Hey! I've written two fics, sort of longish (30000 range), "The Hope Diamond" and "Belonging" I'd love it if you read them and recommended them! (I also have some other fics, but only if you're interested;) lol)
Hey darling, thank you so much for this message! <3 I will most certainly read them both (and probably all of your oneshots too :D), but it might take me some time (long reading list and currently learning for an exam), but I promise I’ll do it <3
In case anyone else is as interested as I am (I skimmed the summaries and I can’t wait :D My first swimmer AU): lolguess on AO3
Hey! I love your fics, they alway brighten my day (even the sad ones, bc they are so well written and somehow wrap the entire story up in so few words, but I'm getting off track) The way you portray the parabatai bond between Jace&Alec, is perfect. Its not usually treated so well, but the reality is that bond is not something we can comprehend fully, and you somehow navigate that very well, so thank you for sharing. p.s. totally a fan of your unpopular opinions :) <3
Thank you so much, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that today :) I love to explore the bond so much, from Jace’s POV and from Alec’s POV and just generally the depth of affection between them. It gives me warm fuzzies! I’m very glad you like my stories (and my unpopular opinions ;))
special message to giftee: i tried to touch on all the things you mentioned, but this ended up being more of an alec introspective than anything, so i hope you enjoy it anyway!
anything else: post s1.
******
like rolling thunder (magnus/alec, lydia. pg.)
[Magnus sends him fire messages every day.]
+
He goes to Alicante, and it’s not like his parents drag him kicking and screaming but the order’s clear in their clipped tone and pointed looks. It’s experience, they say when their friends ask about his presence at endless council meetings and formal dinners, and Alec barely resists rolling his eyes because the chances of him leading the Institute went up in smoke the day he chose to stop running, and no amount of suffocating neckwear is going to change that.
He misses New York and Isabelle and decent coffee, and the need to be on the ground looking for Jace claws at his chest until he can barely breathe. It doesn’t matter how many times Izzy tells him he’s more useful where he is, finding out what the Clave knows, using the resources they just don’t have back home outside of Jocelyn’s fractured memory and Magnus’ useless locator spells, it doesn’t ease the churning in his stomach that feels like nothing short of permanent loss.
“It’s just worry,” Lydia says, when her concussion’s gone and she’s deemed ready for visitors. “Worry and fear. He’ll be okay. Jace is a survivor.”
She looks different under the sun of the Glass City, simultaneously fragile and calm, and he wonders if it’s selfish to want her to return to New York after the tangle of awkwardness he perpetuated has faded into something bearable.
“We’ll find him,” Alec says, because that he’s sure of. “I’m just scared he won’t be the same person when we do.”
Lydia’s smile is sad when she squeezes his hand. “Maybe,” she says. “But that’s what he has his family for. That’s what he has you for.”
Alec gives her something as closely resembling a smile as he can manage and doesn’t say, I’m not sure I’ll be enough.
+
Magnus sends him fire messages every day.
Some of them are short, stupid things — caricatures of Magnus’ clients or recipes for weird cocktails — and Alec rolls his eyes and bites his lip to stop himself smiling as passers by shoot him curious looks. He hears enough whispers to know how closely he’s being watched, and his pride feels grazed each time he catches the last twist of a smirk or carefully averted eyes.
He chants ‘Who cares? Who cares? Who cares?’ inside his head and clutches at paper stained with glitter and the scent of Central Park on a fall evening, trying to make himself believe it.
He’s not scared anymore. Or— he is, but about things that matter; about where Jace is and what Valentine’s plans are; about Izzy alone with only a fledgling vampire and a lost girl for company; about the war that’s spiralling towards them that no one else wants to see. What he’s not scared about is the secret he used to carry around like Atlas, and that relief would be overwhelming if it hadn’t been replaced with the simmering anger that rises every time the Clave pretends they’re talking down to him out of concern instead of judgement.
Some days Magnus’ messages are longer, and Alec thinks, I miss you too, as he reads about Magnus’ day and his thoughts and his past.
On those days he walks a little straighter, placing the letters carefully into a box he’s repurposed and refusing to regret anything.
