Some of you may have noticed that Iâve done a bit of spring (winter) cleaning. Iâve deleted all the fics that Iâve written as well as some messages and posts that were addressed to/about me. Please donât be mad at me!!
The reasons are pretty straightforward tbh. I know Iâm not going to write any more, not trinity fics anyway. It was fun while it lasted but I think itâs time for me to move on and the only way I know how to do that is to delete everything and move forward with a fresh, blank slate.Â
Donât worry, emâs fics are still here and if you want to message me you can, I still have access to the inbox, I just wonât be posting any fic, and, as I said, most of my old stuff is deleted.
Grace had always been what her mother would describe as an 'awkward' shape. Ever since she was a baby, her limbs had defied normality and grown to impressive lengths. Her legs especially had always been a point of Grace's anatomy that she felt self conscious about, their length making it difficult for her to hid away in crowds.
This made shopping for a prom dress almost impossible.
âWhat do you think?â Hope said with a flourish as she pulled the dressing room curtain back, stepping out in a long red dress with a slit up one side that reached the top of her thigh. Grace fought to stop her jaw dropping in awe.
âI... Wow. Beautiful, Hope. You look beautiful.â
âThanks, honey! Have you found anything yet?â She said as she tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder.
Hope looked beautiful in a way that Grace could never feel, her shoulders thrown back in confidence as she appraised herself in the changing room mirror. Tugging self consciously on her sleeve Grace shook her head, covertly hanging up the dresses she had picked up around the store before Hope noticed them. Her heart weighed heavy in her chest, the absence of Mamrie and Hannah on this shopping trip cracking jokes and not taking themselves too seriously and the fact she was matching the colour of her dress to the tie of a boy that wasn't Chester making the world seem off kilter.
âI'll pay for this then we can grab a bite! That sound good to you?â Hope's voice sounded from the changing cubicle, startling Grace from her thoughts.
âUhm, sure. I could eat.â Grace replied, hoping that food could perhaps go some way to stem the churning in her stomach.
-
Flashback..
âThis is so stupid.â Chester heard Grace say from inside his bathroom as he lounged on his bed, fiddling with the settings on his camera. Rolling his eyes, he set the device down on his sheets before moving to gently tap on his bathroom door.
âAre you okay?â He said gently, listening to the frustrated under the breath swearing coming from the other side of the door. âGrace?â Chester heard a despondent sigh and the slide of a lock before the door opened just a crack, a sliver of Grace's face barely visible.
âHi,â he smiled gently, watching as the fear in her eyes dissipated a little. âAre you gunna come out? Because even though I am such a talented photographer, the class asked for portraits and I'm not sure that...â
âAre you sure you want to take pictures of me? What about your Mom? Or Alysia? Or even Mamrie, Mamrie has one of those symmetrical faces that looks-â Grace stopped at the scathing look Chester sent her, sighing heavily. âFine.â
Opening the door, Grace stepped out into the well lit room and Chester felt his breath leave his body. It doesn't take much for Chester See to think that Grace Helbig is the most beautiful thing in the world, it can be 7am just after her alarm goes off, wild bed hair and smeared make up and she renders him speechless. Red faced and panting after he picks her up from track practice, following a bead of sweat as it moves down her face to the hollows of her neck with his eyes as she sits in the passenger seat of his car.
But now, she was glowing.
He didn't really know how make up worked but he guessed she'd done something to her skin that smoothed it all out and made it shimmer. Her eyes were dusted with the lightest amount of translucent glitter and her lashes were long and dark, accentuating the deepness of her brown eyes.
âStop staring, idiot.â Grace blushed as she perched on the end of his bed, her smile betraying her irritated tone.
âI'm sorry I just...â Chester shook his head, blinking heavily. âI've never seen anything as beautiful as you.â
-
Chester moved around his college room frantically, throwing random items into his open suitcase in the hope that he somehow remembers all the right things. His roommate, Carl, watched with an expression of disinterest (Chester had discovered that disinterested was Carl's only mood, unless of course the subject was smoking weed, a topic to which he had much enthusiasm) at Chester's haphazard packing show from his bunk.
When Mamrie had called the night previous and explained the James situation, Chester had listened numbly with a sick feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. When he had returned home he had tossed and turned in bed for hours, before pulling out his phone and booking the earliest ticket he could find to take him back to LA.
