It Will Always Just Be Me
Genre: romance, smut, angst, fluff (though it’s mostly angst)
Song: Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by Panic! At the Disco [I’ll never get over how long this song title is]
TW: swearing (aka I lost count of how many times I used the word ‘fuck’)
For @phanny-fics writing competition. This song has been a guilty pleasure of mine lately, and my mind screamed ‘FANFIC THIS.’ Cause you know, this is what happens when I turn to the emo trinity to keep my writing juices flowing. Also, on a random note, when I Googled the lyrics for this song, I literally just typed in ‘panic at the disco lying is’ because there was no way in hell I was gonna type in the entire song title in the search bar. 😅
When she shows up knocking at my door, I’m this close to slamming the door on her face. For an entire week, I didn’t receive a call, text, or any form of communication from her. Not only did she make me crave for her attention, but her ignorance made me feel pathetic. Here I am, pinning my heart for the girl of my dreams. Too bad I’m too stubborn to see that my dream girl is also my worst nightmare.
“What are you doing here?”
She glides into my flat, initially not answering my question. She’s wearing those pair of heels, the black “fuck me” heels that she purposefully teases me with. And her dress… damn it, she shouldn’t be wearing such alluring clothing in public.
“Why do you think I’m here?”
I lock the door. Thank god Phil is spending the entire day with PJ. I don’t need Phil to pity me again for having a weak resolve.
“What makes you think there’s a who?”
I laugh bitterly. Does she think I’m blind? “I know you, (Y/N). Who’s the poor sap this time?”
She pouts, dropping her purse on the floor. “His name doesn’t matter.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“It is if you’re just here to fuck me again,” I snap.
She tenses. Gotcha. She’s way too transparent.
“Stop talking.” She steps closer to me until the front of our bodies touch. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you later. For now-” she snakes her arm around my neck, “Let’s have some fun.”
I have to resist. This isn’t worth it. I’m only going to be left with disappointment again.
“Look at me, Dan.” Her thumb brushes along the corner of my mouth. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been busy-”
“Bullshit. If you were busy, you were busy finding another fuck buddy.” I try to put some distance between our bodies, though she won’t let me. Her arms stay around my neck and now her breasts are squished against my chest.
“It’s not like that.” Her voice trembles and vulnerability replaces her apparent lust. “You know I want to be with you. But we can’t be together. My parents don’t like you. Your fans will bash us.”
Shit, I hate when she pulls that card. She isn’t wrong. Her parents aren’t entirely accepting of the idea of us as anything more than friends. The Phan shippers and zealous fangirls will definitely direct flames toward her. As much as I loathe her behavior, I know she’s doing this to protect my reputation. She’s scared of her feelings for me, so she’s quick to say yes to any man who shows any interest to her, even when all those men only want her for her body.
I’m not that kind of man. I want all of her and so much more.
“It always boils down to that reason, huh?”
She nods. Her dropped guard disappears and her (E/C) irises are back to their lustful state. “Let’s forget all that for now. Please?”
I cup her cheeks and mash our lips together. She groans, tangling her fingers in my hair. She steps backward until we both fall on the sofa. Our mouths disconnects, and her tantalizing smile makes me forget my resistance.
Our clothes are discarded, left as a messy heap on the floor.
Her heels stay on. If she wears “fuck me” heels, she’s going to get fucked while wearing them.
When we’re naked, I tell her to bend over the arm of the sofa.
“We’re doing this my way,” I whisper huskily in her ear.
She obeys, and I bite my lip at the sight of her wet and ready for me. She yelps when my palm spanks her ass.
“This is for fucking someone behind my back.” Another slap. “This is for making me go seven days without you.” Slap. “Seven.” Slap. “Goddamn.” Slap. “Days.” Slap. “And this is just because I wanted to.”
“Stop teasing me,” she whines.
“I’ll tease you as much as I want to.” When we’re alone like this, I’m in control. She can have me wrapped around her finger again when this is over.
Her breath hitches. She knows this was coming. I won’t give her what she wants that easily.
“Where would you like me to fuck you?” I graze over her slit with my index finger. “Here?” I move the same finger to her anus. “Or here?”
“Ah.” I move my finger back to her slit. “So here. How would you like me to fuck you?” I use my thumb to rub circles on her clit. “Like this?” My index finger buries into her and I slowly move it in and out. “Or like this?”
“Or…” My unoccupied hand guides my cock to her pussy so the tip brushes along her clit. “Would you like me to use this?”
“I don’t care!” she wails. “Just please… please fuck me already.”
There. That’s how I want her: reduced to a needy mess.
So I give her what he wants. She screams in relief when I finally push my cock into her. I pour my week-long frustrations into her. My body thrusts rapidly in and out of her, my hands gripping her hips roughly that I’m certain there’ll be bruises forming by tomorrow morning. In the back of my mind, my gentle side is begging me to slow down, to savor the moment and remember that our time is limited. For her, the concept of forever doesn’t exist for us.
But I don’t care. I’ll take what I can get, even if what I get are scarce leftovers.