+
His mother tries to set him up three times, and when she finally introduces a boy with Academy bred arrogance painted over his naivety, her smile bordering on smug, Alec walks out.
“I’m sure she means well,” Lydia says when she finds him shooting arrow after arrow at the practice targets he hasn’t used since he was a child.
“Thanks for lying,” he says, and Lydia sighs because she’s kind, not stupid.
“Well,” she says, and there’s a hint of mischief to her voice that he’s not heard before, fostered from newfound comfort, “it’s not that boy’s fault he’s not Magnus Bane.”
Alec purses his lips together on a grin and can’t help but say, “Your crush on my boyfriend might make things a little awkward, Lydia,” just to hear her surprised laugh.
“You’re going to be okay,” she says, when she’s stopped looking at him like he’s someone new, and Alec fires off another arrow and wonders if she’s right.
+
Luke’s called to Idris on official Pack/Clave business. Being a werewolf, he’s not allowed through the city’s protection wards, so an envoy is sent to meet on ostensibly neutral ground, and Alec ignores every protest his parents raise and collects enough gear to camp overnight.
He doesn’t know Luke all that well, but some experiences inexplicably link you, and even if they didn’t, he respects him for more than just his abilities as a leader.
“It’s good to see you, Alec,” Luke says, holding out his hand, and Alec doesn’t hesitate to take it.
Later, after the rest of their party has separated away enough not to be associated or contaminated, Alec mulls over all the ways to ask the questions that’s been buzzing through his mind for too long to define.
“I get it,” Luke says, before Alec has to find the words. “I have an unprecedented insight into two worlds that never normally overlap, so I’m a pretty good sounding board for Shadowhunter/Downworlder relations.”
“My whole life is changing,” Alec says before he can stop himself, and Luke’s eyes soften.
“It’s hard,” he says. “No question about it. But…I did the Shadowhunter thing, and I’m doing the Downworlder thing, and, honestly?” He sighs, shaking his head and turning to look at the lights of Alicante burning against the night sky. “I go to sleep knowing that I’m a better man now than I’ve ever been.”
Alec follows his gaze and thinks about Luke and Simon and Meliorn and Magnus, and doesn’t doubt it.
+
Alec hasn’t received a message from Magnus in four days.
He calls Izzy and she promises to go by his place but she’s tied up in a Seelie conflict and doesn’t know when she’ll get away, Luke and his pack have gone dark for a bonding exercise in the forest, Clary and Jocelyn are out of state as Jocelyn tries to remind Clary to keep living while she searches for Jace, and Alec has no idea what Simon’s number is. He considers contacting the New York clan, but last he heard Clary and Izzy had managed to break that alliance, and he’d rather not owe Raphael Santiago a favor if he’s just going to end up orchestrating a tug of war with Simon Lewis front and center.
“I need to go home,” he says when his parents get back from a day of cataloguing every issue under the sun except the pending destruction Valentine’s preparing to rain down on them.
“Why?” his dad asks, frowning at where Alec’s already thrown the few things he’d brought with him in his duffle bag.
“I haven’t heard from Magnus. Something’s wrong.”
His mom purses her lips. “I’m sure he’s just busy,” she says. “I hear some of his parties last for days.”
Alec’s vision’s already hazy with worry, but it flushes red at the implication. He’s an adult and being held hostage in a city he doesn’t belong to because his parents disapprove of his friends and his actions and his boyfriend, and, yes, Magnus is always busy, and yes, he does throw parties that never seem to end, but he cares about Alec in a way Alec could never deserve.
Alec’s always cared too much about what other people think of him, and it’s kept him frozen as the world spins on. Now he’s finally started to thaw, he’s not going to let down the one person that makes him want to throw caution to the wind and live for himself.
He never wants to let Magnus down.
He grabs his bag and goes to find someone who’ll actually listen.
+
Lydia gets him through a portal without all of the usual red tape.
“Let me know if you need help,” she says and means it, and Alec pulls her into a hug, surprising them both.
“I will,” he says, and hopes they’re friends, hopes he hasn’t pushed away someone who could be good for him before they could ever really get to know each other.