He had to tell Grace he loved her, that he spent every second away from her thinking about her. That he was an idiot for agreeing to end things, that he hadn't slept properly in weeks without her curled up next to him.
âWhere are you going?â Carl asked suddenly, Chester starting at his roommates voice. Spinning around he was shocked to see Carl out of bed and actually functioning for once. In fact, Chester was sure this was the only time he had heard him speak.
âI gotta... I gotta go home for a little while.â Chester said distractedly, hoisting his now (partly) packed bag onto his back.
âYou coming back?â Carl said, picking up one of Chester's books and flicking through it. Chester watched him with mild confusion, before replying.
âYeah... I'll be back. I just... I didn't leave things the way I should've. Everything's a bit messed up.â Carl nodded, as though he understood. Clapping a hand to Chester's back, he smiled almost proudly.
âGo get your girl, man.â
âHow'd you know...â
âGrace, right?â Carl asked, flopping back onto his bed. Chester furrowed his brows in confusion. âDude, you wouldn't believe how much you talk about her when you're asleep.â
Chester flushed a deep red at Carl's words, before turning to the door.
âGood luck!â His roommate said, raising his hand in farewell. Chester took a moment to gather himself after the strange interaction.
âThanks, Carl.â Chester said finally, feeling a bit lighter as he pulled the door shut.
-
âMom, can I help you take the dishes through to the kitchen?â Grace said sternly, breaking the tense silence that had surrounded the dinner table all night. Theresa started from where she had been sadly poking at her uneaten food ans looked up at the sound of Grace's voice.
âIt's okay honey, you stay with James and I'll-â Grace didn't miss the way her mother tensed slightly as she said James' name, the boy in question scrolling through his phone opposite Grace on the table.
âSorry babe, did you ask me something?â James interrupted, not looking up from his phone. Grace saw her mother grit her teeth as she stood up from the table, stacking the empty dishes.
âIt's fine, I'll help.â Grace replied as she stood to help her mother.
Once in the kitchen, Theresa let out a heaving sigh as she put the dishes in the sink, Grace following closely behind.
âMom? Are you okay?â Grace said gently, placing a hand on her mother's shoulder. âYou barely spoke through dinner and-â
âI don't want you to be with him, Grace.â Theresa said firmly, in a tone that she was not used to hearing from her mother. âJames. He's bad news.â
Grace was taken aback. A surge of defensiveness swelled through her, her automatic response to tell her mother that she loved James, that of course she loved James, but she found the words got stuck in her throat. She had lied to everyone else, even herself, but she couldn't lie to her mom.
âI... He's all I have left.â Grace said, choking back a sob. Her mom took her in her arms, hushing her cries.
âNever think that.â Theresa said, running a hand through her daughters hair. âYou always have a choice, Grace.â Sniffling, Grace pulled away from her mother and allowed herself a weal smile.
âNow, how about I tell that boy it's time to say goodnight and we watch Golden Girls reruns?â Grace laughed.
âThat sounds great. Thanks, Mom.â
âI meant what I said honey. You're going to be just fine.â
-
It was late that night, when Theresa had fallen asleep at the other end of the couch and Grace could barely keep her eyes open to watch the flickering TV screen when the doorbell rang. Her immediate response was to panic. Who was calling at this time? Grace glanced up at the clock in the corner of the room. 4am.
Checking to see her mom was still asleep, Grace untangled herself from the blankets and padded to the door, looking through the peep-hole Grace felt her heart thud out of her chest. Working on auto pilot, she opened the door.
âChester?â She said, tears pricking at her eyes.
The object of her sleepless nights looked up from where he was gazing nervously at the ground, the worried expression on his face dissolving into a grin when he saw her.
The exact date of their first kiss is a fact that is hotly debated between the two of them, because Grace insists that technically it's the staged kisses of Camp Takota and Side Effects. But Chester, of course, refuses to let them count.
âIt's not romantic,â Grace says one lazy afternoon when the discussion sparks up again. She stretches her legs in front of her on the couch and Chester catches her by the ankles as he sits down, letting her swing her legs into his lap. âBut it's technically the truth! The first time I kissed you was Camp Takota. Well, the rehearsals for Camp Takota, if we're being accurate.â She allows herself a wistful smile at the memory, one that Chester doesn't miss and acknowledges with a fond squeeze of her legs.
