a concept about y/n just lovin on Ethan when he's insecure about his acne, just giving him kind words and cuddles
basing this on when his acne was closer to its peak fyi
“Only if we order it in. Postmate it on my card.”
He wasn’t doing well that day. Curled up on the bed with a hoodie and a beanie on, expertly pulled down over his forehead like he always so carefully placed it these days.
“Okay, what do you want?”
“Usual.” His tone was short, and he was lucky that the two of you had been to Monty’s enough times for you to know that meant a double burger, fries, diet rootbeer and a coffee milkshake. It was a usual send day meal for him that was becoming a three-times-a-week-meal.
You knew the turn that the evening would most likely take.
You weren’t sure when it would hit him, become too much. You cuddled up to his neck, hoping that maybe tonight it wouldn’t be so bad. His arm curled around your waist, pulled you tighter against him. That was a good sign at least - on his worst days, he didn’t want anyone to touch him, not even you. It made you hesitant to even get up to go get the food at the door - who knew how he would feel when you got back into the room.
Grayson watched you with sad eyes when you answered the door, accepted the paper bags and drink carrier with a smile from the delivery man.
“Not sure. Hasn’t eaten much all day, but he said Monty’s sounded good.”
“That’s the third time this week.”
“He’s self sabotaging Y/N, he’s just...”
He sighed, running his hand through his hair, trailing off. His frustration was obvious - his usual tough love approach wouldn’t work, and every time he tried to talk to Ethan when he was in a low place about his acne, it never went well.
You were both surprised when you heard footsteps, bare feet soft on the floor as he made his way into the kitchen.
“Did you get some too?” Ethan’s eyes followed their usual trail when he looked at Grayson - eyes first, then forehead. Smooth forehead. ‘Perfect’ forehead as E called it when he was pissed off mid acne-discussion. Your heart cracked a bit further when you watched him readjust the beanie, making sure it was covering everything it could, eyes dropping down to his feet.
“Nah, I made veggie soup earlier. There’s plenty of leftovers if you wanna help me knock it out tomorrow. Can’t eat it all by myself.” It was his subtle way of offering a healthy meal without shoving it down his brother’s throat.
“Yeah.” His eyes moved to yours. “Wanna watch another episode?”
“Sure,” you smiled, taking his hand as he headed back to the room. You unpacked the bags once you got settled on the bed, frowning as Ethan shifted around on top of the covers.
“S’ hot in here,” he mumbled, wrestling with his hoodie and pulling it over his head.
His beanie fell with it, and you got a glimpse of the skin he’d been trying so desperately to hide all day. It was red and angry, agitated by the medicine he’d started on. They’d told him it would probably get worse before it got better, and it seemed like it had, even in just the first few weeks. You’d never seen him so unconfident before, so determined to hide from everyone, even you... even Grayson.
He scrambled to get the black knit fabric, pulling to down over his head again, too far down.
“You might be hot cause of the hat,” you said before you thought about it. His eyes flickered to yours - accusatory.
“Right.” You tried not to take it personally, knew that he wasn’t trying to be short with you. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting just a little bit.
Dinner was consumed mostly in silence, the show neither of you were really watching playing mindlessly in the background, making it less uncomfortable. But it seemed like every bite made him more angry, more annoyed.
By the time he got to the milkshake, he was scowling, almost spilling it when he sat it on the nightstand.
“I keep doing this to myself. Grayson was right, I’m self sabotaging.”
You gulped around the fry you were trying to get down.
“You all weren’t exactly quiet,” he grumbled. “I don’t know why I keep doing this. I feel like shit, so I eat shitty. But then I feel even more shitty cause I ate like shit. It’s a fucking cycle and I don’t know how to break it.”
“I can help you with that. If you’ll talk to me.” You tried it, hoping maybe now would be the time he’d decide to let you in. The only time he was willing to talk about it all was when he was already at the breakdown stage, and that generally just consisted of you reassuring him and trying to comfort him. You’d yet to have a productive conversation about it.
