The wind blew gently around them. Cicadas could be heard along with the crickets. Somewhere off in the distance, a motorcycle echoed.
But on that porch, there was nothing but them, and years of want and pain floating between them out in the open.
Jolly’s hands still held her face, thumbs brushing under her eyes when new tears appeared before they could fall, even though he knew new ones would replace them immediately.
“I’m sorry.” He repeated again quietly.
Jolly’s eyes dropped to her mouth and then back to her eyes. It was subtle for anyone who didn’t know Jolly. But Y/N knew Jolly.
Her breath caught as he leaned down and finally kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed or desperate in the way years of tension probably should have made it. It was gentle and careful, as if he was terrified of mishandling something precious now that he finally had it in his hands.
A small sound escaped Y/N the second his lips touched hers, soft and shaky and completely overwhelmed. Her hands moved from his wrists to his chest instinctively, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt like she needed something solid to hold onto.
And God.
The feeling of her finally kissing him back nearly ruined him.
It felt exactly like her: warm, soft, emotional in a way that settled deep into his bones immediately.
Jolly’s hands stayed cradling her face the entire time, thumbs brushing softly under her eyes every couple seconds as if he physically couldn’t stop touching her now that he finally could again.
Years.
They lost years to fear.
Somehow, even with that realization sitting heavy between them, the kiss stayed tender.
The exact way he knew she deserved.
Not something rough and overwhelming. Not something selfish.
This wasn’t about finally getting what he wanted. This was about finally loving her out loud.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them moved very far. Jolly rested his forehead back against hers immediately, breathing unevenly.
Y/N’s eyes stayed closed for another second before slowly opening again.
The look in them nearly dropped him to his knees; relief, love, heartbreak, happiness.
All tangled together so deeply it physically hurt to look at.
Jolly swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered roughly. “I let you go through all this alone.”
Y/N smiled softly through lingering tears.
“It just means,” she whispered back, “you have years to make up for.”
A broken laugh escaped him immediately. “Oh, I absolutely do.”
Her nose brushed his slightly when she smiled wider.
Jolly stared at her for another second before shaking his head faintly like he still couldn’t believe this was actually real.
Then quietly, “Five years.”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
Jolly huffed softly. “Five years I’ve loved you.”
Her breath caught instantly.
“You loved me seven,” he continued quietly. “I loved you five.”
Y/N stared at him in complete shock. “What?”
Jolly laughed weakly at her expression. “Yeah.”
Another small shake of his head. “I remember exactly when it happened too.”
Y/N’s lips parted slightly.
Jolly’s eyes drifted away from her for a second, unfocusing slightly as the memory surfaced.
“I came downstairs one morning,” he said quietly. “Mom wasn’t home.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth despite himself. “And you were standing in the kitchen making breakfast for me and the guys.”
Y/N blinked slowly, already trying to place the memory.
“You were singing to one of the demos Noah sent you.” His smile widened slightly now. “Loudly.”
Y/N huffed softly. “That sounds right.”
“You were wearing my hoodie.” Her cheeks flushed immediately. “And those godforsaken tiny shorts you’ve always loved.”
She laughed through embarrassment. “They were comfortable.”
“They were a problem,” he corrected immediately.
That earned a real laugh from her this time.
Jolly smiled helplessly at the sound before continuing. “You looked over your shoulder at me and smiled.” His voice softened noticeably now. “And you said, ‘morning Jollybean.’”
Y/N physically melted at the memory.
Jolly rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I still don’t know what the fuck was different about that day.” His eyes found hers again. “But something punched me directly in the gut.”
The honesty of it made her chest ache.
“And I haven’t stopped loving you since.”
Y/N covered her mouth briefly as fresh tears filled her eyes all over again.
Jolly laughed softly. “Trust me, I tried ignoring it.”
“You did a shitty job,” she whispered.
“Apparently.” He shook his head again. “I tried dating other girls.” His face twisted slightly. “Clearly those always fell apart.”
Y/N stayed quiet and just listened. Because hearing him say these things after years of silence still felt unreal.
“Emma tried getting serious too fast,” he admitted, then immediately sighed. “But honestly?” His expression turned guilty again. “She was a distraction.”
Y/N’s eyes softened.
“A fucking terrible distraction,” he muttered.
That got another small laugh out of her.
Jolly smiled faintly at the sound before continuing. “We went to this upscale fancy bullshit restaurant once.”
Y/N immediately groaned. “Oh no.”
“Exactly,” he laughed. “The entire time all I could think was you would absolutely fucking hate this place.”
Y/N smiled wider now.
“You’d be offended by the portions.”
“Correct.”
“You’d make fun of the menu descriptions.”
“Absolutely.”
“And the waiter?” Jolly laughed harder now, tears still lingering in his eyes. “You would’ve had a fucking field day.”
Y/N snorted.
He smiled. “That reaction is exactly the reaction I would have expected.”
The warmth in his face now was devastating.
“Coffee shops were worse.”
Y/N tilted her head slightly.
“All I could think about was how you’d be roasting my coffee order.”
“I mean, your order is embarrassing.”
“There it is,” he said instantly.
She laughed again and his chest physically tightened at the sound.
Because God, he missed that. Missed her. Missed this.
“You’d make some dry little comment under your breath,” he continued softly. “Or steal my drink after swearing yours was better.”
Y/N smiled knowingly. “Mine usually are.”
“Debatable.”
“Not really.”
“There she is,” he repeated.
Y/N blinked softly. “What?”
Jolly looked at her. “That’s the girl I’ve been losing my fucking mind over for the last how many weeks.”
The softness in his voice nearly knocked the air from her lungs.
Jolly’s hand slid carefully from her face down to the side of her neck, thumb brushing lightly against her skin.
“And the worst part?” he admitted quietly.
Y/N’s breathing slowed instinctively under his touch. “What?”
“I genuinely thought I was protecting us by not saying anything.”
That one hurt both of them.
Jolly shook his head weakly. “I kept thinking if we never crossed the line, I’d never lose you.”
Y/N’s eyes watered again immediately.
“And instead?” His voice cracked softly. “I almost lost you anyway.”
Silence settled around them for a second, full of emotions neither of them knew what to do with yet.
Then Y/N smiled faintly through tears. “Well.”
Jolly lifted an eyebrow slightly.
“You gonna stand on my porch all night?”
A breathy laugh escaped him. “Depends.”
“On?”
His eyes dropped briefly to her lips before meeting her gaze again. “Whether or not your couch is still an option if I completely ruin my life by refusing to leave you alone now.”
Y/N laughed softly. She then reached up and grabbed his face exactly the way she always did and kissed him again before he could overthink another thing.
Besties! I am so sorry I had the audacity to leave y'all on a cliffhanger. My computer has chosen violence the last few days because it's dramatic and did not appreciate me uploading my daughter's prom photos accidently to it and not my memory drive. But! Jade is being nice to me tonight and not being dramatic. 🖤
Y/N stared at him.
For a second, she genuinely couldn't process what she'd just heard.
Not because she didn't understand the words. But because she'd imagined them so many times over the years that reality almost felt impossible.
Jolly stood on her porch, looking completely shattered: red eyes, tear-stained cheeks, shoulders slumped beneath a weight he'd finally stopped trying to carry alone.
And somehow that hurt almost as much as everything that came before it.
Because she loved him.
God, she loved him.
And seeing him this broken wasn't something she'd ever wanted.
Not even when she was angry. Not even when her heart was breaking.
"Jolly..." she whispered.
His eyes immediately found hers again.
The look on his face nearly destroyed her.
Hope. Fear. Regret.
Like he was waiting for the verdict.
Waiting for her to tell him he'd waited too long. That he missed his chance. That she'd finally given up.
Y/N wiped at her face quickly and laughed through another wave of tears. "You're an idiot."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Yeah."
"No," she continued, voice wobbling. "Like an actual idiot."
A watery laugh escaped him. "That's been established."
She shook her head, then took a breath. "You know, when you saw me and Nick?"
The smile vanished from his face instantly.
Y/N saw it happen.
Saw the tension return. Saw the guilt.
"He wasn't holding me because there was something going on."
Jolly's jaw tightened. "I know that now."
"I know," she said softly. " But I need you to hear this."
His eyes locked onto hers.
"That was him holding me while I fell apart."
The words hit him like a punch.
Y/N looked down briefly. "I couldn't do it anymore." A tear slid down her cheek. "I spent days pretending I was okay."
Another laugh escaped her.
Only this one sounded exhausted.
"I cleaned the same spot at the reception desk three times."
Jolly closed his eyes.
Because he could picture it perfectly.
"I kept moving because if I stopped..." She swallowed."...I had to think."
His chest tightened.
"And Nick took the rag away from me." The memory made her smile faintly through tears. "He told me the desk was begging for mercy."
Jolly huffed a tiny laugh despite himself. Then it vanished again because she looked heartbroken.
"And when I finally stopped moving?" Her voice cracked. "I couldn't hold it together anymore."
The silence between them stretched.
"He just held me."
Jolly looked away.
Guilt crawling under his skin again.
"I saw you."
Y/N nodded. "I know."
"He didn't tell me until later." A pause. "I thought..."
He stopped.
Y/N shook her head. "I know what you thought."
Neither of them needed to say it because they both knew.
She took another shaky breath. "This has been really hard."
Honesty; simple and painful.
The kind that carried more weight than dramatic speeches ever could.
"I don't think I've ever hurt like this before."
Jolly physically flinched.
Y/N immediately noticed.
"I know." His voice cracked. "I know."
She wiped her face again. Then laughed softly. "Your mom is the only one who knew I was sleeping in your bed."
Jolly froze.
Y/N looked embarrassed now.
"It started as an accident." A small smile tugged at her lips. "The first time, I just sat in there." She shrugged. "Then I fell asleep."
Jolly stared at her, unable to look away.
"Your mom found me the next morning." A pause. "She made sure I was awake before Freja could catch me." A weak laugh escaped her.
Jolly swallowed hard.
Y/N looked away briefly. "Freja would sit on your bedroom floor with me."
His chest physically hurt now.
"Sometimes we'd just sit there." She laughed quietly. "Well. She'd talk." Another tear escaped. "I'd mostly stare at nothing."
Jolly's throat tightened.
"Because you've always been the place where I felt safest."
The words hit him hard because even now, after everything, after Emma, after the confusion and hurt and distance.
"You were still the place I went."
Jolly lowered his head, unable to hide the tears gathering again.
"So your room felt safe." Y/N shrugged slightly. "Your bed felt safe." A pause. "You felt safe."
His eyes squeezed shut. That was somehow worse, knowing she'd gone there for comfort while he was actively causing her pain.
"I still made your food." She laughed softly. "Which is honestly pathetic."
Jolly immediately shook his head. "No."
"I timed it." She smiled weakly. "Like I always do."
Her eyes drifted away.
"I knew when you'd get home because Nick texted me what time you guys would land, like he always has."
Jolly's heart cracked all over again.
"I didn't feel right not making you something."
The confession hung between them.
Y/N rubbed her arms. "I almost stayed."
Jolly looked up immediately as the words knocked the air from him.
"What?"
She laughed sadly. "I almost stayed." A pause. "Like ten times." Another pause. "I'd finish cooking and think maybe I should wait."
His heart hammered painfully.
Y/N looked away. "But if you didn't choose me..." Her voice broke. "...I didn't know how I'd react."
The truth of it settled heavily between them. Because she genuinely hadn't known. And neither had he.
For a second, neither spoke; they just stared at each other.
Years of history stretched between them.
Seven years.
Thousands of moments. Thousands of opportunities. Thousands of reasons they should've had this conversation sooner.
Y/N finally took another breath. "I can't even be mad at you."
Jolly blinked. "What?"
She smiled softly. Tears still falling. "I didn't say anything either."
His brows furrowed. "Y/N—"
"No." She shook her head. "I was scared too." A humorless laugh escaped her. "You weren't the only one obsessed with everything that could go wrong."
Jolly stared.
Because she was right.
"I spent seven years not saying anything." She wiped her face. "Seven years." A pause. "I don't think it would be right to sit here and act like all of this is entirely your fault."
His eyes watered again because she was still giving him grace.
Y/N smiled through her tears.
Somehow, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"Just because you feel like you don't deserve this..." She stepped a little closer. "...doesn't mean I don't want it."
The words stole every coherent thought he had.
Jolly let out a shaky, breathless laugh. The kind that escaped when emotions overwhelmed everything else.
"Yeah?"
Y/N tilted her head.
And for the first time since opening the door, he saw a glimpse of the woman who stole his hoodies and bullied him relentlessly; a tiny spark. A tiny bit of confidence. A tiny bit of her.
"Jolly." Her voice softened. "I've been waiting seven long fucking years to hear you tell me you love me in a non-platonic way."
The laugh that left him after that sounded wrecked.
Completely wrecked.
And before he could stop himself, he crossed the space between them.
Fast.
Like, if he didn’t touch her immediately, he might actually lose his mind.
Y/N barely got a breath in before his hands were suddenly on her face, carefully, like she might disappear if he held too tight.
His forehead dropped against hers instantly.
Both of them shaking. Both crying.
Jolly let out a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Seven years,” he whispered against her skin like he still couldn’t process it.
Y/N nodded slightly. “Yeah.”
His thumbs brushed under her eyes automatically, wiping tears away only for more to replace them immediately. “I am so fucking sorry,” he whispered.
Y/N shook her head softly. “You’re here now.”
That one undid him all over again.
Because she said it like it mattered more than the pain did. Like, despite everything, him showing up still meant something.
Jolly closed his eyes tightly for a second before finally whispering, “I love you so much it scares me.”
Y/N’s hands finally lifted then, resting carefully against his wrists; grounding him. Steadying him.
And when she spoke again?
Her voice was soft enough to ruin him permanently.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because you scare the absolute shit out of me too.”
Jolly stared at his phone for a full five minutes before finally hitting call.
The bus was quieter tonight.
Not silent, but quieter in the way it got after long conversations finally settled into everyone’s bones. Noah was asleep in the back lounge, Folio had headphones on pretending he wasn’t paying attention to anything, and Nicholas sat across from Jolly, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.
Watching him.
Because of course he was.
Jolly ignored him.
Or tried to.
The ringing cut through the silence once.
Twice.
Then… “Hey,” Emma answered.
Too casual. Too normal.
Immediately, something in Jolly snapped tighter.
“What the fuck did you think you were doing?”
Silence met him for half a second.
“…What?”
Jolly laughed once.
Sharp. Humorless.
“Oh, don’t fucking do that.”
“Jolly—”
“No,” he cut her off immediately. “What the fuck made you think showing up at my house was a good idea?”
Across from him, Nicholas slowly lowered his phone.
Emma exhaled softly through the speaker. “I was introducing myself.”
“Bullshit.”
The word cracked out of him instantly.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
His voice was low now. Controlled in that dangerous way that meant he was trying very hard not to actually lose his temper.
“You did not drive over to my parents’ house just to introduce yourself.”
Emma scoffed quietly. “You’re overreacting.”
Jolly leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“Then why the fuck did my sister tell her boyfriend you walked in and went straight for Y/N?”
That made Emma pause.
Jolly caught the hesitation immediately.
Nicholas did too.
Emma sighed softly. “I was curious.”
Jolly laughed again. That same bitter sound.
“Curious.”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
Emma’s tone sharpened slightly now too.
“About the girl, you specifically said you didn’t want me around if you weren’t there.”
Jolly closed his eyes briefly.
Jesus Christ.
“Emma—”
“Seriously,” she continued. “What was I supposed to think about that?”
Jolly roughly rubbed a hand down his face. “You weren’t supposed to do anything because it stopped being your business when I ended things.”
Emma went quiet.
Then colder, “So that’s it?”
Jolly’s jaw tightened.
“You break things off with me, and suddenly I’m not allowed to question why there’s some girl you’re clearly obsessed with?”
Emma laughed softly. “Really? Because it was pretty obvious at your house.”
Jolly stayed silent.
“She knows everything about you,” Emma continued. “It’s honestly kind of fucking weird.”
That hit something immediate in him.
“No,” he said flatly. “It’s not.”
Emma scoffed. “Jolly—”
“That’s what happens,” he cut her off sharply, “when you’ve known someone most of your fucking life.” The pause was heavy. “And honestly?” he continued. “It’s not any of your fucking business to begin with.”
Emma exhaled slowly. “She acted like she hated me.”
Jolly’s eyes narrowed immediately. “She was civil.”
“She was cold.”
“She was hurt,” Jolly snapped before he could stop himself.
The bus went dead quiet.
Nicholas slowly looked away.
Emma caught it immediately.
A dangerous pause filled the line.
“…There it is,” she said softly.
Jolly clenched his jaw. “You hurt someone who didn’t do a damn thing to you,” he said instead of responding.
Emma sounded genuinely offended now.
“I didn’t do anything to her.”
Jolly laughed bitterly again. “You walked into my fucking house, making it seem like you and I were still together.”
“We were talking.”
“Not anymore.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No,” Jolly said sharply. “I actually don’t.”
Emma’s breathing became audible through the phone. “I was trying to understand why you ended things so suddenly.”
Jolly rubbed at his forehead. “And your solution was to go after Y/N?”
Emma laughed weakly on the other end. “Even I could see that.”
That hit him straight in the chest.
“And honestly?” she continued. “I think you liked knowing she’d always be there.”
Jolly’s stomach twisted.
Because the fucked up part? She wasn’t entirely wrong.
“I think,” Emma said carefully now, “you realized too late that she might stop.”
Jolly swallowed hard.
“And that scared you.”
Nicholas watched him carefully from across the bus now.
Because Jolly wasn’t yelling anymore. Wasn’t even fighting.
He just sat there looking wrecked.
Emma sighed softly. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her.”
“Well, you did.” His response was immediate. And if I’m being honest?” Jolly continued quietly. “I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”
Emma didn’t answer.
That answered enough, though.
Jolly leaned back slowly. “She never did anything to you.”
“No,” Emma admitted softly.
“She was nice to you even though she didn’t have to be.”
Another silence.
Then Emma quietly asked, “Are you in love with her?”
The question hit differently now.
Three weeks ago? Jolly probably would’ve dodged it, denied it, or laughed it off.