âBut I wasn't kissing you then,â Chester explains for the millionth time, turning his gaze to her. âIt was Jeff kissing Elise.â Grace rolls her eyes and throws a piece of popcorn at Chester from the bowl she was nursing.
He shifts on the couch then, closer to her and leans in close. Heaving her against him so she sits half on half off his lap, Grace finds her face so close to his that she can count every freckle dusted across his nose. Chester leans forward and blinks slowly, his hand barely brushing her cheek as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
Suddenly, he's laughing. Shoving a handful of her popcorn in his mouth in a move that is unattractive even on him, Chester snorts at the shocked expression on her face.
âJerk.â Grace says, the laughter in her eyes betraying the pout on her face. Still smiling smugly Chester wipes his buttery fingers on his sweatpants before leaning forward again, Grace shaking her head and moving away from his advances.
âNope, not anymore.â She smiles, pushing on his shoulder. This time, it's Chester's turn to pout. âYou betrayed my trust.â
âHey,â Chester says, gently this time. Something inside Grace melts at the tone of his voice, the timbre somehow matching the slow movement of his thumb on her inner wrist. Blinking up at him, Grace lets her eyes flutter shut as his lips barely graze hers. Smooth from the butter with a bite from the salt, she decides his kisses are worth letting him win this argument.
When he tightens his grip on her waist and does the wonderful thing with his tongue on her neck, she's more than happy to admit defeat.
-
They kiss rarely in public. By nature she's a reserved person, living in a happy contradiction of being as private as possible in her everyday life and exposing herself to millions of eager viewers professionally. Grace likes the fact that, for a while at least, Chester is her secret.
But that doesn't mean that they aren't affectionate in public. Chester is Chester after all, and though she would never admit it Grace grows attached to the comforting feel of his palm pressed warm and secure against the small of her back when they move to their table in a restaurant or his thumb rubbing constellations against the pulse in her wrist when it's racing in a crowd.
When he turns up on set in Vancouver with sadness in his eyes and a hot cup of tea for her, Grace throws caution to the wind and kisses him there and then, not caring who is looking their way.
âYour lips are like ice,â Chester smiles (it doesn't reach his eyes like it used to, Grace notes) and she rolls her eyes at him in feigned annoyance, taking the hot drink from him and taking a sip. Pressing her lips to his chastely and giggling at his surprised squeak, Grace kisses him again.
âBetter?â She laughs as she pulls away, sipping at the tea again. Chester nods dumbly.
Tea and Grace Helbig, he thinks, is perhaps the best combination in the universe.
-
Contrary to popular belief, there is more than just one way to kiss. It's the same basic instinctual press of lips against lips, or lips against foreheads or stomachs or collarbones, but every kiss is drastically different. Like fingerprints or snowflakes, no two are the the same.
When she leaves him at the airport to head off to New York on his own, it's with a sad kiss. One that lingers under the clinical glow of the departure lounge. Grace grabs at the lapels of his coat and kisses him in a way that is out of character for her, dominant and desperate.
âI'm going to miss you,â she says sadly as she pulls away, resting her forehead against his. Chester catches her chin and lifts her face to meet his gaze, dark eyes searching dark eyes.
âHey,â he says gently, fighting the tears that prick at his eyes. âIt's just a few weeks, okay? We can do this. We've done worse.â Grace looks at him quizzically.
âWhen?â Chester scratches at his neck nervously.
âOk... So maybe we is not the right word. But- but... Uhm... God, you know how long I loved you before you even looked at me, right?â Grace flushes at this, and looks away from his eyes.
Chester kisses her then, the final call for his flight acting as white noise to the desperate little whimper that escapes the back of her throat when his thumb brushes the apple of her cheek. Then he's stepping away, walking away from her.
The heavy backpack digs in his shoulders and his lungs feel like they're about to explode. Casting a glance back over his shoulder at her retreating figure he wonders if maybe he enjoys the feel of her breath in his chest almost more than any kiss she could give him.
A month later, Grace is bursting into his New York apartment in a blur of long limbs and giggles. When she sees him she runs and jumps into his arms with such force that she knocks him backwards onto the couch.
This time when she kisses him, he can feel the shape of her smile.