“Goodbye,” she says, and he shakes his head.
“See you later,” he says, and goes home.
+
Magnus is in his apartment.
He’s also bleeding out across the hardwood floors.
Alec’s heart stutters to a halt, and he’s across the room in a breath, fingers gentle as he tries to make sense of the injuries that look like magic and shadows and death.
“Magnus,” he says, and doesn’t recognize his own voice. “Magnus. What do I do?”
Magnus blinks up at him, a smile that twists into a grimace darting over his lips as he focuses. “Alexander,” he says, “I’m sorry about the lack of correspondence. I’ve been unavoidably detained.”
“Shut up,” Alec says. “Shut up. Tell me what you need.”
Magnus sighs, and the crease of pain between his eyes slices at Alec’s heart. He’s too hot and too pale and the air around them feels like electricity before a storm.
“Call Caterina,” Magnus says, and Alec dives up, looking for his cellphone and thumbing through it with shaking hands.
He listens to the dial tone and thinks, I should have been here sooner and I should never have left.
+
Caterina Loss is exactly and nothing like Alec expects, and he thinks he’s probably offered her everything short of his firstborn in thanks by the time she eventually leaves, Magnus wrapped in half a dozen blankets with a sweet smelling potion bubbling gently away on the stove.
Alec sends Lydia a brief update and lets Izzy know he’s back, and then stands vigil until Magnus’ eyes begin to flutter open on a groan.
“Hi,” he says when Magnus sees him, a swell of warmth settling under his skin as Magnus’ face falls into something soft and fond.
“Alexander.”
“Caterina says it’s no longer a favor and more a tally,” Alec says instead of all the other words that are sat too close to his tongue.
“You’re home,” Magnus says, ignoring him, and Alec lays down on the bed, just close enough to touch, and melts with relief as Magnus tangles their fingers together and draws him nearer.
“Yeah,” he says, kissing the glitter on Magnus’ cheek and wondering at how different the world looks when you live for what you feel. “I am.”
You live in Michigan? I never noticed! So do I, probably like 40 minutes away from you actually, I'm in the 'Detroit area.' That's sweet :)
that’s awesome!! i love detroit :)))) (except in the winter. and construction season lol) if you see someone walking around in a malec t-shirt of any kind, it’s probably me ;) i have on my “because i’m not your bitch” tank top today 😂 ♡ xx
Hi Sam! I'm Elizabeth (but you can call me Liz if you want), and I just a quick question for you! As you are currently writing a sports fic (I can't wait to read it, but I have a very hard time with wips), I wondered how you worked around the technical terms of the sport? I am currently working on a swimming au for malec, and I find myself using a lot of technical terms that I can't really articulate what they mean w/o an extra paragraph, so do you have any advice on working around this?
nice to meet you, liz!! i try to put any terms (that aren’t obvious in the text through description) into the author note at the beginning of the chapter. a mini glossary of sorts :) i try not to break up the narrative at all with definitions. and for the most part it seems to work?? if you think of a better way let me know :)) have fun writing!! ♡ xx
Authors Note: I really hope you like it, and I wish you a wonderful February :) There’s an excellent gifset from @getawaywithgifs that gave me the boost of inspiration I needed to finish this and perfectly captures the sentiment as well. Also, thank you to the hosts of this exchange for organizing such a fun experience! :)
It was easy throw around words like slut as if they didn’t mean anything - use them like a normal part of human speech and conversation.
Over time, it got even easier to hear it - roll your eyes at it with a superior smirk and even identify with it to a certain degree. Connor liked to think that he really was able to let the words roll right off his back - that he was above them and they had no power over his life whatsoever.
But now and then, they would still whisper in the darkest crevices of his heart - numbing him with cold flippancy on the outside and consuming him like slow poison on the inside. He felt it strike in the most random incidents -
Like coming face to face with an old random hookup in the courthouse and completely blanking on his name, much to the judgmental amusement of his colleagues.
And as if that wasn’t enough, getting rejected by said random hookup when he tried to broach the possibility of maybe exploring something real.