Curse words fall from her mouth constantly. Her arms struggle to hold herself up, until it gives out and the upper half of her body slumps atop the couch arm. I’m glad these walls are somewhat soundproof; god forbid the complaints from our neighbors who might think I’m murdering someone in here.
“That’s it,” I croon. “Let it out, (Y/N).”
“Good girl. Come for me. Show me who’s mine.”
She shouts my name, her orgasm causing mine to follow a few seconds later. I drown in the sounds of our pleasure. This was worth waiting an entire week for. This was worth the tension when she waltzed into my home and was capable of shattering the barriers I put up around me.
“Whoa,” she breaths once we finish riding our highs. “I totally missed that.”
“Mmmm…” I pull out of her, moving to lie on the couch. She takes a minute to remove her heels. I’m tempted to spank her again; if she’s showing her backside to me like this on purpose, the joke is on her. I’ve already gotten what I wanted. I can wait another ignorant week.
“His name’s Gordon.” She kicks off her heels and lays down on top of me. She rests her head on my chest. “I met him while I was at a bar with (B/F/N).”
“And you slept with him.”
“Maybe, if I like him enough.”
She lifts her head to look at me. The slight glimmer in her eyes confirms my question.
“We only kissed. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I’m not.” Yeah I am. I have to know how much of an asshole he is right of the bat.
“I’m going on a real date with him tomorrow.” She caresses my cheek. “We had a good conversation when we met. If our date goes well… Dan, I think he could be the one.”
“You’re saying that and you barely know him.”
She sighs. “Yeah…but I’m crossing my fingers. Heartbreak is a bitch.”
Of course it is. But she wouldn’t have to keep experiencing heartbreak if she just picked me.
This is what we are. We’re more star-crossed than Romeo and Juliet. Our teen-like hearts, beating fast in a secluded flat, close to touch but unable to beat in sync.
Gordon is a dick. I don’t know the guy, but I know he is. Every man that (Y/N) has been with is. They’ll use her, trick her into thinking she’s the only apple to their eyes. It’s a lie, because they only see her as the bruised apple and there’s another woman out there who’s the ripest apple of their tree.
Phil doesn’t seem to think so. He thinks Gordon is different. It’s the first time that Phil has ever said that about her boyfriends. It worries me, because if Phil is right, Gordon isn’t an asshole and he’s falling in love with her in the pure way that I’m doing. He’s stealing my girl. I won’t swallow that fact lightly.
I deserve her. I deserve the love that she gives to other men one hundred percent. I deserve her at her best and worst. Not Gordon. Not a man who’s going to be another ex.
A few days pass. Then a week. A month. Three months. She barely comes to the flat. We haven’t had sex since she dropped by the flat to first tell me about Gordon. Thankfully, there aren’t long durations without receiving texts and calls from her anymore. We’ve reached a point where I can call her anytime and she’ll be likely to answer it.
However, it doesn’t remove the ache in my chest at the thought of (Y/N) and Gordon as a couple. The longer they’re together, the less optimism I have of (Y/N) and I as endgame. Phil still tells me to keep my hopes alive, though I’m beginning to truly give up this time around. What’s the point of waiting for a girl that can’t reciprocate my feelings?
Why am I still choosing to be single?
I try not to think about (Y/N) at the next YouTube party. I have a blast hanging out with Phil and our YouTube friends. I drink more than I normally do. Louise teases that the beast in me is finally released.
Oh Louise, if only she knew that there was already someone else who has seen my beastly side before.
I’m flat-out drunk before midnight. Phil calls someone to pick me up. He knows he should go home too so he could look after me, but I tell him to stay. I know he wants to. I’m not letting my drunkenness take away his night to have fun.
Despite my hazy mind, my tiny bit of soberness sees who took me home. She doesn’t talk during the entire ride and she doesn’t turn on the radio. The silence in her car brings peace to my brain. It’s lessening an urge to vomit.
She helps me walk into my flat. Or rather, stumble my way through. My urge to vomit returns and I immediately throw up in the loo as soon as we get inside. My brain is desperate for sleep, though my tired body wants me to stay awake. So I stumble back into my bedroom and collapse on my bed. Not too long later, she joins me.
“You shouldn’t have gotten drunk,” she scolds me, sitting down on the mattress.
“Didn’t want to turn down free drinks,” I mumble.
“You’ve done that before.”
She shakes her head in disappointment. “What’s gotten into you? You normally don’t drink yourself to this point.”
“Why do you think I got myself drunk? I think you know.”
“It’s because I love you, okay? I love you and I can’t have you and we’ve talked about this so many times already. But it’s still the same. You want love, just not with me. For my sake and all that other shit.”
“I fucking hate you,” I spat. “I hate being in love with you. I’m sick of you telling me that you’re sacrificing our chance to be together to protect my reputation. But I’m fucking sacrificing shit too. You’re not even giving me a chance and I’m forced to just watch you get your heart broken all the damn time. I’m tired of it. I’m so, so, so tired of it.”
I close my eyes after my outburst. I don’t see nor hear her reaction. As I fall unconscious, I smile at the burden I’ve finally gotten out of my chest.
It feels better than all the orgasms I’ve had from her.