-
There's butterfly kisses to her cheek on sunkissed mornings when Chester wants to wake her up gently, her legs twisted in the white sheets and glowing golden in the puddles of sunshine. He always thinks she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. There's forehead kisses she always teases him about because of his improvisation in Camp Takota. These tend to come out when he's had too much to drink and Grace is looking particularly beautiful (when is she not) at some party or event, and he's bursting with pride that she's his. Even Eskimo kisses in front of McKenna, when the little girl had coaxed them into playing 'weddings' with her and Grace had been giggling too much at Chester's ridiculously improvised vows to kiss him properly.
There's secret kisses that make her toes curl in violent passion, in the privacy of her own home. Kisses to her mouth and the curl of his tongue making Grace mad with desire, kisses to her throat where he would kiss feather light against her pulse so he wouldn't make a mark then lower, to her collar bones and chest where he would suckle little bruises and delight in the fragility of her skin. Kisses on her inner thighs, when she would whisper 'Chester' and feel rather than hear his mumble of acknowledgement.
He would kiss the scar on her forehead when she was feeling self conscious about it, kiss the scar on the underside of her knee when he wanted to make her shiver. A kiss of relief and 'oh thank god you're ok' when Grace has a not too serious car crash and he turns up wild eyed and panicked at her hospital bed. There's a cut on her lip this time, so he makes sure he's extra gentle. Kisses to the back of her neck when she's at the stove making them dinner, a kiss to the back of her hand when they're at some ridiculously fancy YouTube event and he asks her to dance. Soothing kisses to her cheeks when Goose has to go in for emergency surgery because she ate some of Grace's pintrest-esque marbles in a jar.
A kiss good morning and a kiss goodnight. A kiss on the top of a volcano they hike on vacation in Hawaii, where the curl of his tongue warms her more than the heat on the ground below. A kiss on the cheek in Tahiti, making Grace blush as she captures it in a photo.
Kissing Grace Helbig, Chester thinks as he regards the sleeping girl curled into his side dropping a single kiss to her hair, is perhaps his favourite thing to do.
moist is from about a year ago. if it was sent in your inbox it meant that you were suppose to hurry up and upload your fic. it was especially relevant during oh calamity
JUST checked this and it was not us that made that promise, it was the girls over at the grester fanfic list so HA ALL YOU MOIST LIL SHITS-Em
I feel like maybe you don't get told enough how incredibly inspiring you are. You go to college as a mature student (as we'd call you in the uk), you are actively following your passions, you work full time too in a job that tests your very nature (from what I gather from your personal posts) and you do it out of love and drive. On top of that, you write so much, and always act with kindness and justness. IMO you are kind of a superhero, a real human, imperfect-but-trying one. The best kind.
Well, this was an incredibly beautiful way to wake up!
Anon, thank you so much for your kind words. I am beyond humbled, and I hope I continue to live up to this. I love this fandom to the tips of my toes, and I cannot tell you what messages like this mean to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. <3
since sassymametown deleted her blog does that mean there will be no more everything better plan because it left us hanging, I NEED TO NOW WHAT HAPPENS!! Em, could you maybe finish it by yourself?
I haven't talked to beth in a vvvvvv long time but EBP has a special place in my heart and I'd hate to leave it unfinished! Saying that it is a big thing to finish alone so it may be shorter than originally envisioned :)) (Em)
I just read taste and wow. Amazing. Could you write a similar fic with the roles reversed, Chester never wanted to force a girl to give him a BJ and Grace wants to?
this sounds like classic trinitywrites fun I will totally do this!! (Em)
âWeâre all  stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? Because it was.âÂ
There's a beginning.
It's all awkward handshakes and formal greetings, Mamrie making ridiculous bedroom eyes at them while Grace has to swallow her nerves and sprawl on top of him, half naked, and pretend to be in love.
It's ironic, or maybe not, that in their beginning there's an ending. Because love is something Grace doesn't want to think about when she first meets him, when everything inside her is hurting and her heart is cracked down the middle. But that's a different story, one that she doesn't think about anymore.
He's lovely. In every way the word can be used, Chester See encompasses loveliness. From the way he blushes when she delivers the infamous sex line for the first time (Grace remembers thinking how much she wanted to kill Mamrie when she first read that line, even more so when the redhead stood off camera with a smirk on her face) to the way his fingers fumble when he types her number into his phone.
-
âTrust us to choose the fucking nicest guy in the world to play a douchebag.â Mamrie says as she scoops her hair into a knot on the top of her head one early morning on set. Grace looks up from her laptop where she's editing today's video with a soft smile on her face.
