Mistake (Modern AU)
Pairing: Ivar x reader
Summary: You let things with Ivar go too far and he breaks your heart.
Warnings: angst, heartbreak, mentions of sex, unrequited love, alcohol, please let me know of I missed something.
Word count: 2.6k
A/N: I wrote this for @youbloodymadgenius 400 Followers Writing Challenge (and took way too long). Congratulations, love, you deserve it! ❤
prompts are bolded.
masterlist
The sun was barely starting to rise when you descended the stairs of Ivar’s apartment building, running out to your car.
You could hear the muffled car noises, not loud enough to disrupt the conforming peace you felt every time you walked that same path. The twinkling street lights disturbed your eyes, achy from not getting any sleep. The sound of your shoes on concrete were a welcome distraction from the acute pain in your chest. You were used to it by now.
The first night you had slept with Ivar had been after one of his brother’s parties. You had spent the entire time drinking and talking to him, like you usually did, none of you interested in anything else except engaging in playful banter with each other and talking badly about other people.
Both of you had left your better judgment at home, like it never happened before, and with the alcohol cutting through your system and the loud music buzzing in your ear, before you knew it, you were under him in his bed, sweating and moaning and panting and craving, quivering with arousal, indulging in your every carnal desire.
You left before he had woken up and neither of you brought it up again, continuing your friendship like it never happened.
Until you did it again. And again, and again.
Suddenly, what once was an almost entirely platonic relationship, had turned into a unspoken agreement of occasionally having sex and acting like it never happened afterwards.
You were fine with it until you weren’t anymore. All the extra time you spent with Ivar had piled up into your heart and turned into an ugly web of feelings and emotions you didn’t want, but could do nothing but hold them close and hidden inside you.
You would be happy if those feelings were at all reciprocated, because Ivar was so dear to you since you had met him, and you thought he was so intelligent and interesting, who always had a opinion on something and never mentioned until he had the base to argument in favor. He was great, but he was also so emotionally unavailable.
If you avoided to talk about your passionate nights together, Ivar dreaded the merely association with it. You could see it every time you were alone and you’d unconsciously get closer to him and he’d stiffen; or when you invited him to go somewhere you’d be alone, like you always did when you were only friends and nothing more, and he’d stammer and stutter, looking for an excuse to decline it.
It always made you confuse, because he was always the one who’d come onto you, never the other way around, and you always let him, not matter how much you tried to fight with yourself to not give in to his soft lips and firm hands.
And you missed him, because you only had meaningful conversations with him over texts, for as frequently as the sex started becoming, the only moments you spent together were the thirty minutes after you would meet, making small talk instead of engaging in one of the usual heated debates, before he kissed you, tempting and attracting you to do something you knew you would regret later. Of course, the imminent regret was never in your mind while you were doing it.
Tonight had been your breaking point. Ivar, for the first time in months, had called you, asking if you wanted to go with him to the cinema. You watched a movie, he took you to dinner after and you spent the entire time laughing and joking and talking about everything you hadn’t talked in so long. It felt like the most amazing romantic date, so natural and normal, your heart pounding in your chest and your cheeks aching from smiling so much that occasionally you had to stop yourself and take a breath, forcing the cruel hope of him feeling something for you out of your mind and remembering you were not actually together.
By the time you noticed, it was already past midnight and you were leaning in to kiss him, trying to grasp the reason it felt so different than all the other times. He asked you if you wanted to go home with him and you said yes, because you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, your mind filled with thoughts of him and only him.
He took you home, and unlike the previous nights you spent in his bed, that were filled with desperation and rush, it felt like there was nothing but raw desire, longing and needing to be as close to each other as possible.
And you thought, hoped, that after that, it was impossible for him not to share a least a portion of your feelings. But then, it was gone, and the night ended like every other, with him not being able to even look you in the eye, leaving you cold, with a closed throat and an aching chest. As soon as you saw a peek of light in the sky, you were out of his home, trying to at least get to your car before letting yourself break.
In the two following weeks, you decided to focus entirely on your job, your reading list, and hobby hunt to occupy your mind, deciding to ignore altogether your crushed heart and all of Ivar’s messages and calls, again act like nothing had happened.
You didn’t think it would be so hard to stay away from him. You thought once you'd stop seeing him, the shallow feeling in your chest would become merely a faint pain. Except it didn't. It was worse than ever, because you missed him; his voice, his face, his touch… all of it.
But you knew that it was for the best. You told yourself that and everyday you had to turn off your phone at least once because of the almost unmanageable need to call him.
You opened your apartment door, dragging your feet on the floor, going straight to grab a bottle of wine and filling a glass to the brim. Besides the broken heart, you still had to deal with a wretched boss and a overwork load.
Just as you were finishing putting your pajamas on, you heard a knock on the door, and expecting to be the family size pizza you had ordered to eat while watching your favorite comfort movie, you ran to open it.
You never expected to be welcomed by the sight of Ivar, with his disheveled hair down and bloodshot eyes, like he had barely slept for days.
Your first instinct was to jump in his arms because of how much you missed him, not only as a lover, but as a friend. You got used to having him in your life, leaning on him for support in him, and the thing you were most sorry for, was losing that. Not your unrequited love, not the ‘one-sided meaningless’ sex, but his presence and the comfort and joy he provided.
He swallowed thickly and bit his lip, taking a deep breath before speaking, “You weren’t answering me.”
Trying to buy some time, you kept your mouth shut, moving aside and opening the door wider so he could come into your apartment. You held your breath when he moved past you, the smell of his cologne too familiar for you to be able do handle.
“Yeah, I’ve been, uh-” You searched in your mind for an answer that didn’t imply how desolated you were feeling. “busy.”
