âSo, what interests you the most? Horses? Goats? Cows?â You perk an eyebrow, peering up at her. Eyes switching between her semi-awkward stature and the background of the front of the house. You yearned for the dull high beams of Ellieâs truck.
âHorses are coolâŠâ She nodded, surveying your features, trying to determine your thoughts. Abby has never been so focused on you, and frankly, it made you feel weird. A part of you wanted to relish in the fact that she was giving you the energy you had been wanting from her all along. But the wound that was severed by the touch and attention of your past loverânothing could compare! It would be greedy for you to welcome this modified version of Abby Anderson. Deep down, if it came down to it, youâd choose Ellie over Abby; no questions asked.
âMy dad, he has a soft spot for animals⊠The last time I saw a horse I was, like, fifteen.â Abby continued, while you led her toward the horse barn. âHe took me to some ranch for my birthday.â
You hummed, raising an eyebrow. âIt wasnât this one, right?â A chuckle fell from your lips, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your overalls.
Abby guffawed, pushing a straying piece of her hair behind her ears. âNo, it wasnât this one. The ranch I went to, their horses were very easily frightenedâwhich was odd because their whole shtick was horse-riding.â She deepened her eyebrows at the memory, shrugging her shoulders. âI almost fell off one of âem.â
âGeez, Abs.â You puffed air from your lips. âWell, my parents have always spent lots of time training these horsesâ so, you have nothing to be worried about.â Your fingers grazed the material of her shirt on her arm, pressing your lips into a smile. âThe only one that isnât formally trained is Sarah, but sheâs only a few weeks old. And to be honest, she takes to new people very well.â As you approached the barn, a few of them still grazed around. It was Shimmer and Sarah out along the fence, and Hamlet sort of just watching them.
âAlright, Iâll have to trust you.â She pursed her lips.
âIâd never lead you into the fire, AbbyâŠâ
You opened the gate, walking into the enclosure of the barn. Abby appeared apprehensive about walking into their space. Her previous experience with a horse mustâve truly affected her. Warmly, you held out a hand for herâgiving her the option to take it. You wiggled your fingers, sporting a slightly teasing smile. Abby took your hand, firmly, holding onto your hand as if she never wanted to let go. Spark.
Her fear was endearing; it was like seeing her in a different light. How confusing.
âOver there, thatâs Shimmer and her baby Sarah. Theyâre both the most affectionate. Sarah takes after her mother in that way. And lingering off to the side⊠Thatâs Hamletâheâs a bit of a loner. He likes to walk around and keep an eye on everyone.â
âLike a protector?â
âYeah, somethinâ like that.â You nod, still holding onto her coarse hand. âI could introduce you to Shimmer? Like I said, sheâs super sweetâ Iâm sure sheâll adore you.â You wanted to give her the option because that was just the type of person that you were. Despite your flip-floppy relationship, in a sense, you allowed her admittance of a small fear to soften your heart to her. The tethering of your hands, the feeling of leading herâcontrolling her, guiding herâit gave you a sense of comfort. It was a connection that you were waiting for. However, still, it didnât feel the same compared to the auburn-haired artist. Now, that there was a chance to compare.
Her palms were too coarse, more focused on her inner knuckles, remnants of her history with heavy lifting. While Ellieâs exposed her love of physical art, music, drawing, painting. The callouses relied on her fingertips rather than her palmsâand for some reason, that mattered more to you.
With her hand in yours, you lead her toward Shimmer, cooing as you approached her. You muttered sweet words to the much shorter horse, Sarah, before guiding her hand to touch Shimmer. You palm over the back of her hand to reassure that Abby was safeâthat she wasnât going to hurt her.
You werenât leading her into the fire.
Her soft, blue eyes gleamed at you, but it was hard to notice at first as you were focused on Shimmer. Your other hand scratched at the side of her neck, burrowing your nails under her coarse fur. A nervous tick; an attempt at ignoring the harsh gaze of the blonde next to you. Abbyâs dilated irises penetrated the side of your face with the weight of a glare. You swallowed a lump in your throat, averting your eyes from Shimmerâs copper fur toward her enamored features. Â
There wasnât much time for you to take in her look of yearning before she enveloped you into her arms, attaching her lips to yours. She shared her warmth with her firm arms cradling your bare ones, and it did, in fact, warm you up. But it wasnât warm. Although, your arms automatically wrapped around her shouldersâfingers imbedding into her fine, blonde hairâyou allowed her touch to consume you. Her desperate touch. Her lips plead against yours, pleading for you to dive into her as she wanted you to. As you used to with fervor. Abby noticed your lack of enthusiasm, or more so attempt to replicate your past enthusiasm. She prided herself on her intelligence, meaning that she knew something had changed between the two of you. Either you gained more self-respect for yourself, or there was someone else.
