Tommy's head snapped up. He wasn't expecting anyone.
Bang bang bang.
He crossed to the door, pulled it open and then froze. A very pissed off Evan Buckley stood on his doorstep. Before Tommy could say a word, Buck pushed past him and strode into the house.
"Hello, Evan. Would you like to come in?" Tommy asked sarcastically.
"You didn't come." Buck spun to face him, voice tight with anger. "I needed you and you didn't come. That's our thing, Tommy. You're always there when I need you, and I know it's not fair but fuck—" His voice broke, dropping to a whisper. "I needed you."
Tommy took in Buck's red-rimmed eyes, the dress blues he was still wearing. His heart sank.
"Evan...I..." Tommy began.
"I felt so alone, Tommy." Buck's voice cracked. "I just stood there as they dedicated the station and I felt numb. Empty. Hollow. The Robert Wade Nash Memorial Station." His hands clenched into fists. "I hate it. I hate it almost as much as the stupid baby name Maddie and Chim chose, and I'm sad and I'm angry and you weren't there."
"Evan, I couldn't." Tommy's voice was barely above a whisper. "I couldn't face any of you when it's my fault."
"Were you hiding another vial of the antidote somewhere?" Buck demanded.
"Well, no—"
"You're the reason Chimney lived, Tommy. Bobby didn't die because of you." Buck's voice broke. "Bobby died because the world is cruel and..." He sucked in a shaky breath, tears streaming down his face. "I miss him, Tommy. I miss him so much and everything hurts all the time and you weren't there."
"Sweetheart," Tommy whispered, barely stopping himself from pulling Buck into a hug.
"I had you and my life was so fucking good. Even the shitty stuff like Gerard was okay because I had you. And then you broke up with me and the world started to crumble." Buck's voice grew raw. "Maddie was kidnapped and Eddie left and then Bobby. It's been hell, Tommy. And it's been so much worse because I haven't had you."
"I'm a coward, Evan," Tommy said quietly.
"I just don't understand why." Buck shook his head. "You left me, Tommy. I wanted forever. And you just left me alone in my kitchen."
"Ev..." Tommy tried, but Buck wasn't finished.
"And then you did it again." Buck's eyes were red and angry and heartbroken all at once. "I know I said stupid things both times, but Tommy, I do that. I say stupid things. I'm wired like that. I speak before I think things through." His voice cracked. "But you didn't even give me a chance to explain."
"I did it because I was scared, Evan. You are so bright and sparkly and you brought so much sunshine into my life. Everything was different and so much better, and I knew it was just a matter of time." Tommy's voice broke. "I don't get to keep nice things. I never have. So I ran before you saw the cracks and realized I wasn't enough."
"Tommy, what does that even mean? Enough?" Buck's hands trembled. "You were enough for me. You were everything. I felt like myself for the first time in years because of you. And not because you're a man, Tommy. My bisexuality has nothing to do with it. It was because of you. You and your stupid cleft and your terrible taste in coffee. Your questionable Star Wars opinions and the fact that you eat your steak well done." His voice cracked again. "I love you and you took that away from me."
"I thought I was doing the right thing," Tommy said quietly.
"Right for who? Because it sure as hell wasn't right for me."
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Tommy said.
"Why are we still doing this?" Buck asked, his voice breaking.
"Doing what?" Tommy asked carefully.
"Tommy, I am so mad at you. I am so sad and angry, but all I want right now is for you to hold me." Buck's shoulders slumped. "Because you make things better. You have my heart, you idiot. Just stop trying to fight it."
Tommy stood frozen for a moment, then closed the distance between them and pulled Buck into his arms.
"Stop leaving," Buck whispered. "I can't do this alone. I can't do life alone. We can be scared together, Tommy. Don't break my heart to protect yours."
Tommy's arms tightened around him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Evan."
"I am too, but I meant what I said before, Tommy. I love you and I need you." Buck's voice was muffled against Tommy's chest. "Please let me keep you."
"Oh baby..." Tommy pressed his lips to Buck's hair. "I love you too."
Buck sagged against him, feeling safe and warm and whole for the first time in months, silently praying that this time was forever.
until i wrap myself inside your arms
| bucktommy; rated M; canon divergent 8x11 |
So I've been working on this off and on since around the end of 8a. As canon continued, I had to change it a lot, and since I'm still not sure how I want this separated in terms of chapters, I decided just to post it here. This part is a post-8x11 getting back together. This isn't directly addressing any particular meta or discourse, but is a bit of me kind of working out my feelings about it.
part 1 of ?
If Buck keeps baking, he decides he owes Ravi his own Baked Alaska. Or a croquembouche. Maybe an opera cake—he's watched a couple of people on YouTube make them and it'll be hard, too, probably, but he's pretty sure he can do it. He's halfway through the mental inventory of his kitchen when he realizes—that's only if he keeps baking. It's a hobby he enjoys, and a skill that he's proud of, but he doesn't need to do it as a distraction. Not anymore. He doesn't need to distract himself to keep from calling Tommy—or from talking about Tommy, thinking about Tommy, wanting Tommy—because he finally has Tommy back where he wants him. Right here.