Visiting Ollie with apology flowers and getting the ‘if you care about the guy at all, don’t ever come back here’ speech from spatula biceps guy.
Having Annalise look at him with a vitriolic glare and ask, ‘are you good for anything or can you only do your job when you’re screwing evidence out of someone?’
Seeing the surprise in his own sister’s face coupled with the tiny but pleased note of disbelief (and pride) as she teased her “slutty brother” about finally growing up.
Or having Oliver ask him point blank how many people he had screwed since they had been apart and being deemed a slut (not that it was a bad thing, Oliver had pacified) when he was unable to respond adequately.
Getting tested was probably the harshest mirror he had been forced to look into. His heart had been hammering against his chest as he listened to his fumbling attempts to answer those questions under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights and brusque gaze of the clinic nurse.
Then there was the time he tried to join a study group outside of Laurel and Wes and got rejected because “we’re not in the business of selling ourselves for information, and your reputation kind of speaks for itself, Walsh.”
It wasn’t that he really needed the extra study sessions. It was more that he needed a breath of fresh air and some proof that normal life could exist outside of Annalise’s house of horrors.
The fact of the matter was that Connor had made peace with the promiscuous slurs that followed him by wearing them as his own brand of armor. He knew that he came across as a shallow and callous face - all manipulative charms and no real substance. And maybe to an extent, he had reveled in that image, seeing the world as his own personal chess board and playing the people he came across like pawns in a self-indulgent game.
But then Oliver had happened. Oliver with his wide smile and twinkling eyes that glittered with mischief and love. With his pressed suits and skinny ties that screamed professional excellence. With his long fingers that typed at lightning speed smashing down firewalls and making sense out of what looked like gibberish to Connor. Oliver, who kissed him with soapy hands and looked at him with wonder and pride. Oliver, who shone a light on the chinks in his armor,seeing him not as he was but as the person he could be.
Then, in an epic moment of idiocy, Connor had opened his big mouth about Oliver’s diagnosis to the group, hurting him in the process. He’d felt the whispers close in on his heart again at Oliver’s words, when he’d blithely quipped to Michaela, “I mean look at me, I never thought I’d end up with a self-absorbed pretty boy.” And Connor knew it wasn’t meant to be mean (Oliver didn’t have a mean bone in his body), but the innocent jab had still stung. So he kept it close to his heart and vowed to do better - to be better. Because Oliver deserved better.
And without consciously realizing it, Connor was doing better. “You’ve changed,” Oliver had commented that one night, smiling ear to ear. “Yeah… 'cause of you,” he had replied. The realization had hit him like jolt of electricity and forced him to look away shyly from the pride he saw reflected in Oliver’s eyes - a pride that seemed to be bubbling in his own heart as well. Connor was trying and that was enough.
The next Friday morning after that night sees Connor with a skip in his step. After a full week of grueling study and equally taxing work hours that had run him out of coffee and sleep, Connor’s chest is bursting with satisfaction when he is announced as the only student to have achieved a perfect score on their exam.
As he’s exiting the classroom, though, he can’t help but catch snippets of his classmates’ conversations -
“…no possible way he got that grade on his own”
“…seen how much time he spends on Humpr?”
“…probably flirted overtime with Professor Atwell…”
“…not like it would be the first time he’s screwed his way to the top”
Rolling his eyes with an amused huff, he picks up his pace to walk past them. Heknew how hard he worked to maintain his grade point average - rivaled only byMichaela’s equally impressive one. It was lonely at the top, but Connor couldn’t care less.
At the Keating house later that afternoon, they start discussing approaches to gathering more information on the prosecution’s witnesses against their new client - a girl accused of murdering her fiancé. Frank had done a background check on all three witnesses aside from the information their client had given them. One of the key witnesses was a close friend of hers, a bashful and timid aspiring novelist who wrote mysteries.
He was also gay - a detail that led to the proposal Frank was currently putting on the table, “He’s knows more than he’s letting on, and she says he’s lyingabout his statement. Hair Gel, this has you written all over it, you should go talk to him,” he declared brusquely.