He looked around your apartment, as if to check if there was something wrong, before setting his gaze back on you. “Busy? For two entire weeks?”
You shrugged and looked away, nodding. “Uhum.”
“Oh.”
Silence set over the room, and it was possible to cut the tension with a knife. You refused to meet his eyes, going to the kitchen to make some tea, instead. He didn’t follow you.
When it was finished, you came back to the living room and found him in the same position he was when you left, standing in the middle of the room, staring at the spot you were before, but now scratching your cat’s ears, who was with two paws up in the coffee table, leaning into his touch. You narrowed your eyes. Traitor.
You handed him a mug and sat in one of the nearby chairs, still silent. With your eyes set on him, you tried to take in the situation. He was at your house, looking more tired than you ever saw him, and you still didn’t know why he was there.
He sat on the couch and looked down, “I missed you.”
If you weren’t entirely concentrated on him, you wouldn’t have catched what he said, so low and soft, but you did. And you almost gasped, except you were frozen in place, barely breathing, scared to move.
Ivar looked up at you, and your forced yourself to hold his haze. His eyes were bright and shiny, but the visible sadness in them had you taking a sharp breath. You swallowed before speaking, your voice croaked, “What?”
“I missed you, Y/N,” he said, but his furrowed eyebrows told you there was more, “why didn’t you answered me all this time? And don’t lie to me, I know you haven’t been too busy to answer me, at all.”
Listening carefully to his words, your chest heaved and your hurt turned to anger.
“You missed me?” You scoffed, biting hard on your lower lip to stop yourself from crying in despair from how much his insensibility was hurting you. “How can you say that? You didn’t miss me, you don’t even like me, Ivar.”
“What? Of course I like you, you are my friend.” The confused look on his face was enough to send you into a frenzy.
“Friend? No, no… because, you see, Ivar, if I was your friend, if you liked me, you would have had a little consideration for my feelings and wouldn’t have done what you did the last time we were together.” With adrenaline pumping inside you because of the new find anger, you couldn’t stop talking, and you figured you didn’t have to. You had nothing to lose now. “I know you are not stupid and know of my feelings for you, and what we were doing was fine, until you decided to take me out and flirt with me, and kiss and touch me like that and then act like it was nothing, because it obviously was. I know I'm not the only one who felt it. You know how much that hurt me, Ivar. And you have the audacity to knock on my door demanding to know why I didn’t answer your calls and telling me you missed me?”
You were past the point of caring about the waterfall of tears falling down your cheeks, too desperate to get everything out of your chest before you went back to old habits.
Ivar was paying attention to every word you said, his own eyes filled with water, and he had to squeeze them back in, because it wasn’t right. He had no right to cry, no matter how miserable he was feeling, because he had been selfish all these past months. He knew of your feelings for him, and he knew of his own feelings for you. But he also knew you deserved better than someone who didn’t know how to commit and compromise, who had trouble caring for people, like they needed to be cared for. It wasn’t a case of miscommunication, it was the truth. Yet, he let himself indulge in something with with you, knowing he was incapable of giving more; of giving what he wanted to give you and what he knew you deserved. You would end up heartbroken, just like you were now, and that’s what he wanted to avoid in the first place.
But that last time, he had just got out of his parents house, where he saw his brothers and Floki with their wives, looking so in love with each other, laughing and playing, and he started to wonder why he couldn’t do the same with you.
He called, invited you out, and acted the whole night as if you were on a date; as if you were like regular lovers out in the city for a normal romantic evening. Then he loved you like he would have since the beginning if he wanted you to know how much he… cared for you, with so much intensity and passion, and he knew you would find out all about his feelings and confront him, and he would have to confess to you how much of a coward he truly was.
So he went back to acting cold and distant, like friends, as if nothing ever happened, and had decided that he had to stop being selfish and put and end to this whole thing before you got hurt in a way your friendship wouldn’t be able to recover, and he knew he needed you in his life.
Only he decided a little too late. Because that was also the time you decided you had had enough.
He had to spend two weeks without you, and it drove him insane to the point he had to drive to your house and confront you on something he knew he didn't have the right to. And you two ended up where you were now, with you throwing all your feelings in his face and calling him out for the way he acted, like he knew he deserved it.
Ivar had to make a decision. To spare you from long-term suffering and learn how to live without you, or continue to be selfish, be with you, and expect for the best.
He took a deep breath, buying time to prepare, and cleared his throat. “That night never happened. It was a mistake, Y/N.”
Instead of shouting and sending him away, cursing him out of your life forever, like he expected you to do, you started to shake your head, almost mockingly.
“No! It did happen and it wasn’t a mistake. How can you say that? And how can you stand there and tell me we’re friends?” You scoffed again, so angry and tired, with a permanent frown etched on your face. “We haven't been friends for a long time, now. We both know we are more than that, not matter how much you try to pretend. I know you feel something for me and I think you’re just afraid afraid to be happy.”
He wanted to contradict you and say it wasn’t that; he wasn’t afraid to be happy, he just didn’t deserve it. Not with you, at least, or at all.
You stood there, looking at him, expecting him to say something. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
You closed your eyes and let out a tired sigh. Ivar felt his chest tighten at the iminent scenario of you finally giving up on him.
“You’re a coward,” you said after a few minutes in silence, throat raw and aching from keeping the angry act and trying not to fall apart. “You have to decide what you want, Ivar. And then you can come talk to me. You can come here and say… something, anything… everything you didn’t say today.”
Taking a deep breath, trying not to let his tears fall, Ivar got up and walked out the door, finally allowing himself to feel, taking your heart with him, and leaving his behind. Only you didn’t know that. As far as you knew, the only thing Ivar left you when he walked out the door, was an even more shattered heart than you already had before he arrived.
@ryukjin @luvjiminssi