A/N: a little short piece to ease me back into writing. The past month has been a rollercoaster and it insane to think that Satuday the 7th, we've been without my father for a whole month. We are still grieving but I have noticed that writing helps me.
Pairing: Vince Dunn x reader
Words: 700
Warning(s): none
You and Vince have always been easy. That is the word everyone uses. Easy. Like it never took effort, like it never hurt. Like it did not quietly rearrange your heart over the years until loving him felt as natural as breathing.
You met before everything got loud. Before the arenas, before the constant travel. Back when he still doubted himself more than he admitted and you learned how to listen without pushing.
You became friends the slow way. Texts that never really stopped. Grocery store runs at midnight. Sitting on the floor of your apartment because neither of you felt like finding chairs. Falling asleep during movies and waking up tangled together, pretending it meant nothing.
Somewhere along the way, you fell in love with him. You did not announce it. You did not panic. You just carried it quietly, like something fragile you did not want to drop.
So when Vince talks about this girl, you listen. You listen when he says her name. You listen when he talks about how she makes him think. You listen when he asks for advice, he never actually takes. You tell yourself that loving someone sometimes means standing beside them, not in front of them.
Tonight, he is pacing your kitchen like he does when his thoughts are too loud. You are sitting at the table, watching him open and close cabinets like the answers might be hiding inside.
“You are stressing me out,” you say gently.
He stops and laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I just… I need to talk.”
Your chest tightens but you nod. “Okay.”
He sits across from you, elbows on the table, eyes fixed on his hands.
“I think I love her,” he says. There it is. The familiar sting. You breathe through it.
“Yeah?” you reply, keeping your voice steady.
“Yeah,” he says. “But something feels off. Like I am missing something obvious.”
You tilt your head. “Like what?”
He shrugs. “When I am with her, it is good. But when I am not, I do not really miss her. Not the way I think you are supposed to.”
Your heart starts to race, slow and heavy.
“She is great,” he continues. “But when something happens, you are the person I want to tell. When I am exhausted, I end up here. When I picture the future, you are just… there.”
You swallow. “Vince.”
He looks up then, really looks at you, and his expression changes. Confusion at first. Then realization. Then something almost like fear.
“Oh,” he says softly.
You do not move. You are afraid that if you do, this moment will break.
“It is you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “It has always been you.”
You let out a breath you did not know you were holding. “Are you sure?”
He stands, slowly, like he is afraid of startling you. He steps closer until he is right in front of you.
“I have been in love with my best friend and calling it something else because it was easier,” he says. “Because admitting it was you meant I could lose you.”
Your voice shakes. “I was scared too.”
He smiles, small and honest. “We are idiots.”
You laugh, and this time it does not hurt.
He reaches for your hands like it is the most natural thing in the world. “I do not want to be in love quietly anymore.”
Neither do you.
When he kisses you, it feels familiar, like something that has been waiting patiently for years. No fireworks. No rush. Just right. After, he rests his forehead against yours and smiles.