Someone who touched you better than she did. Someone who had the time to love you how you wanted to be loved.
Off in the dark, a truck pulled onto the graveled driveway of the younger Millersâ home. When she put the car in park, leaned her head against the stirring wheel, releasing a groan of relief. The trip to the train station was long, and initially silent. Until Cat became livid enough to make Ellie pull over for an hour. She was sobbing, screaming, unleashing her pent-up anger on the artistâand deservingly so; Ellie knew that much. Debatably, it was one of her best fuckups because it brought you back to her.
It all began with the tempting of a fruit. The garden of Edenâyour quivering lips in a filthy, bar bathroom. Historians call that the fall of man, however, ever since she succumbed to you, sheâs felt higher than she ever has. A burning joint was nothing compared to you.
Ellieâs poor decision making was worth Catâs wrath if it brought her back to you.
But there was a lingering pressure that haunted her mind like a juvenile insecurity. A two-syllable word that was a poltergeist in her mindâfickle. Was the reigniting of a fire, the fire that Ellie sparked, received for the sake of receiving. Maybe, you didnât love her like you claimedâbut that didnât make sense. Not for you!
The disorganized artist worried and worried and worried. When her dull high beams reflected off the white, farmhouse ahead of her; her nerves only increased. There was this need to prove herself to you that she couldnât shake.
After gathering courage, she hopped out of her truck, slamming the door to release the energy that harbored at the pit of her belly. Ellie shoved the key into the driverâs door, locking all of the doors with a huff. Her toes pivoted, hands sliding into her front pockets as she approached the houseâmentally readying herself to see your face again. The last time the two of you spoke, she proclaimed her love for you despite your blundering imperfections. Ellie was sure that you didnât take well to that; she needed to explain!
Her beat-up converse crunched over the gravel; she could feel every pebble under her deteriorating sole. In the dark, her earthy eyes squinted in the direction of the barnâto get a look at the grazing horses she spent time with earlier. Ellie wanted to check up on them from the distance in which she walked. However, she was met with a sight that burned her from the inside out.
It was you wrapped in the arms of the same woman from the bar. Tall in her stature, in a black shirt that hugged her protruding muscles perfectly. Long, glimmering, golden hair that your fingers punctured. To feel a combination of emotions was an understatement.
Her fingers tingled up her slender arms, lips arching in disgust. âWhat the fuck is happeningâŠ?â Ellie muttered with grit, starting to stalk toward the house, scoffing under her breath. But, before she reached the stairs to the porch, she turned on her feet again. Consumed with frustration, she began to lead herself toward the horse barn with stiff shoulders and balled-up fists.
Ellie appeared on the opposite side of the fence than you and Abby with a look in her eye that could be confused for estrangement. While you were already breaking apart, placing your hand on Abbyâs firm chest, unable to meet her eyesâafraid to expose your apprehension. The artistâs appearance caused you to nearly jump out of your boots. You jumped a few inches from the taller blonde woman, placing your fingers over your glistening lips, ruminating with regret.
âIâm afraid we havenât gotten the chance to meetâ Iâm Ellie.â Her raspy voice was taut, and too formal. It was barely the voice that you were used to. She failed to offer a physical greeting, like offering her hand; she just kept her hands had her sides.
You hid your face in your hands, cursing to yourself. Fuck. Fuck. Abby lips parted, awkwardly. âUhm, Abby Anderson⊠Iâve heard a lot about you.â Her slender eyebrows jutted upwards, and she held out her hand, but wasnât met with warmth. It was true that she knew about Ellieâthe past version of her, at least. Sheâd heard the story of her poking and prodding at you in your youth, but even with that, you never spoke ill of her. By the time you met Abby, there was a level of accountability taken over the situation that didnât exist years before.
She was nothing more than a story about your first love.
Ellie glanced at you, bitterly. âYeah, Iâm sure you haveâŠâ She ran her earthy eyes up Abbyâs tall, muscular figure with a frown.
