roommate! carmen who comes in late at night and sees you on the couch, curled up with a blanket half kicked off, smiling to himself and putting a blanket over you.
roommate! carmen who feeds you new recipes, hand under your chin to refrain from spilling and eyes watching every muscle in your face as you taste it, anxious for a review.
roommate! carmen who lets you do the decorating, (i mean.. we’ve seen his apartment.) fluffy pillows on the couch and cute blankets and pinterest worthy pictures hung on the wall. he thinks it’s sweet, as long as it’s not too girly.
roommate! carmen who’s a little too domestic sometimes. eyes lingering on you when you just wake up, brushing your teeth together, cooking for you, sometimes putting his shirts in your laundry piles so you can “accidentally” wear it..
roommate! carmen who puts the songs you blast in your room on his playlists, even if they are a little girly.
roommate! carmen who picks you up when you get too drunk on a girls night. blushing when you hold onto his arm and lean on it. staying in the same bed with you after he hears your drunken pleads.
roommate! carmen who has to tear his gaze away from you when you emerge out of your bedroom. red silky dress, big tshirt, or even just your work uniform, he’s entranced.
roommate! carmen who will come in late, doing everything extremely quiet on the off chance that you are asleep. he even will shut your door if you left it open, or wait to shower in the morning.
roommate! carmen who will bring you your favorite from the bear, even if it means making an extra or just boxing a leftover.
roommate! carmen who gets excited when he gets to leave early, meaning he can see you awake, have a conversation and even have a meal together.
roommate! carmen who will comfort you if you have a bad day, making you food and sitting on the couch with you, watching whatever stupid movie netflix puts out.
roommate! carmen who has to physically stop himself from touching you. whether its a comforting hug, tucking a strand of hair away, or bending you over the counter, he clenches his hand in a fist by his side, or goes for a classic run through his hair.
roommate! carmen who brings you to the restaurant, glaring at richie if he looks for a little too long and smiling to himself when tina shows you how to chop like a professional.
roommate! carmen who lets you bum as many cigarettes as you want, holding out his lighter for you to lean your cigarette into.
roommate! carmen who shows you little actions of love. leading you through the restaurant with a hand on your back, folding your laundry, rolling your joints or doing little things around the house that are usually your job.
roommate! carmen who does NOT approve of whatever guy you’re seeing at the time, glaring or giving little remarks that could be deemed jokes.
roommate! carmen who somehow let himself fall in love with you. he imagines you two living together in a relationship way, in a married domestic way. he lets himself look at you for too long, or imagine what your hair would look sprawled out around his pillow.
roommate! carmen who couldn’t possibly tell you how he feels. he wouldn’t dare make you uncomfortable or say anything to lose what you two already have.
roommate! carmen who has so much self doubt he doesn’t see your own lingering stares and touches as anything but platonic.
warnings: death, angst, ache and hurt and blah blah blah
ib this bot
the beef is alive. like the alive you, mikey and richie would fantasize about after a long night of work. like the alive you all worked so hard to achieve. late nights, aching knees from scrubbing the little spots on the floors, throbbing headaches from paperwork, sore backs from being hunched over the cutting board, all don’t seem too bad when you listen to the bustle of the restaurant.
mikey was leaned against the counter, watching the kitchen running at a steady pace, listening to richie mingle with the customers, and watching you.
you navigated through the kitchen with one hand balancing a tray of perfectly articulated food above your head, the other fiddling with the towel that hung from your apron, for the inevitable spills. you looked like you belonged, and you did. you tear your gaze away from tina, who’s mixing furiously at some potatoes, and you meet mikey’s gaze. he’s sat there, hair unruly from running his fingers through it, arms crossed over his chest, and a fond smile you’ve seen so many times.
“what’re you up to, berzatto?” you smile, catching his gaze with a teasing tone. you walk up, standing infront of him with that amused smile he loves.
he smiles, tilting his head to the side with his gaze fixed on you. “just admirin’.”
you roll your eyes playfully. “right.” you say, in a rather unconvincing tone.
mikey leans forward, grabbing your belt loops and pulling you into him, nearly making you drop the tray of food he meticulously made. you let him drag you over, setting the food down on the counter besides him. he holds your waist in place; not like he normally did, in a more loving and gentle way. you hold onto his biceps, looking up at him.