Now? Now he just looked out the dark bus window and answered honestly.
“…Yeah.” No hesitation. No excuses.
Emma let out a shaky breath, “I wish you would’ve figured that out before me.”
Guilt twisted in his chest immediately.
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly.
Emma sighed. “I really did like you, you know.”
Jolly closed his eyes briefly. “I know.”
“But I’m not going to sit around waiting for someone whose heart already belonged to somebody else.”
That one stayed with him because she wasn’t wrong there either.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Emma laughed softly. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Me too.”
The call ended a minute later.
No screaming. No dramatic ending.
Which somehow made it feel worse.
Jolly sat there staring at the dark phone screen for a long time after.
Nicholas finally spoke first. “You good?”
Jolly laughed weakly. “No.”
Nicholas nodded once. “Fair.”
—
The drive home after tour felt different now.
Heavier.
Like every mile closer made his chest tighter instead of lighter.
Normally, coming home felt easy and exciting.
Now? Now all he could think about was her.
What if she wasn’t there? What if she was? What if he’d already ruined this beyond repair?
He barely heard half the conversations around him as they unloaded gear and filtered out toward their cars.
Noah clapped him on the shoulder before leaving. “Good luck.”
Jolly frowned. “With what?”
Noah just gave him a look, then walked away.
Asshole.
The drive to the house felt too short and too long all at once.
His fingers tapped anxiously against the steering wheel the entire time.
By the time he pulled into the driveway, the house was dark except for the kitchen light over the stove.
His chest tightened immediately.
Because maybe? Maybe she was there like usual.
He grabbed his bag quickly and headed inside.
The house was quiet. Everyone was asleep.
He dropped his keys onto the counter and immediately headed toward the kitchen before he could stop himself.
Instinct. Hope. Stupidity.
Maybe all three… Actually? Definitely all three.
But the second he stepped fully into the kitchen, he stopped.
Because she wasn’t there.
No music playing quietly from her phone. No sarcastic comment about him finally showing up. No Y/N sitting on the counter, stealing pieces of food while pretending she wasn’t.
Just silence.
Something sank heavily in his chest.
Then, he saw it: the sticky note on the fridge, bright against the stainless steel with her handwriting.
Jolly stepped closer slowly and read it.
Foods in the microwave. Got done at 1:36.
His eyes flicked toward the clock.
1:50 AM.
Meaning he’d just missed her.
By literal minutes.
Jolly stared at the note for a long second before slowly reaching for the microwave handle.
He opened the door, and sitting on a plate was one of the stupid complex meals he loved that only she and his mother knew how to make properly. One that she’d make every time he’d come home from tour. There was a cover sitting over it to ensure it would stay warm longer.
Jolly just stood there staring at it. Her note still clutched tightly in his hand.
Y/N’s side of things wasn’t much better. Or maybe it was.
Really depended on how someone looked at it.
Because unlike Jolly, she wasn’t confused.
There was no denial left in her.
No pretending. No, carefully built walls, convincing herself it was one-sided crush territory she’d eventually grow out of.
No.
That illusion had shattered the second Emma walked into the Karlsson house smiling like she belonged there.
After that?
Everything became painfully clear to everyone around her.
Not that they hadn’t already known on some level.
You didn’t spend years learning someone down to microscopic details just because they were your friend.
Not the way Y/N did.
Not the way she remembered things. Not the way she watched him or built pieces of her life around him without even realizing she was doing it.
Mrs. Karlsson saw it fully now.
Freja definitely did.
Even Elias picked up on the fact that something was wrong because Y/N wasn’t as loud lately. Still loving. Still present. But quieter around the edges in a way that felt unnatural coming from her.
The Emma situation had hit a nerve nobody could soothe.
Because it wasn’t even jealousy at that point.
It was grief.
The kind that sat in your chest and hollowed things out slowly.
And the worst part? Y/N couldn’t even be angry at Jolly.
Not really.
Because Emma was who he was with, who he’d seemingly chosen.
Which meant Y/N had no claim to anything she was feeling.
So she just sat in it.
Alone most nights.
Mrs. Karlsson tried.
God, she tried.
One evening, Y/N sat at the kitchen island, absentmindedly peeling the label off a beer bottle while Mrs. Karlsson cooked dinner nearby.
“He’ll figure it out,” she said gently without looking up from the stove.
Y/N gave a weak hum. “Maybe.”
Mrs. Karlsson sighed softly. “Not maybe.”
Y/N stared at the bottle in her hands. “You don’t know that.”
“No,” his mother admitted. “I unfortunately don’t.”
That honesty almost hurt worse.
“But I know my son,” she continued quietly. “And I know what he looks like when he’s pretending something doesn’t matter when it actually matters too much.”
Y/N swallowed hard.
Mrs. Karlsson looked over then. “And you matter entirely too much.”
Y/N looked away immediately.
Because hearing it out loud made her chest ache.
Freja tried too.
Less gentle than her mother; more frustrated on Y/N’s behalf than anything else.
One night, they laid on Freja’s bed surrounded by snacks and some horrible reality show neither of them were actually paying attention to.
“He’s going to come home and choose you this time,” Freja said suddenly.
Y/N laughed quietly without humor. “You sound really convinced for someone who isn’t him.”
Freja rolled her eyes. “Because I have eyes.”
Y/N stared at the ceiling. “Emma wouldn’t have came over if she didn’t think she was the one he wanted.”
Freja sat up immediately. “Or she came over because she was insecure.”
Y/N shook her head. “People aren’t insecure without reason.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No,” Y/N said softly. “It’s realistic.”
Freja looked at her for a long second. “You really think he’s coming home to her?”
Y/N’s silence answered enough.
Because what else was she supposed to think? Emma existed in a space Y/N never let herself believe she could occupy.
Publicly. Openly. Normally.
And meanwhile, Y/N was sitting there feeling like her heart was breaking over a man who technically had never even been hers to begin with.
Nicholas tried helping where he could, but being across the country limited things.
And he was balancing his own exhaustion on top of trying to keep the band from combusting after forcing Jolly’s emotional breakdown on the bus.
So most of it came through phone calls late at night. Usually, when Y/N was trying not to spiral.
“You need to sleep,” Nicholas said one night over speakerphone while Y/N laid sprawled across her couch staring at the ceiling.
“I am sleeping.”
“No,” Nicholas replied flatly. “You’re horizontal and dissociating.”
Y/N huffed softly. “Semantics.”
Nicholas sighed. “How bad tonight?”
Y/N hesitated too long.
Nicholas immediately caught it. “…Y/N.”
She rolled onto her side, finally, curling into herself slightly.
“I miss him.”
Quiet. Small. Honest.
Nicholas closed his eyes briefly on the other end of the line.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I know.”
“I hate this,” she whispered.
“I know that too.”
Silence stretched for a minute.
“I feel stupid,” she admitted.
That one hurt him a little.
Because Y/N was many things, stupid was never one of them.
“You’re not stupid.”
“I am,” she argued quietly. “Because I knew better.”
Nicholas frowned. “Knew better than what?”
“Than hoping.”
That one sat heavy.
“He never actually chose me,” she continued. “Not really.”
Nicholas opened his mouth, then stopped himself.
Because he knew things. Too many things.
But they weren’t his to say.
So instead, he carefully said, “You don’t know that yet.”
Y/N laughed softly. Broken around the edges. “That sounds suspiciously optimistic.”
Nicholas leaned back against the bus wall. “Maybe I’m choosing violence and hope tonight.”
That got the faintest breath of a laugh from her.
Tiny. But real.
And honestly? At that point he’d take it.
Still, once the calls ended? Y/N was alone again.
And that’s when it got bad.
During the day, she could function.
Work helped. Running the shop helped. Freja helped.
But nighttime?
Nighttime was cruel.
Especially in her apartment.
Too quiet. Too empty. Too much room for her thoughts to echo.
Sometimes she cried.
Not dramatically. Not loudly.
Just silent tears while lying in bed staring at nothing.
Other nights, she’d end up at the Karlsson house.
Those nights were somehow worse.
Because eventually she’d wander upstairs.
Past Freja’s room. Past the bathroom. Stopping outside Jolly’s door.
Every single time.
Like her body moved there on instinct.
At first, she told herself she wouldn’t go in.
Then she started sitting in there “just for a minute.”
Then eventually, she stopped pretending.
Now she’d sit on his bedroom floor for hours sometimes.
Knees pulled tightly to her chest, one of his hoodies swallowing her whole, just staring at whatever managed to catch her attention that night.
The edge of his desk. The posters on the wall. His guitar leaning in the corner. The stupid crack in the ceiling she’d noticed when she was fifteen and laying upside down on his bed, annoying him while he tried writing.
Little things.
Always little things.
Sometimes she’d sit there in silence. Other times she’d cry quietly into the sleeves of whatever hoodie she stole that week.
Because yeah, she still stole them.
Even now.
Maybe especially now.
And that honestly felt the most pathetic part of all. That even heartbroken, even trying to convince herself to let go, she still found comfort in him. Or whatever pieces of him she could keep close.
One night, Freja found her there.
Y/N sat on the floor beside the bed, chin resting on her knees while absentmindedly tracing the cuff of the hoodie over her fingers.
Freja lingered in the doorway quietly for a second before speaking.
“You okay?”
Y/N laughed softly without looking up. “No.”
Freja’s chest tightened immediately.
She walked in slowly before lowering herself onto the floor beside her best friend.
Neither spoke for a minute.
Then Freja quietly asked, “You wanna know something sad?”
Y/N glanced at her slightly. “What?”
Freja smiled weakly. “This room smells more like you than him lately.”
That almost broke her.
Y/N’s face crumpled instantly as she covered her mouth with her sleeve, trying to stop the sound that escaped her.
Freja immediately moved closer, wrapping both arms around her while Y/N folded into her.
“It hurts so bad,” Y/N whispered brokenly.
Freja held her tighter. “I know.”
“I don’t know how to stop loving him.”
That one nearly made Freja cry too.
Because there was no dramatic solution.
No magical answer. No “just move on.”
Not after seven years. Not after growing up beside someone until they became stitched into every piece of your life.
“You wanna know the really fucked up part?” Y/N whispered against her shoulder.
Freja rubbed her back slowly. “What?”
“If he came home tomorrow and looked at me the way I wanted…” Her voice cracked. “I’d forgive everything in a heartbeat.”
Freja closed her eyes hard.
Because yeah, Y/N loved Jolly in the kind of way that didn’t leave room for self-preservation.
Everyone around them was finally starting to understand just how deep it actually went when it came to her.
Not the yelling. Not Nicholas laying every ugly truth out in front of him, piece by piece, until there was nowhere left to hide.
It was the silence after.
The way Jolly’s jaw kept working like he had words clawing to get out, but none of them actually came. His breathing had gone heavier somewhere in the middle of Nicholas talking, shoulders tight enough to snap, eyes darting everywhere except directly at any of them for too long.
And still? Nothing.
No denial. No defense. No “you’re wrong.”
Just silence.
A loud sigh finally cut through the room. Folio leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
“Seven and fourteen.”
Jolly blinked, looking over at him sharply. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
Folio didn’t blink. “They’re numbers,” he said flatly. “The answer to the same question just worded differently.”
Jolly frowned harder.
“Like those annoying questions on tests,” Folio continued. “Where the teacher changes the wording but the answer stays the same.”
Nicholas immediately shot him a warning look. “Folio.”
Folio held a hand up without looking away from Jolly. “Respectfully, Nick?” he said. “I’m done watching this.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened slightly.
Folio kept going. “This information,” he said, motioning vaguely between himself and Jolly, “is shit I learned.” His tone sharpened. “You have no part in it.”
Nicholas stayed quiet.
“This will not fall back on you,” Folio added firmly. “I’ll make damn sure of it.” A beat. “You are not losing the trust she has in you because of me.” Folio pressed his lips together for a moment. “However,” he continued, “if I have to hear my girlfriend cry one more fucking time because she’s worried sick about her best friend?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m gonna start saying a lot more.” A pause. “And none of it’s gonna be nice.”
The room went quiet again.
Jolly stared at him for a second before scoffing lightly. “What the hell are you even talking about?”
Folio looked at him like he genuinely couldn’t believe he still didn’t get it.
“The age is fourteen,” he said.
Jolly frowned.
“The years is seven.” Another beat. “Keep it in mind.”
Something flickered across Jolly’s face.
Recognition.
Tiny. But there.
Nicholas noticed it immediately. So did Noah.
Folio pushed off the wall slowly. “Now,” he said, “I don’t actually think the problem is that you love her.”
Jolly’s eyes snapped to him.
Before he could speak, Folio kept going. “The problem,” he said evenly, “is that you’re fucking terrified of what happens if it doesn’t work.”
Silence.
“Because you refuse to look at the positives.” Folio stepped closer. “You only focus on what you lose if things go bad.” Another step. “Not what the fuck you gain if things go right.”
Jolly looked away immediately.
And Folio laughed softly under his breath. “Are you really this fucking stupid?"
“Watch it,” Jolly snapped.
“No,” Folio shot back immediately. “You watch it.”
The edge in his voice surprised everyone.
Even Nicholas looked at him differently now.
“Do you seriously think,” Folio continued, “that girl acts the way she does with you with everybody?”
Jolly scoffed immediately. “That’s literally her personality.”
Folio nodded slowly. “So, you are stupid.”
Jolly glared at him hard enough to kill lesser men.
Folio didn’t care.
“When,” he asked calmly, “has she ever hung all over one of us the way she does you?”
Jolly opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Folio kept going. “When has she stolen our hoodies and refused to give them back for three fucking days?”
No answer.
“When does she steal our food? Drinks? Phones?”
Jolly’s jaw tightened.
“When does she sit between our legs on the floor and lean against us?”
Every example landed harder than the last.
“Better yet,” Folio added, “when has she ever asked any of us to braid her hair?”
Nothing.
Because the answer was obvious.
“She doesn’t,” Folio said.
His voice softened slightly now; not kinder, just more certain.
“She can walk up to a pile of black hoodies,” he continued, “and somehow knows exactly which one is yours.”
Noah muttered quietly, “That one’s always freaked me out.”
Nobody acknowledged him.
“Food and drinks?” Folio continued. “If she really wants to try something from us, she asks.” A pause. “With you?” He pointed directly at Jolly. “She just fucking takes it.”
And the worst part?
Jolly knew he was right. Not once, though, did he ever think twice about it.
“She’s fallen asleep leaning on Noah during movies.”
Noah lifted a hand slightly. “Once.”
“Twice,” Nicholas corrected automatically.
Noah looked offended. “Traitor.”
Folio ignored them. “Sometimes she leans on Nick for a few minutes.”
Nicholas stayed silent.
“But you?” Folio said as his eyes locked onto Jolly again. “That girl has literally jumped on your back to tackle you.”
Jolly rubbed a hand over his face slowly now, like the headache had finally become unbearable.
“She doesn’t sit on our laps,” Folio continued.
Every word was another nail.
“She doesn’t grab our faces to kiss our cheeks.”
Noah nodded faintly. “We lean down because she’s short.”
“Exactly,” Folio said.
Then looked back at Jolly.
“Let's add to it. Have you ever noticed something?”
Jolly didn’t answer.
“You’re either the first or the last person she says hi or bye to.”
That one hit differently.
“You are never in the middle.”
The room fell silent again because even Noah looked like he hadn’t consciously realized that before, and now he couldn’t unsee it.
Folio exhaled slowly through his nose. “Hoodies,” he said again.
Jolly closed his eyes briefly.
“Did you ever stop to think about why it’s always three days before she gives them back?”
No answer.
Folio laughed quietly. “I figured this one out over the years,” he admitted.
Jolly’s eyes opened again reluctantly.
“By day three,” Folio said, “they stop fully smelling like you.”
Jolly completely froze.
“So she brings it back,” Folio continued, “and steals a new one.”
Noah physically grimaced. “Jesus Christ.”
Nicholas rubbed a hand over his mouth like he was trying not to laugh and lose his mind simultaneously.
And Jolly? Jolly looked wrecked.
Like every single thing he’d spent years refusing to look at was suddenly standing directly in front of him.
“And here’s my personal favorite,” Folio added.
His tone softened just slightly now.
“Did you know she knows how to braid her own hair?”
Jolly’s head snapped up.
Folio nodded once. “She learned the first time we went on tour.”
Silence.
“She just pretends she can’t,” Folio said quietly. “So she has a reason to be near you.”
That one finally broke through the last wall.
Jolly looked away so fast it was almost violent.
His chest rose sharply once. Then again.
Nicholas watched him carefully now.
Because there it was.
Finally.
The moment it all actually started sinking in.
And the fucked up part? Nobody in the room pitied him. Because Y/N had lived with this for seven years, and Jolly couldn’t even survive one conversation about it without looking like he was falling apart.
The bus had gone dead silent after that.
Not uncomfortable silence. Not even angry silence. Just the kind that settles after someone drops a truth so heavy nobody quite knows where to put it or what to do with it.
Jolly stood there for another second, chest rising unevenly, before finally dropping down onto the edge of the couch like his legs gave out under him.
His elbows rested on his knees. Hands clasped in front of his mouth. He inhaled sharply through his nose and stayed there for a second too long.
Folio watched him carefully. “The numbers clicking yet?” he finally asked.
Jolly laughed once under his breath.
Not amused. Almost disbelieving.
Then he lowered his hands slowly. “I don’t believe that.”
Folio frowned slightly. “Believe what?”
Jolly looked up at him finally. “I don’t believe she’s loved me that long.”
The confession sat strangely in the air.
Not because it was shocking, but because of how genuinely shaken he sounded saying it.
Folio leaned back against the wall again. “But she has, Jolly.”
Simple.
No dramatics. No exaggeration.
“That’s seven years,” Folio continued quietly, “of swallowing down her own bullshit for one reason or another.”
Jolly looked away immediately.
Seven years.
The number sounded worse every time someone said it out loud.
Nicholas finally sighed and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. “You’re not the only one who obsesses over what happens if something goes wrong,” he said.
Jolly glanced toward him.
“But honestly?” Nicholas continued. “At this point, I don’t even know if that matters much.” He paused. “Because Emma stopped by the house today.”