âEllieââ Her voice cut you off before you could speak, causing you to look off to the side in contempt.
âDinnerâs ready, right? We should probably head inside⊠Wouldnât wanna leave Maria waiting.â The auburn-haired woman stalked off before either you or Abby had the chance to react. You sighed, barely sparing the blonde a glance before following behind her. A frown pressed deeply onto your lips, mind racing behind your shifting, watering eyes. Abby muttered a âwhat the hellâ under her breath, smacking her hands against her thighs. But you didnât say anything, just gnawed on the inside of your lip, anxiously. The tables turned too fast for your liking.
The auburn-haired artist didnât care to hold the screen door open for you and your guest, quickly entering the house. Tommy and Joel were inside sorting the steaks out in a singular disposable tin pan. They looked up simultaneously, like brothers, at the sight before them. Joel squinted at the sight of a fuming Ellie, or the sight of her trying to hide her frustration and anger. And Tommy looked to you with a similar look, and a simple jut of his eyebrows at the blonde woman behind you.
âSteak! Iâm fucking starving.â You heard Ellie mutter, walking to the counter after taking a plate from the dining table.
A sigh left your lips while your father handed you an empty plate, but you passed it over to Abbyâstill, not sparing her a glance. Then, he handed you another one. The blonde man leans down, speaking in your ear while your mother tried to break the awkwardness of Abbyâs presence. âSomething happened?â He muttered, putting food on his plate.
âMhmâŠâ You glanced at him with wide, weary eyes. Â
Somehow, everyone found themselves sat at the dining table: you between Abby and your mother, and Ellie between Tommy and Joelâyou were looking straight at each other. You pleaded with your eyes for her not to react; that you could explain if you were given the chance. But that was too much to say with only a pointed gaze.
âSo, Abby, what do you do?â She asked the blonde beside you, cutting her steak, forcefully.
âIâm a surgeonâ an intern at Bellevue Hospital.â She nodded, forking the vegetables on her plate.
âOh, thatâs wonderful.â Tommy nodded, he glanced at her. His comment made Ellieâs eye twitch, subtly. âI have a friend who works in the medical fieldâ have you figured out your specialty yet, orâŠâ
Abby hummed, sipping water from a shiny glass cup, looking over the rim to meet your fatherâs eyes. âNot quite. My dadâs a general surgeon, so that interested me the mostâ but the more I work with surgeons under different specialties, the more I find myself interested in other things.â She swallowed, blinking. âLike, now, Iâm considering orthopedic surgery.â
âThatâs the one with the bones, right?â Joel questioned, partly chewing on his food.
âYes, sir. Thatâs the one.â She chuckled, leaning her forearms on the table.
You watched Ellie take a gulp of her beer before speaking once more. âSo, if youâre a surgeon⊠And y/nâs a writerâ howâd the two of you meet?â
Maria smiled, glancing at her husband. âWell, Ellie, they met through her agent, Isa. At an eventâ what was it? A gala?â
âA fundraiser.â Finally, you spoke up to correct, holding up a finger that proclaimed your usual know-it-all behavior. Then, you reached for your wine glass, taking large gulps to down the substanceâhoping itâd ease your uneven temper. You noticed that your lover, the auburn-haired one, had played the word fundraiser on her tongue. Under her breath, she talked to herself as if she was mocking the way you said the word.
The muscular blonde beside you cleared her throat, leveling her bright eyes onto the woman in front of you. âWhat do you do, Ellie?â Abby wondered with a barely noticeable sneer, but you caught it.
From the corner of your eye, you peered at her, stiffening your frame.
Her round, olive eyes glared at herâa glare that nobody at that table could miss. Everyone but Abby knew Ellie through and through; her anger couldnât be hidden. In fact, she was the last person at that table who could ever hide her anger. âIâm an artist.â She curtly responded.
âSo, you draw?â
âAnd she paints.â You fill in, turning your head in the direction of your guest. Her inquiry seemed backhandedâpassive aggressiveâand that struck a nerve. As if drawing was insignificant. âSheâs really good at it.â Your eyes meet hers and for a moment her harsh, green eyes softened.
âHave I seen any of your work anywhere?â
âYou donât seem like a coffee shop person, so I doubt it.â Ellie grimaced, rolling her eyes. âIâm getting another drink.â Abruptly, she stood out of her chair, to walk into the kitchen that was hidden behind a wall and corner. The wooden legs screeching against the floor, causing you to cringe.
