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Strange Love

Pairing: Cole x Reader Prompt: Cole/Reader fic with the song Strange Love? :) :) : ) : ) Word Count: 4545 A/N: I think this is one of or my longest fic to date which is cool. Uhhh I hope this is all coherent and makes sense and that you like it! It took an emotional toll on me since some stuff is kinda- personal or something of the sort. Oh and @roosterteethrambles here’s lookin’ at you, kid. Warnings: Cursing, unhealthy relationship, extended drug use

To say you’d been saddened when he didn’t return your text messages, it would be both an over and understatement. To take a short look into the history of you two would reveal that you’d been one to send him texts more regularly. Asking if he wanted to talk or hang out to be met with the response more rare than the needle in the haystack. You would try, time and time again to convince yourself- he had to, it would be better this way. You could handle it. But for some reason, you kept yearning for the typical relationship status with him. Maybe it was the sweet slant of his crooked smile that had inched you closer to infatuation, or the way being with him just felt natural. The way your hands seemed as if they were made for each other and your lips moved with a melody known only to the two of you.

He wasn’t perfect nor will he ever be. The pride protecting the reputation he for some reason saw so valuable would always be a flaw. Whether ‘twas fatal or not yet to be known; but, the signs were showing already. He’d kept you- your relationship- a secret under lock and key. Something between the two of you, your friends and a private twitter account where you would scream into the dark depths of the internet. The one place you could be public about him- about the woes you underwent to convince yourself that this- this came with the property. That this was something a relationship should be. A secret, buried in poetry and escapism. Something perfect in theory with the constant struggle for improvement with practice.

You aren’t perfect nor will you ever be. All too familiar with your own flaws- the dance you’d choreographed to mask them was the downfall of your social status. The awkwardness to which you’d communicated in larger conversations, inability to maintain proper eye contact and bursts of what seemed like mania, where your mind would fly forward thousands of miles a second and your tongue would struggle to keep up and everything was warm and overwhelming and you just couldn’t stop.

Alienation had become your nearest friend. Not to say that the friends you did have weren’t as close to you- they just hadn’t been there as long. Your band of misfit toys is a saving grace for you- to know you’re not alone. Even if they hide it better or it’s just not seen- maybe even something else separating them from what you see as normal society is another thing you have in common with them.

So now, here you would wait for him. A party your friends were both attending after graduation. You’d broken away from the people you came with and found the dancefloor. It would be lying to say that joining that particular activity wasn’t daunting. The sight was terrifying- even if they didn’t people seemed to know what they were doing or at least pretended they did. After what felt like hours of convincing yourself, you let out the deep breath you’ve been holding and take the leap of faith in.

Trap music pounds mercilessly in your ears. Being able to tell what was playing would be the work of gods, but at this particular moment in time, you couldn’t bring yourself to give much of a damn. The music flows through you. Body rolls happening in time with whatever was on, dirty wines to the less dominant beat and blending almost seamlessly into the crowd of bodies dancing in their own unique and sometimes halfway embarrassing styles. To be alone in this crowd in almost any other circumstances would be something you wouldn’t flock to voluntarily. In any other circumstance you would be left breathless. Noise and proximity melding in a discordant harmony and grating- grating and grating- it’d would be too much. But for some reason here, in this crowd dancing to Future you couldn’t feel more at home. Maybe it’s the cover of music or the unifying force of it, but you weren’t mad- it was one of the only times you can manage to feel normal. Like you aren’t someone looking in on life, too afraid to take the decidedly active role in your life. Like you aren’t too anxious to even say your piece in normal conversation.

Time seems to melt away as you dance, songs bleeding into each other and the crowd surging with life. A hand finds itself on your shoulder and with hardly any hesitation, you swing an elbow with an unforgiving force into the body of the person who’d touched you. Their hand retracted and the sound of pain was familiar even through the bass thumping the walls and the voices of people around you. You stop and turn stiffly to face the person who had fallen victim to your blow and see Cole hunched over with a hand on his thigh and the other on his abdomen where you’d struck.

You stare for a moment, mouth half open and lips quirked up just slightly. You didn’t mean to let out the short laugh at that- not to mock him, but the image was just funny- it happened so fast what else is there to do?

