now you got me ― singer!reader x bobby skeetz (robert keating) pt. 2
wc; 3k
summary; lollapalooza was wild. she’s playing the biggest show of her life with her band, and somewhere in the crowd, bobby’s watching (he plays bass pt 1.)
warnings; language (kinda) cigarrettes and alcohol (party stuff), rooftop? i dont know! enjoy
notes; party 4 u was on REPEAT while writing this, so yeah!
The after party was at one of those parties held at the top of a building. The city lights were the only horizon she could see behind all the smoke flooding her eyes. So bright. So loud. Everyone looked perfect. A Bad Bunny song was echoing through her chest; she didn’t recognize which one it was.
Bobby seemed out of place. His face stayed serious, as it always did. She wondered if he had ever truly smiled. At least when she was around.
Earlier, when she had finished her set and stepped off the stage she could still feel it clinging to her the weight of that gaze, so expectant, so demanding. Inhaler had played a bit after them. They were almost hypnotizing. Plus, besides being able to look at Bobby as much as she wanted without being called out, she genuinely liked their music. They were good, really good. They weren’t there for nothing. It warmed her to know both bands had come so far, after sharing so many nights, so many gigs.
The beer she’d downed earlier (Ramona had dared her to chug it) was starting to hit. She could see Gia’s cropped hair flickered in and out of sight among the crowd, jumping and dancing. It had been a while since she last saw Lena and Roxie, who were now talking to people she didn’t know. Her interest slowly dissolved into the noise. She knew she should be enjoying this, but exhaustion clung to her thoughts, and all she really wanted was to get back to the apartment and collapse into sleep. She slipped through the crowd, trying to find Ramona where she had left her, and there she was, leaning on a table. She tapped her on the shoulder, breaking the spell she seemed caught in.
"I think I’m gonna have a smoke," she said close to her ear, speaking over the music.
"What?" she replied.
She laughed to herself, the way she said it made her smile inwardly.
"I’m gonna smoke. You coming?"
She raised her eyebrows, made a face, and shrugged quickly. It looked like a yes. Without saying another word, she turned around, convinced the girl was following her, and started walking toward one of the secondary terraces, less crowded. The noise of the crowd was muffled, and the air was cooler, less heavy. The smell of smoke, beer, and city still lingered, woven into the air.
She lit the cigarette. Inhaled slowly, then let the smoke leave her lips in a calm breath. She wasn’t one for cigarettes, usually. She blamed Ramona’s bad habit. On socially heavy nights, she allowed herself the luxury of lighting a cigarette, as if that could slow the world down for just a second.
"Did you-?" her question hung in the air, unfinished. Before she knew it, Ramona was nowhere to be found. She glanced around, convinced she might be the victim of one of those strange pranks Ramona loved, but there was no trace of her. At the door, two guys were caught up in an animated conversation, unaware of her. Off to the side, three girls, one trembling as the others gently rubbed her back, as if trying to soothe her. She winced. Ouch.
Her eyes found their way back to the city. Her eyes had cleared, and the city no longer looked as blurry, the lights no longer just smears in the dark. She took another drag from the cigarette. Her fingers trembled, and she couldn’t say if it was the cold, the alcohol, the nicotine, or the lingering beat of the music. Almost instinctively, she turned her head. She wasn’t surprised to see Bobby there. She didn’t need to know him too closely to realize that these kinds of parties weren’t his scene. It felt like he was mirroring her, wearing that expression she could never quite decode. The beer in his hand, his shoulders at ease, his gaze distant. Lost.
He stared at her for a moment. He seemed on the verge of sighing, as if something inside him was escaping without permission, without knowing why. He turned away. His tall figure loomed larger, while she stayed motionless. She hadn’t finished her cigarette, but she already felt the pull to grab another from her pocket.
"Didn’t know you smoked" was the first thing he murmured when he got to her side, as if it were more than just a simple observation.
"Didn’t know you could talk" she replied, almost impulsively. A smile settled on her face, almost ironic. He looked back at her, raising an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement.
"Touché…"
He reached his hand toward hers. For a moment, she was confused, unsure of what was happening. She froze, feeling foolish, feeling the light brush of his fingers on the top of her hand. He was asking for her cigarette. She watched him closely; how slowly he brought it to his mouth, and in those moments of silence, her eyes followed his every move. She watched him closely. To really look at him. His eyes were no longer shielded by glasses; now they caught the stray hair that fell across his forehead. They were shining. His eyes were shining, and she didn’t know if it was because of the distant city lights or because they were truly unreal. Her gaze lingered on his mouth. What was happening? He never talked to her. Never. Gia had sworn to her that he was one of the funniest people she had ever met. Why couldn’t she say the same?
"I liked your set" he said. It took her a moment to fully process what he had said. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his lips, moving slowly, watching him speak, as if he were savoring each word, letting it linger with the smoke of the cigarette.