Abby shrugged, peering at you with a slight curl to her lips. âI love coffee.â
You scoffed, shutting your eyes. Without saying a word, you stood to your feet to follow her into the kitchen. Before you slipped away, you managed to slide your fingers along your guestsâ shoulders as a way of reassuranceâmainly so she wouldnât get the urge to follow you.
When you entered the kitchen, Ellie was found with her hands braced on the counter and her head hanging low. The heels of your cowboy boots clicking against kitchen floor, slowly. Apprehensively. Nervously. You played with your fingertips, puffing air from your lips. âEllieâŠâ
âWhat the fuck was that?â Her eyes met yours, stressed and irritated with striking red veins.
You shrugged, pressing your lips into a line. âI was sticking up for youââ
âThatâs not what Iâm talkinâ about and you know thatâŠâ She scorned, barely even blinking her eyes. They bored into you in a way that almost petrified your frame.
You swallowed, casting your eyes up to the ceiling, guiltily. âIt just happened.â
âIt just happened?â She perked a scarred eyebrow, chortling, dryly. âIt just fucking happenedâ I bet you could say the same for what happened between us, too, huh?â Ellie turned her body toward you, keeping her other hand leaning on the counter. Her voice was level, trying to keep the conversation down so other wouldnât hear itâbecause even when she was angry, she still felt the need to shield you. Or more so, keep your relationship problems undercover. âTell me, y/n⊠Am I fucking idiot? You made this big fuss about me breaking up with Cat, and the second I do, I see you eating Abbyâs fucking face!â
âI wasnât eating her faceâŠâ
âSemantics!â
âIt was out of nowhereâ I didnât ask her to kiss me, Ellie!â You tried with a deep furrow in your brow, lips quivering. âItâs just⊠Itâs just we have historyââ
She laughed, bitterly.
âWe have history and sheâs stuck in a cycle I havenât had the chance to break.â
Ellie squinted her eyes at you. âWhat the hell does that even mean?â Voice pulled taut, stepping closer to you. âYou said that if I got rid of Cat, youâd get rid of Abby.â
âI forgot she was coming! Did you forget the day we had?!â The space between you was closing in the heat of frustration. âWe didnât exactly end on good terms earlierâ excuse me for letting something as minuscule as Abby attending dinner to slip my mind.â You rambled with a secretive voice. âI had a very eventful dayââ
âAnd you think I didnât?â
You groaned under your breath, bunching your hands into fists at your sides. âI never said you didnât⊠I just said that I did. Thereâs a lot on my mind.â A sigh fled your lips, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. âYou know, I told my parents about usâ right after our argument, because I couldnât let them hear it from you or Cat.â Your voice softened, peering into her dilated eyes. Your trembling fingers tethered to the cotton that covered her arm, sliding down, attempting to reach for her hand. âI made peace with what we did⊠Because I wanna be with you, Els.â The choice to quote her own words wasnât intentional, it was your truth.
When she had scolded you in your own bedroom, it wasnât a great feeling, but she wasnât wrong. You needed to stop wanting to be perfect all the timeânobody makes the best decisions every chance they get. Sometimes people fuckup and thatâs okay.
The image of you searching her eyes made her heart melt. She wanted to fall into youâto kiss you, and say everything was fine⊠Even if it wasnât. Ellie felt your hand creeping into hers. Your soft fingertips tapping her stiff palm. She found herself proud of you for admitting your faults to your parentsâit was your greatest fear, but you did it anyway. Perhaps, you have changed or you were learning to. However, the looming presence of that buff surgeon irritated her.
Jealousy was a raging bitch.
And, speaking of⊠There she came, strutting into the kitchen with a look of concern. âHey, is everything alright?â Her deep blue eyes only looked at you, gaging your stabilityâshe couldnât care less for Ellieâs.
Ellie swiped her hand from yours, running that same hand through her hair. âYeah, everythingâs fine.â She reached into the fridge, snatching a glass bottle of beer from the door. Just as quick as she did that, she fled the scene. Not sparing you a glance.
