Elliot Trager comes back to Charming with her mother, rekindling her relationship with her father and forming new friendships. Not only does she have to deal with the danger and drama that accompanies being close to the club, but it turns out that her soulmate may end up betraying everyone. Will she be able to stop him in time, or will fate run its course?
the problem with musicians is how they're always touring their latest album instead of like their critically hated second album from 2009 which is the one i'm obsessed with
Summary: You've been avoiding Bob all day, but it's not for any of the (many) reasons he thinks.
Word count: 1.5k
Tags and warnings: Fluff, sick fic (reader has a cold), Bob is an absolute sweetheart (obviously), Bob has a crush, Yelena very lowkey playing wingwoman, cuddling, reader is she/her, no use of Y/N.
(It was only a matter of time before I caught the Bob bug. Honestly I'm surprised I managed to last this long. I started writing this for @getaapologist, but I'm such a slow writer that she got better before I finished it, whoops. Also please be kind, I'm new to this fandom and I did my very best. Title is from whatthehellishappening by Glass Animals.)
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It’s not that big a deal. Really.
Or so Bob keeps telling himself.
You’ve been avoiding him for most of the day. He’s trying not to let it bother him.
It’s stupid. He’s overreacting.
But he can’t stop thinking about it. He thought the two of you were getting closer lately. You always make an effort to ask how he is, and you’re the first to volunteer yourself to help with dinner, to the point where he doesn’t even have to ask anymore. So what’s changed?
He’s been sitting in his usual spot by the window for hours now, staring at nothing. Knees tucked up to his chest, nails bitten right down, racking his brain. Was it something he said? Something he did? Something he didn’t do? At one point, he even ended up with his sweater stuck halfway over his head in an attempt to check if he smelled bad.
Nothing’s coming to him. But there must be something, something he’s overlooked. Maybe he should ask you. But what if he really did hurt you? That would only make it worse. Because it’s his mistake, so he should know what it is, right?
He’s so absorbed in his ruminating spiral that he doesn’t even notice Yelena sitting down next to him.
“What is the matter with you?” she asks.
Her words are blunt, but the tone she speaks them in is soft. Bob knows by now that it’s just her way.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” he replies, too quickly, flashing her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
She carefully pries his hand away from his mouth. He doesn’t try to stop her.
“There is nothing left to bite,” she says gently, closing her hand over his. “Talk to me.”
He takes in a breath, turning his head to avoid her gaze.
“She’s been avoiding me all day,” he mumbles, and he feels like such a child. “I don’t know what I did, but it must have been bad.”
Yelena doesn’t even have to ask. Who else would it be?
He jumps when she suddenly bursts out laughing. She presses her lips together, shaking her head.
“Sorry, that was mean,” she says. “But she’s not avoiding you.”
Bob frowns. “How do you know that?”
“Because she’s sick,” Yelena replies simply.
Worry floods through him then. “Sick? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, it’s just a cold. But she was worried about giving it to anyone else, so she’s been in her room most of the day. I only know because I went looking for her.”
Now he feels like an asshole. Of course he’d go and make it all about him and-
Yelena pokes him lightly in the forehead. “You’re overthinking again. Enough,” she says, giving his hand a little pat. “She’s still in her room, if you were wondering.”
He almost trips in his haste to get up. Yelena raises an eyebrow at him.
“Try not to come off as too desperate, okay?” she calls after him as he rushes off.
He stands outside your door longer than he’d like to admit. He just has to knock, ask how you are, no big deal. So why are his hands sweating so bad that he’s had to wipe them on his pants three times already?
He forces himself to do it before he can chicken out again, wincing as his knuckles hit the wood a little too hard in the quiet hallway.
He faintly hears you calling him to come in. When he opens the door, it’s to find you in bed, bundled up under the covers with another blanket around your shoulders. Your cheeks and nose are bright red, and you give him a weak smile.
He tries not to stare, because if he does, he’ll end up blurting out how cute he thinks you are.
“Hi,” you say with a little wave. Your voice is hoarse, and it sounds painful.
Bob’s suddenly very aware of how shy he feels. “Yelena told me you weren’t feeling well. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
You shake your head. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ve just been staring at the TV.”