Jolly’s head snapped up instantly. “What?”
Folio nodded once and repeated, “Emma came to the house.”
Every muscle in Jolly’s body visibly tightened.
“And she went right for Y/N.”
Jolly stared at him. “What the fuck do you mean she went right for Y/N?”
Folio shrugged slightly. “Exactly what it sounds like.”
Nicholas huffed quietly. “She tried playing this whole sweet introduction angle,” he said. “Like she was just introducing herself to everyone.”
Jolly leaned back sharply. “Unbelievable.”
“She was fishing,” Folio added bluntly.
Jolly rubbed a hand over his face hard enough to drag his skin with it. “There was no reason for her to even fucking be there.”
“No,” Nicholas agreed calmly. “There wasn’t.”
Jolly laughed bitterly under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”
Folio watched him carefully. “Y/N handled it,” he said.
Jolly’s eyes flicked to him immediately. “How?”
Folio’s mouth twitched slightly. “She obliterated every angle Emma tried making, and told her she wasted her time when all she was trying to do was enjoy her day off.”
That earned the smallest breath of relief from Jolly.
Tiny, but noticeable.
“Still fucked with her though,” Folio added.
And there it was again.
That guilt. That immediate heaviness settling right back onto Jolly’s chest.
“Because,” Folio continued, “that woman is clinging to any possible thread that you might’ve come home this time and chosen her.”
Jolly stared at the floor. “…There was never anything to choose.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh?”
Jolly leaned back slowly, exhausted all over again. “Emma and I weren’t even talking by the time we left.”
The entire bus stilled.
Noah blinked first. “…What?”
Jolly let out a hollow laugh. “Meaning,” he said tiredly, “I broke things off before we even got on the fucking bus.”
Silence.
Nicholas sat back slightly. “Interesting.”
Jolly rolled his eyes weakly. “Don’t start.”
Noah frowned. “Wait, seriously?”
Jolly nodded once. “She wanted to meet everyone,” he said. “I told her maybe eventually after we got back.”
Folio crossed his arms. “And?”
“And she asked if I actually wanted this to go somewhere.” Jolly exhaled sharply through his nose. “She saw the hesitation immediately.”
Nicholas hummed softly, as if to confirm every suspicion he already had.
“It became a whole thing,” Jolly muttered. He paused, then looked away. “And I fucked up.”
Noah frowned. “How?”
Jolly laughed bitterly again. “I let it slip that I didn’t want her near Y/N if I wasn’t home.”
The bus went silent all over again.
Folio blinked slowly. “…You said that out loud?”
“Not intentionally,” Jolly snapped. “It just came out.”
Nicholas rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hide the look on his face.
“She obviously didn’t buy the excuse I tried giving after,” Jolly muttered.
“Because there isn’t a good excuse for that,” Noah said carefully.
“No shit.”
Jolly leaned back harder into the couch now, staring at the ceiling.
“Emma was supposed to be a distraction,” he admitted quietly.
Nobody interrupted him now.
“That’s all she was supposed to be until tour started.” His voice sounded rougher now. More honest. “And then my mom basically ripped me apart that day she came over to talk to Freja and wouldn’t let me see Y/N.”
The three of them stayed quiet.
“Trust me,” Jolly muttered, rubbing both hands down his face now, “I know how I feel.”
That got everyone’s attention immediately.
“I’ve been hyper-aware for months,” he admitted. A humorless laugh left him. “Aware longer than that.”
He shook his head. “But when she pulled back?”
His throat tightened visibly.
“And left that night while I was inside?” A pause. “It’s been driving me fucking insane.” There was real, raw frustration in his voice now. “Emma stopped being a distraction from Y/N,” he admitted quietly. “She became a distraction because Y/N wasn’t around anymore.”
Noah winced slightly at that.
“Not exactly my proudest moment,” Jolly muttered.
Nicholas finally spoke. “No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”
Jolly nodded once. “I know.”
Silence stretched again.
Then Folio finally asked quietly, “Yeah?” He tilted his head slightly. “And how’d ignoring it work out for you this time?”
Jolly scoffed softly. “It didn’t.”
Simple. Honest. Final.
He sat there for a second longer before finally speaking again.
Quieter this time. Honestly, more exhausted than angry.
“…I’ve loved her for a long time.”
Nobody moved.
“Since she was sixteen, if I’m being honest.”
Noah’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
Jolly rubbed a hand through his hair roughly.
“It just made it easier to ignore because technically I was already an adult.” His jaw tightened. “So I latched onto that.” He laughed once under his breath. “Then eighteen hit and suddenly I didn’t have that excuse anymore.”
Nicholas watched him carefully now.
“So I ignored it harder.” Jolly’s eyes closed briefly. “Told myself it was one-sided because nothing about her changed.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word. “She still acted the same with me.”
A longer pause sat between them.
“But I think…” he started quietly, then stopped.
Noah leaned forward slightly. “What?”
Jolly swallowed hard. “I think I convinced myself it had to be one-sided because if it wasn’t…” His laugh this time sounded miserable. “…then I was fucked.”
Nobody joked. Nobody interrupted.
Because they could all hear it now. Really hear it.
“I never let myself fully feel how much I loved her,” Jolly admitted. His eyes stayed locked on the floor now.
“Not really.” A pause. “Because as long as she was there?” His throat worked hard. “I could pretend it wasn’t consuming me.”
That one hurt.
Even Nicholas looked away for a second after that.
“But then she left.” Jolly laughed weakly again. “And suddenly I had no choice but to sit in it.”
Every ugly part of it. Every realization. Every moment replaying itself in his head differently now.
“Even when I was with Emma,” he admitted quietly, “I’d think about Y/N constantly.”
Noah sighed softly under his breath.
“We’d go somewhere to eat, and all I could think was how Y/N would bitch about the menu.”
Folio snorted despite himself.
Jolly smiled faintly for half a second. “Or somebody would walk by wearing something ridiculous and all I could hear in my head was whatever smartass comment she’d make about it.” His smile disappeared just as quickly. “She never left my fucking head.”
Silence. Heavy silence.
“I’d wake up and instinctively check my phone expecting twenty texts from her, or voice messages because she was too lazy to type.”
Noah laughed quietly.
Jolly’s chest tightened again. “She’s in lliterally everything,” he admitted. “Every routine, every habit, every good thing.”
His eyes finally lifted toward them again. “And I think the reason this hit me so hard?” He swallowed hard. “Is because for the first time since she was nine years old…” His voice dropped quieter. “She stopped reaching for me.”
Nobody in that bus had an answer for that. Because there wasn’t one.
Jolly leaned forward again, elbows on his knees. “My mom made it very clear I wasn’t supposed to go near her until we got home.” He huffed softly. “Probably because she knew I’d cave immediately.”
Nicholas finally nodded once. “She was right.”
Jolly laughed weakly. “Yeah.”
Silence hit again.
Then, quieter, he finally said, “I miss her.”
Not dramatic. Not poetic. Just devastatingly honest.
“I miss her voice, her stealing my shit.” He took in a shaky breath. “The way she’d just exist in my space like she belonged there.” His jaw tightened again. “And the fucked up thing?” He looked down at his hands. “She always did.”
Nicholas looked up slowly from where he sat sprawled across the couch, one arm stretched along the back cushion like he didn’t have a care in the world.
And the asshole smiled.
“You lasted longer than I thought you would.”
Jolly’s jaw flexed.
Nicholas sat up properly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Floor’s yours, buddy boy.”
The room had gone quieter now; quieter in the way people got when they knew they were witnessing the start of something they probably shouldn’t interrupt but needed to stay put in case something went south.
Jolly got straight to it. “What’s going on with you and Y/N?”
No buildup. No dancing around it.
Just straight for the throat.
Nicholas tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Nicholas hummed softly. “That narrows it down absolutely none.”
Jolly’s patience snapped tighter. “Don’t play fucking stupid with me.”
Nicholas leaned back slightly. “I’m not. You asked a vague question.”
Jolly stared at him.
Nicholas stared right back calmly.
Annoyingly calm.
Finally, Nicholas shrugged lightly. “We’re close.”
Jolly scoffed. “No shit.”
“She trusts me.” Another shrug. “I trust her.”
Still vague. Still careful. Enough to imply something without actually saying it.
Nicholas knew exactly what he was doing. He used what Jolly thought to his advantage. The exact reason he never cleared the air about what he saw that day, walking past the shop.
Jolly narrowed his eyes. “That’s not an answer.”
Nicholas looked genuinely thoughtful for a second. “Hm. Okay.”
A beat.
“She comes to me when she needs someone.”
Jolly’s chest tightened.
Nicholas saw it happen.
“She talks to me about things she doesn’t talk to other people about.”
Another crack.
Small. But there.
“And?” Jolly pressed.
Nicholas’s mouth twitched. “And what?”
“What’s actually going on?”
Nicholas tilted his head again. “Why does it matter?”
Jolly opened his mouth immediately and stopped.
Because Nicholas followed it instantly with:
“You’re talking to Emma.”
Silence.
There it was. The thing sitting in the middle of the room that nobody had wanted to say out loud.
Jolly didn’t answer.
Didn’t deny it, but also didn’t confirm it.
Nicholas saw the hesitation, though. And the flicker of the exact moment something ugly and possessive crossed Jolly’s face before he shoved it back down.
Nicholas smirked slowly. “Oh,” he said softly. “There it is.”
Jolly’s expression darkened. “Shut up.”
“Come on, Jollybean,” Nicholas said, leaning back fully now, arms crossing over his chest. “You just gotta say it.”
“Don’t,” Jolly snapped instantly.
Nicholas blinked innocently. “Don’t what?”
“You fucking know what.”
Nicholas nodded slowly like something had finally clicked into place. “I see,” he paused. “So Jollybean is the breaking point.”
The room went dead quiet.
Noah physically leaned back in his chair like he wanted no part of this. Folio rubbed a hand over his mouth, praying this didn’t head the way he was seeing. Jolly looked like he might actually strangle someone.
Nicholas, meanwhile, looked entertained.
“The nickname,” Nicholas continued calmly, “you’ve spent years telling her not to call you.”
Jolly clenched his fists.
“The nickname you supposedly hate.”
“Nick—”
“The nickname she gave you because she said your vibe was a ‘grumpy marshmallow’ and Jollybean fit.”
Noah snorted loudly before immediately pretending he hadn’t.
Jolly shot him a murderous glare.
Nicholas kept going. “Funny thing is,” he said, voice quieter now, sharper, “there’s not actually any bite to it anymore when she says it, and you tell her not to call you that. More like you say it as a habit than actually meaning it.”
Jolly looked away.
“But the second somebody else says it?” Nicholas continued. “Something in you fucking snaps.”
His eyes locked onto Jolly’s.
“It’s almost like,” he said slowly, “you don’t actually hate it because it’s her.” A beat. “But only if it’s her.”
“Will you shut the fuck up?” Jolly finally yelled.
The room flinched slightly at the sudden volume.
Nicholas didn’t. He honestly didn’t even blink.
“You don’t know shit about me when it comes to her,” Jolly snapped. “Not a fucking thing.”
Nicholas watched him for a long second.
Then slowly stood.
Not aggressively. Not confrontational.
Which somehow made it worse.
“Then enlighten me,” he said evenly then paused. “Jollybean.”
Jolly’s jaw clenched so hard it looked painful.
Nicholas stepped closer.
“Tell me what I don’t know.”
Silence.
“Tell me I’m blind,” Nicholas continued. “Tell me I’m stupid. Tell me I haven’t been watching this shit grow for years.”
Jolly didn’t answer.
“Since she hit eighteen,” Nicholas said. A beat. “Actually, before that. You were just better at ignoring it.”
Jolly looked away sharply.
“But then she turned eighteen,” Nicholas continued, voice steady, “and suddenly it changed.”
He motioned vaguely toward Jolly.
“She still stole your hoodies,” he said. “But by that point? Your hoodies were the only fucking baggy thing she wore anymore.”
Jolly’s eyes snapped back to him. “Watch it,” he said lowly.
Nicholas wasn’t phased. Not even slightly.
“And you sure as shit noticed how nice her body got.” Nicholas stepped closer again. “It got worse from there,” he said. “Because once she got confident in her own skin?”He shook his head faintly. “It was a domino effect.”
Jolly stayed silent.
But Nicholas could see every word hitting.
“Her personality’s still obnoxious as fuck,” Nicholas continued. “But she’s bubbly. Loud. She sings with no apologies.”
A faint smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.
“Especially our music.”
Noah quietly muttered, “That’s true.”
Nobody acknowledged him.
“She walks into rooms like she owns them,” Nicholas continued. “And the fucked up thing?”
He pointed at Jolly.
“She knows she does.”
Jolly swallowed hard once.
Then Nicholas delivered the real hits.
“And then a few months ago,” he said, quieter now, “suddenly you were different.”
Jolly’s shoulders tensed immediately.
“You stopped telling her to get off you. You stopped complaining when she kissed your cheek. You stopped telling her to move when you finished her hair.”
Jolly looked away again.
Nicholas stepped closer. “You adjusted.”
The room stayed silent.
“So she fit better,” Nicholas continued. “So she was comfortable.”
Jolly’s chest felt tight now. Painfully tight.
“And then you’d stay like that,” Nicholas said. “For hours.” His voice softened just slightly. “In your own little fucking bubble.”
Jolly closed his eyes briefly.
“You’d chime in on conversations,” Nicholas continued. “Talk to the rest of us for a minute.” A pause. “Then immediately go right back to her.”
Every word felt surgical.
Precise.
“Tattoo designs. Lyrics. Random bullshit.” Nicholas tilted his head. “And you always had to be touching her.”
Jolly’s fists clenched again.
“Usually your hands sat on her hips,” Nicholas said quietly. “While your chin sat on top of her head.”
Noah looked deeply uncomfortable now. Folio looked like he was watching a car crash happen in slow motion.
“And she’d lean into you,” Nicholas added. “And you stopped questioning it.”
That one hit differently. Because it was true.
Jolly hadn’t questioned it.
Not really. Not until it was gone.
Nicholas sighed softly. “Because it felt right.”
The words sat there in the air heavily.
“And instead of actually looking at what that meant?” Nicholas continued, eyes narrowed slightly. “You ignored it.”
Jolly looked furious now.
But underneath it?
Nicholas saw the panic.
“You refused to see it for what it actually is.”
Silence stretched.
Then Nicholas spread his hands slightly. “So please,” he said. “Tell me what I don’t know when it comes to you and her.”
Jolly couldn’t answer that. Instead, his jaw tightened again.
Nicholas saw it immediately and kept going. “I know way more than you think I do.” A beat. “Things I’ve observed.” Another. “Things she’s trusted me with because she couldn’t go to your sister.”
Jolly’s head snapped toward him at that.
“And things you’ve let slip,” Nicholas added quietly, “without even realizing you did.”
Jolly looked away.
Nicholas exhaled slowly then finally took a small step back. “But,” he said, his voice softened slightly. “You’re right.”
Jolly frowned faintly.
“I don’t know everything,” Nicholas admitted. “Not when it comes to your side of this.”
The room stayed painfully still.
Nicholas let the silence hang for a second before finishing, “I don’t know why you won’t stop being a little fucking bitch,” he said bluntly, “and finally say what this actually is out loud.”
Not loud in the way it had been during the show; no roaring crowd, no blinding lights, but alive in that aftershock kind of way. Gear got packed down, cables coiled, cases rolled toward the back exit while voices overlapped in quick bursts. Everyone moved with purpose, but the adrenaline hadn’t fully worn off yet.
Backstage, the guys had their usual rhythm.
Noah pacing with a half-empty water bottle, still riding the high. Folio leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. Nicholas sitting on a folding chair, elbows on his knees, head tilted slightly down like he was already a few steps ahead mentally, processing, planning, watching.
And Jolly? Jolly was moving around like everything was normal. Which meant nothing was.
Folio’s phone buzzed. He glanced down, the name lighting up the screen, and immediately pushed himself off the wall. “Give me a second,” he muttered, already stepping away from the group.
He slipped down the hallway, finding a quieter pocket near an emergency exit, pushing the door open just enough to let some cool air in before answering. “Hey, babe.”
Freja’s voice came through immediately. “Hey.”
Something in her tone made him straighten just a little.
“What’s up?”
She hesitated. Which she didn’t usually do. “…We had a visitor today.”
Folio frowned. “A visitor?”
“Yeah.” Another pause. “…Emma.”
Folio went still. “…At the house?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“How did that even—”
“She just showed up,” Freja cut in.
Folio ran a hand down his face. “You’re fucking kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“What happened?”
Freja exhaled slowly. “She introduced herself. Sat down. Talked like everything was normal.”
Folio leaned his head back against the wall. “Of course she did.”
“Yeah.”
“How’d that go?”
Freja huffed. “Civil.”
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
“It wasn’t bad,” she said. “But it wasn’t good either.”
Folio nodded to himself.
“Y/N handled it,” Freja added.
That made him pause. “…How?”
Freja let out a small breath. “She didn’t bite,” she said. “Didn’t snap. Didn’t give her what she wanted.”
Folio’s brow furrowed. “What she wanted?”
Freja’s tone sharpened slightly. “She was trying to push Y/N.”
Folio’s jaw tightened. “How hard?” he asked.
“Enough,” Freja replied. “Not obvious. But enough.”
Folio nodded slowly, piecing it together. “And Y/N?” he asked.
“She shut it down,” Freja said. “Then absolutely annihilated her with Jolly knowledge.” There was something in her voice; pride, mixed with something heavier.
“Jolly knowledge?” Folio laughed.
“Yeah,” she smiled. “Asked questions and completely rewired any concept in Emma’s brain that Y/N would see her as a threat, and Emma should absolutely see her as one.”
Silence sat between them for a second. “You should probably tell Nick,” Freja added.
Folio let out a humorless huff. “Yeah.”
“Just—carefully,” she said.
Folio almost laughed. “You know that’s not how he works.”
Freja sighed. “I know.”
“Alright,” Folio said. “I’ll handle it.”
“Okay.”
“Hey,” he added, softer now. “She good?”
Freja paused. “…She will be.”
That wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either.
“Alright.” Folio nodded to himself. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
They hung up, and for a second, he just stood there processing.