Eerily, your hand felt cold. You pouted, watching her leave, scratching your eyebrow. Abby uttered your name, sliding her hand around your waist. Your body tensed under her touchâit wasnât what you yearned for. âEverythingâs fine, Abby.â You breathed, gently touching the hand on your waist, removing it. However, you hid your form of rejection by turning to her, plastering a fake smile on your face.
âJoel started playing his guitar⊠Didnât want you to miss it.â
âNothing I havenât seen beforeâ but I donât want you to miss it, soâŠâ You take in a deep inhale, averting your eyes. âIâll meet you in there. I need a minute.â
Abby appeared taken aback and confused. You werenât acting like the person she thought that she knew. And to be fair, it all started at the Tipsy Bison. âWhatâs going onâ is something wrongâ?â
âI just need a minute, alright?â You stressed, pinching your features. Almost snapping at her, but not quite. Still, your tone unnerved the blonde. She twitched, backing up from you with dejected shoulders. Abby scoffed under her breath, leaving you to pace in the kitchen aloneâjust like you wanted.
Because of your sudden stance at the dinner table, standing up to trot after Ellie, you forgot your empty wine glass. Instead of ducking toward the table to grab it, you just grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet. You poured a full glass of the Pinot Grigio that Ellie and Tommy had broughtânearly filling it to the brim. God, you needed a cigarette. The nicotine could hold you and console you better than a full bottle of wine. Better than the large, calloused hands of Abigail Anderson. But, better than the nimble, lightly calloused hands of Ellie Williams? Her arms? The whisps of her bluntly cut hair tickling your skinâno. Nothing was better than that⊠Than her.
The melodic sounds of Joelâs guitar filled your ears, and the impressed chuckles of his brotherâyour father. You missed hearing him play. His pleasant strum eased the spirits slipping down your throat. Then, you heard another tune, and it pulled you from the confines of the kitchen.
Your fingers held the bulbous part of the glass, resting your elbow over your arm. You moved as if you were being drawn spiritually to the living room, appearing behind Abby.
Ellie had propped herself on a stool in front of the television, with her own guitar, the one that had an inscription of your initials on the neck. It couldnât be seen from the position you stood, but the feeling of knowing it was still there made your heart lurch.
Your parents sat on the couch, and Joel had been on a loveseat toward the side, fiddling with his own guitar. Nervously, Ellie plucked the copper strings of her guitar, attempting to quickly tune it. Her freckled cheeks were warm and a light shade of pink.
Her earthy eyes looked up at your sudden appearance and you smiled behind your full glass of wine, shyly. The corners of her plush lips curled in a subtle way that your guest would miss itâor at least you hoped that she did. Or⊠Maybe you didnât. Youâve proven to be a shameless person over the past few days.
When she began to strum the guitar, she played the tune of a song that was familiar to youâKeaneâSomewhere Only We Know. It was one of the songs featured on her MySpace account, in her bio. One of the first things a lurker would notice after seeing her fandom username.
Her soft, timid voice rose from her throat, singing the beginning of the song. You sipped at your white wine, lowering the glass so she could see the smile unable to fall from your lips. There was a rasp to her voice that exposed her skills to be an effect of her hobby-ing. Ellie sung not because she was good at it, but because she wanted toâit gave her comfort. And, perhaps, thatâs what she needed.
âSo, tell me when youâre gonna let me in⊠Iâm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin.â
Your epidermis burned, cheeks heating up as if it were w furnace being heated by charring charcoal. Let me in. It was selfish for you to apply yourself to the words she spoke that was written by another person. But you needed to let her in! Irrevocably.
However, for you to do that⊠You needed to let Abby out.
You reached up for her shoulder, tugging her closer to your level, so you could whisper in her ear. âMeet me in my bedroom in five minutesâ upstairs.â Your lips moved close to the shell of her ear, fingers tapping along her strong shoulder. She didnât know where your bedroom was, but you were certain sheâd find it.
Maria side-eyed you as you slipped away with slumping shoulders. Ellie noticed your departure, stammering on the lyrics she was singing, but she kept going, dejectedly.
The navigation from the living room to your bedroom helped you realize the sum of what you drank. You stumbled on your way up the stairs, holding onto the railing, shutting your eyes and shaking your head to gather yourself.
When you entered your bedroom, you set the glass on your bedside table, meandering to your reading nook. You had swiped the pack of cigarettes from your dresser, opening up the window and lighting up to calm your wired nerves.