But he just looked at you, eyes unreadable.
“I feel gross. I’m gonna shower,” were the words he finally chose. “I’ll clean up once I’m out.”
You watched him walk to the bathroom, closing the door behind him as the tears prickled in your eyes. Fighting them back, you gathered the bags and wrappers in one hand and his milkshake in the other before you headed to the kitchen.
You were able to hide your face from Gray until you stowed the shake in the freezer. He saw the redness in them and frowned. He’d treated you like a sister ever since Ethan had brought you into his life, and he was as protective of you as he was anyone else.
“Y/N, you know he’s not himself right now. Whatever it was, he didn’t mean it.”
“He didn’t say anything Gray. That’s the problem, he won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to help him, and it’s killing me.”
“Hey. C’mere.” Grayson was waving you over when you finally looked at him, and just that was enough to almost make you cry all over again. He stood up from his chair, wrapping you in a hug that was sturdy but soft at the same time somehow. He just held you for a minute, both of your worries unspoken but understood as you squeezed yourself against him.
“All we can do is love him. That’s all we can do,” he said, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or to himself.
You took those words with you when he let go, mulled them over as you went back to the room, heard the shower running behind the door.
You brazened yourself for the rejection you knew was going to come as you went into the bathroom, stripping down and taking a deep breath before you pulled the shower door open.
Ethan was standing under the water, letting it run over him as he stood perfectly still, a statue in the rain. He flinched when you wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing up against his back. He was vulnerable here, no clothes to hide behind. So you weren’t all too surprised that once you made your way around his form, hands coming up to his shoulders, then his neck and then his jaw, he caught your fingers, stopping them.
“Don’t.” He turned his head away from you, staring at the rough rock wall to your left, looking anywhere but at you.
It took a minute, but he finally looked back at you, eyes sad and void of the Ethan that you knew, the confident, bubbly man that you’d fallen for so long ago.
“Don’t act like you don’t see them. Don’t act like they aren’t disgusting.” He couldn’t look you in the eyes when he said it.
“No part of you could ever be disgusting to me. And of course I see them. But it doesn’t change how I look at you. I love you, no matter what.” You hoped with every fiber of your being that your words got through to him.
“You do. You’re my girlfriend, it’s what you’re supposed to say.”
“Oh, right. Cause I’m being held hostage here. I’m choosing to be here because I love you. No amount of bumps on your face is gonna change that for me. Because you’re you. And I know you don’t feel like yourself right now, but I know you’re still you. And you’re gonna come out of this stronger. I know you are.” The words spilled out before you could stop them, and the tears did too.
When he finally looked at you, you could tell he was crying too. He hadn’t found his voice yet, but you didn’t care. The way he looked at you told you everything you needed to know.
As gently as you could you traced your hands up over his head, over the short soft hairs, and then around to his face. You knew they were sore, didn’t want to get more oil on them that could make it worse.
You ran your fingers over them anyways, felt the raised skin, his skin, his face that he hadn’t let you touch in so long. So you cried. You both cried, let it mix in with the water as you traced over him, over and over, no hesitation to be found. His hands held onto your hips, fingers squeezing there as he let you touch him, let himself be felt for the first time since December.
You stayed until the water ran cold, but you stayed close as you dried off, eventually collapsing back into bed in each other’s arms once you were dressed.
“Thank you,” he murmured once he tucked his face up against your neck. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” You let those words hang in the air for a few moments before you remembered something. “Question.”
“Answer,” he said, perking up a bit.
“Can we eat your milkshake now?”
He laughed, a delicious sound, before he nodded, rolling off of you so you could both get up and head to the kitchen. You talked while it thawed, your voices traveling down the hall and making Grayson raise his eyebrows.
When he snuck down the hallway he couldn’t help but smile - the man in his kitchen was the man he hadn’t seen in a few months, and he’d never been happier to see him coming back to him, little by little with your help.