“Oh god- Cole- are you okay?” You try to stifle laughter when you ask and put a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing circles into his skin with the pads of your fingers. Your smile subsides and morphs to an expression of concern. He coughs for a moment and catches his breath, slowly standing to his full height. You take the hand you’d placed on his shoulder and put it lightly over his which is not over his stomach. “You’re not dying right?” You give a lopsided grin and when Cole looks to your face he returns it.

“I mean- in the grand scheme, we all are but- you didn’t beat me up if that’s what you mean.” He coughs again and intertwines his fingers with yours, relaxing his stance and letting both arms by his side. You smile slightly and nudge his arm with your fist. He exaggerates the ‘pain’ and holds his arm with his free hand. “You’ve wounded me- how could you?” He’s dramatic as he says it and you knit your eyebrows together.

“I mean- it’s not hard-” You cut yourself off. “Oh- you weren’t serious, were you?” Your voice is small and you don’t quite look in his eyes, more toward the mass of curly hair that was barely tamed atop his head. He shakes his head and his curls bounce and sway.

“Nah, not really. You wouldn’t beat me up- or at least I hope you wouldn’t.” The last phrase is a rushed afterthought lightly dipped in panic.

“I wouldn’t but I probably could.” You flex your arms and eye Cole, grinning sideways and trying to show off what muscles you had to show.

“Do you have a permit to carry those guns?” He teases and squeezes your bicep, his fingers lingering a little too long and his gaze caught for a moment too long on your lips.

“Y’know, taking a picture lasts longer.” You say just above the music. “And I’m quite photogenic,” wiggling your eyebrows you grin slyly. He reddens ever so slightly and leans closer to you to avoid raising his voice.

“The lighting in here’s pretty shit- besides we got invited to hotbox in someone’s hotel room.” His breath tickles your ear and in the moment you go to respond to him he elaborates. “It’s Miles and Blaine and a guy they met here- he’s pretty cool- wanna go?” His eyes meet yours and even with the off colored, inconsistent lights, they still look beautiful. And for a moment, you’re lost in them. You take a moment before responding.

“Oh- yeah, do you know where it is?” Your voice- now somewhat meek- no just quieter. If he can so can you- right?

“Yeah, I’ll show you.” He takes your hand and starts to lead you out.

---

“This is the worst fucking idea any of you have had,” You laugh, taking a drag of someone’s- whose- Blaine’s one-hit The weed burns your throat going down but it’s not the worst you’ve had. “Fucking- giants in a closet bathroom-” You laugh and blow smoke out of your nose before passing the hitter back to Blaine so he can reload it.

“Fuck you,” Miles teases and situates himself as comfortably as he can, standing and slouched in the bathtub. “It was a funny idea while it lasted,” He receives a vape pen from Cole.

“When’d you get that?” Blaine asks.

“Is that why you asked me for flavors?” The realization dawning on you is a little obvious to see.

“Hell yeah,” Cole grins and takes the hitter from Blaine, holding it between his lips as it’s lit by the one person you’ve never met before. “Oh, this is Aleks by the way,” Cole adds on, gesturing to the blond holding the lighter.

“Nice to meet ya,” Aleks grins.

“You too,” You half grin and nod to him. That could’ve gone- better.

Blaine passes the hitter to Aleks after reloading it again and Miles hands you Cole’s vape. You take a deep hit and pass it off to the next ready party.

“So how’d you fuckboys find us?” The smoke lowers your voice and you grin as Aleks takes it from you and takes the hitter, taking drags from both simultaneously and exhaling an unholy combination of cheap weed and blueberry. He coughs for moments after as you and Miles laugh at his misfortune. Blaine shakes his head and Cole chuckles with the vape held between his lips.

“Well,” Blaine starts, “It’s hard not to find you when every damn thing you post on twitter has either a geo-tag or you say it deadass.” He takes puts the hitter between his lips. “So it wasn’t hard to find you. Cole- came with Miles,” He blows out smoke. “But I wouldn’t know if it wasn’t on snapchat-” “Oh my god Kyle’s car didn’t have enough space with all of us and the shit we brought dude, let it go!” Miles laughs out the last part, lightly pushing Blaine’s shoulder trying as hard as he can to be playful. “I can make up for it and let you ride me later-” He laughs and through the thick smoke gathering in the small room, it’s hard to see his cheeks turn red with embarrassment. Aleks holds back a laugh and looks in the general direction of Miles.