The cool breeze wafted into your bedroom, sending a chill down your spine. Between your index and middle finger was your burning stick of nicotine and tobacco. Remnants stuck to your clothes before slipping out the flushing window.
You practiced how you were going to break it off with her. Direct or indirectâwhich one was best?
Abby, we need to talkâŠ
Abby, I have something to tell youâ
âThere you areâŠâ The blonde woman peeked into your bedroom before walking inside. She shut the door behind her, and you frowned out your window. âYour roomâs pinker than I thought Iâd be.â Abby chortled, preparing to join you on the nook, but you spoke before she could.
âWe canât see each other anymoreâŠâ You puffed smoke from your lips, eyeing her from the corner of your eye.
She bunched her eyebrows together, lips parting. âWhatâ?â
âAnd donât act like we werenât seeing each other, because we very much were.â
Her hands hit her thighs. âI wasnât going to.â A deep sigh came from her mouth, fingers reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. âFuck, I shouldâve seen this coming.â Abby muttered, shaking her head.
You tapped your thumb around the mouthpiece of your cigarette to get rid of the ashes. âI shouldâve never invited you here. I knew better, butââ The corner of your mouth lifted and you laughed. âI wanted to be an asshole. You donât deserve that, though. Even if you led me on for a few months.â
âIs that what all this is about? What happened with us?â She ran her hand through her hair, cheeks reddening. ây/n, I wasnât thinking andâŠâ
âIt doesnât matter, Abby.â You looked at her, intently. âI need someone who makes time for meâ even in the oddest of situations, and thatâs not you.â You tried to keep your business to yourself. The relationship that was blooming between you and an old flame; it was sacred. And, she didnât need to know that you were taking on homewrecking as a hobby.
She scoffed, averting her eyes from you. âWhat did you think me driving down here was, then? Skipping out on my friends to come to a place you didnât even want me to beââ
âI didnât ask you to skip out on your friendsââ
âWell, I did anyway!â
A beat passed between the both of you.
The blonde woman frowned. âFor you, because I wanted to make up forâŠâ Her voice trailed off, eyes welling up with tears. âIt was all for nothing, clearly.â
Earlier, you had made promise that you wouldnât lead her into fire. Yet, thatâs exactly what you did. âAbby, I still appreciate you coming and being so helpful and kind to my family but⊠To be honest, itâs too late for me.â
Her hand wiped against her face, roughly. She trained her eyes on a spot in your room that was interesting enough to keep her emotional gazeâinstead of looking you in the eye. âDo you think Iâm stupid?â
You deepened your eyebrows. âDo I think youâre stupidâ? â
âItâs Ellie, isnât it?â
Your lips fell open, gaping like fish gasping for air. âYou textbook lesbianâŠâ Abby muttered to herself, chuckling, dryly.
âAbby!â You scolded, glaring up at her.
âWhat? Itâs the truth. I never had a fucking chance to begin with.â
In a fit of frustration, you dabbed the end of your burning cigarette onto one of your pillows, burning through the material. âThatâs not true!â You stood up, abruptly. âI gave you a chance months ago, and you fucking blew it!â You pointed an accusatory finger. âYouâre career meant more to youââ
âSince when is that a bad thingâ?â
âFuckinâ other girls meant more to you!â
She gasped. âOh, come on, you know thatâs a reachâŠâ Her eyes rolled, dismissively.
Stubbornly, you crossed your arms. âDo I?â
Abby scoffed, laughing, dryly. âEver since I met you⊠I liked youâ I was into you. I wanted you.â She confessed, tiredly. âMy unavailability wasnât some made up lie to pull a fast one. I was an overachieving, fourth-year med student who didnât wanna risk too many distractions.â The woman explained, pausing for anxious breath. âYeah, I know, I said some things that probably hurt your feelingsââ
âProbably?â You perked an eyebrow.
She sighed. âHurting your feelings was the only way I knew you wouldnât expect anything of me more than what I was capable ofâ and, at the time, relationship-wise⊠I wasnât capable of anything.â Her shoulders shrugged, weakly. As if sheâs been keeping this to herself for some time.
Weirdly, youâre shoulders relaxed at her explanation. While you didnât agree with her techniques to keep you at arms-length, you werenât in the position to keep holding onto that frustration with her. You had other priorities. âI guess youâre right⊠I fucking blew it.â
Now, you sighed, averting your eyes around your room in thought. âYou know, maybe, we were always meant to be friends?â You offered, rocking on your feet.