“Interesting word choices there, Frank. But we’re all adults here, and Connor’s methods are legendary, am I right bro?” Asher pipes up with, punctuating his words with obscene contortions of his fingers.
“Asher, stop doing what your doing with your fingers or I will personally cut them all off!” Michaela cuts in.
“You’re insane. I have a boyfriend. I’m not going to have sex with him to get him to talk. Nor do I need to. I’ll go meet him tomorrow morning before class. Frank said he spends his time writing at the coffee shop near my old place,” Connor snaps at him through gritted teeth.
“Chill, my gay bro,” Asher says holding his hands forward placatingly, “All I’m saying is that we each have our place in this little circle of ours. You’re the pretty boy player, Michaela’s little miss perfect brain, Wes is the adorable puppy, and Laur-”
“So what does that make you, the half-witted oaf?” comes Connor’s caustic retort.
“Everyone shut up!” Laurel interrupts loudly. “Connor, no one is asking you tosleep with the guy, but a little flirting won’t hurt if it gets the job done. That being said, how you get the information is up to you, just make sure you get it, so we can move on with the case.”
Connor just rolls his eyes and stays quiet, keeping his head buried in discovery files for the rest of the afternoon. But as evening comes and they all start packing up to leave, he can’t help but turn over the events of the day in his head, repeatedly replaying the words of his classmates and his friends over and over, as he makes his way home.
Oliver is already putting their plates in the table when he lets himself into their apartment, so he sets his bag down near the couch and washes up before joining him to sit at the table.
“So, how was your day?” He asks Oliver, genuinely interested and wanting tolose himself in the comforting cadences of his boyfriend’s voice.
“Oh my God, it was horrible! The network went down after the new intern plugged her personal memory stick into her computer and transferred some files onto the shared drive. It took us four hours to recover and get the whole system back online. So many complaints got logged, Connor! You should haveseen her face when we figured out that it was her file that caused the whole crash. Company I.T. policy specifically prohibits the use of external storage drives with the system to prevent these incidents. And she’s an I.T. intern!”
Connor hummed in sympathy, “She shouldn’t have ignored it, especially being the new kid on the block. I’d never ignore policIes like that. Did they fire her?”
Oliver just stared at him incredulously for a second before answering, “They did not, actually, to no one’s surprise. She’s got connections - she’s dating the son of the company’s president. Everyone knows it’s how she got the job in the first place. Seems like she’s cut from the same cloth as you actually,” Oliver’s smile widening as he continues, “And you’re one to talk - you’re a first year law student who spends half of his time breaking the law in order to practice it in some twisted way,” he teases with an amused laugh, and then adds after a beat, “Although, it didn’t save her from getting chewed out in front of the whole team by my boss, so there is that at least. What about you? Did you guys make progress on the latest case you guys are working on?”
Connor just shrugs and says, “We’re trying to get information on the witnesses. They want me to meet with the writer friend I told you about. He’s testifying against her, but she claims he’s lying. If I can get him to talk, then maybe we can figure out the real story. I’m gonna try and catch him at the coffee shop near my old place tomorrow morning.”
“So… You’re going to fake seduce him for information?” Oliver asks with a wry smile, “Figures. I do the heavy lifting for you with all the illegal hacking, while all you have to do is bat your eyelashes and look pretty, maybe throw in a dash of that devilishly charming smile - and people just fall over themselves to give you whatever you want,” he jokes with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
Connor just locks his jaw, hunches his shoulders, and gives Oliver a blank look. After the day he’d had, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with more digs at his so-called easy existence. And on a rational level, he knows Oliver is just kidding around. But, he’s not really being driven by his logical mind right now as much as his by his insecure heart.
It’s with a curt tone when he finally speaks, “Are you done? I’ll get started on the dishes.”
“Y-yeah, I’m done. Umm, Connor, is everything okay?” Oliver asks, suddenly waryof his boyfriend’s too rigid and perfunctory demeanor.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” Connor replies - too rushed andtoo clipped to Oliver’s keen ears. He stands up and takes their plates to the sink without another word, eyes focused away from Oliver’s perplexed ones.