He hadn't had any thought about picking up when he and Ravi went out—and he probably wouldn't have if it had been anyone but Tommy. Seeing him again, though, had made all the pining, all the feelings he'd tried to suppress even more acute. Combine that yearning with how badly he needed a distraction from Eddie leaving, and Buck was surprised that they managed to make it out of the bar.
But they did, and that had been a good night. He hadn't expected anything from it, was ready to watch Tommy walk out the door again and then get started on a victoria sponge with one of the first harvests of strawberries he'd picked up. But Tommy had been the one to suggest that it could mean more, that they could try again—asking if Buck was free Saturday just like he had the first time.
And they met up Saturday, talked things out, exposed their vulnerable underbellies, got a lot of their misunderstandings sorted. They fucked again, too, sure, but that was kind of what he expected. He wasn't going to let how good they were in bed distract him from other important relationship stuff. Buck’s got open and honest communication marked down on his to-do list right under getting his back blown out.
So he thanks Ravi again—tiramisu? pavlova? firefighter helmet macarons? he should maybe ask Ravi what he actually likes—and breathes in the warm smell of the man beside him.
“Mmm, stop that,” Tommy says, batting his hand away where Buck had been rubbing idly at his pec. He flicks the nipple and Tommy grunts, pushing him off his chest. “Brat.”
Buck laughs and presses himself closer into Tommy’s side. “I don’t care,” he says, “I’ll own it. I’m a brat.” He nuzzles into the juncture of Tommy’s neck and shoulder and then snaps at the skin with careful teeth. “It’s not my fault you like it, old man.”
“Hey.” Tommy’s hand sinks into the hair on the back of his head and tugs, just enough to let him feel it. He likely means it as a punishment but joke’s on him, Buck likes it. “Watch it, kid.”
Buck grins, big and wide, and shimmies up a little to kiss Tommy firmly on the mouth. The banter is derailed for a minute by some making out, but it never gets heated, staying slow and soft and sweet as they trade slick, tender kisses. Buck teases at Tommy’s lips, licking gently into his mouth, and then sucks at the wet muscle of his tongue. Things de-escalate into lazy pecks, and then they separate, no longer so tangled up together but still close and warm.
Buck pulls away, but keeps their bodies pressed together. “So,” he starts, in the most casual way he can. “Does this mean we’re back together?”
Tommy shifts onto his back and smiles up at the ceiling, then turns his head on the pillow to look at Buck. His eyes sparkle as his face splits into a grin. "Is that what you want?"
“I mean I'm not opposed to just this,” Buck says, gesturing between their bare torsos on the bed, “But I-I never wanted together to stop, Tommy." He feels his cheeks heat and he draws a nonsense pattern on the skin of Tommy's arm, distracting himself from the pull of Tommy's gaze. "I want to be with you. Yeah. Please. That's what I want."
Tommy grabs Buck’s hand and laces their fingers together. “Evan,” he says, his voice so soft and fond it makes Buck blush even harder. His face burns, but it feels so good, as always, to be the subject of Tommy’s attention. “Of course.” He raises Buck’s hand and presses a slow, lingering kiss to the back of it. “That's what I want, too. To be with you. To have a second chance. So.” He lets the hand he's holding go and waits until Buck makes eye contact. His mouth softens into the gentlest hint of a smile. "Boyfriends?"
“Yeah,” Buck says, nodding like his head’s on a swivel before Tommy’s even got the word out. “Yeah, I’d.” He cups Tommy’s face and grins. “Yeah,” he says again. “I’d like that, too.” He drapes his arm across Tommy’s abdomen and burrows into his side as much as he can. “I know you have to go to work, but other than that?” Tommy smells like sweat and Buck’s laundry detergent, and he breathes in, his nose pressed to Tommy’s skin. “You’re staying here. In my bed, where you belong.” His grip tightens. “I’m not letting you go again.”
Soft breath fans across his temple. “I’m sorry,” Tommy says.
“Hey, no, it’s—“ Buck shifts up so he can meet Tommy’s eyes again. “It’s okay, we’re good.” A crooked smile opens up his face. They can joke about the break-up now, he thinks. They can tease. “I should have, uh, blocked the door or something. Forced you to stay. We could have got all this talking out of the way then and saved ourselves months of being miserable and alone.”
“Hmm.” Tommy tries to smile, but the expression fades after a moment. He looks up to the ceiling again and shifts his hand under his head. His elbow sticks out and it shows off the strength of his arms. Buck wants to bite them. His mouth waters at the thought and his hips twitch, but he ignores it, tries to keep himself under control. There’s something thoughtful in Tommy’s face. Something that, before, would have meant he was about to shut down and close up. Buck watches as he takes a deep breath and decides to open up instead.
Tommy’s head turns a little, rustling the pillow and he looks at Buck with eyes shot through with something like regret.
“You know,” he starts. Then he huffs, a little curl of breath through his nose. He licks his lips. He looks back up to the ceiling and his lips quirk up, a wrinkle in the corner of a self-effacing smile. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. Low, even for the close, intimate setting they’re in. “I think I wanted you to chase me.”
Buck’s whole body stiffens. “Wh-what?”