âYou think I wanna be friends with you, right now?â Abby raised an eyebrow, looking at you from the side of her irritated eyes. But, there was a light smile on her lips, exposing that she wasnât completely upset. Just disappointed that things didnât work out as sheâd hoped. âSeems like thereâs something going on with you and that artist downstairs⊠Thatâs not something I wanna seeâ at least, not anytime soon, soâŠâ
You rolled your eyes. âWell, whenever you have some free time on your hands, whenever you, you know, find someone else, or whatever⊠Maybe we could get some coffeeâ as friends.â
She genuinely chortled, cheeks blushing. âYeah, whatever, Miller.â Abby jutted her thumb toward your door. âIâm gonna head out.â
You nodded, walking her to your bedroom door, following her out. âYou want me to make you a plate, or anything?â That southern hospitality that was bred into you through your family could never be mistaken for being gone. Those years in the city hadnât deteriorated you in that way. Even when you were breaking up with someone.
The woman pressed her lips into a line. âYou know, what? Yeah, sure.â
âGood, because I was gonâ make you one anyway.â You nudged her side with your elbow, grinning ear to ear.
There was freedom that came to your unabashed honesty. As you walked down the stairs, your limps felt lighter, and that drunken feeling had almost spared you completely. Almost. On the last step, you nearly tripped but the sturdy railing kept your body level.
As you rounded the corner, Ellie brushed passed you and out the front door with her hand clutching her guitar. Her emotional eyes had caught the smile on your lips and perceived something that wasnât trueâjust a shady assumption.
And she had every reason to assume.
The television had been turned up, and the sounds of the football game was blaring through the lower level of the house. You held up a finger to Abby, walking to your mother. âHey,â You greeted, massaging your fatherâs shoulder as a physical greeting. âWould you mind makinâ Abby a plate to take home?â
She raised an eyebrow, an impressed eyebrow. âOh, sheâs leaving so soon?â
âIâm throwinâ in the asshole towel.â You shrugged, referencing her comment from earlier.
Maria chuckled, but her husband looked up at you with deepened eyebrows. âWhat the hell did you just say? Asshole towelâ?â
âJust focus on the game, honey.â She patted her husbands shoulder, jumping to her feet. Maria met you around the couch, leaning close to you. âYou goân ahead and check on Ellie.â
You smiled, kissing her cheek, lovingly. Before you left out the door you, pointed at the tall doctor lingering in your kitchen. âText me when you get back into the city, okay?â
Abby gave you a thumbs up. âYeah,â Her eyes turned to your mothers frame. âThank you, Mrs. Miller.â
Then, you slipped out the screen door, busting into a hasty speed walk. The uneven gravel wrecking havoc on your ankles, due to your slight impairment.
The porch light at the guesthouse flickeredâit must need its bulb to be changed. When you appeared on the porch, your fist trembled as you raised it to knock on the door. Knock, knock, knock. You wrapped your arms around your body to keep warm.
A few moments passed and she didnât respond.
You knocked the same pattern, and waited. Only for her to not respond, again. Behind you, you heard the engine of Abbyâs Jaguar sounding off, beginning to roll along the gravel. But, you didnât care much for it.
Heat in your cheeks blistered. âEllie, I know youâre in there⊠Please, can you just open the door?â You tried with frowned lips. âIt isnât gettinâ any warmer out hereâŠâ
There was a brief silence before you heard her raspy voice on the other side of the door. âWhat? Abby canât keep you warm anymore?â She scoffed.
You sighed, leaning an arm on the door frame. âNo, she canât because she just left.â
The door swung open, revealing a disheveled artist, fingers covered in charcoal. âReally?â
âReally.â You met her eyes with sincerity.
Ellie groaned, releasing the tension that sheâs been harboring, leaving the door and walking into the living room.
That was her letting you inside, so you adhered, walking into the guesthouse. You shut the door behind you, eyeing her slender retreating frame. She meandered into the living room, placing hers on the stool in front of her easel. It was a new canvas, still being sketched on before she added the paints.
The pan of the pie sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, with a fork inside of it. She had taken the pie for herself, and instead of making a plate, she ate it from the tin.
Ellie continued the project she was working on, barely even giving you a glance. To break the silence, you spoke. âI meant what I said earlierâŠâ
You couldnât exactly see what she was sketching because you wanted to keep your distance for her sakeâto respect her uncertainty. âI donât knowâŠâ She muttered, shaking her head.