Oliver, choosing to tread carefully, decides not to push and and sees Connor’s bag resting near the couch. He reaches down to pick it up and sees the large red swirly A+ on an exam paper peeking out. “You didn’t tell me you aced your exam, Con!” He exclaims with excitement, making his way back to his boyfriend at the sink with a wide smile. “I still don’t get how you manage the pull off the grades you get on top of the 40-hour workload you take on. I’m so pr-”
“What’s not to get? I just flash a smile, do a bit of smooth talking, and drop to my knees, right? Hook, line, and sinker.”
Oliver just stares in astonishment at Connor for a few seconds, stunned by thevenom in his voice, before finally recovering himself, “Wh-Connor, what are you talking about? I d-that’s not- I would never even think that-”
“Oh please, Oliver, don’t act like you’ve never thought about it. It’s how we met. You’re always talking about how I go through life looking the way I do, and how I seem to lead some sort of charmed life. What did you say earlier? Me and thatintern are cut from the same cloth, right? Ruthlessly focused on getting ahead by the easiest way possible. How could it possibly be because I can actually use my brain, right?”
“Connor, stop it! Just-what is the going on with you right now? Since you stepped though the door tonight, something’s been off. You barely ate dinner, and yousulked though most of it. And now, you’re putting words in my mouth andtwisting them into something horrible. Just back up a second and talk-”
“Well, sulking goes with the whole brooding vibe right? Gotta practice to keepsharp. I’m only good for anything when I’m screwing something out of someone,” Connor plows on, ignoring Oliver’s protests, “self-absorbed pretty boy Connor, never does anything unless it benefits him in some way. Selfish and heartless Connor, shows you the best time of your life and then leaves you high and dry, right? God, I don’t even know what you’re still doing with me, Oliver! You should be running for the hills right now, how pathetic are you to still be here?” He finishes his tirade, voice cracking on the last word and breathing heavily, heart beat skittering and eyes flashing with painful regret, as he replays his last words over in his mind.
“Connor,” Oliver tries quietly and carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal. “Just-just take a breath and calm down. You’re trying to pick a fight, and I’m notbiting. So tell me what’s going on, and we can fix it. Together.”
Connor just looks back at Oliver disconsolately. The whispers were too loud now, and he couldn’t hear himself think. He couldn’t dump all of this on Oliver.He couldn’t be here. “I-I’m sorry, Ollie, I need to go… I’m going for a walk…to clear my head. I just need some air,” he chokes out, eyes stinging as he quickens his pace and turns the handle on the door. “I’ll see you later,” he manages to get out, before closing the door behind him.
Oliver lets him go feeling overwhelmed, worry furrowing his brow. He knew to a small degree about how Connor wrestled with the assumptions and judgements people imposed over him and the reality of the choices he made. Something had happened to set Connor off today, and it was killing him that he couldn’t do anything to soothe the ache his boyfriend was going through.
After two hours of no contact or response from Connor whatsoever, Oliver is full on panicking. ‘I love you. Just let me know that you’re safe. I’m really worried. Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you. Please, Con.’ That was the last text he had sent to Connor about half an hour ago, but he had yet to hear anything back, and all he could get when he tried calling was his boyfriend’s voicemail. So that was it, Oliver was done waiting, he was going to go looking for Connor. He racks his brain trying to think of where Connor could have gone, when it suddenly strikes him. Rushing to put on his coat (and bring Connor’s along, since he had forgotten it in his own hurry to leave the apartment), he makes his way to the nearby park with the playground.
Sure enough, there he sat, looking so small in one of the swing sets. Connor had once told him that when he was younger and he got upset over something, the only thing that could make him feel better was going to the swings in the park. Gemma would push, and he would feel like he was flying - away from the whispers of the world, free from whatever problems were besieging his little head.
Oliver approaches his boyfriend’s slumped frame from behind and gives the swing a gentle push.
Connor, alerted by the small movement, looks up and twists sideways before turning back around with a quiet and thick, “You found me.”
“I’ll always find you.” Oliver says back tenderly. He hesitantly moves to wrap his arms around Connor’s shoulders from behind, finally letting go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when his boyfriend immediately takes his hands in his own and locks them together.