Because this?
This was exactly the kind of thing that didn’t stay contained.
Not with this group. Not with these dynamics. Not with him and her involved.
Folio pushed off the wall and headed back inside.
Nicholas looked up the second he saw him.
Didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.
Folio’s face said enough.
“What?” Nicholas asked.
Folio jerked his head toward the hallway. “Come here.”
Nicholas stood immediately. No hesitation.
They stepped off to the side, out of earshot.
“What happened?” Nicholas asked.
Folio didn’t ease into it. “She showed up.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”
“Emma.”
That did it. Nicholas went still. “Where?” he asked.
“At the house.”
“…And?”
Folio exhaled slowly. “Freja said it was civil.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened. “That’s not an answer,” he said.
“She tried to push,” Folio added.
Nicholas’s expression darkened. “And Y/N?” he asked.
“Handled it,” Folio said. “Didn’t give her anything. Minus making it very known that Emma wasn’t a threat to her, but she sure as hell is a threat to Emma.”
Nicholas let out a slow breath through his nose. “Not shocking,” he said.
But the tone? The tone said it wasn’t enough.
Folio crossed his arms. “You’re thinking.”
“I’m always thinking,” Nicholas replied.
“Yeah, well, now you’re thinking dangerously,” Folio said.
Nicholas didn’t deny it.
“Where is he?” Nicholas asked.
Folio glanced back toward the main room. “Not here.”
Nicholas nodded once. “Good.”
Because that meant he had room to move, act, and push buttons.
Which is exactly what he was about to do.
By the time they got on the bus, the tension had shifted.
Noah picked up on it almost immediately.
He dropped into the seat across from Nicholas, watching him for a second before shaking his head.
“I don’t even know what’s happening,” he muttered.
Nicholas didn’t respond. Folio leaned against the wall nearby.
Noah huffed. “But I’m annoyed.”
“That’s fair,” Folio said.
Nicholas then reached for his phone.
Folio saw it. So did Noah.
“Oh no,” Noah said immediately.
Nicholas glanced at him. “What?”
“You’re about to do something,” Noah said.
Nicholas shrugged. “Maybe.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
Folio sighed. “Nick—”
But it was too late. The phone was already ringing.
Y/N picked up on the second ring.
“Hey.”
Nicholas leaned back in his seat, casual as ever “Hey.”
“How was the show?” she asked.
“Good,” he said. “Crowd was loud. Noah almost fell off stage.”
“I did not,” Noah protested immediately from across the aisle.
Y/N laughed through the phone. “I believe that he almost did.”
Nicholas smirked. “He absolutely did.”
“I tripped,” Noah argued. “That’s different.”
“Sure,” Nicholas said.
Y/N’s laugh softened.
“How are you?” Nicholas asked.
“I’m okay,” she said.
He tilted his head slightly. “Just okay?”
There was a small pause.
“…It was a long day,” she admitted.
Nicholas hummed. “Yeah, I heard it got… rough for a bit.”
He didn’t say how. Didn’t say why. Didn’t say who.
But he made it known he knew.
Y/N exhaled softly. “Yeah.”
“You good now?”
“I am,” she said.
“Good.” Nicholas smiled faintly. “What did you and Freja get into?”
“Nothing crazy,” she said. “We went out, grabbed food, came back, watched something stupid.”
“Sounds nice if you ask me.”
“It was,” she said. “Needed it, honestly.”
Nicholas nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Make sure you’re eating,” he added.
She huffed. “I am.”
“Sleeping?”
“…Working on it.”
Nicholas chuckled softly.
Across the aisle, Jolly was watching.
Not openly. Not obviously. But enough.
Enough to see the way Nicholas leaned back, relaxed, like this was the most natural thing in the world. Enough to hear the ease in his voice. Enough to feel something twist in his chest.
Again.
Nicholas laughed at something Y/N said, shaking his head slightly.
“No, absolutely not,” he replied. “You’re not allowed to make that decision unsupervised.”
Y/N laughed again.
Jolly’s jaw tightened.
Nicholas didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t even pretend to notice.
Which somehow made it worse.
“Alright,” Nicholas said after a few more minutes. “Get some rest.”
“You too,” Y/N replied.
“I love you,” Nicholas said easily.
Like he always did. Like it was nothing. Like it was everything.
And that? That was it.
That was the last fucking nerve. The last thread. The last piece holding everything in place.
“Love you too,” Y/N said softly.
The call ended.
Nicholas set his phone down.
And finally looked up. Right at him.
Jolly stood.
Slow. Controlled.
But there was nothing calm about it.
He crossed the aisle in two steps, stopping in front of Nicholas.
Besties, I was asked yesterday if I was planning a Noah story when I was done with the two I’m working on. The answer is, yes. The other three have been requests so I’ve focused on those. I wasn’t sure which way I wanted to take it, but I think I might after a random lightbulb went off. Honestly, the way my writing usually happens. I believe I’ve seen it before but adding another can never hurt…. So hear me out…Mafia!Noah. It would possibly be spicier than anything I’ve written. I’ve been practicing writing those scenes in my spare time. So give me your thoughts before I dive head first into this 😬
Three weeks blurred together in a way that only tour time ever did.
Cities stacked on top of each other. Long drives. Louder nights. Shorter mornings. The rhythm of it all took over; soundcheck, set, teardown, repeat, until days stopped feeling like separate things and started feeling like one long stretch of noise and motion.
Back home, everything slowed in contrast.
The Karlsson house felt quieter.
Not empty, but missing a certain kind of chaos that only four grown men could bring into a space and leave behind them.
Freja noticed it the most in the evenings.
The backyard didn’t stay lit as long. The kitchen didn’t echo with overlapping conversations.
Even Elias had settled into a different kind of routine, one that involved more cartoons and less chasing people around the house.
And Y/N? She came around again.
Not every day. Not like before. But enough.
Enough that things started to feel normal-adjacent again.
That was the best way to describe it.
Not normal.
But close enough to function.
That afternoon had started like any other.
Freja sat cross-legged on the living room floor, laptop open, papers scattered around her like she was trying to convince herself she was being productive.
Y/N was on the couch, legs tucked under her, scrolling through something on her phone before tossing it aside with a quiet groan.
“I swear if I have to answer one more message about booking dates, I’m throwing the phone out the window,” she muttered.
Freja snorted. “Do it. I’ll film it.”
“You’re supposed to support me,” Y/N shot back.
“I am,” Freja said. “Emotionally. Not financially, when you have to replace your phone though. You're on your own there.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching for the remote and flipping through channels absentmindedly.
“Nick owes me when they get back,” she added. “Running the shop while he’s gone is not for the weak.”
Freja hummed. “You always say that, but we all know you love it. You wouldn’t offer to do it every time if you didn’t.”
“I do,” Y/N admitted. “But I also love sleep. And I haven’t had enough of that lately. It's criminal honestly.”
Freja looked up from her laptop. “You look fine.”
“That’s because I’m talented,” Y/N deadpanned. "And makeup does wonders when you know how to use it."
Freja laughed.
The doorbell rang.
Both of them paused.
Freja frowned slightly. “Were we expecting someone?”
Y/N shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
Freja pushed herself up off the floor, brushing her hands off on her jeans as she headed toward the front door. “Maybe it’s a package,” she called over her shoulder.
Y/N leaned back into the couch, not bothering to get up. “Or someone trying to sell you something,” she added. "Those guys have been out like vultures. I had someone yesterday try to sell me life-altering sponges."
Freja snorted as she opened the door then stopped.
“Hi,” the girl on the other side said, offering a polite smile. “I’m Emma.”
Freja blinked once, processing. “Oh,” she said. “Hi.”
There was a beat. Then she stepped aside. “Come in.”
Emma walked in with an easy confidence, her eyes flicking around the space briefly before landing on Y/N in the living room.
Y/N sat up just a little straighter.
Not tense. Not closed off. Just… aware. Because she could feel deep in her bones, this wasn’t a normal visit.
“Hey,” Emma said, her smile still in place. “You must be Y/N.”
Y/N nodded once. “Yeah.”
“I’ve heard about you,” Emma added.
Y/N’s expression didn’t change. “Have you?”
Freja closed the door behind her, glancing between them before stepping back into the room.
Emma settled into one of the chairs like she belonged there. “So,” she said, crossing one leg over the other, “I figured I’d stop by and actually meet you guys.”
Freja sat back down on the floor, though her posture had shifted; more upright now, more attentive.
“Yeah,” she said. “Makes sense.”
Y/N didn’t respond right away. She leaned back slightly, resting her arm along the back of the couch.
“Sure,” she said finally. Because no, it didn’t make sense. Jolly never lets anyone he’s dating come over without him. Even when they seemed serious.
There was a small pause.
Then Emma smiled again, a little brighter this time.
“He’s been telling me so much about everything,” she said.
Freja raised a brow slightly. “Everything?”
Emma nodded. “Yeah, like how things are here, how close everyone is.”
Y/N hummed faintly. “That sounds about right.”
Emma’s gaze flicked to her. “It’s nice,” she said. “Hearing how much everyone cares about each other.”
Freja nodded slowly. “We do.”
Emma leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on her knee. “He’s like that, too,” she added casually. “Really attentive. Pays attention to everything.”
Y/N didn’t react.
Freja didn’t either.
They just listened.
“He remembers things,” Emma continued. “Little things. Like how I take my coffee, or what I mentioned once about liking a certain place.”
Freja gave a small, polite smile. “That’s a good quality to have.”
“He’s such a gentleman,” Emma added.
Y/N’s gaze stayed steady.
Emma’s eyes flicked to her again, like she was waiting for something.
A reaction. A comment. A shift.
Anything.
Y/N didn’t give it. She just nodded once. “He can be.”
Emma tilted her head slightly. “Can be?” she echoed.
Y/N shrugged lightly. “Depends on the day, his mood, if the grass touched his ankle threateningly.”
Freja suppressed a smile. She knew exactly where this was going.
Emma leaned back again, her tone still light but her words a little sharper now. “I don’t know,” she said. “From what I’ve seen, it’s pretty consistent.”
Y/N crossed one ankle over the other, settling deeper into the couch. “Yeah?” she said.
Emma nodded. “Yeah. He’s just… easy.”
Freja glanced at Y/N briefly. Because that? That was a choice of words.
Y/N let it sit for a second before she leaned forward just slightly, resting her elbows on her knees.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
Emma smiled. “Of course.”
Y/N’s expression stayed neutral. “What does he do,” she asked, “when he’s working on a track, and it doesn’t sound right yet?”
Emma blinked. “What?”
Y/N tilted her head slightly. “When it’s not hitting the way he hears it in his head,” she clarified.
Emma hesitated. “I mean… I don’t—”
“He won’t sleep,” Y/N said calmly.
Freja’s lips pressed together to keep from smiling.
“He won’t eat,” Y/N continued. “He won’t focus on anything else until it clicks. The man will obsess over it.”
Emma went quiet.
“God, you had to almost sit on him the one time because he didn’t eat for almost two days while working on 'Concrete Jungle'.” Freja laughed.
Y/N’s lip twitched. “The funnel was ready if the bastard didn’t eat the damn food I made him.” Y/N paused before continuing, “And when he’s stressed,” Y/N added, “he starts drumming without realizing it.”
Freja nodded. “On literally anything.”
Y/N glanced at her briefly. “Tables, his legs, walls, my head the one time—whatever’s there.”
Emma shifted slightly in her seat.
Y/N leaned back again. “He hates swimming,” she went on.
Emma frowned faintly. “He does?”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah. Won’t go near water unless Elias asks him to.”
Freja huffed a quiet laugh. “Even then, he complains the whole time.”
Y/N’s mouth twitched slightly again.
“Favorite meals?” she continued. “They change.”
Emma straightened a little, like she finally had something to contribute. “I know a couple—”
“Knowing what they are and how to make them are two very different things, babe. He’ll only eat them if they’re made the way his mom makes them,” Y/N cut in gently.
Emma’s mouth closed.
“Except,” Y/N added, her tone still even, “there’s one other person he’ll accept them from.”
Freja’s eyes flicked to her.
Emma looked at her.
Y/N didn’t break eye contact. “…Me.”
Silence filled the space for a moment.
Freja shifted slightly, watching both of them.
Emma’s expression tightened just a fraction before smoothing back out. “I mean,” she said lightly, “people learn new things.”
Y/N nodded. “They do. But his mom taught me personally how to make them the correct way. Good luck getting her to do that again. I had to beg, and I’ve been around since they moved here. It’s a process and a half for even the simple one.”
Another pause.
Then Y/N leaned back fully this time, stretching her legs out slightly. “Was there anything else you needed?” she asked.
Emma blinked. “What?”
“I’m trying to enjoy my day off,” Y/N said simply. “From running Nick’s shop while they’re gone.”
Freja bit the inside of her cheek.
Emma let out a small breath, sitting back. “No,” she said. “I think that’s it.”
Y/N nodded once. “Cool.”
Silence settled again.
Different now.
Less polite. More clear.
Freja finally closed her laptop, glancing between them.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, breaking the tension.
Emma nodded. “Sure.”
Freja stood, heading toward the kitchen.
Y/N stayed where she was.
Calm. Still. Unbothered on the surface.
Emma glanced at her again.
Studying. Measuring.
Whatever she’d come in trying to do hadn’t landed the way she expected or wanted.
That was obvious the second Y/N glanced at her again and said, “By the way, whatever angle you were going for was sloppy. I knew from the second you walked in that this was some insecure talk you felt the need to have. Jolly doesn’t let anyone he’s dating come near this house without him. Even if they might become serious,” she looked back at her phone as a message popped up. “So, I’d hope, if I were you, that he doesn’t find out you disrespected a boundary he put in place before he left. Because I’d bet my house he told you to wait until he got home.”
That settled somewhere uncomfortable under Emma’s skin. She clearly underestimated just how well this girl knew Jolly and why Jolly didn’t want her near Y/N.
Writing besties, have you ever looked back on writing you started with and then look at your writing now and want to rewrite older stuff? I’m almost done with ‘Coffee Cups and Stage Lights’ and part of me wants to rewrite ‘Just Pretend’ because I feel my writing is so much better. It’s quite an epidemic 💀
The night before they were set to leave should’ve felt like every other send-off they’d ever had.
Loud. Full. Easy.
It looked like it from the outside.
Music drifted through the house and out into the backyard, bass low enough to let conversations carry but steady enough to keep everything feeling alive. People moved in and out of rooms, laughter overlapping, drinks passed around, someone arguing over a playlist near the speakers. Mr. and Mrs. Karlsson were in their element: hosting, talking, making sure no one’s cup stayed empty too long.
On the surface, it was exactly what it always was.
But something was off.
Everyone could feel it in small, quiet ways.
A pause that lingered too long. A glance that didn’t quite land. A space that wasn’t being filled the way it usually was.
Jolly felt it the most.
He leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter, nursing a drink he hadn’t really touched, his eyes scanning the room without actually seeing anything in it.
Too loud. Too crowded. Too much.
And still not fucking enough.
Because someone was missing, and it was getting under his skin in a way he couldn’t shake. No matter how hard he tried to bury it.
Folio walked past him, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “You good?”
Jolly nodded immediately. “Yeah.”
Folio gave him a look. The kind that said I don’t believe you, but I’m not going to push it right now.
“Alright,” he said, moving on.
Jolly exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck before pushing himself off the counter and heading toward the back door.
Outside felt marginally better.
More space. Cooler air. Less noise, though not by much.
Noah was mid-story, hands moving animatedly as a small group listened, laughing at something he’d just said. Nicholas sat nearby, half-listening, half-watching everything around him like he always did.
Jolly dropped into a chair near them, leaning back, stretching his legs out like he was trying to convince himself he could relax.
He couldn’t.
His eyes flicked to Nicholas, then away, then back again.
Nicholas hadn’t said anything. Not a single fucking word.
It was driving him insane.
He could ask. He should ask if he was being honest with himself.
But the mood he’d been in the last few days?
Yeah—no.
That conversation would go sideways so fast, and he knew it.
So instead, he sat there letting it eat at him.
Like an idiot.
Because that was apparently his brand lately.
Noah glanced over at him mid-laugh. “You look like you’re thinking too hard.”
Jolly huffed faintly. “I’m not.”
“Bullshit,” Noah said easily. “You’ve had that face all night.”
“What face?”
“The ‘I’m absolutely not overthinking something, but I definitely am’ face.”
Nicholas snorted quietly under his breath.
Jolly shot him a look. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Nicholas replied calmly.
“Yeah, but you thought it,” Jolly muttered.
Nicholas smirked faintly but didn’t argue.
Noah leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “You’re just mad because I’m right.”
Jolly rolled his eyes. “You’re always convinced you’re right.”
“Because I usually am.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Not really.”
Folio chuckled from across the fire pit. “This is comforting. Nothing’s changed.”
Jolly forced a small smile at that.
But it didn’t stick.
Because even in the middle of all this, something still felt off, and not once did it let up.
The night wore on.
People moved in and out. Music shifted. The energy dipped and rose again.
And still that space stayed empty.
Jolly found himself checking the gate more than once.
Not obviously. Not enough for anyone to call him out on it. But enough that he noticed it himself.
Which only made it worse, because he knew why she wasn’t here.
His mom had told him.
Space. Time. Distance.
All the things he’d apparently needed.
Allegedly.
And now that he had them, he hated it. Of course he did.
Because nothing about this made sense in his head anymore.
He pushed off the chair again, heading back inside this time, weaving through people until he landed in the living room.
Quieter. Dimmer.
A couple people sat on the couch, talking low, someone flipping through songs on their phone.
Jolly sank into the arm of a chair, running a hand over his face.
“…Get it together,” he muttered under his breath.
Because he had a system, a way of handling things.
Compartmentalize. Box it up. Ignore it.
And he was doing a fantastic job of it.
Until he wasn’t.
Out back, the night was starting to wind down more. Not over, but shifting toward it.
People settling. Energy softening.
And then the gate clicked.
It was subtle. almost easy to miss.
But Noah didn’t.
His head snapped toward it instantly, and then his entire face lit up.
“Y/N!” He was out of his chair before anyone else even processed it, crossing the yard in two quick strides. “I thought you weren’t coming,” he said, pulling her into a quick hug.