Tommy laughs a little, and he sounds self-conscious about it, careful to keep his eyes away from Buck. “I got scared… and I left. I regret it and I feel like I’m on borrowed time for how lucky I am that I didn’t screw things up permanently. That you gave me another chance.” He grabs Buck’s hand and brings it to his lips for another kiss. “But I had convinced myself that I knew better than you. That you weren’t serious. You asked me if I was breaking up with you… and I hadn’t thought about it like that, not really. I didn’t want to, but I felt like… I had to. Had to break my own heart so that I could be sure you wouldn't break it. Bigger and worse." His smile slides into something self-deprecating and his eyes shine. "Really fucking stupid of me in retrospect."
"Yeah," Buck says, and it seems like that's all Tommy has to say, but he's not letting the subject go that easily. "But, uh. Tommy, what… What did you mean that you wanted me to chase you?"
"Well." Tommy takes a deep breath in and Buck feels the rise of his chest. "After the… Mmm. After. I thought." He stops short again, and blinks a few times. Buck lets his hand settle against Tommy's warm skin, trying to impart as much silent support as he can. "I thought that if breaking up hadn't been the right thing to do, that if I had been premature… Then you would have reached out and let me know. You would have fought for us, like I was too much of a coward to do. And when you didn't, I let myself believe that I'd done the right thing. That, well. That you'd realized you were better off without me, or you'd already moved on." He huffs again, rolling his eyes at himself. "Kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy, I guess."
Buck's arm snakes further around Tommy's body and he pulls them together as close as he can. He buries his face in the swell of Tommy's chest, nosing at the hair there. "I'm trying really, really hard not to be mad at you about that right now."
"Go ahead," Tommy says. "I deserve it. I can't expect someone to chase me if they don't know I want to be chased. And it's not like I reached out, either."
But you wanted to, Buck thinks. You bubbled me.
And he knows, from the talk they'd had that Saturday after the bar, that Tommy has always felt left behind. That he doesn't expect people to chase him at all, because he doesn't think he deserves to be chased. That he's always going to be the one people forget or throw away. No, Buck hadn't chased him. He hadn't known at the time that Tommy wanted that, that he could have run Tommy down and forced him to talk things out.
It was shitty that Tommy broke up with him instead of talking. But Tommy didn't owe him a relationship, and he had just as much right to break up with Buck over a misunderstanding as over anything else. It didn't mean that it hadn't hurt. But it also didn't mean that Tommy was the villain. Buck had thought, at the time, that Tommy not reaching out meant that Tommy wasn't hurting as badly as he was. That the relationship hadn't meant as much to Tommy. He hadn't realized that Tommy was a dumbass who would rather passively suffer than risk getting hurt by going after what he wants. When Buck wants something, he tends to tip over into excess. He grabs and grabs and holds on so tight that it chases things away. When Tommy wants something, apparently, he hopes it falls into his lap and when it doesn't he uses that as an excuse to justify all the worst parts of his worldview. It makes Buck nearly sick to think that if he'd just reached out… If he'd let himself run after Tommy…
Buck grunts as his grip tightens. He throws a leg over Tommy's hip and nudges his knee up until it makes contact with the soft weight of Tommy's dick. He wishes that he could get his mouth on it, that he could keep Tommy warm and wet and feel him harden under the soft petting of his tongue. But he doesn't know how to ask for that, not when things are so new. He thinks Tommy might take it as a deflection, as Buck using sex to make things easier, take some of the pressure of the conversation off. And that's not what Buck wants at all. He takes in a deep breath and then lets it out slow. "So if… if Ravi hadn't—"
Tommy's hand cups the back of his neck, his palm large and dry and warm. "Hey. But he did. And I don't really know Ravi, but if he ever needs a helicopter…"
Buck laughs. "Okay, sure, but consider this. How about just mille-feuille?"
hello! do you have any recs for break up and make-up fics? angsty ones with a happy ending
okay two of these are amnesia fics lmfao but here's the getting back together fics in the archive collection that u can look through, too !
would you fall in love with me again?
by contrapposto
Ilya stopped before Shane’s door and took a deep breath, holding it in until his lungs burned. Peeking through the little window on the door, his heart sank at seeing Shane lying there, hooked up to various monitors with his arm in a sling. Before he could talk himself out of it, he turned the handle slowly and slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Shane blinked awake, gaze sleepily settling on Ilya. Ilya lingered by the door, unsure of what to do or say.
Clearing his throat, Shane sat up a little straighter and gave a curt nod. “Rozanov.”
Ilya’s heart stopped.
Rozanov.
Not Ilya.
Just… Rozanov.
You Would've Been the One
by broccolicheddarchicken
Shane would always be yearning for something with a man who didn't want him, wouldn't he? A little positive attention and he'd folded like origami. Pathetic.
"Stay," Rozanov said. It sounded like pleading. That trick had worked on him, once.
“Why?" Shane's tone was more biting than he intended. "What do you think is going to happen if I stay? Are you gonna make me a goddamned tuna melt?”
Rozanov, to his credit, took the words like the blow they were. His eyes widened, then he covered his face with his palms and muttered something in Russian.
Shane had never seen shame written across those features before.
(In April 2017, Shane Hollander suffers the most painful not-breakup he’ll ever experience. Months later, he's outed. Two years after that, a broken knee ends his career.
When Rozanov unexpectedly crosses Shane's path four years later, Shane resolves to be courteous yet keep his distance. But Ilya is just as beautiful and charming as he ever was, and he’s determined to give what they'd once shared a second chance. A real chance.
