Our Little Secret
You and Hamzah are in a secret relationship. While you guys kept each other a secret to protect one another, was it really what you both wanted?
Contains: fem reader, angst, confused reader, lack of communication, arguing, happy ending <3
a/n: I appreciate all the love I've received for my most recent works. Hope you guys enjoy this one, it's definitely my best yet.
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From an outside perspective, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this situation. Just two couples out on a double date. Me, Mandy, Martin, and Hamzah grabbing dinner at our usual pizza spot. Nothing suspicious. Nothing complicated. Just friends catching up.
Mandy waved kindly as she saw me approach their group. Martin stood next to her seemingly making a joke to Hamzah as he stood there with his hands in his pockets wearing a neutral expression on his face. That was, until he saw me arrive.
A familiar feeling of excitement filled my stomach at the look on Hamzah’s face. I wanted to run up to him and throw my arms around him while greeting him with a kiss. He would smile down at me as his left hand placed itself in my back jean pocket.
Except, of course, Martin and Mandy were the only couple actually together.
I guess you could say me and Hamzah were together too. We basically lived at each other's apartments, always leaving clothes in each other's space. I would wake up to Hamzah’s messy curls aghast on the pillow next to mine. I would plant his face with kisses as he grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him.
We were together, but in a, “we don’t want to put a label on it” kind of way. No commitments, no pressure—just what we wanted.
I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.
For me, it was about not wanting anything serious right now. I wanted to protect my relationship with Hamzah, what we had was different than anything I had experienced with boyfriends in the past.
For Hamzah, it had more to do with his online image— he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with their fans' inevitable perceptions of you if you two were to date. I joked that he was just playing up the “I’m available” act for his followers. He would always roll his eyes but I’m sure this was part of it.
If people found out we were together, it’d ruin the whole thing. Which is why I had to be extra careful. Even around our best friends.
So imagine my horror when, halfway through dinner, Martin suddenly narrows his eyes at me.
“Hey… isn’t that Hamzah’s sweater?”
The table goes silent and my stomach drops.
I freeze with my pizza halfway to my mouth, my brain scrambling for a response. The oversized grey hoodie I’m wearing is definitely Hamzah’s— the words “nap queen” in black letters I envisioned on my chest made me want to laugh and bury my head in my hands at the same time. I didn’t even think about it when I threw it on before leaving.
It even smelled like him.
I set my pizza down trying to brush it off, “Am I not allowed to wear your guys merch anymore? Y’all should be grateful.” I say acting offended.
Mandy’s eyes flick between me and Hamzah, who—thank god—keeps his expression cool, shoveling food into his mouth as he nodded his head at my response..
Martin, however, is still staring. “I swear that one is yours though, isn’t it Hamzah? It has the exact same material as the one you wear. ”
I let out a short laugh, trying to play it off. “I’m not sure why because this one is mine.” My voice started to shake
Pull it together.
“It looks exactly like Hamzah’s,” Martin insists. He turns to Mandy. “Doesn’t it?”
Mandy shrugs, sipping her drink. “A lot of those hoodies look the same.”
Hamzah finally speaks, his voice casual but just a little too fast. “Yeah, man, it’s just a hoodie. All those hoodies look the same, part of the reason we sold so many.”
Martin still looks unconvinced, but he lets it go, turning his attention back to his food. My entire body is tense, and across the table, I can feel Hamzah suppressing a smirk.
Under the table, his finger interlocks with mine, a slow, deliberate touch that sends a jolt up my spine. I flick my eyes toward him, and there’s something smug in his gaze—something knowing.
I roll my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my face feels hot.
That was too close.
But the truth is, I kind of love the risk. I love the way we sneak glances at each other when no one’s looking, the way my body reacts when he’s just close enough to touch but doesn’t. I love the late nights, the whispered conversations, the fact that we’re both holding onto something we’re pretending we don’t want to name.
God I wanted him bad.