Y/N smiled, small but real, returning it easily. “I’m literally just popping in real fast,” she said. “I just wanted to say bye to you guys.”
Noah pulled back, looking at her. “You almost didn’t come at all?”
She shrugged lightly. “I wasn't, but didn’t feel right not to at least come say bye.”
Folio stood next, giving her a small, warm smile before pulling her into a brief hug. “Glad you did.”
“Me too,” she said.
Nicholas was already on his feet, stepping toward her. He didn’t say anything at first, just pulled her into a hug, one hand resting briefly at the back of her head.
Then, quieter, “You okay?”
Y/N nodded against him. “Yeah.”
He pulled back slightly, searching her face.
“Just stopped by after closing the shop,” she added. “Figured I’d make an appearance before disappearing again.”
Nicholas huffed faintly. “Disappearing?”
“Temporarily,” she corrected.
He studied her for another second. Then nodded. “Alright.”
“I’m heading home after this,” she continued. “Gonna make food. Freja’s coming over, we’re doing a sleepover.”
Nicholas laughed softly. “Chaos and bad decisions.”
Y/N grinned. “Always.”
Noah leaned in slightly. “Please tell me that involves junk food and terrible movies.”
“Obviously,” she said.
“Good.”
She glanced between them all, her smile softening just slightly.
“Be safe,” she said. “All of you.”
Noah saluted lazily. “Always.”
“You better bring me something good back,” she added, pointing between them.
Folio nodded. “We’ll see what we can do.”
Noah grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. East coast snacks.”
Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “I’m holding you to that.”
“Please do.”
There was a small pause. Just long enough to feel it.
“I should go,” she said quietly.
Nicholas nodded. “Text when you get home.”
“I will.”
She turned, heading toward the house.
Just like that, the space she’d filled for those few minutes started to close again.
But it wasn’t the same as before, because now Jolly knew she was here. He could feel it before he even saw her.
He was still in the living room when she came through.
He didn’t see her right away. He was too lost in his thoughts while staring at the rug as if it insulted his mother.
“There you are, Jollybean.”
His entire body stilled. He turned, and there she was.
Standing a few feet away, keys in hand, jacket half-zipped, like she really had just stopped in for a minute.
He froze for half a second longer than he meant to. “…Wasn’t expecting you to show,” he said finally.
She shrugged lightly. “Closed the shop. Figured I’d swing by, say bye.” Her tone was easy. Normal. Like nothing had changed. Like the last week hadn’t existed. “I’m heading home,” she added. “Making food before Freja comes over.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
And then nothing.
The air between them sat heavy. Different. Unfamiliar. Nothing that had ever sat between them before.
He looked like he wanted to say something.
Anything.
But whatever it was, it didn’t come out because she smiled.
Soft. Gentle. And said, “Well… I need to get going.”
He swallowed.
“Be safe out there,” she added. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
A faint huff of a laugh left him. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll try.”
She nodded once and then she turned and walked out. The door closing behind her.
And just like that, she was gone.
Again.
This time, though, it didn’t feel like space. It felt like a distance he couldn’t close.
They felt like something you moved through without really being in them.
For Y/N, it was routine on autopilot.
Wake up. Go to the shop. Work. Smile when needed. Focus on lines, shading, clients, anything that required just enough attention to keep her brain from wandering somewhere it shouldn’t. Close up. Go home. Or meet Freja. Or sit in silence and stare at the ceiling until sleep finally came.
One other thing stayed consistent; she avoided the Karlsson house like it was off-limits.
Not out of anger. Not even out of hurt, not directly.
Just giving space.
The kind Mrs. Karlsson had told her he needed. The kind she knew she needed too, even if she didn’t say it out loud.
Freja noticed.
“You’re really not coming over at all?” Freja asked one afternoon, the two of them walking side by side after grabbing coffee.
Y/N shrugged lightly, keeping her eyes forward. “Not right now.”
Freja studied her. “Because of him?”
Y/N huffed quietly. “Because of everything.”
Freja nodded slowly. “Fair.”
Y/N glanced at her. “Your mom said he needed space.”
“And you’re giving it,” Freja said.
“Yeah.”
Freja bumped her shoulder lightly. “That’s very mature of you.”
Y/N snorted. “Don’t get used to it.”
But even in the joke, there was truth.
Because it wasn’t easy, not knowing what he was doing. Not knowing what he was thinking. Not seeing him at all.
And maybe worst of all? Not being able to act like everything was normal.
Because it wasn’t.
Not anymore.
Jolly, on the other hand, was handling it in the worst possible way.
Which, unfortunately, was very on brand for him.
Because if you asked anyone on the outside? Nothing had changed.
He still showed up. Still practiced with the guys. Still laughed when he needed to. Still texted.
Still… saw Emma.
Because what was he?
An absolute fucking idiot who had the emotional awareness the size of a grain of table salt.
He sat across from her now, the low hum of the café around them blending into background noise as Emma rested her chin in her hand, watching him with a small, expectant smile.
“I just think it makes sense,” she said.
Jolly leaned back slightly in his chair, one hand loosely wrapped around his drink. “Makes sense how?” he asked.
Emma tilted her head. “You’re going to be gone for, what… a month and a half?”
“About that,” he said.
She nodded. “Okay, so—while you’re gone, I’m just… here?”
Jolly frowned slightly. “Yeah… that’s kind of how distance works.”
Emma smiled faintly, but there was an edge to it. “You’re funny.”
He didn’t smile back.
“I’m serious,” she said. “It seems only fair that I have some kind of support system while you’re away.”
Jolly’s brows pulled together. “Support system?”
“Yeah,” she said, like it was obvious. “Your family. Your people.”
He blinked once. Then leaned back a little more, taking a slow sip of his drink before answering. “Emma,” he said carefully, “we’ve been talking for, like, a couple weeks.”
She didn’t move.
“That’s moving a little faster than I’m comfortable with,” he finished.
Emma tilted her head again, studying him.
“I think you’re overthinking it,” she said.
Jolly shook his head. “I’m not.”
“You are,” she insisted. “Meeting your family isn’t some massive commitment.”
“For me, it is,” he replied.
Emma sighed softly, leaning back in her chair now. “You’re making it a bigger deal than it needs to be.”
Jolly ran a hand down his face, frustration starting to creep in. “I don’t move fast,” he said. “I never have.”
Emma crossed her arms loosely. “People change.”
“I don’t,” he said simply.
Silence sat between them for a second.
“Meeting my parents this early,” he added, “isn’t something I’m ready for.”
Emma’s lips pressed together. “I’d happily take you to meet mine,” she shot back.
Jolly looked at her. “I don’t want to meet them yet,” he said.
That stopped her.
“We’re still in the talking stage,” he added.
Emma leaned back fully now, her posture shifting, less relaxed, more closed off.
“This is ridiculous,” she said.
Jolly let out a slow breath through his nose.
“It’s not,” he said. “You just don’t like the answer.”
She stared at him. Then looked away.
“Fine,” she muttered.
A beat passed.
Then, “Can I meet them when you get back?” she asked.
Jolly hesitated. Not long. But enough.
“…Eventually,” he said.
Emma’s eyes flicked back to him immediately. “Eventually?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s not an answer,” she said.
“It is,” he replied. “You just want a timeline.”
She scoffed. “Because I’m trying to figure out where I stand.”
Jolly’s jaw tightened slightly. “I’m making sure this is a good fit,” he said. “With the career I have.”
Emma’s brows pulled together. “What does that even mean?”
“It means,” he said, leaning forward slightly now, his tone more serious, “relationships aren’t easy with what I do.”
Emma watched him carefully.
“I’m gone a lot,” he continued. “Touring, recording, traveling, it’s not a normal schedule.”
“I know that,” she said.
“Knowing it and living it are two different things,” he replied.
She didn’t argue that.
“And it’s not just me,” he added.
Emma frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Elias,” he said.
She blinked. “Your little brother?”
“Yeah,” Jolly said. “He gets attached easily.”
Emma’s expression softened slightly. “Okay…”
“So that’s a factor,” Jolly continued. “I don’t bring people around him unless I know they’re going to stick.”
Emma nodded slowly.
“Then there’s Freja,” he added.
Emma huffed faintly. “I’ve heard about her.”
Jolly almost smiled.
“She’s… protective,” he said.
“Of you?” Emma asked.
“Of everyone she cares about,” he corrected.
Emma leaned back again, absorbing that.
“And with her,” Jolly added, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful, “comes Y/N.”
Emma’s expression shifted slightly.
“I’ve heard that name too,” she said.
Jolly’s jaw tightened just a fraction.
“She’s… a lot,” he said.
Emma raised a brow. “A lot how?”
Jolly hesitated. Because he didn’t know how to answer that in a way that didn’t unravel something he was barely holding together.
“She’s just—” he started, then stopped, shaking his head slightly. “She’s her own thing.”
Emma studied him.
“That doesn’t really explain anything,” she said.
Jolly exhaled quietly. “It means there are stages,” he said instead.
Emma leaned forward slightly. “Stages?”
“Yeah,” he said. “You don’t just… jump into everything all at once.”
Emma sat back again, clearly not satisfied. “So I’m what?” she asked. “Stage one?”
Jolly frowned. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“It kind of is,” she said.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m saying I take my time.”
Emma looked at him for a long second, then asked, “Do you even want this to go somewhere?”
That question sat heavier than the rest, because for the first time, Jolly didn’t have an immediate answer.
Besties, I hope you're all doing wonderful! This week was even more exhausting than I thought it would be. I would have definitely queued more had I known. Went to Ohio last week to see Arankai (100/10), then my oldest had 2 band concerts for school, on top of that I went to see Cradle of Filth Tuesday and Black Veil Brides Friday. Yesterday was functioning on caffeine and sheer will power to edit photos for my photography page. Today is caffeine and my adhd meds and the actual will to edit my writing. 🖤🖤
The kitchen had gone quiet in a way that didn’t sit right.
Not peaceful. Not calm.
Just waiting. Waiting so heavy that the air felt thin.
Jolly stood in the middle of it, arms crossed, then uncrossed, then crossed again, like he couldn’t decide what to do with himself. His eyes kept drifting toward the hallway, toward the back door, like if he looked long enough, something would change.
It didn’t.
He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once more before stopping short, frustration simmering just under the surface.
Finally, he looked at his mom.
“…Can I go out there yet?”
The question came out tighter than he meant it to.
Her answer didn’t waver.
“No.”
Immediate. Flat. Final.
Jolly let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Why?”
She sighed, and this time there was no patience left in it; just a quiet, tired edge like she’d already said everything that needed saying and he just wasn’t catching up.
“Because,” she said, turning to face him fully, “she didn’t come in and get you.”
Jolly frowned, jaw tightening. “So?”
“So,” she repeated, slower this time, “no one has come in to say she wants to see you.”
He scoffed. “That doesn’t mean—”
“It means exactly what it means,” she cut in. Her voice wasn’t raised, but it didn’t need to be. “It tells me,” she continued, “that either she isn’t ready to see you… or she doesn’t want to.”
Jolly’s hands clenched immediately, fingers curling into fists so tight his knuckles blanched white.
“That’s bullshit,” he snapped.
“Is it?” she asked calmly.
He turned away, pacing again, faster this time.
“This is absolute bullshit,” he muttered, more to himself now, like if he said it enough, it would make the situation make sense.
His mom didn’t move. She just watched him.
Watched the pacing. Watched the frustration bleed into something heavier. Watched the exact moment it started to wear on him.
Jolly slowed, stopped, then ran both hands over his face, exhaling hard before dropping into one of the kitchen chairs like his legs finally gave up arguing with the rest of him.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, head dropping into his hands.
Silence stretched.
His mom’s eyes softened slightly as she watched him like that; less fight, more… something else creeping in.
She glanced once toward the back door, then back to him, and finally moved. She walked around the table and sat across from him, folding her hands loosely in front of her.
“You need to figure yourself out,” she said quietly.
Jolly didn’t move. Didn’t respond. Barely even acknowledged.
“Before you see her again.”
That got him.
Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at her.
There was no fire in it this time.
Just confusion, frustration, and something he didn’t quite have a name for yet.
“What does that even mean?” he asked.
“It means,” she said, steady and clear, “you can’t keep playing this game.”
His brows pulled together. “What game?”
“This one,” she said, gesturing vaguely between him and the back door. “Dancing around her. Acting one way, then pulling back the second something else catches your attention.”
Jolly shook his head. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“It is,” she said firmly. “And you don’t get to be upset about how she responds to that,” she added.
Jolly leaned back in his chair slightly, scoffing under his breath. “I’m not upset.”
She raised a brow.
He looked away. “…I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”
“No,” she said. “You’re trying to understand why it doesn’t feel the way you expect it to.”
“Those are her choices,” she continued. “And you need to respect them.”
Jolly’s jaw tightened again.
“Just like she’s respecting yours,” she added.
His eyes flicked back to her. “What choices?” he asked.
She held his gaze. “The choice you made,” she said, “to talk to someone else.”
Jolly frowned. “That’s not—”
“A grown choice,” she cut in. “Whether you think it’s serious or not.”
He exhaled sharply. “It’s not serious.”
“That doesn’t mean the other person sees it that way,” she replied.
That made him pause. “…What?”
She tilted her head slightly. “Does this girl think it’s not serious?”
Jolly hesitated, then shrugged. “We haven’t really talked about it.”
She nodded slowly. “Of course you haven’t.”
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” she said, “you’re making decisions that affect more than just you… without actually considering the impact.”
Jolly leaned back again, frustration creeping in. “I’m not—”
“You are,” she said. “Whether you realize it or not.”
He looked down at the table. At his hands. At the faint white of his knuckles, where the tension still hadn’t fully released.
“Jolly,” she said, softer now.
He didn’t look up.
“What are you doing?”
The question wasn’t sharp. Wasn’t accusatory.
Somehow, that made it harder to answer.
Because honestly, he didn’t have one. Not a good one at least. Not one that explained why everything felt off.
Why seeing her with Nicholas hit the way it did. Why hearing his mom say those things made something twist in his chest.
He swallowed but stayed quiet. Which told her everything she needed to know.
She let out a quiet breath. “Because if this,” she said, gesturing toward the door again, “is your way of not losing her—”
Jolly stilled completely.
“You already are.”
The words didn’t come out loud. But they landed like they did.
He froze. His eyes flicked up to her.
“What?” he asked.
“It may not be fast,” she said. “It may not be sudden.” Her voice stayed calm. “But she’s not going to wait around forever.”
Jolly’s chest tightened.
“Waiting for you to figure your shit out,” she added.
He looked away again because that felt too close to something he didn’t want to admit.
“And it’s wrong for you to expect her to,” she finished.
Silence settled again.
Deeper this time.
Jolly leaned back in his chair slowly, his hands dropping into his lap.
“…I’m not expecting anything,” he muttered.
His mom didn’t argue.
She just watched him because she knew better.
He might not be consciously expecting it. But something in him had been relying on it. Counting on it.
And now? That certainty was gone.
She let a few seconds pass before speaking again. “You leave for tour in less than a week,” she said.
Jolly didn’t respond. He just stared at the table.
“You need to use that time,” she continued, “to figure out what you actually want.”
He exhaled slowly.
“And when you come back,” she added, “you need to know where you stand.”
Another pause.
“Use the distance,” she said. “Let it breathe.”
Jolly finally looked up again. There was something different in his expression now.
Less defensive. More unsettled.
Like things were starting to shift, whether he wanted them to or not.
His mom stood and walked toward the back door, her hand resting on the handle for a second before she looked back at him. Not with frustration. Not with anger. Just a quiet kind of understanding that only a mother could have.
Then she opened it, stepped outside, and closed it behind her.
Leaving him alone in the kitchen with nothing but the silence and his own thoughts to finally catch up to him.
“I didn’t want to see you or Jolly disappointed in me,” Y/N added quickly.
Freja crossed her arms loosely. “So you called him instead.”
Y/N nodded.
Freja shook her head slowly, somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Of course you did.”
“That man deserves a fucking medal,” Y/N said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “For the drunk episodes alone.”
Freja narrowed her eyes slightly. “How bad are we talking?”
Y/N hesitated.
Freja’s eyebrow lifted higher.
“…Let’s just say,” Y/N muttered, “he’s seen more of me than either of us would like to ever acknowledge.”
Freja blinked. “…What?”
Y/N rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact. “He’s had to help me get dressed a few times and put me in bed.”
Freja’s eyes widened. “Y/N—”
“I know,” Y/N cut in quickly. “I know.”
Freja stared at her, processing.
“But I was too embarrassed to face you,” Y/N said. “Or Jolly.”
Freja’s expression softened slightly.
“Especially Jolly,” Y/N admitted.
That part didn’t surprise her.
“It was my way of coping,” Y/N said quietly. “When he was with someone. Just stole shit out of my parents' stash.”
Freja exhaled slowly.
“Yeah,” she said. “Okay… that makes sense.”
Y/N gave a small, tired shrug.
“How was I supposed to explain why I was trashed on a Tuesday,” she added, “when I had work the next morning?”
Freja huffed. “Fair.”
“And not lie about it,” Y/N said. “Because you’d know.”
“I would,” Freja nodded again, glancing back toward Nicholas.
Y/N smiled faintly.
“He’s always been patient with me,” she said. Her voice softened again, more sincere now. “With all of it.”
Freja listened closely.
“On top of opening his shop,” Y/N continued. “Teaching me. Tutoring me.”
Freja smiled. “He did do all of that.”
“Believing in me when I didn’t,” Y/N added before she paused. “The only reason I stopped drinking the way I did,” she said, “was because of him.”
Freja tilted her head. “Oh?”
Y/N nodded. “He played the tough love card,” she said.
Freja’s eyes flicked back to Nicholas.
Y/N let out a small breath. “He told me if I didn’t get my shit together,” she said, her voice steady, “he was done.”
Freja blinked. “Done?”
“With all of it,” Y/N confirmed. “Helping me. Teaching me. Letting me run the shop.”
Freja leaned back slightly. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” Y/N said softly. “But it worked.”
Freja studied her.
“It scared me enough to fix it,” Y/N admitted. “And I’m grateful for it.”