It's a bad idea. Shane knows it's a bad idea.
The terrifying thing is that it doesn't feel like one.)
Signs of Life
by jukoist
There is a strong scent of antiseptic in the air, the kind that always haunts hospitals and morgues. Ilya thinks it is fitting. He thinks, perhaps, that some vital organ of his is failing irreparably, and he is only waiting for a doctor to call out his time of death.
“You have lost your memories.” It’s not a question. Ilya’s burning hand drops from Shane’s cheek.
“Yeah,” Shane says easily. “Wait, shit, did no one tell you?”
“Is it temporary.” Ilya’s voice is hoarse, pleading. “This memory loss, is it… tell me that it is temporary.” Please, please, God. I know I promised to give anything up, but-
Shane looks at Ilya with wide eyes. “They don’t know,” he says gently. He seems to be catching onto Ilya’s distress despite the drugs in his system.
Ilya feels cold all over. Yes, any moment now, they will cover him with a white sheet and take him away.
(Shane's concussion in S01E05 leaves him missing his memories from the last decade. Ilya is now the only person in the world who knows the truth about him and Shane, and is forced to question whether to burden Shane with their complicated relationship or to walk away.)
Read part one: 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 to understand the story...
Synopsis: Young and successful, Stray Kids are dominating the world with their ongoing tour. While the other members have moved on and found their own happiness, Chan remains trapped in the bittersweet memories of your love and the pain of your breakup.
A few years later when you attend their concert at the front row, fate decides to bring back the world it once shattered.
Content Warnings: Second chance. Tears, mention of alcohol, hurt, comfort, getting back together.
Note: This is the part two, the idea which won in this poll I posted. Sorry that it took so long to be uploaded ^^;
If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.
The wind brushed strands of hair on your face, the surrounding bustling with excitement, chatters and giggling as you stood in front of the enormous stadium, large enough to fit over eighty thousand people.
“Ah I'm gonna see Stray Kids for the first time!” An excited fan smiled and exclaimed, posing in front of the stadium doors with their SKZOO plushie and lightstick.
Others were making their way inside, dressed in gorgeous outfits, everyone equally excited to see the eight idols dominate the stage.
You watched as everyone made their way in, yet you stood in front of the stadium, your heart torn between deciding if you should go inside or just turn back and go to the airport.
It's been five years.
Five years since you last saw him. In front of you. His dimpled smile, Australian accent, killing eyes that you once fell for.
And you still are. Even after all this time.
“Are you lost?” A voice startled you. You turned around to see a security guard looking at you curiously, you've been standing without a movement for quite some time.
“Oh no, I—” you stuttered but then showed your phone to the guard.
He took a look at your screen, front row, and pointed you in the direction towards the VIP entrance. "You're right this way," the guard said with a polite nod, stepping aside to let you through.
Your feet felt heavy as you took slow, deliberate steps toward the entrance, the distant thumping of the bass from inside the stadium reverberating through your chest.
Your grip tightened around your phone, knuckles turning white as your emotions warred within you. Excitement, anxiety, and something deeper, an ache that never quite healed.
As you entered the stadium, the roar of the crowd swallowed you whole. The stage was massive, glowing in a spectrum of colors that danced across the eager faces of thousands of fans.
You took your seat in the front row, surrounded by a sea of lightsticks waving in unison, creating an ocean of pulsating red.
In the backstage, the eight RockStars were preparing to get on stage. Felix and I.N were fixing their earpieces and straightening their outfits, Lee Know and Changbin helping each other rehearse their lines but mostly just joking around.
Seungmin was fixing the chords of his guitar while Han did a quick facetime with his girlfriend back home and Hyunjin was being sneaky with his girlfriend somewhere backstage.
And there was Bang Chan. His eyes drifted across the bustling backstage area, his members were thriving, finding happiness in ways he once imagined for himself.
Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was happy for them—genuinely. Like the best leader he always was.
Amidst the excitement and anticipation of another sold-out show, he couldn’t ignore the emptiness that still lingered in his heart.
"Hyung," Felix’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "You good?"
Chan blinked and nodded quickly, forcing a reassuring smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just thinking. Let's kill the stage.”
Felix studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but decided not to press further and bumped fists with him. "You know we always do.”
“Boys! It's time!” Chan called out, the members gathered one by one, forming a circle and putting their hands in front.
“Step out! We are STRAY KIDS!”
They chanted in unison and prepared to get on stage. A montage of their journey played on the enormous screens, and cheers erupted as the lights dimmed.
The opening VCR ended, and the members took the stage one by one, their energy electrifying the atmosphere. You watched as Han and Hyunjin emerged first, followed by Felix, Seungmin, Lee Know, I.N, Changbin.
And then… Bang Chan.
He walked onto the stage with the same effortless charisma that once made your world revolve around him. Your heart pounded behind your chest, he looked almost the same as he did five years ago but now more stronger and powerful.
True to the name of their tour, the eight stars indeed dominated the stage with their energetic music, dance and performance, the crowd erupting in waves of cheers and screams.
The setlist carried on, the members pouring their souls into every performance, when Chan's gaze swept over the front row and landed on you, everything shifted.
Time froze in that instant, only the locked space between you and Chan floating in the air. Your heart clenched as his eyes widened, refusing to believe that it was indeed you in front of him tonight.