âChester?â She questions, his name a little too ready on her tongue. Grace internally curses as Mamrie's eyebrows raise just slightly.
âMhm...â Mamrie says, her eyes lingering on Grace who tries to keep her expression as neutral as possible. Apparently she pulls it off, because after a few moments Mamrie looks away. A little gasp of relief leaves her lips, her fingers slipping on the key she's pressing making the laptop ping obnoxiously.
âHe's a real sweetheart.â Mamrie adds nonchalantly, pushing open the door to the trailer whilst fanning her face. Grace tips back her head as the fresh, barely noticeable breeze kisses at her overheated skin.
âYeah.â Grace says after a moment, so quietly she's not even sure Mamrie hears. Her fingers flex for a moment over her keyboard, contemplating her next move. Things feel like they are changing, in a way she can't explain.
-
Their beginning comes to an end all too suddenly. The world of summer and laughter and heat fading gradually, sinking into dusk lit up by strings of fairy lights.
Mamrie's standing in the middle of a circle of people Grace has come to love over the whirlwind of the last few months. There's a bite to the air now that none of them are used to, it nips at her skin like Mamrie's kind words nip at her heart. There's tears and laughter and so much friendship that it overwhelms her. They've filled her up, these wonderful humans. Feeling swells inside her as her eyes dart from face to face, all lit up by the flickering flames of the campfire.
âYou're not crying are you, Smells?â Hannah teases from where she sits perched next to her on the log, knocking her knee into her playfully. Grace snorts, rubbing at her eyes despite herself.
âFucking Mamrie.â She laughs, and Hannah rests her head on her shoulder gently. Grace turns her head just as Chester looks up across the circle from her, their gazes meeting. She bites her lip as he smiles, fuzzy in the dwindling light. This is the closest she's felt to better in a long time.
-
There's a kiss.
They don't talk about it. The way they talk around the campfire until they're the only ones left, the flames burning to embers. Conversation about the movie soon dissolves into conversation about everything. Chester tells her about his music and Grace lets it fill her up, enjoying how he speaks with such conviction and pride about lyrics and melodies that she can almost feel it radiate off him.
She tells him a lot. College, her family, her future plans. He watches her lips move like he reads a music scale, the dips and ins and outs of her words.
He walks her to her car when the last of the embers fades out in the early hours of the morning, close enough their shoulders knock with every step.
âGoodnight, Grace.â He says gently. It's so dark she can barely see him. âI-I... Thanks for this opportunity. I hope I was enough of a jackass for you.â Grace giggles.
âYou were a perfect jackass.â Grace replies, tongue in teeth. âIt was a pleasure having you cheat on me. Night, Ches.â With that she turns to open her car, only to be tugged back by her wrist. Chester's eyes are wide when he looks down at her, as though he's surprised by his own boldness. Grace doesn't move as he looks at her, tilting his head as though he's deciding something.
âI just...â He whispers, before he kisses her. She doesn't kiss him back, not yet, because a part of her knows that this isn't their time. It's too soon, heartbreak is too fresh in her memory. When he pulls away he smiles at her bashfully and Grace cranes her neck to kiss his cheek, cups his face in her palm.
It's a lovely end to the summer. It's a lovely beginning to something new.
-
There's a middle where things get a little jumbled.
Texts go unopened, alcohol is consumed, Mamrie and Hannah are dragged to Grace's place at ungodly hours when it all gets a little too much. Grace feels a little bit like she's living a life that isn't her own, in a space that used to feel like home but now feels wrong.
âYou know you're more than welcome here, Grace.â Mamrie soothes one night, a hand rubbing firm circles on Grace's back as she cries. The blonde shakes her head wordlessly. It isn't the first time Mamrie's offered and it's not the first time Grace has said no. âIf you want to get away from it all, until you get back on your feet.â
âI-I'm fine Mames.â Grace replies, wiping angrily at her eyes. There's a stubborn pride, the same pride that pushes her to work longer harder faster, that whispers in her head that she can do this.
As far as middles go, the one in their story isn't terrible. It's stained with the rings of coffee mugs from when she would turn up at his house suddenly and with no warning. She would gingerly sip at his coffee with a wrinkled nose, barely touching its contents. After a few weeks of Grace doing this Chester added a girl scout thin mint creamer to his grocery list. A strong coffee aficionado, he thought it made the coffee taste like ice cream, but the smile he was gifted by Grace was more than worth it.