She glanced toward Nicholas again.
“He’s a great man,” she said without hesitation. “Don’t get me wrong,” she added. “But I could never see him as anything more than a brother.”
Freja let out a quiet breath.
“Okay,” she said. “That makes sense.”
Y/N huffed faintly.
“Plus,” she added, a hint of teasing slipping back into her tone, “I’m pretty sure he’s got his eye on one of his regulars anyway.”
Freja’s interest sparked immediately. “Oh?”
Y/N smirked just slightly. “Yeah.”
Freja glanced toward the fire pit again, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to figure out who. As if she’s there enough to even have a clue.
“Now I need details,” she said.
Y/N laughed softly. “Focus,” she said.
Freja sighed dramatically. “Fine. But we’re coming back to that.”
Y/N shook her head, smiling just a little more than before.
Freja’s eyes then drifted toward the back door, her expression shifting slightly as reality started creeping back in.
“He’s probably home,” she said.
Y/N nodded, following her gaze for a second before looking back down at her hands.
“Probably.”
Freja tilted her head slightly. “I’m honestly surprised he didn’t come out the second he saw Nick’s car.”
Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“That’s because I asked your mom not to let him.”
Freja blinked. “You did?”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I needed to talk to you.”
Freja let out a soft breath, shaking her head with a faint, knowing smile. “What’d she say?” Freja asked.
Y/N leaned her head back slightly, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as she replayed it.
“That he’s not thinking right now,” she said.
Freja huffed faintly. “That’s evident.”
“She said she’s watched us dance around each other for years,” Y/N added quietly. “And never actually do anything about it.”
Freja’s expression softened again.
“And she told me I’d be fine,” Y/N continued. “That I should come talk to you.”
A small pause.
“And that she’d handle him if he got home while I was here.”
Freja nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “Jolly is definitely in that kitchen, losing his ever-loving mind right now.”
Y/N exhaled through her nose, a tired kind of humor in it. “Probably.”
Freja looked back at her, studying her face a little more closely now.
“You gonna go in and say anything?”
Y/N didn’t answer right away.
She thought about it. Her eyes drifted back toward the house, toward the door, like she could see straight through it to where he was standing.
Then she shook her head.
“No.”
Freja didn’t push immediately. “No?”
Y/N let out a slow breath. “Saying anything right now won’t change anything,” she said.
Her voice was steady again but quieter.
“I know him,” she added.
Freja watched her carefully.
“He’ll deflect,” Y/N continued. “Get defensive. Act like he has no idea what I’m talking about.”
Freja’s lips pressed together slightly.
“Even when it’s obvious,” Y/N said. “Even when everyone around us can see it.”
Then Y/N’s gaze dropped again, her fingers fidgeting slightly in her lap. “And after saying all of that out loud…” she admitted, softer now, “I’m not ready to face him today.”
Freja’s expression softened immediately.
Y/N swallowed. “No matter how bad I want to.”
That part came out almost like a confession.
Freja nodded slowly, understanding settling in without hesitation. “That’s fair,” she said gently.
Y/N glanced up at her, a flicker of relief passing through her expression.
“You don’t have to do everything tonight,” Freja added. “You already did the hardest part anyhow.”
Y/N huffed faintly. “Debatable.”
“No,” Freja said, shaking her head. “Telling me? That was the hardest part.”
Y/N thought about that, then nodded slightly.
“Yeah,” she admitted.
Freja nudged her shoulder lightly. “You’ll talk to him when you’re ready.”
Y/N let out a quiet breath. “I know.”
“And if he acts like an idiot,” Freja added, a small edge creeping back into her tone, “I reserve the right to step in.”
Y/N snorted. “You always do.”
“Damn right.”
They sat there for another second, both of them glancing toward the house again.
Freja bumped her shoulder again, softer this time. “You wanna stay out here a little longer?” she asked.
Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”
Freja smiled faintly. “Good.”
Neither of them moved yet.
Out by the fire pit, the air felt different from the porch.
Quieter in a more controlled way. Less emotional, more observant.
Folio leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes drifting between Freja and Y/N as they sat close together, talking low.
“…You think she’s okay?” he asked.
Nicholas didn’t answer right away. He was watching her.
Really watching her, the way her shoulders had finally dropped, the way her posture wasn’t braced like it had been earlier, the way she leaned into Freja without holding anything back.
“I think she will be,” he said finally.
Folio nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
A beat passed.
“You think Jolly knows she’s here?”
Nicholas let out a quiet breath through his nose. “Absolutely.”
Folio glanced toward the house. “And he’s just… not coming out?”
Nicholas’s mouth twitched faintly. “His mom’s not letting him.”
Folio blinked. “Seriously?”
“Y/N asked her to keep him inside,” Nicholas said.
Folio hummed under his breath, leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “Think he’s stewing?”
Nicholas didn’t even hesitate. “One can only hope.”
There was something under that. Folio caught it immediately.
He turned his head slightly, studying him. “Everything good?”
Nicholas shrugged. “Depends on your definition.”
Folio raised a brow. “That sounds like a no.”
Nicholas glanced back toward the porch for a second, then back at the fire pit. “He saw me earlier,” he said.
Folio frowned. “Saw you?”
Nicholas nodded. “When he was walking past the shop.”
A beat.
“Holding her.”
Folio’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”
“Not like that,” Nicholas said immediately.
Folio held up a hand. “I didn’t say anything.”
Nicholas huffed quietly. “Yeah, well, your face did.”
Folio smirked faintly. “The face not using its inside voice strikes again.”
Nicholas leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees.
“She’s been pretending she’s okay since Saturday,” he said.
Folio’s expression shifted.
“Running herself ragged,” Nicholas continued. “Not sitting still. Not stopping for a second.”
Folio nodded slowly. “That sounds right for her.”
“She cleaned the same spot on the reception desk three times today,” Nicholas added.
Folio let out a quiet breath. “Jesus.”
“I took the rag from her,” Nicholas said. “Told her to stop.”
Folio glanced at him. “And?”
Nicholas shook his head slightly. “She snapped at me.”
“Of course she did.”
“Said if she stopped,” Nicholas went on, “she’d think.”
“What’d you say?” Folio asked.
Nicholas let out a short breath. “I told her to fucking think then.”
Folio blinked. “You told her to—”
“I told her,” Nicholas cut in, “to think. Or do something. Because I was done watching her pretend she was fine when she clearly wasn’t.”
Folio studied him for a second.
“That’s… blunt.”
“It worked.”
“How fast?”
Nicholas didn’t even need to think.
“Ten seconds,” he said. “If that.”
Folio exhaled slowly.
“The signs hit almost immediately,” Nicholas added. “She couldn’t hold it in anymore.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“She was in tears before my arms were even fully around her.”
Folio looked back toward the porch again, watching Y/N carefully. “She needed it,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” Nicholas replied. “But from his perspective?”
Folio glanced back at him.
“It probably looked very different.”
Folio nodded slowly. “Yeah… I can see that.”
Nicholas’s jaw flexed again. “Which is his own fault,” he said flatly, “if he jumps to conclusions at this point.”
Folio didn’t argue that.
“And if he’s pissed,” Nicholas continued, tone sharpening just slightly, “that’s bold.”
Folio huffed faintly. “Bold?”
“Ballsy,” Nicholas corrected himself. “For someone who’s currently talking to an old fling from high school.”
Folio let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” Nicholas said.
Silence settled between them again for a moment.
Folio leaned back slightly, arms crossing loosely. “You think he realizes what he’s doing?” he asked.
Nicholas didn’t answer right away. He looked toward the house, then back at Y/N, then down at the ground.
“No,” he said finally.
Folio nodded.
“Not yet, anyhow.”
“And when he does?” Folio asked.
Nicholas huffed quietly, a humorless edge to it.
“I’m sure it’s going to be a problem.”
Folio let out a breath.
They both looked back toward the porch again, where Y/N and Freja sat close together.
Folio glanced down at his phone, thumb idly tapping the edge of the screen. The date in the corner caught his attention longer than it should have.
“…Shit,” he muttered.
Nicholas glanced over briefly. “What?”
Folio tilted the phone slightly toward him. “We leave in like a week.”
Folio looked back up, his expression more serious now. “What are you gonna do if this isn’t fixed by then?”
Nicholas didn’t answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the porch again, toward Y/N, toward the quiet space she was finally settling into after days of holding herself together by hardly a thread.
Then he shrugged.
“He’s the one with the problem with the situation,” he said bluntly. “Not me.”
Folio studied him. “That’s one way to look at it.”
“It’s the accurate way,” Nicholas replied.
Folio leaned forward slightly. “Yeah, but you know that doesn’t mean it won’t affect everything.”
Nicholas nodded. “I know, but that’s a later problem.”
“That is my now problem,” Nicholas said after a second, nodding subtly toward the porch.
Folio followed the motion.
“Making sure she’s okay before we leave.”
The statement was simple, clear, and non-negotiable.
Folio nodded slowly. “Fair.”
“And the later problem during tour?” he asked.
Nicholas let out a quiet breath, rolling his shoulders once like he was already bracing for it.
“Well,” he said, tone even but edged just enough to show he’d already thought this through, “he’s the one choosing how I act around him.”
Folio raised a brow. “Meaning?”
Nicholas glanced at him. “I’m not the keeper of other people’s feelings and stupidity.”
Folio huffed faintly. “That’s… direct.”
“It’s the truth,” Nicholas said. “I love him,” he added, quieter now but just as firm. “I really do.”
Folio nodded. He knew that. They all did.
“But in this situation?” Nicholas continued as his gaze shifted back to Y/N. “I choose her.”
No hesitation.
No conflict.
Just… fact.
Folio leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah, I figured.”
Nicholas ran a hand over the back of his neck, tension settling in now; not from doubt, but from knowing what that choice meant. “If he wants to make it a thing,” Nicholas added, “that’s on him. I’ll match his energy each day.”
Folio tilted his head. “And if he doesn’t make it a thing?”
“You think he’s capable of that right now?” Folio asked.
Nicholas didn’t answer immediately. He looked toward the house. Toward the door that hadn’t opened. Then back at the porch.
“…No,” he said honestly. “I don’t think he’s capable of not making it a thing.”
Folio nodded. “Yeah. Same.”
Another quiet stretch passed.
The kind where both of them were thinking about the same thing but not saying it out loud: the tour, close quarters, no space to avoid each other if things went sideways.
Folio rubbed his hands together lightly. “This is gonna get messy.”
Nicholas huffed. “It already is.”
“True.”
They both glanced toward Y/N again.
She was still sitting there. Still talking. Still holding it together better than she had been.
Folio’s expression softened slightly. “At least she’s not dealing with it alone anymore.”
Nicholas nodded once. “Yeah.”
That mattered more than anything else right now to him. Not the tour. Not Jolly. Not whatever bullshit tension was waiting on the other side of that back door.
Just her, and making damn sure she didn’t fall apart again before they even got on the road.
Y/N’s breathing had finally evened out, her body no longer shaking with every inhale. The tears had slowed, then stopped, leaving behind that raw, exhausted stillness that came after everything spilled out at once.
Freja still held her.
One arm wrapped firmly around her back, the other resting at the base of her neck, fingers absently brushing through her hair like she had when they were kids.
“I love you,” Freja said softly. “You know that, right?”
Y/N nodded against her shoulder. “I know.”
Freja pulled back just enough to look at her, her hands coming up to gently wipe away the last remnants of tears still clinging to Y/N’s cheeks.
“I’m so sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me that,” she said.
Y/N swallowed, shaking her head slightly. “It’s not that you made me feel like I couldn’t.”
Freja watched her carefully.
“It’s more…” Y/N hesitated, searching for the right way to say it. “A rule I made for myself.”
Freja’s brows pulled together.
“One I refused to cross,” Y/N finished quietly.
Freja’s gaze drifted briefly toward the yard, where Nicholas and Folio sat by the fire pit, giving them space without straying too far.
Then she looked back at her.
“I’d be a hypocrite,” Freja said slowly, “if I got even remotely upset at you for loving Jolly.”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard by that.
“What?”
Freja huffed a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.
“I’m in love with one of his best friends,” she said.
Y/N’s eyes widened slightly.
“I have been for a while,” Freja added. “Not as long as you’ve loved Jolly—but still.”
There was a quiet pause.
“And he loves me back,” she said.
Y/N’s expression softened.
“And he never once cared about the consequences,” Freja continued, her voice steady but honest. “Or the what-ifs. Or what could go wrong.”
Her eyes locked onto Y/N’s.
“The fact that you’ve been carrying all of this for so long,” she said, quieter now, “because you chose me first?”
Her throat tightened.
“That kills me, Y/N. It really does.”
Y/N looked at her, something soft and conflicted flickering across her face.
“I definitely can’t ever question your friendship,” Freja added, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “That’s for sure.”
Y/N huffed quietly, a faint crack of something lighter slipping through as a very small smile tried to form.
“But I mean it,” Freja said gently. “I never would’ve asked you to give up someone that makes you happy.”
Y/N’s smile faltered slightly at that.
“Unless it was Folio,” Freja added quickly, her tone shifting just enough to cut through the heaviness. “That’s where I draw the line.”
Y/N blinked. Then laughed. A real laugh. “Jesus Christ, Frej.”
Freja grinned. “Hey. It got you to laugh.”
Y/N shook her head, wiping at her face again, though this time it wasn’t tears. “You’re an asshole.”
Freja nodded proudly. “Absolutely.” Then softened. “But I’m your asshole.”
Y/N snorted faintly.
“I have been since my first day of third grade,” Freja continued, “when you walked up to me and asked if I wanted to be friends.”
“After you absolutely insulted me,” she added.
Y/N laughed again, the sound lighter now. “I said your name was weird.”
“You did,” Freja said.
“And I reassured you I liked weird,” Y/N added, a hint of her usual tone creeping back in.
Freja laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, and after growing up with you and seeing you damn near every day for the last thirteen years—” She pointed at her. “—if I could go back, I’d tell my younger self, ‘no shit, because she’s weird as fuck.’”
Y/N laughed harder, the sound breaking through the last of the tension.
“And it never gets better,” Freja finished.
Y/N leaned into her again, bumping her shoulder lightly. “Rude.”
“Accurate.”
“Debatable.”
“Not even a little.”
They sat there for a second, both of them smiling now. The moment didn’t fix everything, but it made Y/N feel like she could survive it a little better.
Freja nudged her gently. “You okay?”
Y/N let out a slow breath. “I will be.”
Freja nodded. “Good.”
She shifted just enough to really look at Y/N again, her expression turning serious. “I wouldn’t change your weird self for anything in this world,” she said quietly.
Y/N’s small smile lingered, but it faltered at the edges.
“And if Jolly can’t see the amazing, most beautiful soul standing right in front of him,” Freja continued, her tone sharpening just slightly, “willing to give him the fucking world—”
She shook her head, a mix of frustration and disbelief crossing her face.
“Well,” she finished, “that’s his fucking problem.”
Y/N just stared at her for a second, then looked away, shrugging slightly like she didn’t quite know what to do with that. “It’s nothing special,” she said quietly.
Freja blinked. Then huffed out a short, incredulous breath.
“Nothing special?” she repeated. “Are you serious right now?”
Y/N just shrugged again, smaller this time. “It’s just… stuff.”
Freja stared at her like she’d just said the dumbest thing imaginable.
“Y/N,” she said, more firmly now.
Y/N glanced back at her.
“You’re there at the drop of a dime if he needs you,” Freja said.
She paused, thinking for a second, then let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.
“I really wasn’t reaching when I called you out.” Freja smiled. “It’s actually so fucking obvious.”
Y/N frowned faintly. “Frej—”
“No,” Freja cut in gently but firmly. “Listen.”
Y/N went quiet.
“You learned Swedish,” Freja said, holding her gaze, “from my dad.”
Y/N’s mouth twitched slightly.
“Just so you and Jolly could swear and insult each other in school,” Freja added.
Y/N huffed. “That was funny.”
“It was,” Freja agreed. “And then you kept going.”
Y/N stilled a little.
“You learned from my mom, too,” Freja continued. “So we could talk shit in the hallways without anyone knowing what we were saying.”
Y/N’s lips pressed together, but there was a faint hint of a smile still there.
“And,” Freja added, softer now, “so you could understand my family when they came to visit.”
Y/N’s eyes dropped.
“So you could actually talk to them,” Freja said. “Without needing one of us to translate everything.”
A beat.
“My aunt Sylvia fucking loves you, by the way.”
That pulled a real smile out of Y/N. “I love her,” she said quietly.
“I know,” Freja said.
She shifted slightly, still holding Y/N’s attention.
“You learned how to make his favorite meals,” she went on.
Y/N looked like she was about to brush it off again, but Freja didn’t let her.
“From my mom,” she said. “Those aren’t easy recipes.”
Y/N shrugged faintly. “They’re not that bad once you—”
“You stay up,” Freja cut in, her voice steady, breaking past Y/N trying to brush it off again, “the night he comes home from tour.”
Y/N went quiet.
“Every single time,” Freja said.
Y/N’s gaze dropped again.
“So that you can make one of those meals for him,” Freja continued, “because you know he hasn’t had a real home-cooked one the entire time he’s been gone.”
Silence.
“And somehow,” she added, a small shake of her head, “you always time it perfectly.”
Y/N’s throat tightened slightly.
“He walks in,” Freja said, “and there’s never been a time he’s had to wait more than five minutes.”
Y/N blinked hard.
“And you act like it’s nothing,” Freja finished.
Y/N exhaled quietly, shaking her head. “It’s just food.”
“It’s not just food,” Freja said immediately.
Another pause.
“You steal his hoodies,” Freja went on. “But you almost always wash them. Fold them. Give them back clean. Well… when you don’t accidentally leave them at my place before you can wash them.”
Y/N didn’t respond.
“And when he gets migraines?” Freja added.
Y/N stilled again.
“You stand behind him,” she said softly, “and rub his temples until it goes away.”
Y/N swallowed.
“Or at least dulls enough that he can function again,” Freja continued.
Y/N’s hands fidgeted slightly in her lap.
Freja leaned in just a little.
“You read him better than anyone I know,” she said.