“I could get you something?” he offers. “Are you hungry?”
“Honestly, it’s no big deal, it’s just a-”
You’re stopped mid-sentence by a sneeze. Then another. And another.
Bob tries not to smile. “No big deal, huh?”
“It wasn’t this morning, I swear,” you insist. “I woke up with a bit of a headache, but nothing I couldn’t push through. Then my throat started getting sore, then the sneezing started…So I thought I’d hole myself up in here for a bit. I don’t want anyone else to catch it. Doesn’t seem fair.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks.
He doesn’t mean for it to come out like an accusation. But he’s been worried.
“Because I knew you’d come check on me and get yourself sick. Like you’re doing right now,” you counter.
He can’t argue with you there. With the first part, at least.
“I can’t really get sick anymore,” he says. “Not like that, anyway. Whole serum thing kinda messed that up for me.”
He gestures awkwardly to the door.
“If you need to rest, I can…I can go. Give you some space. I just thought, y’know, maybe you’d want some company.”
Just once he’d like to sound even remotely confident when he talks to you.
“No, it’s okay. Some company would be nice, actually,” you reply with a smile. “I’ve been kinda lonely sitting in here, if I’m honest.”
You seem none the wiser. That, or you’re just too polite to say anything. Either way, he’s grateful. He tries not to look too enthusiastic as he shuts the door, making his way across the room. He perches himself at the very edge of the bed.
“Thought you said you couldn’t get sick,” you say, and he must be imagining things, but it sounds like you’re teasing him.
You pat the space right next to you. He stares at you in disbelief, before finally regaining his senses.
“You sure?” he asks. “I don’t wanna…”
“You’re not imposing,” you tell him. “It’s okay.”
He forces himself to move then, getting himself comfortable next to you. Well, as best he can. His hands are sweating again. He tries to ignore it.
“What are you watching?” he asks, quickly clearing his throat when his voice cracks.
“I’m not sure. I can’t really concentrate on anything right now.”
You pass the remote to him, and he flinches when your hand brushes against his.
“You’re freezing,” he murmurs, concerned.
Without thinking, he reaches for the blanket across your shoulders, pulling it closer around you. You lean into him, and it takes everything in him not to freak out.
You’re never been this close to him before. Not like this, at least. Not in your bed-
“I was too hot ten minutes ago,” you reply, placing your hands over his, where they’re still holding onto the blanket.
“Wish I could give you some of my heat. I’m always too warm,” he says, hoping to God he sounds light-hearted and not like a total creep.
You glance up at him. “You could.”
He definitely misheard you.
“I…I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” he says carefully.
You pull back the blanket, and immediately Bob’s tucking it around you again. But you’re persistent, shoving it out of the way and gesturing next to you.
“Come in,” you tell him.
He feels as though he’s on the verge of passing out. “What?”
“You heard me. Come in,” you insist. “You said you wanna keep me warm.”
He doesn’t move right away. Doesn’t trust himself. But if he takes too long, that’ll look suspicious too. No matter what, he can’t seem to win.
Hesitantly, he climbs under the covers with you. He sits as stiff as a board, staring at his hands in his lap like they're the most interesting things in the world. He’s gonna screw this up somehow, he knows he is. He can feel another spiral coming on.
But then he feels you shivering again, and suddenly that fear leaves him, even if just for a second.
“Can I?” he asks softly, before he can stop himself.
You turn your head, to find his arm awkwardly half-raised towards you. You say nothing, instead taking his hand and directing his arm around your shoulders. You pull his other arm around your middle, leaning in to rest your head against his chest.
“Your heart’s beating so fast,” you say quietly. “Are you okay?”
He swallows, trying desperately to find his voice. “Yeah, I’m…I’m fine.”
He’s never been less and somehow more fine in his life. This is all so new to him. He’s as terrified as he is ecstatic. It’s no wonder his poor heart’s struggling like it is.
The two of you stay like that for a while. Your breathing starts to slow, and Bob carefully tilts his head to find you fast asleep. He smiles to himself, a little giddy. It’s like a dream come true, having you in his arms like this.
Someday he’s going to tell you. How long he’s wanted this, how he feels, everything.
But for now, this is more than enough.
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