It's the sound of rain echoing loudly in the now unfamiliar rooms of the cabin, the feel of his arms around her when she has a shaky moment when they're moving the last few boxes. The sense that whilst she didn't have a home anymore (not yet, anyway), his arms felt like towers.
It's the winter No Filter tour, holding hands in the back of cars and smiles directed to side stage where Grace knew he would be stood. Where deciding to give it a go, even if they didn't really know exactly what 'it' was, didn't feel scary because it was Chester whispering into her hair as she fell asleep in hotel rooms that didn't feel as alien as they usually did. It's Mamrie's smirk as she waits outside their hotel room door every morning without saying a word as Chester hurries past, blushing and mumbling his apologies. She never complains about the nights she spends asleep on the pull out couch of Hannah's single person hotel rooms.
It's falling in love with him a little bit more, every single day.
-
When they get back to LA, the only real solution to Grace's living situation is to move in with Chester. On a semi permanent basis of course because she's still Grace Helbig after all, who spends hours in the cereal aisle at Walmart battling over whether to buy Fruit Loops or Lucky Charms.
It's nice. In fact, it's more than nice. They fit together seamlessly, staying up as late as reason would allow watching movies or cooking or just being together, foreheads pressed together as they whisper and kiss and laugh. If they were a normal couple, it would have been easy.
âYou don't have to do that, you know.â Chester says amusedly, leaning against the door frame as he watches Grace hang up a red sheet behind her to mask her location. She makes a face.
âYou'd be surprised, they're like the CIA.â Grace laughs, standing back to check her framing. Apparently content, she brushes her bangs out of her face. âBesides,â she says breezily, scrolling through the notes on her phone to find her ideas for today's video. âThis is a lot easier than explaining this, us, y'know?â
Chester stiffens, attempting to keep his face passive.
âYeah, sure. You're right.â
Grace starts up the camera without even acknowledging his response, slipping into video mode without missing a beat. Her eyes only wander off camera just once, when she notices Chester slip out of the room and the front door slam shut.
-
âI'm sorry, Chester.â Grace whispers late that night, late even for them, as she rolls over in bed to face him. It's been tense since Chester had come home after the video incident with barely any words exchanged between them aside from 'want some dinner?' and 'shall I let Goose out?'.
Grace feels her entire body relax (she hadn't even noticed that she was tense, a credit to her finely honed repressive system) when Chester reaches for her hand in the darkness and tangles their fingers together.
âIt's okay Grace, we don't have to say anything until you want to.â His eyes search for hers in the dark, warm and honest. Grace curls into him, feeling his fingers ghost up and down her spine.
They'd become Grester soon enough, gifsets with sentimental quotes written on them and excited comments on everything they post together, but for the moment they were secret and quiet and wonderful.
Chester snuffles as he drifts back to sleep, tightens his grip on Grace subconsciously. Right now, he was only hers.
-
They fall in love with New York.
It's not that they weren't in love before that, but there's something magical about the days they spend holed up in their sublet apartment that made it clear that whatever they are is end game. They celebrate Christmas and New Years, his last shows and her TV show, all marked by the popping of champagne bottles and deep red kisses.
âIt makes me wonder why I left, coming back here.â Grace says happily as she leans back into Chester's embrace, feeling far removed from the crowds that have gathered around them. Chester laughs and kisses her cold cheek.
âOh yeah, New York's great. You know, aside from the dirt, crime and people in general.â He jokes, Grace elbowing him snidely.
âEat shit, idiot.â She says, thought the sentiment doesn't reach her eyes.
The crowd around them oohs and ahhs as the sky erupts with fireworks, bursting into raucous cheers as the ball drops. Before Grace can say anything, Chester spins her in his arms and presses his cold lips to hers in a chaste kiss. It feels scandalous, to be doing something so intimate in public, away from the fear of cameras and Tumblr posts. Before she can respond however, he pulls away.
âHappy New Year.â
âHappy New Year, Ches.â
-
Like every great love story, there's things they have to overcome.