Y/N shook her head faintly. “That’s not—”
“You know him,” Freja said quietly, “better than you know yourself sometimes.”
Y/N let out a shaky breath.
Because that one, she couldn’t argue.
Freja watched her for a second longer.
“And you’re sitting here telling me that’s ‘nothing special’?” she asked.
Her eyes stayed down, her thoughts turning over everything Freja had just said, things she’d never really looked at all at once like that before.
“It’s just… what I do,” she said finally, softer now.
Freja nodded.
“I know.”
Y/N glanced up at her.
“But that doesn’t make it small,” Freja added. “It just means that’s your love language.” Freja reached out, nudging her lightly. “You don’t get to downplay that,” she said.
Y/N huffed faintly. “I’m not trying to.”
“You are, though,” Freja said. “But I get why.”
Y/N looked at her.
“Because if you admit how much you do,” Freja said, “then you have to admit how much you feel.”
That landed.
Y/N looked away again.
“Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I do it because I love him.”
Her eyes then drifted past Freja, out into the yard where Nicholas and Folio sat near the fire pit, heads bent together over something on Folio’s phone. Their voices were low, easy, normal, like the world hadn’t shifted in the last hour.
“I’m actually jealous of you and Folio,” Y/N admitted.
Freja sighed softly but didn’t interrupt, letting her keep going.
“I’d give almost anything for Jolly to be that,” Y/N said, her voice steadier now but still holding weight.
She paused, watching the way Folio nudged Nicholas’s shoulder, both of them quietly laughing at whatever they were looking at.
“Maybe somewhere deep down, Jolly does feel the same,” she continued.
Freja’s eyes flicked to her, but she stayed quiet.
“But it doesn’t change anything,” Y/N said as her gaze dropped. “It doesn’t change the fact that if he does…” she exhaled, shaking her head slightly, “he won’t acknowledge it.”
Freja’s chest tightened.
“For whatever ten reasons he’d come up with,” Y/N added. Her voice softened. “It doesn’t change the fact that it’s never me he picks.”
Freja winced slightly at that.
“I’m never seen as anything but…” Y/N trailed off, a faint, sad smile tugging at her lips, “…your annoying best friend that’s always just there.” She huffed quietly. “Probably thinks I’ve made it my life’s mission to ruin his peace every chance I get.”
Freja shook her head immediately. “He doesn’t—”
“But really,” Y/N continued, cutting her off gently, “I just want him to notice me.”
A small smile crept onto her face despite everything.
“He wasn’t wrong, though,” she added. “When he said I peaked at like… ten on the annoyance scale and just committed.”
Freja snorted faintly through her emotions.
“At ten, I was doing it on purpose,” Y/N admitted. “Strictly to be fucking annoying because he reacted, and I thought it was funny.”
Freja laughed softly. “Yeah, that’s not surprising.”
“The other three weren’t as fun,” Y/N added, glancing back toward the yard. “Except Noah.”
Freja smiled. “Clearly.”
“He matched my energy like no other,” Y/N said, a small laugh breaking through. “It was chaos.”
They both laughed quietly at that.
“Folio?” Y/N continued. “He just… let me do my thing.”
Freja nodded. “Yeah, he does that.”
“Smiled at it,” Y/N said. “But never really reacted.”
Her gaze shifted again.
“And Nicholas…” she paused, her expression softening.
Freja watched her carefully.
“Since I was like nine,” Y/N said, “he’s been able to calm me down.”
Freja huffed faintly. “That man has the patience of a saint.”
“I have no idea how he managed it after knowing me for a year,” Y/N added. “But he did.”
She looked back out at him, her expression quiet. “And he hasn’t stopped.”
Freja nodded slowly. “He told me Saturday,” she said.
Y/N looked back at her.
“After you left,” Freja continued. “That he knew things I didn’t.”
Y/N’s brows lifted slightly.
“But he told me not to take it personally,” Freja added. “Said he learned early how to pull things out of you.”
Y/N huffed softly. “Yeah, he did.”
Freja nodded. “But he didn’t say a word. Not one.”
Y/N’s gaze dropped again and let out a small breath.
“He refused,” Freja continued. “Wouldn’t even give me a crumb of context when we were talking.”
Y/N smiled faintly, shaking her head.
“Just said you were… adjusting,” Freja added. “Because Jolly’s talking to someone.” She paused. “And that you were backing off.”
Y/N’s fingers curled slightly in her lap.
Freja glanced at her.
“That’s when it all clicked,” she said quietly.
Y/N looked up.
“I didn’t say anything,” Freja added. “I just… waited.” Her voice softened. “For you to be ready to finally tell me.”
Y/N swallowed, something in her chest tightening.
“Nick seriously wouldn’t comment on it at all,” Freja said. “No matter how much I tried.”
Y/N looked out toward him again.
Nicholas glanced up for half a second, like he felt it, their eyes meeting briefly before he gave her a small wave.
Y/N smiled then looked down at her hands.
“He’s always been my safe place,” she said quietly.
Freja didn’t interrupt.
“Especially when it came to Jolly.”
Freja’s expression softened.
“He probably knew before I did, if I’m being honest,” Y/N admitted.
Freja huffed softly. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“That’s why he didn’t say anything,” Y/N added. “When you tried to pull him into that conversation during my tattoo.”
Freja nodded slowly.
“Because he already knew the answer to the pieces you were trying to put together,” Y/N said.
There was a quiet moment.
“And he still chose to protect what you told him,” Freja said gently.
Y/N’s smile softened. “Yeah,” she said. “He always does. That’s why I trust him the way I do with my darkest secrets.”
Inside, the house felt quieter than it should have.
Mrs. Karlsson stood at the sink, her hands resting on the edge of it, fingers curled slightly against the cool surface. The faucet wasn’t running. The dishes weren’t moving. She wasn’t doing anything except standing there; still.
Listening.
Not on purpose. Never on purpose.
But when the window was open, and the backyard carried sound the way it did on quiet evenings… voices traveled.
And some things? Some things didn’t need to be loud to be heard.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as Y/N’s voice carried faintly through the air, broken in a way she had never heard before. Not from that girl. Not from the one who usually filled every room she stepped into with chaos and laughter.
“…seven years…”
Mrs. Karlsson closed her eyes briefly. “God. Y/N.”
She exhaled slowly, shaking her head to herself as she reached forward and shut the kitchen window; softly, carefully, like she could contain the weight of what she’d just heard just by closing it off.
The house fell back into silence that felt too heavy.
And then the front door opened. Closed. Then came the footsteps.
Familiar ones.
She straightened just slightly, wiping her hands on a dish towel that didn’t need it before turning as Jolly stepped into the doorway.
He paused there, glancing around like he was orienting himself. “Is Nick here?” he asked.
Mrs. Karlsson didn’t answer right away.
She just looked at him in a way that said she wanted to say something more than just the simple answer she gave.
“Yes,” she said.
Jolly nodded once, already shifting his weight like he was about to move past her.
“He brought Y/N over,” she added.
That stopped him.
“To talk to your sister.”
Jolly’s head snapped slightly toward the back of the house, his focus narrowing instantly.
“Y/N is here?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
His eyes flicked toward the back door. His body followed a second later.
“Don’t.”
The word landed sharp. Firm in the way she said things when there was no room for arguments of any kind.
Jolly stopped mid-step, turning back to her with a slight frown. “What?”
Mrs. Karlsson set her coffee mug down gently on the counter.
“You heard me,” she said. Her tone didn’t raise. “You are not going out there.”
Jolly stared at her, confusion turning quickly into irritation. “Mom—”
“No.”
The interruption was immediate and final.
“I don’t care how old you are,” she continued, stepping forward just slightly, her posture straightening in a way that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “You are still under my roof, and I said no.”
Jolly’s jaw tightened. “I’m just going to see what—”
“You’re not,” she cut in again.
His brows pulled together now. “Why?”
Mrs. Karlsson held his gaze steadily.
“Because that conversation,” she said slowly, “does not involve you right now.”
Jolly huffed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit.”
“No,” she replied evenly. “It’s not.”
“It’s my house too,” he shot back. “And she’s—”
He stopped himself. Not in enough time, though, for his mom to not catch it.
Mrs. Karlsson’s expression shifted just slightly.
“And she’s what?” she asked quietly.
Jolly looked away. His jaw flexed.
“…Nothing,” he muttered.
She let that sit for a second.
“You’re not thinking clearly right now,” she said.
Jolly let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I’m thinking just fine.”
“No,” she said calmly. “You’re reacting.”
That clearly hit a nerve.
“I’m not reacting,” he snapped.
“You are,” she replied without missing a beat. “And if you go out there like this, you’re going to make something that you don’t even understand yet worse .”
Jolly’s eyes flashed. “Then maybe someone should actually tell me what the hell is going on.”
Mrs. Karlsson shook her head slightly. “Not like this.”
He scoffed. “So I’m just supposed to sit here and—what? Wait?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Jolly stared at her like he didn’t recognize her for a second.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“Very.”
He paced once, frustration rolling off him in waves now. “This is ridiculous.”
“Is it?” she asked.
He stopped.
“Because from where I’m standing,” she continued, “this is the first time you’ve been told to slow down before you make a mess of something.”
His jaw tightened again.
“I’m not making a mess of anything.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“You already have,” she said quietly.
Jolly went still.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked, voice lower and sharper.
Mrs. Karlsson didn’t answer right away.
Because she couldn’t. Not fully, anyhow, because if she answered before she thought, she’d cross a line she refused to cross because of Y/N.
“It means,” she said carefully, “that you don’t get to walk into a conversation you weren’t invited into and try to control how it goes.”
Jolly’s chest rose and fell sharply.
“I’m not trying to control anything.”
“You are,” she said. “Even if you don’t realize it.”
He shook his head, frustrated. “I just want to know what’s going on.”
“And you will,” she said. “When it’s your place to.”
Silence stretched between them, now tense.
Jolly’s eyes flicked to the back door again, then back to her.
“Move,” he said quietly, clearly over the situation.
Mrs. Karlsson didn’t.
“I’m not asking,” he added.
“I know,” she replied. “But I’m still not moving.”
“You’re really gonna block me from my own backyard?” he asked.
“If that’s what it takes,” she said.
Jolly let out a breath through his nose, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Jesus Christ.”
He ran a hand over his face, pacing once more before stopping again.
His voice dropped.
“Is she at least okay?”
That one slipped out without the edge. Without the fight.
Mrs. Karlsson’s expression softened.
“She will be,” she said.
Jolly nodded once, slowly, even though he wasn’t satisfied in the slightest by that answer.
Jolly didn’t move, though. He just stood there, tension sitting heavy in his shoulders, eyes flicking once more toward the back door like he could somehow see through the walls if he tried hard enough.
Then he looked back at his mom.
“Does this have anything to do with her and Nicholas?”
Mrs. Karlsson didn’t answer right away. She just studied him with a tilt of her head.
“What makes you think it would have anything to do with them?” she asked calmly.
Jolly’s jaw tightened immediately.
“I saw them,” he said, voice edged now. “Earlier. When I was passing the shop.”
Her brows lifted slightly.
“He was holding her,” he added. “And Saturday? She didn’t leave his side.”
He paused like he was trying to push down something deeper.
“They were… closer than usual.”
The words came out clipped because he didn’t want to linger on them, but couldn’t ignore them either.
His mom hummed softly, turning just enough to pick up her coffee again.
She took a slow sip. Like she wasn’t about to match his urgency. Then she looked back at him.
“Humor me, Joakim,” she said, tone even. “What do you think is going on between them?”
Jolly blinked, thrown slightly by the question and the use of his name.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He huffed under his breath, running a hand through his hair again. “I don’t know.”
“Try,” she said.
Jolly stared at her. Then glanced away. Then back.
“They looked… comfortable,” he said finally, the word feeling forced. “Too comfortable.”
Mrs. Karlsson didn’t interrupt.
“Like it wasn’t new,” he added. “Like it’s been happening.”
Her expression didn’t give anything away.
“And that bothers you,” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
Jolly’s eyes narrowed sharply. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
His jaw worked slightly, like he was deciding whether to argue or not.
“…It’s just weird,” he muttered.
“Why?”
He scoffed. “Because it is.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Jolly exhaled sharply, frustration creeping back in. “Because she’s not like that with him.”
Mrs. Karlsson tilted her head. “Isn’t she?”
“No,” he said immediately. “She—”
He stopped. He knew that wasn’t entirely true.
“She what?” she prompted.
Jolly shook his head. “It’s different.”
“How?”
He hesitated again.
“Because…” he trailed off, then restarted, more frustrated now. “Because she’s always been like that with me.”
There it was out in the open.
Mrs. Karlsson’s eyes softened just slightly, but she didn’t let him off the hook.
“And now she’s not,” she said.
Jolly didn’t respond. Not because he couldn’t, but because he didn’t want to. Because it was true. And he hated it.
“And instead,” she continued, “you’re seeing her shift that closeness somewhere else.”
His jaw tightened again.
“…Yeah,” he admitted.
Another pause.
Then she took another sip of her coffee, letting it sit for a second before asking, “And why does that bother you?”
Jolly frowned. “I just said—”
“No,” she cut in gently. “You explained what you saw. Not why it matters to you.”
He stared at her. Irritated in the way she was cornering him.
“It doesn’t,” he said.
She raised a brow.
“Then why bring it up?”
Jolly looked away, jaw clenched.
“Why are you standing here asking me about it,” she pressed, “instead of letting it go if it doesn’t matter?”
He didn’t answer.
Because the answer wasn’t something he’d actually said out loud before, and he wasn’t about to now.
Mrs. Karlsson let the silence stretch just long enough to make it uncomfortable.
“And why,” she added, voice quieter now, more pointed, “does it bother you if you’re talking to someone?”
Jolly’s head snapped back toward her, eyes narrowing again. “What does that have to fucking do with anything?”
“Everything,” she said simply.
“It’s not serious,” he shot back immediately.
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Then—”
“But you’re still choosing to spend your time with her,” Mrs. Karlsson continued calmly. “You’re still giving your attention to someone else. Letting her get close to you.”
Jolly’s jaw tightened again.
“Yet,” she added, “you’re standing here bothered by the idea of someone else doing the same with Y/N.”
She stared at him, reading him.
“You don’t get both,” she said.
Jolly let out a short, sharp breath. “I’m not—”
“You are,” she said. “You just don’t like hearing it like that.”
He shook his head, pacing once, clearly frustrated now. “It’s not the same.”
“Then explain the difference.”
He couldn’t.
Mrs. Karlsson watched him carefully.
“You’re reacting to something,” she said. “And instead of figuring out what that is, you’re trying to label everything around it instead.”
Jolly ran a hand over his face again, slower this time, and swallowed.
“She’s been acting different,” he added.
“I know.”
“And no one’s telling me why.”
“Because it’s not their place to get involved,” she replied. “Not unless they feel they need to.”
He looked at her again, something unsettled sitting behind his eyes now.
“This has something to do with me, doesn’t it?”
Mrs. Karlsson didn’t answer. There was no confirmation, no denial. She just held his gaze, which, for Jolly, that was answer enough.
The tension in him shifted from frustration to something heavier and more uncertain.
Mrs. Karlsson set her cup down slowly as she chose her next words carefully. There was a line here. A thin one. And once she stepped over it, there wasn’t any walking it back.
She looked at him.
“It doesn’t feel nice seeing something you’re not expecting, does it?”
Jolly frowned immediately, his patience already stretched thin.
“The fuck does that mean?” he asked, irritation sharp in his voice.
She didn’t rise to it. She shrugged lightly, like she wasn’t the one holding the entire weight of the conversation.
“I just can’t imagine it feels nice,” she said, tone calm, almost conversational, “going about your day like everything’s normal…”
Jolly’s jaw tightened for what felt like the hundredth time since he walked into his kitchen.
“…and then suddenly seeing something like that with no warning.”
He stilled just slightly.
“Whether you’re walking past a window and catch it,” she continued, picking her cup back up like this was just idle talk, “or you’re in a coffee shop, grabbing your drink before work…”
Jolly’s eyes flicked to her. Something in his chest tightening without permission.
“A certain laugh catches your attention,” she said as her gaze dropped into her mug as she spoke. “Because you know that laugh better than anyones.”
Jolly didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe more than he needed to.
“And you look over,” she went on.
The kitchen suddenly felt smaller.
“And you see something you aren’t ready for.”
His jaw flexed. Hard.
“A soft smile from one person,” she said, her voice still even, controlled, “and the other lightly touching their arm like it belongs there.”
His hands curled slightly at his sides.
“Can’t imagine that feels good,” she added.
He swallowed.
“Feeling the air leave your lungs,” she continued, finally lifting her eyes back to him, “and forgetting what you were even doing.”
Jolly looked away.
But it was too late.
She’d already hit it.
“And then having to act normal,” she said, “while trying not to be seen by one of those two people.”
She let the heavy silence sit as she watched the way his shoulders had gone rigid, the way his breathing had slowed; not steady, just controlled. Too controlled.
Then she delivered the last part.
“All because you had no warning,” she said quietly, “because the one person didn’t think it was important to mention.”
Jolly’s eyes snapped back to her. “What?”
“Because to them,” she finished, “it isn’t anything serious.”
His gaze flicked instinctively toward the back door. Toward where he knew she was.
“…Is this about her?” he asked, voice lower now. Less sharp. Even more uncertain.
Mrs. Karlsson took another sip of her coffee before answering. Or rather, before not answering.
She tilted her head slightly. “What do you think, Joakim?”
His jaw tightened again. “Just fucking tell me.”
“If you’re listening,” she said calmly, “you’ll figure it out.”
That frustrated him enough that he groaned into his hands.
“But until then,” she added, setting her cup down again, her tone shifting just slightly, less conversational now, more direct, “I’m going to give my opinion.”
Jolly went still, bracing for whatever his mother had to still say.
“As your mother,” she said.
He held her gaze.
“And as someone who is getting very, very tired of your lack of self-awareness.”
His lips pressed into a tight line.
“You have an issue with what you saw,” she continued, “And I think you’re trying to redirect your own insecurities onto someone else.”
Jolly’s brows pulled together. “That’s not—”
“Someone,” she cut in smoothly, “who is showing up for her when she needs it.”