The girl he once had to let go because loving you had come at a cost too heavy to bear.
Chan’s breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, he forgot where he was. The thundering bass, the flashing lights, the deafening cheers—all of it faded into the background. It was just you. Standing there.
Looking up at him with those same eyes that once held his entire world.
Distressing nights crashed into his mind.
The brown liquid stung and burned when it made its way down his throat. It was strong and bitter, like chewing and swallowing medicine.
Only three glasses of whiskey and that reached the limit. It didn't do anything to numb the pain and the fire burning in his chest.
Han and Changbin watched their friend struggling to cope after his break up with you. Han got up from the couch and silently moved the bottle and glass away from Chan whose head had fallen back on his desk chair.
“Chan Hyung..." Han’s voice had been soft yet firm, like he was talking to a fragile child. “This isn’t the way to deal with it.”
Chan’s head lolled to the side, his bloodshot eyes meeting Han’s concerned gaze. “Then what is?” he rasped, his voice cracking from shouting into the void earlier.
“What do I do, Han? Tell me, because every time I close my eyes, I see her walking out of that door. Every time I breathe, it feels like she’s still here, but she’s not. She’s gone.”
After you left, Chan was grieving the entire night, unable to work or do anything at all. He had promised to not contact you again but impulsivity led him to go to your apartment only to find out that you had moved out without a single trace. His friends tried to contact you through social media, but everything related to you had vanished overnight, as if nothing about you ever existed, crushing his soul in and out.
Changbin had sighed heavily, gently placing his hand on Chan's shoulder. “Hyung, you know we’re here for you, right? But killing yourself like this, drinking until you pass out, it’s not going to bring her back.”
“Don’t you think I know that?!” Chan had snapped, his voice hoarse with frustration and heartbreak. For the first time YEARS Chan raised his voice that made Changbin and Han flinch.
“I let her go. I had to, for the group, for the fans, for everything that wasn’t her. And now...” His voice broke. “Now, I don’t even know who I am without her.”
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the studio equipment. Han had stepped closer, his expression pained but resolute.
“Then find yourself again, Hyung. Please. It’ll hurt, but you have to. For us, for the fans and for her. But we know that one day you'll reunite again…”
That night had been a turning point. He had thrown himself into his work with relentless fervour, using the music to drown out the noise of his heartbreak.
But no matter how many songs he wrote, how many hours he spent producing, he could never erase the phantom of you.
Now, five years later, that phantom was standing right in front of him, flesh and bone and as breathtaking as ever
His fingers curled tightly around the mic, knuckles white, but years of performing instinct kicked in. He forced himself to move, to sing, to dance—but it wasn’t the same anymore.
Every step felt heavier, every lyric hit closer to home, and every glance at you chipped away at the careful walls he’d built around his heart.
“You okay?” Lee Know mouthed between the choreography, nudging him subtly.
Chan could only nod, blinking hard to refocus. His body was working on its own, but his heart and mind wandered elsewhere.
While maintaining professionalism and his usual banter on stage along with the members, interacting with fans, every now and then he took a glance at you, who continued to watch him with nothing but pride filled in your eyes at how far he has come.
One part of your heart was happy that he still remembered you even if the both of you can never be together again, and another part of it ached at the past feelings and the shattering heartbreak.
Your grip tightened around the lightstick in your hand. Chan saw the way your chest rose and fell unevenly, saw the way your lips pressed together as if holding back tears.
With their final act, for a long time Chan's gaze only glued to your row, wrapping up their show for the night.
One by one Stray Kids bid their goodbyes and began disappearing into the darkness. The crowd erupted into cheers, some were emotional, others wore a huge smile on their faces for having the best night of their lives.
While you remained not knowing how to feel.
Not knowing if you should feel happy for finally having the courage to attend a concert and see Chan after so many years or hold your heart that's in pieces and go back home knowing that's the final you're giving yourself to ever see him again.
With a low exhale, you turned away to the exit when the same security guard who helped you inside stopped in front of you.
“Can I help you?” You asked, feeling slightly intimidated by his tall figure.
“Wear this,” he handed you a black mask, “and come with me.”
Your brows furrowed in confusion as you stared at the black mask in your hand. “I—I'm sorry, but what is this for?” you asked, your voice cautious.
The guard remained impassive, his gaze steady but not unkind. “You’ll know soon enough. Just put it on and follow me.”
Hesitation gripped you. You swallowed hard, your heart was still racing from the concert, from Chan’s lingering gaze that felt like it was reaching deep into your soul.
Should you run away? But something in the guard’s gaze said that it could be something you might not expect, so reluctantly, you slipped the mask over your face, tugging it securely behind your ears before nodding at the guard.
Without another word, he turned and led you through a side passage that veered away from the exiting crowd.
The further you walked, the louder your heartbeat became, echoing in your ears like the remnants of a song you weren’t ready to let go of.
The corridor was dimly lit, the hum of staff members and distant voices filling the space. It smelled of sweat, stage fog, and something unmistakably nostalgic.
You were led past a heavy curtain, and suddenly, the guard stopped. “Wait here,” he said firmly before disappearing behind a door, leaving you standing in what looked like the backstage area.