Grace works too much. Chester is a consummate perfectionist that procrastinates on delivering anything out of fear it's sub par. The result is many long nights littered with endless pages of notes that refuse to find their direction and floating melodies that refuse to take shape. This frustration transforms to anger, usually directed at each other, where Grace would explode out of the front door with a bottle of vodka to spend the night at Mamrie's or Chester would escape to the studio and hit the keys of a  piano until his fingers felt numb. Usually they make up quickly, either passionate kisses pressed up against the front door or arms slung around waists whilst making dinner, apologies mumbled in between kisses to necks.
It's rare that arguments are bad, but sometimes they are. When Grace is passive aggressive to the point of being obnoxious, and Chester wants to discuss and resolve whilst being met with little reciprocation.
It is like this in Toronto.
âGrace, can we just...â
âWhat, Chester!â Grace erupts, whirling round from where she's pulling on her jacket. âListen, if we don't go now we're gunna be really late and-â
âI'm not going.â Chester says, setting his jaw. He notices the soft caramel of Grace's eyes harden, becoming almost black. She doesn't look up as she pulls on her jacket and grabs the keys to the hire car off the kitchen counter.
âListen,â she says, pausing at the front door. Her voice is shaky, like she's trying with everything she has to stay composed. Toronto had taken it's toll on the both of them, Grace exhausted from long shoots and Chester stuck in a creative rut. Her angry words felt like tropical rain, cutting through suffocating humidity. âI'm so sorry, Chester. I'm so sorry you're so unhappy here.â
âGrace...â
âI'll spend the night with Hannah. Don't wait up.â
She doesn't come spend the night with Hannah. Instead, she returns a few hours later with liquor on her breath and an apology spilling from her lips. Also, some freshly inked words on her ankle with a promise that things would get better.
'Here comes the sun.'
-
What marks an end to a story is subjective.
For them, it could have been when they stopped caring about who knew about theirs. When the snapchats start to show smiles too intimate to be platonic, or lazy Sunday mornings where they have little more plans than just lying together in peace. Their secrets become public property, but still they find ways to tease. When bowling doesn't mean bowling and blessed is more than a hashtag. She doesn't deny his existence in interviews anymore though she's careful about how much she gives away, because she still likes that it's a secret that he has five freckles on his left shoulder and that he tugs lightly on her hair when he kisses her.
His love songs are clearly about her. The five letters of her name are scattered in the notes and melodies but if you look close enough, her presence is overwhelming. Grace.
It could have been when he marries her. It's the middle of summer in their backyard, with only the closest of their friends and family present. Mamrie cries when she makes her speech and Goose takes great pleasure in ripping apart the flower girl basket she's supposed to be carrying down the aisle (Grace thought it would be cute, Chester knew it would be a disaster). Grace wears a simple white summer dress, but Chester swears she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
When they mutually decide to post their last videos, it is an end of sorts. YouTube is the thing that brought them together, their common denominator. When Grace says her final I don't know, she promptly bursts into tears and collapses into Chester's arms.
âCheck your phone, honey.â He whispers into her hair, Grace opening her twitter to find fans filling her mentions with the same positivity. âThey're still there. Everyone is still here.â He brings her hand to his mouth, kisses the green promise ring he gave her all those years ago and the newer shiny gold band above it.
When they get old and Chester's knees get bad and Grace gives up dying her hair, they pack up and move to Hawaii. Their days are filled with walks on the beach with their dogs, stupid jokes and far too much food. It was like nothing had really changed at all.
The one time they fly back to California is when their only daughter, Daisy, calls with a frantic message that she's gone into labour. Grace stays by her daughter's side through the entire ordeal, transported to her own terrifying experience when she was young and unsure that she could do this.
âYou look at her like you looked at Daisy when she was born.â Grace smiled as she walked over to an exhausted Chester who was cradling his newborn granddaughter. He looked up when she approached and smiled in a way that made him look like he did when they first met, eyes bright and impossibly young.
âWe've done well, haven't we Helbig?â Chester said, glancing away from the sleeping little girl to look at his wife.
âWe've done very well, for two dumbs.â
-
Their story ends as it began, a summer lit up by fairylights.
They never did learn to go to bed early or get enough sleep, but when they sit old and tired it is not the hours they slept that they remember. It's Camp Takota, New York, singing One Direction in Ubers when they stayed out late at bars. It's their daughter and granddaughter, it's Chester with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he bathed a splashing and giggling Daisy and Grace crying with pride as her little girl took her first wobbly steps.
Their love remains captured in parts, on blogs that don't get updated and in videos that grow steadily older and older.
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