"Thanks" she murmured. "I… I liked yours too" she added quickly, as if she needed to prove she meant it. "‘My Honest Face’ was sick" She fiddled with her fingers, not quite sure what to do with them. In those 10 minutes, Bobby had smiled more than in all the time they had known each other.
"I liked uh… ‘he plays bass’" he muttered, the smile still lingering on his face. "Super relatable" he glanced at her sideways, as if he was afraid to look at her completely, but didn’t want to miss a thing. She felt it. She turned her gaze to him cautiously, her eyes betraying a hint of fear. She felt… cornered, even though she had barely said anything.
"Yeah?" she almost grabbed the cigarette from him, bringing it to her lips as if she needed the smoke to shield her from something. As if by putting the cigarette to her lips, she could stop herself from saying too much, anything that might give her away.
"Hmm" he nodded, a natural gesture, now more comfortable, with one arm resting on the railing. His entire posture shifted toward her, his gaze fixed on her with intensity. He looked at her as if she were the only star in the sky. Something about the moment felt almost surreal, as if it were both familiar and strange at once. In the air, there was that unspoken thing, something they never dare to said and something that never happened. Something between what they were and what they could have been.
"Was it about someone?" he asked, his tone so casual it seemed almost harmless. But it wasn’t. She let out a slow breath, each exhale deliberate, as if to buy herself more time and she was fully aware of it. She didn’t want to answer, not directly. Not to him.
"Aren’t they all?" she wasn’t answering. Or maybe she was, just not how he thought she would. Not with clarity. Not with the truth. He arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
"So… that’s a yes?" he asked again. The smoke almost went the wrong way as she laughed, catching herself just in time.
"You’re a bit too nosy for someone who barely talks to me" her voice was light, doing her best to keep things as relaxed as possible. He didn’t answer. He didn’t respond. He just watched her for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the city, as if her words were something that needed to settle inside him. "Besides, I literally said it at the start of the song…thought you heard me?" she continued, her tone still teasing, hiding either her nervousness, happiness, or whatever else she was feeling.
The silence that followed was heavy. The kind that wasn’t uncomfortable, but also couldn’t be ignored. The cigarette was almost finished, and she knew it. She felt it, as if time was running out. Going back inside would mean popping the bubble, going back to being what they had always been: two people in the same space, saying nothing to each other. Then he spoke.
"Do you hate me?"
Bobby’s voice surprised her, but not as much as his question did. Her hand, frozen in midair, stayed halfway to her mouth. She slowly turned to look at him.
"What?" he looked at her. Took a breath. His eyes were fixed on her with a new intensity, and there was something in his face. His brow furrowed. As if something was hurting him "Why on earth would I hate you, Bobby?" she asked, bewildered, after he didn’t respond. It made no sense. They hardly ever spoke. How could he even think that?
"I don't know," he replied instantly, as if he needed to get it off his chest before he thought too much about it. "You just…" he gestured vaguely with his mouth, frustrated. He averted her gaze. He wasn’t looking at the horizon or at her. He was staring at his feet, as if he couldn't bear to look at her "There's something in your eyes and… I don't know. You always look pissed off, and every time you look at me I feel like I've done something wrong" he seemed lost. His words came out clumsily, as if he had been carrying that feeling for a long time and was only now daring to let it out. As if he desperately needed to know what he had done wrong, even though he seemed lost, desperate. She laughed, but not out of amusement, just because everything felt so odd.
And Bobby felt like a fool. Ridiculous. Exposed. But she was so beautiful. And he couldn’t stop looking at her "I can’t believe you think I hate you just because of the way my face looks" she kept smiling. But it was a smile of disbelief; she couldn’t decide if this all seemed ridiculous or logical to her. The cigarette had gone out between her fingers without her noticing. He shook his head, looking down. A few strands of hair slipped beneath his glasses, softly falling over his forehead.
"I know the way your face is, and trust me, you only have angry eyes when you’re near me" the words hit her in the stomach like a punch. It was as if suddenly someone had pulled the ground out from under her feet. Who was this guy? Where was the real Bobby, the one who barely looked at her, who seemed to avoid her, who always had a wall up every time she was near?
"I don’t-" she shook her head, lost in her thoughts. The words came out jumbled, disordered, just like her thoughts "I thought you hated me" she took a step back, as if she needed to regain space, to breathe. This wasn’t happening. Not like this. He stood there, staring at her. But it wasn’t a soft, sad, or regretful look, it was colder, sharper. Almost repulsive. As if the mere thought that she could think that was offensive. As if something in him couldn’t process it.
"Why would I hate you?" he pointed at her, indignant. As if she were the one saying something insane.