“Is that all? You gotta take him on a date first,” Aleks coughs into his elbow and leans against the wall with his opposite hand. “Make ‘em feel special, be a gentleman, don’t wanna hit it and quit it,” He teases, moving around and somehow, turning the light off in the room- as if it weren’t already hard enough to see.

A squeak barely escapes your lips before you clasp a hand over your mouth, heart racing from the momentary fear and the pounding resonating up into your throat. Cole and Miles made a similar noise- a tongue click in unison and a disappointed ‘aww’ drawn out a moment too long leading into a moment of tense silence.

“Dude- we aren’t even at a party and that was a party foul.” Blaine says in a voice almost reminiscent of melancholy. Aleks for some reason- doesn’t seem to notice or care for the complaints, only briefly chuckling at the noise you made before pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight. He lays it face down on the tank of the toilet and turns turns on a playlist- light partying music.

“It’s uhh mood music,” Aleks shrugs as he hums along to the tune, swaying and shifting his weight around taking short drags from the vape pen and blowing out circles misshapen and haphazardly. “And mood lighting- sorry if it gave you a little scare.” He laughs to himself and without much thought, Cole starts mumbling along to the song. He’s decently buzzed and nodding his head, swaying in his limited space having fun in his own world. It’s- adorable. The limited light and force impaired vision didn’t even change your mind on that. He just was and always would be.

“A little bit of warning would've helped- just a little.” You shrug and take the hitter again taking a long, deep drag. Almost relishing the pain of how harsh the weed is, being a reminder of reality- your reality- in subtle ways. The pain and THC having an effect- an immediate effect on you and being able to notice that- the thought crosses your mind, what would your therapist think of you being mindful while getting faded in a hotel bathroom? You grin to yourself and come back to the reality that your friends- and Cole- had been talking and joking and you’d just happened to grin at the right time. You don’t quite recall what they’re laughing at but you laugh along in a moment of solidarity.

---

Time passes differently in that bathroom. You don’t really know if ten minutes or an hour has passed until Aleks’ phone whines on the brink of death and it’s functions start terminating on their own. He rushes out to grab a charger when the music dies out, but you don’t stop singing along- slightly off key and now a capella. Cole squeezes your hand and smiles a little too wide before singing along with you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders to hold you closer. A smiles starts across your face and your eyes close when you lean into him. He starts to get more wrapped up in this song- an almost love song. He takes Miles’ hand in his, interlocking their fingers and looking deep into Miles’ eyes. And for a moment the whimsy of the moment is gone, and through the dense smoke you could see tension between the two that you couldn’t recall Cole having with you. Maybe- maybe he was just holding back with you. He didn’t wanna freak you out? Yeah. That makes just enough sense to be convincing.

You try not to pay too much attention to it and just snicker to what you see. Miles getting more affectionate with Cole- even going as far to almost kiss his cheek to be interrupted by the flash on Blaine’s phone as he undoubtedly uploads the scene to snapchat. It feels as if time drags on when you watch Miles and Cole pull away from each other- fingers still intertwined. You’ve put in time and effort convincing yourself that this- this feeling wasn’t jealousy. Wasn’t jealousy that he can commit to this but can’t commit to you- no you just crave attention and that feeling can rear it’s head in ugly, ugly ways.

You do what you can to shake the feeling, distracting yourself with what you can when the perfect idea strikes your fancy.

You pull on Cole’s shirt sleeve and quite gently place your hand on the back of his neck and guide him to you- putting him face to face with you, inches apart as you sing a halfway suggestive line and close the small gap between you two.

It’s always something magical when you two kiss. The act in and of itself isn’t an extreme rarity- but the style- the movements are synchronized and in time with each other. Even if it’s just a moment of yearning and short-lived passion, it’s still satisfying and makes everything feel okay. It makes the world make sense even if it’s just for a moment. When the two of you separate, a sweet grin on your face and a look of satisfaction on Coles. This bliss lasts only a moment as another flash goes off, this time a continuous light as Blaine starts to say something, heckle the two of you or say to get a room- no that was Miles. He’s the one who suggested the private room.

