Definitions.
Polo x Reader
Request by anon: i want to request a Polo imagine where him and the reader have an undefined relationship and he keeps pushing the reader away (angsty argument)
Gif is not my own
Requests are open
“I’ll see you in the morning then,” You nod to Polo as you tug your trousers back on and re-clasp the button.
He tucks an arm under his head and flutters his eyes open, “You can stay, you know? You don’t have to leave so quickly.”
“Please, it’s been three months Polo and I’ve never stayed the night. I know where I stand,” You roll your eyes, grabbing your phone from the side and slipping on your shoes.
“No kiss goodbye?” He frowns, pouting his lips.
You scoff and lean in quickly to kiss his expectant expression, “See you in the morning.”
This was usually the way it went. You’d come round after his parents were asleep, you’d chat for a while, both get what you wanted out of the situation and then you’d leave without a trace. It wasn’t a friends with benefits type of situation because you’d never actually been friends in the first place. It wasn’t a relationship because it never went much further than sex. It wasn’t really anything that fit into a decent enough definition. But you’d never questioned it. With every question and hatred surrounding Polo at the moment, it was much easier to remain in this undefined state. Less questions.
Recently, Polo had started to question a lot more than you though. He’d started suggesting that you stay the night, and you always dismissed it as you had done today. He’d offer that you go out somewhere together but you always laughed it off with a ‘if you want sex, just ask’. It was all of these little moments where he was slowly making more of an effort to prove to you that he wanted more than whatever this was. And, so far, you’d managed to avoid it as much as you could.
- - - - - -
The following day, at school, you get a message from him - despite him only being sat a few metres away on the other side of the class.
‘My parents are out tonight. Do you want to come round a little earlier? x’
“Who’s that from?” Samuel asks from beside you.
It was a difficult situation. Your best friend was one of the people that hated Polo the most. And you couldn’t exactly blame him. Without knowing Polo’s side of the story, that boy was simply a murderer in many people’s eyes. You’d thought so too until you took the time to properly get to know him. But you knew Samu well enough to know that he wouldn’t think in the same way. Polo would always be the enemy to him, so you’d never told him a word about the situation between you and Polo and that was the way you’d keep it.
“Just a guy I met at the club,” You dismiss, locking your phone without replying.
“You’re just going to ignore him?” Samuel half-laughs, “Playing hard to get or something?”
“You know me too well,” You chuckle, turning back to the work in front of you.
When it becomes evident that Samu is distracted by his work once again, you glance up in Polo’s direction to find him looking directly back at you. He raises his brows and gestures his head in the direction of your phone.
Samuel turns back to you before you can respond. Another close call of avoiding all of this unfolding.
- - - - - -
“(Y/n)!” Polo calls down the corridor to you as you’re walking out of third period.
You turn to Nadia and smile apologetically, “Sorry, I’m meant to be working on a project with him. I’ll see you later, okay?”
She looks at him with an expression falling somewhere between fear and loathing before dismissing herself.
“A project?” He scoffs, “That’s what you’re calling it now?”
“What is it, Polo?” You ask, looking over your shoulder like you’re expecting somebody to question you any second now.
“You got my text, yeah?” He nods, “So I’ll see you later. Eight o’clock?”
“Sure,” You pull your books to your chest like you’re trying to appear as uncomfortable as possible around him, “I’ll let you know.”
Before you can say anything more, Samuel walks up from his locker.
“Everything okay (Y/n)?” He asks cautiously, looking to Polo and eyeing him up and down.
“Fine, thank you,” You glance back to Polo, “Just talking about a class. Right Polo?”
“A class, yeah,” Polo clenches his jaw, “I’ll see you later, (Y/n).”
“See you later?” Samuel scoffs, “What’s he talking about?”
Your eyes linger on Polo for a moment too long as he’s walking back down the corridor, accompanied by nobody but himself. You’d done everything you could to make sure people didn’t change their opinion of you. But in that, you’d made it that nobody had changed their opinion of Polo - everyone still treated him like the villain they’d thought him to be from the start. You could so easily do something to try and change that, and yet you’d cared more and maintaining your own reputation.
“It’s just an expression, Samuel. Don’t worry,” You return quickly back to playing the part and dismiss his concern, “What class do we have now?”
But all you can think of is the image of Polo walking away on his own, and all of the weight that the image held in your mind.
- - - - - -
That night, you keep to your sort-of promise, and show up at Polo’s place just past eight.
“Hey,” He smiles as he opens the door, dressed up more smartly than you’d ever normally seen him, “Thanks for coming.”
“Why the formal welcome?” You laugh, slipping off your shoes at the door, “It’s never normally like this.”
“I was thinking we could have some dinner. I ordered your favourite.”
You glance over to the table by the couches and, rightfully so, there are the distinctive containers of your favourite takeout set around the table.
“Why are you doing all of this Polo?” You laugh, following him cautiously as he takes a seat on one of the couches.
“We’ve been doing this for months (Y/n), don’t you think it’s time that we actually spend some time together?”
“We’re not dating,” You scoff and treat it like such an innocent comment. Until you see how it’s received.
He stares at you blankly, the hints of a pained smile tugging at his lips, “You couldn’t do that to yourself, could you?”
“Oh, come on, it’s not like that.”
“Really? I see the way you act around school, constantly looking over your shoulder so people don't know you’re fucking the murderer?”
“Don’t say it like that!” You exclaim, “We both never treated this like it was anything more.”
“Both of us, really?” He laughs, “I’ve been trying to prove to you that we could be something more, that we could be better than just night after night.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”
“Talk to you?” He exclaims, “(Y/n), you’re out of my house before I can say five words to you, and it’s practically your worst nightmare to be seen with me at school. I’m not an idiot.”
You swallow the lump in your throat and look down. Maybe he was right. Not in how you’d acted but in the way he’d perceived it. In your own confusion about the situation, you’d made it seem like you were just as bad as every other person in that school who hated Polo. And that made you as bad as them, even if you didn’t feel that way.
“(Y/n) I thought you understood me, you told me that you saw my side of things,” When you look up again, there are tears in his eyes, “Recently, you’ve been the only person I’ve spent time with where I’ve actually felt like a normal person. Like I can be myself. But I guess you’re no different than the rest of them, you think of me as a murderer just like they do.”
You wince at the word, “I don’t think that. I think you were a person caught up in a horrible situation and an accident happened that had consequences you’d have never intended. I think you’ve made some wrong decisions but that doesn’t make you a bad person. And in the past few months, you’ve made me realise more and more that you have a heart of gold - even if people don’t think that.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I do,” You smile, reaching over and taking his hand, “And maybe it’s time that we start trying to prove that to other people and not just to each other.”
“Maybe it’s time we define whatever we think this might be.”