You blinked, taking in the chaotic but empty space around you—rows of clothing racks, half-empty water bottles scattered across tables, a faint hum of music still reverberating through the walls.
As you turned around, you caught the sight of two guys, standing frozen in place like they had just seen a ghost. You recognised them instantly (well obviously), memories flooding back when you were like your own little friend group.
Han’s mouth fell unhinged while Hyunjin's eyes threatened to pop out of his sockets.
Your heart raced like a freight train, swallowing hard you smiled. “Uh…hi?”
“No way.” Han was the first to recover, shaking his head with a bewildered chuckle. “Are we dreaming? Is she actually here?” He nudged Hyunjin hard enough to make him stumble. “Dude, say something.”
Hyunjin’s lips parted, his gaze scanning you like he was trying to piece together an impossible puzzle.
Slowly the other members appeared one after another, gathering before you, like a long-lost family reunion frozen in time. Each of them stood there, wide-eyed, their expressions shifting from disbelief to cautious joy.
Your chest tightened, emotions welling up at the sight of them all together again. Memories hit you like waves—late-night hangouts, inside jokes, and the way they always made you feel like you belonged.
“I…” you started, your voice faltering under their weighty stares. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
Han’s smile faded slightly, his eyes softening. “Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You just—poof. Gone.”
Hyunjin finally found his voice, quieter than before. “We looked for you, you know? But you disappeared without a trace.”
You swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at you. “I had to. I... I couldn't stay.”
Before anyone could respond, a familiar face cut through the air, appearing behind Changbin. The moment you saw him, your heart clenched so tightly it hurt. Air was knocked out of your lungs.
Chan stepped into view, his breath hitching with a soft smile the second his eyes locked onto yours.
“Hey my love,” he breathed, barely above a whisper, yet it echoed through the silence like a deafening confession.
You bit your lip as your chin wobbled, tears gushing up your eyes, so close to falling. You stood rooted to the spot, your pulse pounding in your ears. His dark eyes swept over you, lingering on every familiar detail as if he was afraid that you’d disappear again if he blinked.
Chan walked towards you, the sound of his boots echoing off the walls, each step feeling like a lifetime as he closed the distance between you.
You touched your elbow, hoping it would hold you from falling on the floor, your breathing increased with every passing second.
“Let's give them a moment…” you faintly heard Felix tell the others, you could see them disappearing but nothing could be registered other than Chan who stood in front of you.
Present and achingly real.
Tears blurred your vision, the moment you blinked they rolled down your cheeks. Chan hesitated for a fraction of a second, his hand twitching as if unsure whether to touch you or not.
But then, without another thought, he cupped your cheek so gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled.
Words were stuck in your throat. Time was frozen. A longing warmth engulfed you. You leaned into his touch instinctively, your hands trembling as they reached up to hold his wrist.
A shaky breath left your lips as you held onto him, trying to soak in the warmth you had been deprived of for so long. Chan smiled softly and pulled you into his arms holding you tightly against his chest, as if afraid you might slip away again.
Your eyes widened, then closed, your hands gripping his back, hugging him back equally tightly.
Held back sobs broke free, you choked as you let your tears fall and soak his top, holding onto Chan unwilling to let him go.
Chan held the back of your head, not speaking a word but his throat was tight, holding back his emotions biting the lower lip, his eyes shut but lashes brimming with tears.
His arms tightened around you, his grip was desperate, his heart hammering against your ear, a silent confession of everything he never got to say.
“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice raw and heavy with years of unsaid words. “I’m so…so sorry.”
You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, pressing your face deeper into his chest. “Don’t,” you managed to croak out between your sobs.
Your body shook with quiet sobs against him, your fists clutching the fabric of his top as if it could hold together the pieces of your shattered heart.
"I missed you," you choked out, the confession slipping through your tears.
"I never wanted to let you go," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I didn't have a choice... they—"
"I know," you whispered, cutting him off, your voice raw with pain.
You remembered that devastating evening when you walked out of his apartment, closing the door behind you and heard a loud crash soon after. With every ounce left in your body you walked away, refusing to look back.
You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes, those same dark, expressive eyes you fell in love with, were bloodshot and glassy with unshed tears. You could see everything in them. The pain. The regret. The love that never faded.
“I left that day,” you continued, your voice trembling, “telling you my heart belonged to you… yours to love and yours to break.” Your lips wobbled, fresh tears slipping down. “And it still does, Chan. Even after all this time.”
Chan’s face contorted in anguish, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks again, trying to wipe away years of pain. "I never wanted to break you," he whispered. “I'm so sorry for hurting you my love, I'm so fucking sorry…”
You swallowed hard, your eyes searching his. "Did you ever move on?"
Chan shook his head instantly, his grip on you tightening. “No,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours. “I tried, but...how could I? You were everywhere. In my music, in my dreams, in every damn thing I did.”
He laughed bitterly, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I wrote songs about you... but I couldn't say your name. I couldn't even let them know who they were really about."
You sniffled, a small, broken smile tugging at your lips, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair. Chan let out a choked laugh, pulling you even closer.
Silence stretched between you, the weight of the years apart pressing down, but in this moment, none of it mattered. It was just you and him, tangled in a mess of heartbreak and longing.