---

When Aleks had come tumbling back into the bathroom- he’d obviously had some alcohol somewhere along the line and he was more- absentminded. Which would explain why he left the door to the bathroom open and let all the smoke pour out.

The hotel room fills with smoke and swarms the detector, alarm shrill and blaring. Given the hours the neighbors would be pissed. The sound was shocking- your hands flying to your ears to keep the sound at bay- the wailing warning of danger was something you’d not want to give time and energy to. You rushed out with the rest of the boys, opening windows and the front door, waving magazines and the bedside bible at the smoke detector to cease it’s screeching and clear the room as quickly as possible- would the deposit be lost for hotboxing? You didn’t harm anything so reasonably it shouldn’t but- what’s the policy on that here? All hotels aren’t policed the same-

The thoughts consume you. Mind racing with what could happen, making you too absorbed in that rather than what is happening. You keep fanning the smoke away hoping that this isn’t in vain- that the situation can be salvaged despite the cries of the machine.

It’s not beyond repair- You’ve convinced yourself time and time again of things that were a bigger stretch of the imagination, why should this be any different? It’s more realistic- the smoke won’t be forever- even as the sickly combination of weed and vapor mist contorts in your lungs and burns your throat- there’s an end to this as there will be to any torment. And the end will be made sweeter from the endurance and dedication.

---

Tucked away in your back pocket, your phone plays love songs. Hand in hand, fingers intertwined with Coles, the two of you walk down city blocks. The moon high in the night sky and the streets nearly emptied. Drunk busses take people to their residences- temporary or permanent- seeming to be the only vehicles on the roads. ‘Tis rare for the two of you to happen across anyone else, stepping aside and bidding fair nights to passerbys.

You didn’t really have a destination- maybe where you were staying incase the intoxication got the better of you and the two of you fell fast asleep. Just the thought of his arms around you is enough to bring a smile to your face. The warmth of the moment wrapped up in the safety and familiarity- the scarcity of the moment like this making it even more wondrous to imagine.

Without noticing- your expression had gotten more blissful. Keeping up with Cole’s drastically larger strides but your eyes closed with a relaxed smiles, an arm across your torso in a single armed self hug- as embarrassing as the pose is- it was still the proprietor of a warm feeling next to happiness. Cole barely noticed at first- when you lag behind him, he slows down to accommodate your pace- until he sees how wrapped up you are in your own imagination. In a daze, you don’t exactly notice Cole wrap his arms around you. For a moment you’re still convinced you’ve fabricated the feeling, even if it’s too good to be true- it’s still good. The fantasy of what could be is burst by the reality of what is as Cole lays soft kisses to your jaw and down your neck, his hands on either side of your waist as he hums along to the song playing from your phone.

For a moment you don’t recall how to respond, yet somehow, he isn’t deterred. He keeps peppering kisses to your face and neck, sighing with contentment and relishing in the closeness you two share. Your hands slide up from his waist to the back of his shoulders, fingers laid gingerly in his dark curls, you whisper sweet nothings to him as he grows more affectionate with you, more needy. Part of you knew that this- this would only be Cole behind closed doors. The man who would love you in secret and pretend to forget your name in front of his friends- you hoped to god he’s just pretended to.

The thoughts of doubt are easily combatted with his praises and the soft caress of his lips, pulling you closer to him and drawing you in deeper. He’s more intoxicating than the weed- someone you’d come back to time and time again. The doubts could stand no chance against the reassurance he’s given you- the reassurance he continues to give. Giving just the right amount of hope that maybe this time would be different. Maybe- maybe, Cole would end up surprising you this time.

---

Laying between the comforters on your bed was the closest you’ve gotten to paradise in your mortal life. Holding and being held by the man you’ve craved for so long. Being lonely for one person- touch starved but only knowing the sweet smile of satisfaction when he touches you. The blankets weighing on the two of you but not crushing either. Most articles of clothing lay discarded on the floor and the window nearest your bed fogged, with your initials drawn on with an unsteady finger near his, encircled by a heart. Cole lays half asleep, cuddled up to you, his head on your shoulder and eyes half closed. He looks at peace and more groggy than what you thought would be possible, a slight grin etched onto your lips as you admire his features.