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The party was loud—too loud. Music pulsed through the walls, and the mix of voices, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a drink being set down filled the air. Mandy and Martin were off in their own little world, and I had lost track of most people in the crowd.
Hamzah settled next to me "How're you doing?" he asked, leaning down to meet my ears while looking out into the sea of people.
I sighed in response, "Alright, I guess..." I snapped my head to meet Hamzah's dark eyes, "...Can we go home soon?" I asked sticking out my bottom lip. He chuckled before leaning down once more.
"Come with me," he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear.
I barely had time to react before his fingers brushed against my wrist—just a ghost of a touch, but enough to send a jolt through me. Before I knew it, I was being pulled down the hall, away from the noise, away from prying eyes.
He didn’t stop until we were inside an empty room, the door clicking shut behind us. The sudden quiet made my pulse hammer in my ears.
"Wait, what if someone sees?" I whispered, even though I was far too gone to start moving away from him.
Hamzah exhaled, leaning back against the door with a sly look covering his face. His eyes were dark, and the dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his face. "I don't care," he said.
That was a lie. He did care. We both did. That was the whole reason we were keeping this secret.
And yet… here we were.
The tension thickened in the air between us, something unspoken crackling like a wire about to snap. Hamzah's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides before he finally gave in, stepping closer.
I barely had time to breathe before his hands cupped my face, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his eyes. This was the last look I could register before his lips were on mine.
A slow, deep kiss started, stealing the air from my lungs, and making my heart stutter.
I wanted this. God, I wanted this.
But before I could get too carried away, I thought of where we could have been. Kissing in the middle of a crowd, unwavering concerns about what others around us thought. His hand in mine not hidden beneath a table, but revealed proudly.
The weight of it—the secret, the hiding, the way we only allowed ourselves these moments in the dark—it was all too much.
A sharp pang in my chest pulled me back to reality. Before I could stop myself, I tore away, my breath ragged.
“Hamzah, I—” My voice broke, my hands shaking as I stepped back. “I can’t keep doing this.”
His brows furrowed, his hands hovering in the empty space between us like he wanted to pull me back but knew he shouldn’t. “What do you mean... what's wrong?”
I forced a swallow, blinking hard. “Being with you in secret... it just hurts too much.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the way Hamzah flinched made it clear he heard every word.
His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but I couldn’t stand there and let him try to fix it with more whispered reassurances, more stolen touches that would only leave me aching for something real.
Before he could even get a word out, I was already out the door.
I pushed past the crowd, the music and chatter barely registering. My chest was tight, my pulse racing. I needed air.
I needed to get out of here.
The cold night air hit me as I stepped outside, but it didn't stop me. As I started to come to terms with what just happened, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I sucked in a sharp breath, hugging my arms around myself, trying to shake the feeling of Hamzah’s hands still lingering on my skin.
Then, I heard determined footsteps tracking behind me.
“Wait.”
Hamzah’s voice.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to turn around. But then his hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks.
I exhaled shakily as he moved in front of me, his brows furrowed, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. Whatever it was caused your whole body to shudder.
“I don’t want to hide anymore,” he said, his voice rough, his grip tightening just slightly, “Not if it means losing you.”
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “What about your whole ‘single guy’ thing? What about—”
“Screw all that,” he cut me off, shaking his head. “None of it matters if it means I can’t be with you. I don’t care who knows.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me.
I searched his face, looking for hesitation, for doubt. But there was none. Just him—bare, vulnerable, real.
A shaky laugh left my lips, part disbelief, part relief. “Are you sure about this?”
Hamzah let out a soft chuckle, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face before resting gently against my cheek. “Yeah, I mean it.” His thumb traced my skin, slow and reverent. “I want you. For real.”
I didn’t need any more convincing.
This time, when I reached out and kissed him, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. About who was watching or who would care. What came next and what the future held.
From now on, we came first.
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a/n: Hope you'll enjoyed this!!!!! It's so hard to end stories, but I think I'm getting better at it lol. Lmk if you guys want a part two????????