Your hand cupped his face, his skin was hot under your palm, he leaned in, soaking your touch, as if this was the first time in five years he could finally let his feelings out.
Your heart pounded against your chest, but you whispered, "I don't know what happens now.”
Chan opened his eyes, brushing a strand of hair being your ear, a desperate kind of hope in his gaze.
"We try," he said softly. "If you'll let me...we try again. I don't care what it takes, sweetheart. I lost you once, and I can't do it again.”
The scars never healed and wounds were still fresh. Could you do it again? Could you believe in him? Let yourself fall back into the world you once built together, knowing how easily it could shatter all over again?
His gaze was searching yours, silently pleading for an answer. But he could see it, the fear etched across your face, the hesitation flickering in your eyes.
“I know,” he whispered, his voice laced with understanding. “I know you’re afraid. I am too.” He leaned in closer, his forehead brushing against yours. “But I swear, I won’t let you get hurt again. I won't let you go.”
Your lips parted, a shuddering breath escaping, but before you could say anything, Chan’s mouth crashed with yours.
You froze, eyes widened, but you melted into him in a heartbeat, letting his tongue slip past your lips and kiss you fiercely.
Love, hurt, fear, anger, desperation.
His hand held your neck as your fingers snaked through his hair, teeth against teeth, breaths colliding, there was no room to breathe.
You gasped against his mouth, the tears slipping between your lips, but neither of you pulled away. The kiss deepened, urgent and unrelenting, you both were trying to make up for all the lost time, for all the moments you could have had but were cruelly stolen from you.
Finally, when air became an undeniable necessity, Chan pulled back, his breath ragged and hot against you.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “For everything. For letting them take you away from me. I should have fought harder. I should have—”
You silenced him with a soft brush of your fingers against his lips, shaking your head as fresh tears welled up. “We both got hurt, Chan,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
“But I always hoped that one day I could find my way back to you.”
You played a trembling smile that made Chan’s breath catch, his dark eyes glistening with a mix of relief and longing.
The weight of what felt like an eternity of lost years pressed heavily between you both. You remembered the nights you spent staring at the empty space beside you, wondering if he missed you as much as you missed him.
And now, standing in front of him, you saw it, the same ache, the same yearning in his eyes. He missed you just as much, refusing to move on and playing a smile on his face that was convincing enough to make everyone think he was fine.
But only the ones who knew, knew that he wasn't.
Chan's fingers intertwined with yours, his forehead pressing on yours as he exhaled a long breath, living in the moment.
“Can we try again?” His breath ghosted over your skin, his voice so raw and filled with a quiet desperation that it made your chest tighten painfully.
Your lips parted, your pulse hammering in your ears. “What if we end up breaking all over again?” The vulnerability in your voice made his brows furrow, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that almost unraveled you.
His thumb traced soothing circles over your knuckles. “Then we’ll piece ourselves back together,” he said softly, his voice steady yet laced with the same fear you held.
You swallowed hard, staring into his eyes—the eyes you had once memorized, the eyes that haunted your dreams every night. “I’m still scared,” you admitted, voice shaking.
Chan let out a breathy chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “I’m scared too, sweetheart,” he whispered.
“But I’d rather be scared with you than be without you.”
A tear slipped down your cheek, and he was quick to catch it with his thumb, his touch lingering against your skin. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed, his voice cracking.
“I missed you too, Channie. Every single day.”
Chan bit his lip smiling yet his eyes held a wave of fresh tears, his dimple deepening, that same dimple that made your heart flutter in the best way possible.
“Will you stay with me?” He asked for the third time, hope still lingering across his features, refusing to give up.
He fought himself, blamed himself, hated himself for letting you slip away from him that easily.
But now he was determined to win you back no matter the cost. Because sometimes the heart remembers what the mind tries to forget. And love has a way of finding its way back, even through the wreckage.
A shiver ran down your spine, voices in your mind screaming for you to not fall for false hope even though your heart begged you to not let him go.
Your fingers reached up, tracing the curve of his cheek, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.
Chan watched you curiously and cautiously, you closed your eyes, his presence grounding you, anchoring you to a reality that felt both terrifying and beautiful.
And in that moment, despite the fears clawing at your soul, you nodded—slowly, hesitantly—but it was enough.
His hug engulfed you again, letting out a shaky sob but traced with a low laugh, relief washing over him, finally giving the chance to forgive himself.
“Thank you,” he breathed, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you for coming back to me.”
And you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, a real, genuine smile playing on your lips for the first time, letting yourself get lost in the world you once walked out from.
Bang!
The loud sound of the popper tube made both your hearts threaten to jump out of your throats, pieces of shiny gold and silver confetti swirling around you in a cascade of shimmering light.
You gasped, instinctively gripping onto Chan’s top as laughter erupted from behind you. The guys stood there, grinning like a bunch of mischievous kids, their faces full of warmth and excitement.
Felix, holding the empty confetti popper, yelled “Surprise!” breaking the emotional tension with his infectious, sunshine energy.
You blinked, feeling the weight of the moment give way to laughter as Hyunjin threw his arms in the air. “Finally! I was starting to think you two would just stare at each other forever.”
Chan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head, his arm securely wrapped around your waist and the other hand rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and radiant.
A small giggle escaped your lips as you wiped the tears away, feeling the love, the warmth of the people who once felt like family. Changbin walked up, his usual tough exterior melting as he patted Chan on the shoulder.