"I don’t know! I always felt like a bloody nuisance whenever we were around each other!" she snapped back. Because no, Robert Keating was not going to play the victim now. She had always been kind. She had tried. How dare he suggest the rejection came from her? "You were always moody, never spoke to me, and every time I came near you, you’d pretty much bolt. What was I supposed to think?"
She’d been carrying that weight for months, thinking she simply wasn’t interesting enough for him to notice her. And now all of that seemed to crumble all at once. He looked at her with wide eyes, like someone had just told him something he never would have imagined in a thousand lifetimes. Because that wasn’t what he wanted to do. It was never his intention. His mouth went dry, all of a sudden. He opened his lips, but no sound came out. She shook her head and laughed, short and dry. She couldn’t believe it. All of this. She couldn’t believe that Bobby, the grumpy, moody Bobby, had been nothing but a misunderstanding all along
She pulled out another cigarette from her pocket. It was an automatic gesture. She lit it with the same slowness as before, but this time the flame seemed to burn differently. She inhaled, deeply.
“So, you’re telling me we could’ve been friends?” It was the first thing to break the silence in a while, her voice quieter now, tinged with something like disbelief.
They both looked at the buildings. The city lights flickered relentlessly, as if nothing that happened there mattered. Some lights filtered through behind them, spilling violet and dark blue across the concrete. The group of girls on the other end had left, leaving them alone with the two guys, who now sat talking on couches farther away.
"We're such idiots" he nearly smiled, reaching for the cigarette she offered him. He stared at it for a few seconds, lost in thought. He toyed with it between his fingers, as if it were just a distraction, something to do while his body held back something more important. A subtle tension hung in the air, present but unspoken, as if he couldn’t decide whether to lean in or step away. There was something in the silence that had settled between them, something fragile, that they couldn’t risk breaking with words. Not now. Not after everything they had already said.
They looked at each other. They gazed at each other, not with the urgency of someone desperate for an answer, just trying to find familiarity in the stranger before them. Until that moment, they had only seen each other through distorted lenses: prejudice, assumptions, and the noise of everything left unsaid. Now, it felt as if there was room for the truth to breathe.
They had wasted so much time, and there was something heartbreaking in knowing that the other had misunderstood, that they had pushed each other away out of fear, pride, and those all-too-human misunderstandings. Bobby was the first to move, taking just one step, a small but significant gesture. But enough to make the air between them shift, like a subtle change in the atmosphere. She felt it instantly, how her heart tightened with no warning, how her throat burned, as if she was about to say something but held back.
And yet, he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. He raised his hand, hesitated halfway, and then lowered it, only to try again. This wasn’t the Bobby who always seemed to know how to keep his distance, the one who spoke little and smiled less. This Bobby seemed made of flesh and uncertainty. And when his fingers finally brushed her cheek, it was with a tenderness that completely disarmed her.
He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, taking his time. Just that. A small, simple gesture. But it carried within it the weight of everything they had denied themselves until that moment. The air trembled in her throat, thick with everything unsaid.
He lowered his gaze, as if the weight of the moment was too much to bear, then raised it again. And when their eyes met again, something shifted. Bobby's eyes were no longer cold, no trace of the hard gaze she had once met. Instead, there was something warm, urgent, and yet awkward. He leaned towards her, almost shyly, as if unsure of what was happening. And she didn’t move. Their lips met in the silence, the touch so slow it was almost painful. It wasn’t like the movies, no immediate passion or intensity. It was cautious. It was cautious, as if they were stepping into uncharted territory, aware that there was no turning back. One wrong step and everything could fall apart.
Bobby’s hands cradled her face with a reverence that made the world feel quieter, the cigarette abandoned on the ground, its smoke now a ghost of something that no longer mattered. Her perfume engulfed his senses, a sea of emotions and possibilities. He kissed her with an unexpected softness for someone who was usually on the defensive. He kissed her like the first drop of rain after a drought, unsure but needed. He moved as if touching something sacred, afraid a single breath too loud would break it. Terrified she might vanish. And she melted into it with a tenderness that surprised even her. Her lips met his, hesitant at first, then fuller, warmer, as if her heart had finally caught up with a truth her body already knew. It was a kiss meant to heal. To say: I see you now. I’m not running anymore.
When they pulled apart, it was only by a few centimeters, just enough for their eyes to meet again, uncertain and new. Her eyes remained closed, and he looked at her as if words had lost all meaning after that. As if that kiss had said everything words never could. They now drifted in a space that wasn’t made of tension or silence, but something gentler, delicate, almost unreal. It was something else. Something warm. Almost fragile. Still, neither of them spoke.
Fingertips brushing, half-smiles exchanged like secrets. Cigarette smoke and blinking city lights distant and indifferent. Something shifted in the air that night.
taglist; @artceski @mia-luvs @skeetzlvr @perfctstorm (didnt know if yall wanted to be in the taglist! srry)