I wake up the next day with a massive headache. I feel like a boulder pounded through my skull repetitively and I haven’t died from it. The sweet release of death would’ve been so much better than to be conscious with this mental hell.
(Y/N) is nowhere in sight. There’s two Tylenol pills and a glass of water on my dresser. I don’t know if it’s Phil or (Y/N) who left it there.
I swallow the pills and drink the water. I wait for my hangover to subside. I stay in bed for nearly an additional hour before I can stand up with minimal pain in my head.
Phil is eating a sandwich in the kitchen when I exit my bedroom. He grins upon seeing me awake.
“Hey! You feeling better?”
“I’m feeling more shit than usual.”
Phil chuckles. “I’m not surprised.”
“She left a couple of hours ago. Said she wanted to stay, but she had something important to take care of.”
Ugh. Gordon is that important thing.
Phil gives me a hesitant gaze. “Ummm… (Y/N) texted me not too long ago.”
“She broke up with Gordon.”
I freeze. Am I hearing this right?
“She texted you first, but you didn’t answer back. I told her you were still asleep. She said she’ll call back tonight.”
Fuck it. I’ll call her right now.
I dash to my room and grab my iPhone. There’s one unread text from her, though I ignore it and dial her number instead. I know what the text entails. What I need is to hear the news through her own mouth than words on a phone screen.
“You really broke up with Gordon?”
“What, I don’t get a good afternoon?”
“Good afternoon, (Y/N). Now spill.”
She sighs. “Yes, Dan. I broke up with Gordon.”
“Do you not remember what you told me last night?”
I rack through my memories of last night. There was a party. I got drunk. (Y/N) drove me home. I said some things to her… wait.
I said “I love you” to (Y/N).
Fuck. My. Life. I wasn’t supposed to do that.
“Meet me outside your flat. I wanna talk to you face-to-face.”
“Uh… yeah. I’ll… see you.”
The surprise hits me more when the call ends. She knows how I feel for her. All this time, she only knew that I was interested in pursuing a relationship with her. Not that I love her. No, I intended to save those three words until we got through a first date.
Phil notices my shocked expression as I walk out my room. He’s done with his sandwich, and he beams, probably knowing what we talked about.
“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” He winks. “Just don’t be too loud, eh?”
I scowl, sticking my tongue out. I’m going to talk to her, not fuck her senseless. I can save that for a later time.
“I’m happy for you, Dan. Go get your girl.”
My scowl switches to a grateful smile. It’s thanks to Phil’s advising that I’ve been able to rationally deal with my emotions toward (Y/N).
“She was always my girl,” I reply. “It just took her a lifetime to accept it.”
When (Y/N) arrives driving her (your favorite car), I open the car door and sit down on the shotgun seat. It would be more comfortable for us talk in my flat, but if we wind up arguing, it wouldn’t be fair for Phil to be forced to eavesdrop on it.
“Last night made me think about a lot of things.” She unbuckles her seatbelt. “It was a lot to take in. I… I was ashamed. I knew you were hurt from all the dating failures I’ve had and me going to you because of it. But I never thought you’d be in love with me. I thought you only cared about me as a close friend. In all the relationships I’ve had, you’re the only one I’ve ever felt insecure about falling for. All the other guys, I didn’t mind if I got my heart broken. As long as I tried, hey, at least I know they’re not the one. With you, I was genuinely afraid I’d really lose you as a friend if we fell in love. Liking: I’m okay with that. Sex: I’ll roll with it. Love: I’d rather lose a limb than have my heart make that commitment. Gordon’s cool, but he isn’t you. He’s funny, he’s understanding, he’s hot as hell and a fantastic kisser. But I can’t love him. I can’t see myself saying yes if he proposed to me one day. If you proposed… I’d honestly say yes before you even asked ‘Will you marry me?’”
“(Y/N), are you saying you want to get hitched?”
She giggles. “You’re missing the point. I love you too, you dork. I broke up with Gordon because I realized I’m supposed to be with you. I don’t care what my parents and your friends will say. If I want to have Daniel Howell as my boyfriend, then I’ll let him be my boyfriend.”
“So you want to be my girlfriend?“
She grins, her head moving up and down excitedly. She moves her mouth to my ear. “I want the man who’s a freak on YouTube and in the sheets.”
I laugh, elated that my nightmare is over. I don’t have to keep us a secret to the public anymore. “Want me to prove that to you in here?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”
Her grin doesn’t falter as she drives her car elsewhere. She moves it at a more isolated location, and once she finishes parking, she pounces.
We kiss each other hungrily. We move to the passenger seat so we have more room. I inch her dress up and slide her panties down her legs. She pulls down my pants down to my feet. We groan in unison as I bury myself to the hilt inside her. My movements are slow, a first since sex became a factor in our lives. Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking her Clothes off by Panic at the Disco is playing on the radio, partially masking the sounds of the moans and groans escaping our lips. How fitting, except now my girl is officially my girlfriend.
We don’t fuck. We make love. We take our time, and after we reach our peaks, I hug my lover close.
We can dance to this beat for as long as she’ll have me.