âWhat do you mean you donât know?â
The woman sighed, turning her body toward you on the stool. She pushed the pieces of her auburn hair behind her pierced ears. âIâm an artist whoâs only sells my paintings to local coffee shops for under a hundred bucks, because Iâm too scared to try anywhere elseâ sheâs a fucking doctor⊠And sheâs ripped!â Her hands slapped against her thighs. âWhy do you wanna be with me?â
Taken aback by her outburst, you blinked. A soft scoff left your lips. âWell, I donât like you only because youâre an artist⊠And I didnât like Abby only because she was a doctorâ what kind of person do you think I am?â You questioned, softly. âI wanna be with you because I love you, Ellieâ Abby could never make me feel what you make me feel.â You giggle behind your finger, briefly averting your eyes. âItâs like⊠I can fuckinâ smell colors and taste soundsââ
âOkay, now youâre just saying whatever.â
âHey, youâre the one who asked why I want to be with you. Iâm just being honest.â You shrugged, approaching her. Gently, you caressed your fingers up her bare arms, sliding up her neck to the crevice of her jaw. âI know it wasnât easy to see what you saw earlier, and Iâm sorryâ I mean, just seeing you hug Cat made me wanna blow up.â She leaned into your touch, keening to you.
Smiling down at her, your eyes casted to the canvas on the easel. It was an outline of youâmatter of fact, your naked body. âEllie,â A gasp fled from your lips. âThis better be an example of your photographic memory.â
Her hands had snuck along your hips, pulling you close enough for her head to rest on your chest. âIt is⊠What do you thinkâ Iâm some sort of creep?â
âI find it funny that when youâre mad at me⊠Your first instinct is to draw me naked.â You snicker.
She hummed against the center pocket of your overalls. âI wasnât necessarily madâ I was just⊠Sad.â Ellie looked up at you with a pout on her lips, batting her big, green eyes at you in a way that compelled you. âAbby is so much more than meâ fuck, sheâs financially worth more than me.â She inhaled, deeply. âWhat made me upset was that I understood why youâd choose her⊠She has a great careerââ
Interrupting her, you plotted your lips against hers until her reciprocating was less confused and more enthused. Your finger dragged along her scalp, gripping slightly. When you pulled away, she leaned forward for more. âI donât wanna talk about her anymore.â Your thumb grazed over her eyebrow, ingesting her soft features. The freckles that littered over the bridge of her nose, the subtle cracks in her lips. âIâve been waiting to get you all to myself for days nowâ I refuse to waste it away because of some girl.â
âSome girl, huh?â
âMhm.â You hummed. âI missed that cover of Keane that you had sung earlier⊠You think you could play it for me?â You pursed your lips, and she pulled your hips closer to her, pulling you between her legs.
Ellie peered up at you with yearning irises. âI can play whatever you want.â
A giggle escaped from your lips before you plotted them against hers once more, pulling her up to her feet. You pulled her to the bedroom, where her guitar was thrown over the messy, unmade bed.
She propped herself on the edge of the bed, and you plopped onto the ground so you could properly be her audience. You hugged your legs to your chest, looking up at her with a level of awe that you havenât had in a while. Reflections of your past looked back at youâEllie gripping the neck of her instrument, strumming the metal chords thatâs been with her for years. Those chords had witnessed the glimmering eyes you were giving her; at a much younger age, before shit went haywire.
The smooth tone of Somewhere Only We Know glided through your ears, ignoring the chords she lagged on, or messed up because it didnât matter. When she finished, Ellie barely got the chance to look at you before you leaped up to kiss her again. Gently, you pulled the guitar from her hands, leaning it up against the bed, tethering to her as if she were a wave crashing along an eroding boulder.
To love her freely was a weight lifted off your shoulders. It was a rush of water sprinting up the sand within a storm. A breaching of magma exploding from the mouth of a volcanoâa expression of a release of passion. The inevitable.
No more Cat. No more Abby. But, besides the good sex, and the warmth of each otherâs genuine embrace, and the comfort of knowing each other through and through⊠What else was there?
Well, too tired to color this thing, but also too excited to post after a long time, soo here you have a black and white drawing of Chloe Prince. (I'm aware this would have looked better colored)