Nicholas.
The name didn’t need to be said.
“Or,” she went on, not giving him space to argue, “you’re seeing something you didn’t expect.”
Her gaze didn’t leave his.
“Because you’ve been living under the illusion that she’d always be there.”
That one hit deeper.
“Always around,” she said. “Never moving on. Never finding someone else.”
Jolly shook his head slightly. “That’s not—”
“And now,” she continued, voice quieter but sharper, “there’s even a possibility that someone else could fill that space.”
His chest tightened.
“Maybe even one of your best friends.”
Nicholas.
Again, unspoken. But the thought was loud enough.
“And that’s clawing at you,” she said, “because you refuse to actually look at what’s right in front of you.”
Jolly’s hands clenched into fists.
“What’s that?” he snapped.
She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t soften it. Didn’t dress it up to make it manageable.
“You’re in love with her,” she said plainly.
Absolute silence filled the kitchen.
“And you’re too afraid to admit it,” she added, her voice steady, unwavering, “Even to yourself. Or you have, and you’re working overtime in an attempt to erase even the thought that you are in love with your sister’s best friend.”
Jolly stared at her. Like the words didn’t just hit him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.
Silence fell with it.
Not the kind you could brush off. Not the kind that passed quickly. No, this was the kind that pressed in heavily from all angles.
Jolly didn’t respond for a few minutes. He didn’t react the way he normally would, no immediate denial, no deflection, no sharp comeback.
Something about the way she said it, with certainty and a lack of hesitation didn’t make it feel like she was accusing him of having those feelings. She said it like she knew he had those feelings. Like it was a fact.
His chest felt tight again. Worse now than the initial tightening he’s been feeling.
“That’s not—” he started, but the words didn’t finish.
Because even as he tried to say it, images of her flashed through his head.
On the floor between his legs while he braided her hair. The way she didn’t move when he told her to. The way he stopped telling her to. The way it felt when she did move.
Saturday night.
The empty space next to him. The way he noticed instantly. The way it actually bothered him.
The shop window.
Nicholas’s hands on her. Her tucked into him. Close. Too close.
His jaw tightened hard enough that it hurt.
“That’s not what this is,” he said finally, but it came out lower. Less certain.
Mrs. Karlsson didn’t argue, she just watched him.
Now it wasn’t about convincing him; it was about letting him sit in it.
“You don’t have to say it out loud,” she said quietly.
His eyes flicked to hers.
“But you do have to stop lying to yourself.”
Another beat.
“And you definitely need to stop punishing other people for something you won’t even acknowledge.”
Jolly swallowed hard.
For the first time, he didn’t have a clean way to push back, no simple explanation that made everything make sense again.
Just noise.
Fragments.
Pieces that didn’t fit together the way they used to.
“You’re wrong,” he said, but it lacked weight and conviction.
His mom picked up her coffee again and took a small sip.
Then met his eyes one more time.
“Then it shouldn’t bother you,” she said simply. “That she and Nick might have something starting.” And left it there.
Because if she was wrong about his feelings, he’d feel nothing.
By the time they pulled up to the Karlssons’ house, the weight had settled back in.
Not the sharp kind from earlier; the kind that knocked the air out of her. This was the kind that sat heavy in her chest and didn’t move, no matter how steady she tried to breathe.
Nicholas cut the engine and glanced over at her.
“You good?” he asked.
Y/N let out a small breath, eyes fixed on the house. “…No.”
He nodded once. “Seems legit.”
She huffed faintly, sitting there for another second, then pushed the door open before she could overthink it.
“Let’s go,” she muttered.
Nicholas followed her up the walkway, staying half a step behind.
The door opened like it always did; no knocking, no hesitation.
And just like always, Mrs. Karlsson was in the kitchen.
She looked up with a smile already in place, but it faltered the second she saw Y/N.
Not dramatically, but enough to show concern.
“Hunny… what’s wrong?”
Y/N swallowed, the breath she took shaking just slightly despite how hard she tried to keep it steady.
Her eyes flicked around the room automatically. “Is Jolly here?”
Mrs. Karlsson’s brows pulled together. “No, he’s out.” She paused. “Do you need him?”
Y/N shook her head quickly. “No.” She hesitated for a second. Because asking this next favor was cracking the door to what she didn’t want to talk about to begin with.
“If he comes home…” she said, voice quieter now, “can you keep him from the backyard?”
Mrs. Karlsson straightened slightly, her attention sharpening in that way only mothers seemed capable of.
“I really need to talk to Freja about something important,” Y/N added.
Then Mrs. Karlsson looked at her. Not just at her face, but through her, reading everything she wasn’t saying out loud. The way that only mothers somehow managed.
“What did that idiot do now?” she asked, tone calm but edged with something protective.
Y/N’s lips pressed together.
“Nothing I can be mad about,” she said after a second.
Her voice didn’t match the words.
“Not really.”
Mrs. Karlsson’s expression softened.
“No matter how much I want to be,” Y/N added quietly.
That did it.
Something in her face shifted. She stepped closer, resting a gentle hand against Y/N’s arm.
“I won’t sit here and make excuses for him,” she said softly.
Y/N nodded faintly.
“But he’s not thinking right now,” she continued.
Y/N’s gaze dropped to the floor.
Mrs. Karlsson let out a quiet breath, her thumb brushing lightly against Y/N’s arm in a grounding gesture.
“I’ve watched you two grow up,” she said.
Y/N’s chest tightened slightly.
“From kids who couldn’t stand each other half the time,” she went on, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips, “to… whatever this is now.”
Y/N huffed softly. “That’s a generous way to put it.”
Mrs. Karlsson’s smile didn’t fade. “It’s an accurate way to put it.”
Y/N didn’t argue. Because, honestly, she couldn’t.
“Now you orbit each other,” she continued, voice gentle but certain. “You have for the last few years.”
Y/N’s throat tightened again.
“And I’ve watched feelings bloom between you two during that time,” she added.
That made Y/N look up.
Mrs. Karlsson held her gaze.
“And both of you,” she said, softer now, “refused to do anything with them.”
A heavy silence settled between them.
Y/N swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “That wasn’t—”
“It wasn’t supposed to be complicated,” Mrs. Karlsson said gently. “I know.”
Y/N shook her head slightly. “It wasn’t supposed to be anything.”
Mrs. Karlsson gave her a look. The kind that said she didn’t believe that for a second.
“But it is,” she said simply.
Y/N let out a quiet, shaky breath. “Yeah,” she admitted.
Another pause.
Then Mrs. Karlsson squeezed her arm lightly. “I’ll keep him out of your way.”
Relief flickered across Y/N’s face.
“Thank you.”
“Go talk to Freja,” she said. “She’s been waiting for you to say something.”
Y/N nodded once, hesitating as she looked at the back door.
“Am I about to ruin everything?” she asked quietly.
Mrs. Karlsson’s expression softened even more.
“No,” she said firmly. “You’re just about to finally stop pretending everything isn’t already changing.”
Y/N let out a slow breath, shoulders straightening just slightly. “Okay.”
Mrs. Karlsson gave her one last reassuring look. “You’ve got this.”
Y/N nodded.
Then turned toward the back of the house, where Freja was waiting.
Nicholas hovered for half a second longer than he needed to. Not obvious. Not overbearing. Just enough to make sure she didn’t bolt the second they stepped through the back door.
“Ready?” he finally asked quietly.
Y/N let out a breath that didn’t even pretend to be steady. “Not even a little.”
He nodded like that was exactly the answer he expected. “Just remember,” he started, voice low, grounding, “I’m right here.”
“I know,” she said softly.
She did know that. That was honestly the only reason she’d made it this far.
The door slid open.
Freja was already there.
The second her eyes landed on Y/N, her expression changed—fast. The ease she’d had with Folio seconds before dropped clean off her face, replaced with something sharper. Focused. Concerned.
“Y/N… what’s wrong?”
Folio looked between them, then to Nicholas, catching the nod Nicholas gave towards the yard. Folio n
“We’ll be out in the yard,” Folio said, placing a kiss on Freja’s forehead.
Nicholas paused for just a second longer, looking at Y/N. “I’ll be over there if you need me,” he said.
She nodded.
“But you need to have this just be you and Freja.”
Y/N swallowed, then nodded again. “Okay.”
Nicholas didn’t say anything else.
He and Folio moved out toward the fire pit, giving them space, but not distance. Close enough to step in if needed. Far enough that this stayed private.
Freja stepped closer immediately. “Hey,” she said, softer now. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Y/N couldn’t look at her yet.
Her eyes dropped to the ground, her hands fidgeting together like she didn’t know what to do with them.
She took a breath. It was deep and shaky, disregarding the fact she was trying to keep it steady.
“Seven years,” she said.
Freja blinked. “Seven years?” Confusion laced through her voice. “Seven years for what?”
Y/N lifted her head and looked at her. “Seven years,” she said, voice steady in a way that didn’t match how she felt, “I’ve been in love with Jolly.”
Freja froze.
The words didn’t just land; they stopped everything.
“What?” she breathed.
“Seven years,” Y/N repeated. “I forced it down. Told myself it was nothing. Ignored every single time it felt like maybe—maybe—it wasn’t just me.”
She watched her, never letting her attention waver.
“I killed every bit of hope I had that it could be mutual,” Y/N went on, her voice tightening slightly. “Because it was easier to pretend it didn’t exist than deal with what it actually meant if it was, and nothing was being done from either of us.”
Freja’s expression shifted from the initial shock to something more understanding.
“Five years,” Y/N continued, “of comparing every guy that even looked in my direction to him.”
Freja swallowed.
“Because if I couldn’t have him,” Y/N said, her voice cracking just slightly, “then he was at least the bar.”
Her jaw tightened.
“No one has ever come remotely fucking close.”
Silence hung there while Raven let her nerves calm a fraction before she kept going.
Y/N let out a breath, shaking her head slightly. running her fingers through her hair.
“So I just… kept the act,” she said. “The annoying one. The one that steals his stuff, won’t leave him alone, lives in his space like it’s mine.” Her lips twitched, not quite a smile, though. “Because it kept things manageable.”
Freja’s eyes softened.
Another breath lingered before Y/n laughed quietly and confessed to one of the dumb things she’d lie about.
“I know how to braid my own hair.”
Freja blinked. “What?”
Y/N huffed faintly. “I learned the first time the guys went on tour.”
Freja just stared at her.
“But I acted like I didn’t,” Y/N admitted. “Because it gave me an excuse to sit there. To be close. To have him touch me without it being weird.”
Freja’s chest tightened.
“And he never told me to stop,” Y/N added. “So I just… kept doing it.”
Her voice faltered for the first time.
“That night we sat on the floor?” she said.
Freja nodded slowly, barely breathing.
“That wasn’t new,” Y/N said. “That’s been happening for a while. You just haven’t been around because of school and work.”
Freja’s brows pulled together. “Wait—what?”
“He stopped telling me to move,” Y/N explained. “Stopped pushing me away. And the last time I actually did move when he was done…”
She shook her head slightly.
“He looked upset.”
Freja blinked.
“And I saw that,” Y/N said. “And instead of questioning it like a normal fucking person—”
Her voice broke into something bitter.
“I took advantage of it by staying,” she said. “Leaning into it. Letting it feel like something it probably wasn’t.”
Her hands tightened into fists at her sides.
“Like a fucking idiot.”
Freja stepped forward immediately. “Hey—don’t—”
“But I did,” Y/N cut in. “I knew what I was doing. I knew exactly what I was doing.”
Her breathing hitched again. “I built this whole thing in my head where I could exist near him without it ever becoming real,” she said. “Because if it stayed like that… if it stayed in that gray area… then I didn’t have to deal with the fact that it might not be what I thought it was.”
Freja’s eyes burned now.
“Oh my god, Y/N,” she whispered.
Y/N let out a shaky breath.
“And then I saw him,” she said.
Freja’s expression dropped.
“At the coffee shop,” Y/N continued. “With her.”
“Emma,” Freja said quietly.
Y/N nodded. “And suddenly it wasn’t gray anymore,” she said. “It was just… clear.”
Her voice went quieter.
“He chose someone else.”
Freja stepped closer again, reaching for her, but stopping just short, like she didn’t know if Y/N wanted it.
“And I realized I’ve been holding onto something that was never mine to begin with.”
That one hurt. You could hear and feel it in the way she said it.
“I can’t be mad at him,” Y/N said. “I don’t get to be.”
Freja shook her head faintly. “You’re allowed to feel—”
“I can feel it,” Y/N said. “I just can’t put it on him.”
Freja went quiet. She knew it was true, even if she hated it.
“And if he’s talking to someone else,” Y/N added, “then I don’t get to act the way I always have. I don’t get to be in his space like that.”
Her voice steadied again, but it was thinner now. More controlled.
“So I backed off.”
Freja’s throat tightened.
“I left that night because I knew if I saw him, I’d break,” Y/N admitted. “And I didn’t want to do that in front of him.”
Freja finally stepped in, closing the distance and pulling her into a hug.
Y/N didn’t resist. She folded into it like she needed it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Freja whispered.
Y/N pressed her face into her shoulder. “Because saying it out loud makes it real in a way I didn’t want to think about,” she said quietly.
Freja tightened her arms around her. “It’s been real. though,” she said softly. “The moment those feelings started, it was real.”
Y/N let out a shaky breath.
“I know,” she admitted.
Then, the first tear slipped before she could stop it. Then another.
Y/N kept her head down, like if she didn’t look up, didn’t meet Freja’s eyes, she could keep at least some of it contained. Her hands came up automatically, wiping at her cheeks in quick, frustrated motions.
“I never wanted it to get this far,” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of it. “I never wanted to still feel like this.” Her breath hitched, sharp and uneven. “I kept thinking it would go away,” she admitted. “Like eventually I’d just… grow out of it or something.”
Freja’s chest tightened as she listened.
“But it didn’t,” Y/N went on, shaking her head slightly. “It just got worse. Every year it got worse.”
She dragged her hand down her face again, trying to steady herself and failing.
“And then you—” she let out a small, broken huff, “you started asking questions when I was getting my tattoo done.”
Freja blinked, remembering.
“Pointing out all those little things,” Y/N said, voice trembling. “All the stuff I’ve spent years pretending didn’t mean anything.”
“I didn’t—” Freja started softly.
“I know,” Y/N cut in quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I pushed it away. I shoved it into the back of my head and told myself you were reading into things.”
Her lips pressed together tightly.
“I refused to even humor it.” Her voice grew quieter. “But clearly my subconscious didn’t get the memo.”
Freja swallowed hard.
“Because when I tell you,” Y/N said, finally lifting her head just enough for her eyes to meet Freja’s, glassy and overwhelmed, “the air left my fucking lungs when I heard his laugh—”
Freja’s heart dropped.
“And I looked over,” Y/N continued, voice shaking harder now, “and saw him sitting there with her smiling like that—” Her face crumpled slightly. “So easy,” she whispered. “Like it was nothing.”
Freja’s eyes burned.
“And she touched his arm,” Y/N added, her voice breaking completely now, “like he was hers to do that with.”
That did it.
“I forgot how to breathe,” she said, the words tumbling out faster now. “I forgot where I was, what I was doing—what my fucking coffee order even was. The order I get every day, and have for the past how many fucking years?”
Her hands shook as she wiped at her face again, but the tears didn’t stop. “They just—hit,” she said. “All at once.”
Freja shook her head faintly, tears welling in her own eyes.
“And I have no right to feel like that,” Y/N added, the frustration in her voice sharp now, cutting through the hurt. “None.”
Freja’s brows pulled together. “Y/N—”
“I don’t,” she insisted. “He’s not mine.” Her breath hitched sharper. “He’s never been mine,” she said quieter, her voice cracking again. “No matter how badly I want it.”
That completely broke something.
The tears came harder now, no longer something she could contain or redirect. Her shoulders shook as she let out a small, choked sound, like everything she’d been holding in for years finally cracked open at once.
Y/N dropped down suddenly, like her legs just gave out under the weight of it. Crouching low, arms wrapping tightly around herself like she was trying to hold everything together physically since she couldn’t emotionally.
“I can’t—” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t keep doing this.”
Freja didn’t hesitate. She dropped down with her immediately, pulling Y/N into her arms without a second thought.
“Hey—hey,” she murmured, holding her tight as Y/N buried her face into her shoulder, her breathing uneven and breaking apart.
Freja blinked rapidly, her own tears spilling over now as she tightened her grip. “I’ve got you,” she said softly. “I’ve got you.”
Y/N clung to her, fingers gripping at her shirt as the weight of everything pressed down all at once.
“God, Y/N…” Freja whispered, her voice cracking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Y/N shook her head against her shoulder, her voice muffled but raw.
“Because he’s your brother,” she said.
Freja stilled slightly.
“And you’re my best friend,” Y/N added, her grip tightening. “I didn’t want to make things complicated.”
Freja swallowed hard, her hand coming up to cradle the back of Y/N’s head.
“I didn’t want you to be mad at me,” Y/N admitted. “Or resent him.”
Freja shook her head immediately. “I wouldn’t—”
“I didn’t know that,” Y/N cut in, pulling back just enough to look at her, tears still falling freely. “I didn’t know how you’d react.”
Freja’s expression softened, aching.
“I didn’t want you to think I was only around for him,” Y/N added, her voice dropping, quieter now but just as heavy. “Like everything we’ve had… was because of him.”
Freja’s face broke at that. “Y/N,” she said firmly, cupping her face gently despite the tears, “don’t—don’t even go there.”
“But it’s true,” Y/N whispered.
“It’s not,” Freja said, shaking her head. “You’ve been in my life way before any of this mattered. You’re here because of me. Because we chose each other.”
Y/N’s lips trembled.
“You didn’t fake anything,” Freja continued. “You didn’t stay for him. You stayed for us.”
Y/N let out a shaky breath, her shoulders dropping just slightly as the words settled in.
“I was just scared,” she admitted.
Freja pulled her back into a hug without hesitation.
“I know,” she whispered.
“And I didn’t want to lose you,” Y/N added, her voice small now, almost fragile in a way it hadn’t been before.
Freja tightened her hold immediately.
“You’re not losing me,” she said firmly. “You’re never losing me.”