“Don’t mess it up this time.”
“I won’t,” Chan said firmly and his gaze locked with yours. “Not again.”
Felix bounced over, wrapping both you and Chan in a sudden hug, his voice soft but full of emotion. “You have no idea how much we’ve missed you,” he murmured. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”
“I missed you all too,” you whispered, your heart swelling.
Chan’s fingers tightened around your waist, grounding you in the moment. He leaned in, his voice low and meant only for you. “So… are you staying?”
You gazed up at him, the memories of your love flashing behind your eyes. The late-night conversations, the way he used to hold you when the world felt too heavy, the way you were destined to find your way back to each other, no matter what.
Taking a deep breath, you nodded, a soft smile breaking across your lips. “Yeah, Channie. I’m staying.”
A loud cheer erupted from the guys, Felix jumping up and down with I.N, Han dramatically fake-crying into Hyunjin’s shoulder, Lee Know nodding, draping his arm around Changbin's shoulder, showing a thumbs up at Chan, while Seungmin simply smirked, satisfied.
Chan’s eyes shone with something you hadn’t seen in a long time, pure, unfiltered happiness. He cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.
“We’re gonna make it work this time. I promise.”
You smiled looking up at Chan and leaned your head against his body, his lips brushing against your hair.
Just because something didn't work out the first time, doesn't mean it can't be even better the second time around.
And sometimes, the love that got away is the same love that comes back to stay.
Hellooo, first of all thank you, I've found so many good fics in this blog it's insane ❤️❤️
Second of all, do you have recommendations of fics where Aziraphale and Crowley are exes who are still in love? I only found Ink Blots and Forget Me Nots, which is INSANELY good and recommended, but the rest are fics in which they were together when they were young and then spent 10 years or so without seeing each other, and that's amazing but I kinda want the yearning that comes with exes who are still in love and have to coexist
Hiiii. Here are some fics where they are in each other's lives post-break up to add to our #getting back together tag...
Shut Up Kiss Me Hold Me Tight by wyrmy (M)
Aziraphale and Crowley have had an Arrangement in place ever since their divorce 15 years ago. They're absolutely, strictly friends (with rather copious benefits) and they'll never, ever be anything else ever again. Or will they?
This is fanfic. Of course they will.
Comfort Food by Zakani_Donovan (T)
Anthony J. Crowley hated what he was doing, but it was almost like he couldn't control his body as he walked into Aziraphale's restaurant. Once, it had been like coming home, stepping in here. Now, after their breakup, he almost felt like a demon walking on consecrated ground.
Worth the Money by whatkeepsusalive (T)
Aziraphale and Crowley broke up.
Unfortunately, they also booked a luxury ski resort New Year’s trip months ago, complete with a couples-only chalet, spa treatments, and aggressively romantic experiences that cannot be cancelled.
What was meant to be a celebration becomes a reckoning and maybe, if they’re brave enough, a second chance.
Please Stay by curiouswriterkr (E)
Did the angel just insinuate-? Crowley grinned at him. Might as well take the invitation. “Well, I’d love to hear it one day over a glass of wine, then,” the gamble worked because Aziraphale beamed and wiggled. His lips parted and his eyes focused on Crowley’s sunglasses.
“That would be delightful, Crowley,” his name rolled off Aziraphale’s tongue like it was a delicious chocolate raspberry truffle.
In short, Crowley moves in next door to Aziraphale and sparks fly. And then so much miscommunication begins to happen and assumptions are made and things get very rocky indeed.
(Because sometimes these two share a brain cell.)
Sinking Ships by AppleSeeds (E)
The world is practically on fire and it feels like nobody's doing anything about it, but Crowley's outlook brightens considerably when a new member arrives at his local climate action committee. Crowley is immediately smitten, and is thrilled when he and Aziraphale become fast friends, although he can't help but hope they might one day become something more.
When all of his wishes come true, Crowley starts to feel like life couldn't possibly get any better. He can picture exactly what his future is going to look like, until something happens that feels like a powerful bolt of lightning has struck and split Crowley's life right down the middle, with everything before that moment on one side, and everything that is to come - scorched, lifeless and devastated - on the other.
With the help of a counsellor, Crowley begins the difficult journey of picking up the pieces and working through what's happened. When Aziraphale unexpectedly comes back into his life, Crowley finally has the chance to get some answers, revealing that the truth is very different from what he was led to believe. Now he just needs to figure out whether that changes anything.
And the one your mentioned...
Ink Blots and Forget-Me-Nots by gutsandglitter (T)
Ninth Circle Ink was hardly more than a stone’s throw from the flower shop; Aziraphale knew from past experience that it took less than thirty seconds to go from door to door (forty-five if you had to wait for a car to pass). It had been a perfect arrangement in the beginning, when they were just starting out.
Owning a flower shop across the street from your boyfriend's tattoo parlor is fun and adorable. Owning a flower shop across the street from your ex-boyfriend's tattoo parlor? Not so much.
How did we go from “Being with you makes me not want to be a bad person” and “I need to remember the FIRST TIME I made you smile”, to Mr Slothers, zero introspection on how Jay has been irrevocably changed because of his time spent as a mercenary, and magic haircut