“do you remember that night in senior year?” he smiles. “gonna have to be more specific, babe.” you smile, raising a brow.
mikey grins a little wider. “before the last football game, when we left early and went to the spot.” you giggle with a fond smile, nodding softly. “yeah, when you bought me that shitty milkshake.” you recall the night, the cigarette you shared, the sky you looked up at and the way his car rust got on your fingers when you two sat on the hood. you both laugh, mikey nodding. “when you told me all about those stars.” he smiles, his voice nostalgic and happy, a tone of voice that could only be used when recalling very certain memories of his.
“yeah, i remember.” you nod, sharing that same nostalgic tone. “you told me you loved me that night, yeah?” you tilt your head to the side, a thumb that lays on his arm starts to run back and forth.
he nods, smiling a little wider. “yeah.” he confirms, looking up at you with a love most haven’t even imagined. “realized it when you went on and on about that constellation. the uh- the orion.”
you smile in recognition. “that’s when you realized it?” you ask, feigning disbelief, an amused smile replacing up your earlier nostalgic one. the boy nods again with that smile before you speak up again. “i have something to confess.” you admit. he leans up, raising a brow and pulling you closer by your waist, your legs entangled with his. “do tell.”
“remember when i uh, told you about all the constellations. cassiopeia and all that?” you ask, a faint blush adorning your cheeks. mikey nods, like you were about to tell him the ending to a story he grew up on. “oh yeah. you were, uh…” he pauses, his gaze flickering away for a moment, almost like he’s embarrassed. “you were really good at it, y’know. remembering all those… what, like, thirty-something constellations in the night sky?” his hands squeeze your waist in endearment.
you nod, brushing a hand over your face in embarrassment. “so uh, after the first time we watched the stars, that night after the hoco game, i um-“ you pause and chuckle, shaking your head. “i memorized the constellations, and shit about them so i could impress you.”
his smile widens at this confession, a low and breathy laugh escaping him. he shifts his weight on his feet, his hand finding yours. "you did, huh?" he rubs his thumb over your knuckles, the action absentminded but meaningful. “you never told me that. why'd you go through all that trouble just to impress me?" he tugs you closer.
“wanted you to like me. the orion stuff was real though, learned it in middle school.” you admit, a faint pink painting your cheeks. he tugs you closer, his heart nearly skipping a beat, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a lopsided smile. “that’s sweet.” he pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your waist and engulfing you in a hug. “you didn’t have to, though. i was smitten the first time i saw ya.” he grins, feeling your arms wrap around his neck, your chin resting on his shoulder. “i know that now.” you smile, feeling his chest rumble against yours. he hums in response while his calloused hand begins to rub his back, ensuing a comfortable silence between you two.
after a couple beats of silence, your brain focuses on the soft hum of combined conversations in the dining room. you smile, remembering the times you and your boyfriend bent backwards to get this place started. your hand rests on the nape of his neck while your fingertips run on the messy hair that lays on it.
“it’s alive in here, mikey.” you say, almost astounded, like the day would never come. he smiles, dipping his head down to press a kiss to your clothed shoulder. “it is.” he hums and rests his chin in its place on your shoulder. “we’re doin’ good.”
his hand rubs small light circles on your back as he listens to the sound of customers and the music richie insisted on playing, his fingers eventually trailing to the apron strings you two decided on. the whole place was a reminder of everyone he loved; from the dark blue sign you drew to the recipes his mom made, he was loved. you two sit in the moment for awhile, relishing in the comfort of the building. it was a contrast from the usual running around you two did, trying to get enough money to pay the bills or telling richie to chill out.
eventually you speak up again, “we’re doin’ good.” you echo, tightening your grip on him and burying your forehead in the crook of his neck.
so here you stood, leaning against the counter like he used to, listening to carmen and richie argue unreasonably loud about something you aren’t really listening to. the lights seemed dimmer than the ones that lit up mikey’s face, and dark blue of your apron seemed washed out, even though they were new.
you’re lost in thought, eyes boring into the new dish sydney had made. it looked good, it was good. everyone tasted it. but you can’t help but think: would mikey like it? would he change it? did he even know what risotto was?
suddenly sydney’s voice infiltrates the memory of you and mikey, snapping you out of it and reminding you that no, he’s not really here. you look up at her, mumbling an apology and something about being tired. you raise your hand, forking a bite of the food into your mouth. you nod, raising your eyebrows and putting on that strong face you always did, the one mikey could see right through. “really good, syd.” you say around the food, giving her a smile when she says thank you and walks away.
your smile falters as you turn around to throw the plastic fork away, being met with the flickering lights of the old bulbs, the silence of the dining room. being met with the empty space your lover used to fill, before he decided everything was too much, before you could save him.
tangentwithtanner
titsay
stormborns
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