As he moves the swing slightly with his own legs, feet firmly on the ground, Connor lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry… I… had a bad day, and I took it out on you. It wasn’t right or fair of me, Ollie. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of that.”
Oliver just tightens his hold around his boyfriend’s shoulders and squeezes his hands, “Wanna tell me about it?”
It’s the only push Connor needs to let it all out. He tells Oliver about the snide comments his classmates made on his grades, Asher’s quips about the assignment at work, and the whispers that taunted him - telling him everyone, including Oliver, probably saw him in the same way.
Oliver is silent for a minute as he takes it all in before finally speaking, “You know, my mom would always tell me that we only snap at people we’re most comfortable with, because we know they’ll love us no matter what. Everyone has bad days, Connor, and I’m glad that a part of you at least feels comfortable enough to let go with me. I just hope you also know that I love you enough to weather them out and still be there after. Because, I do - love you, I mean. So much. And I’m never going to… run for the hills, Connor, because what we have is worth sticking around for.”
Connor just shakes his head, “You deserve better, Oliver.”
Oliver pauses at that and then asks, “What does ‘better’ mean, Connor? What do you think I deserve?”
Connor lets out a humorless laugh as he responds, “You deserve someone smart to match your own intelligence, someone pure and good to match your kindness, someone who works hard and recognizes that the world doesn’t revolve around him, it revolves around the person he loves. Someone who you can be proud of, not someone who throws himself around like he doesn’t matter and hurts you with his carelessness. Someone who’s respected for the depth of his character and capabilities, not a joke who isn’t taken seriously beyond his superficial qualities-” he breaks off, sniffing hard.
Oliver disentangles his arms from Connor’s shoulders gently and moves to sit right in front of him, kneeling with his hands on both of Connor’s knees and forcing Connor to look down into his eyes directly. “And that’s not you?” he asks, to which Connor just shrugs with another sniff, his face flushing from the cold and his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Okay, let me tell you about my Connor. My Connor is beautiful inside and out. Even more on the inside actually, because as devilishly handsome as he is, it’s his heart and that hooks me in and keeps me falling deeper in love with him every single day. He’s top of his class at law school, despite the long hours he puts into his highly coveted internship with the top defense attorney in the state. He devours books like a starving person and manages to quote whole passages back to you without even a glance at the pages. But, even though he can go whole days without sleep and forgetting to eat, he will always without fail ask me about my day and actually listen when I talk about it. He takes care of me when I’m sick and is overprotective to a fault sometimes, but I secretly love it, even if I get mad at him for it. He surprises me with breakfast and comes with me to doctor’s appointments, even with his crazy schedule. And he just loves so fiercely and passionately, that sometimes… I can’t help but feel in awe of his piercingly honest gaze, telling me that I mean everything to him… I’m so proudto be yours Connor.”
Reaching up to wipe a lone tear falling from Connor’s eye, he adds with a cheeky smile, “If I were Frodo and you were the One Ring, Middle Earth would be toast.”
Connor can’t help the bark of laughter he lets out, as takes Oliver’s palm off his knee and moves it closer to cup his cheek, leaning into the touch. “If my life were a video game, you’d be the Konami Code to it,” he replies wetly, his lips settling into a crooked smile.
Oliver’s smile is blinding as it widens into a full on grin. He takes both of Connor’s hands and pulls him off the swing, then moves to wrap the coat he’d brought around his boyfriend’s shoulders, “If you were a loop, I’d leave out the exit condition to make you infinite.”
Connor looks back at him with an unreadable look, delicately intense, before pulling him in closer by hooking his right arm around his neck and whispering, “You’re my 42, Ollie.”
Oliver just closes his eyes and presses their foreheads together, “I love you.” He says reverently, with a small knowing smile curving his mouth.
“I know.” Connor shoots back, without missing a beat, an impish grin spreading across his own face, before closing the remaining inches in a searingly sweet kiss.
As they stand wrapped around each other in the middle of the park’s playground, Connor’s heart lifts as it dawns on him that moments like thesemore than make up for the small freak-outs… because Oliver sees him and that’s enough.