For a moment you wonder if this time will be different. Part of you insisted it would be wishful thinking. The precedent was set- and you would always be painfully reminded of how your secret with him would be kept- and it was the freedom in knowing that people may write off your relationship is what you would know as your solace. Unintentionally providing you somewhere to vent without being under the scrutiny of your peers for something else for them to pick apart and dissect. Something to be uniquely yours even if no one else would see the value or even be aware of the tangibility of this relationship. Sure it only exists in just the right circumstances; however the same can be said of other wonders of nature, yet no one scoffs at their lack of existence. They look on in awe. The only question being what can induce such feats of beauty.

You didn’t see Cole’s eyes fall shut, and didn’t really notice he was asleep until he didn’t interrupt your ramblings to inject with something related or otherwise. He keeps his arms around you and is laid partially on you, his breathing even. Absentmindedly you play with his hair until the world around you fades into something less permanent; halfway between astral and ethereal, you drift to sleep, the blankets becoming weightless and Cole shifting away from you.

---

Waking in the morning to the sun filtering through your window and curtains was the peaceful aspect of your morning. Rolling over to find yourself alone in your bed with the faint suspicion he still might be here. Waiting a moment before sitting up doesn’t do much to prevent your vision from spotting. Ignoring this you stand and stretch your arms above your head and twist your torso to pop your spine. Sighing, you take slow steps as you look around the studio style hotel room. His clothes are gone and the bathtub is wet as well as the plastic counter near the sink and the basin of the sink itself. On one hand it was normal. Part of you had anticipated this from the start- but- it didn’t make the realization any less painful. The proof that you didn’t mean to him what he meant to you is staring you in the face, only now you can not shut your eyes to this. Nothing around you suggested that Cole had even been in the room the night before except for the scent that desperately clings to your sheets and comforter- what an ironic name.

You step away from the bathroom and gingerly close the door. A beat passes before the rage hits you.

A flurry of emotion and movement is a recipe for creation or destruction. This incident was and is purely an act of destruction. Ransacking the room was one aspect of it but the symbolism you pushed into it- that of a phoenix. Being burned time and time again until your heart turns to ash, waking up alone, with no sign no note- nothing. He didn’t see you as worth something to ease your mind- calm your nerves. You’re nothing to him. You slam something else against the wall and a noise halfway between a yell and a grunt tears from your throat.

Time feels frozen as you continue this path of destruction. Recreating yourself from the ashes he left you in. You let him- you let him in, tear you apart. But to think hands that felt like home- looked so gentle- to think they’d be the instruments used to sing songs of this temporary madness. It hurt too deeply- for all of the affirmation and affection he shows and gives to then turn on his heel and decide that you aren’t worth twenty seconds of his time, a slip of paper and less than half an ounce of ink- for all the flowery language he could use to tell you how he loves you- why the hell couldn’t you feel the sentiment.

---

It’s easy to determine the relationship isn’t what is kept a secret. Seeing Cole subtweet about someone special or even overhearing a conversation with one of his friends about someone who he’s keeping from them. But brazenly admitting he has you without saying your name. As if the syllables would curse his tongue and bring pain to him. As if you bring pain to him. You’re his secret. And the beauty of secrecy is how it’s kept and that- is an art. A dance only you two know but looks more beautiful than something conducted and rehearsed for decades before the two of you had even known each others faces. His crooked smiles seemed now only as approachable as daggers and the sweetness of his words are now as delightful to you as cookies baked with cyanide. This art is coated in the blood of innocence from which the flowers of your naivety were killed. The poetry and escapism which once sweetened the taboo now constricting the life from it.

If he can keep secrets then so can I. The thought comes to you without warning or even much context. He won’t have to know that I want to see someone else. He’ll see how much he’s really worth to me. It was- It is irrational. Something you could barely gauge if you have the energy or courage to do. His gaze- would disarm you. Almost certainly. So looking at him if you chose to do this wouldn’t be an option. Never looking him in the eye again would be- interesting. After all- the beauty in a secret is how it’s kept.

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