Disclaimer: I'm unfamiliar with anyone from GVF. These are entirely fictional, a creation from my imagination. Consider it a piece of prose crafting a narrative of imaginary events and charactersâpure fiction.
Warnings: Read the warnings for each story. Some stories/chapters may contain upsetting situations for some readers. Please read with care.
Jake Kiszka Fic
đLittle Gem - Complete
đWake Up - Blurb
đŤ§Just a Minute - Blurb
đď¸Classical Conditioning - Blurb
đď¸Photo Booth - AU Blurb
đźď¸Framed - Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
when boy bands sing a love song addressed to the listener does that imply all 5-10 of them are in love with you at once. that seems like a lot of pressure i don't know if i want to be the nucleus of the boyband polycule.
Warnings: Pregnancy, Cursing, Alcohol use, Trauma, Angst, Death, Loss, Grief, Depression, Self doubt, Emotional distress, Mental health struggles, Pining, Dad Jake. If at anytime you feel I have missed tagging something, please let me know! I literally am just attaching the warnings from the original story here because they all still apply here, mostly.
Hey! Long time no see... So I had an idea after I saw a tiktok recently of a baby asleep on a guitar that was being played. Here is that video, and it is the cutest thing I've seen in a while. I tried to write this in a way that it can be read without the bother of needing to read Closer, and I hope that I succeeded with that. I just needed to revisit those characters. Like Closer, this is not the story for you if you are looking for smut, because there is none. I do have several other stories that have plenty that can be found in my masterlist, if that is what you are looking for.
The house had not known silence in three weeks, not with a newborn. Not real silence, anyway.
There was always some kind of noise now. Soft cries drifting through baby monitors at two in the morning, the squeak of the rocking chair in the nursery, whispered lullabies tangled with exhaustion, the rustle of blankets and sleepy footsteps across hardwood floors.
Sometimes, in the quiet seconds between those sounds, Savannah still caught herself listening for another set of footsteps that no longer came. Small socked feet racing through the hallway. Oliviaâs bright little laugh echoing from the kitchen when she used to dance barefoot on the tile while Jake made pancakes on Saturday mornings.
The ache of missing her had softened with time, but it never disappeared completely. It lived quietly inside the walls of the house now beside all this new life.
Savannah felt like she had not truly slept since the moment their Everly had been placed in her arms. She loved the baby so fiercely it hurt. Loved her tiny little fists and warm milk breath and the little sounds she made when she stretched in her sleep.
But God, she was tired.
Not just normal tired either. She felt that soul deep tired that was always so poorly portrayed in movies and on tv shows. The kind of exhaustion that lived behind her eyes and settled heavy in her chest. The kind that made minutes blur together until she wasnât entirely sure if it was Tuesday or Friday.Â
The kind where she would walk into a room and forget why she had gone there in the first place, only to stand in the middle of it fighting tears because she suddenly felt overwhelmed by absolutely everything.
And sometimes, usually when the exhaustion got bad enough, grief snuck up on her too.
Because this was supposed to be chaos. Olivia should have been here trying to âhelpâ with diapers and asking a million questions and insisting she hold Everly every five minutes. Savannah could picture it so vividly it almost hurt. The way Olivia would have climbed beside her on the couch with messy curls and sleepy eyes, whispering, âCan I hold my sister now?â
Jake noticed.
Of course he did, he noticed everything about her.
He noticed how she kept forgetting to drink the coffee she reheated three different times every morning. How she absentmindedly rubbed her chest after feedings or pumping because she was sore. How she still instinctively checked the bassinet every few minutes even when the baby was sleeping peacefully right beside her.Â
He noticed the way she tried to smile through exhaustion because she didnât want him worrying too much.
He also noticed the moments her eyes drifted toward the framed photograph on the bookshelf without her realizing it. The one of Olivia sitting on his shoulders at the county fair two summers before they lost her, cotton candy stuck to her cheeks while she laughed so hard her whole body tilted sideways.
Sometimes Savannah would look at that picture with tears in her eyes, sometimes she smiled.
Most days, somehow, it was both.
That morning, Savannah sat curled in the corner of the couch, Everly tucked against her shoulder as weak sunlight filtered through the curtains. Her hair was piled into a messy knot that was barely holding together, and one of Jakeâs old hoodies hung off her frame. She blinked slowly at the television without actually watching it, swaying gently out of instinct more than intention.
Jake leaned against the doorway for a moment, quietly taking her in. His breath felt stolen from his lungs by the beautiful scene in front of him.
Three weeks ago, he had watched Savannah bring their daughter into the world with tears streaming down her face and his hand nearly crushed in hers. Three weeks later, he still looked at them both like they were something holy.
There had been another moment years earlier when he had looked at Savannah the exact same way. Sitting cross legged on the nursery floor with Olivia asleep in her lap after a thunderstorm had scared her awake.Â
Jake remembered standing in the doorway then too, overwhelmed by how deeply he loved the girls in front of him. Back then, he had foolishly believed life would always stay that soft.
Everly had finally fallen asleep after nearly an hour of fussing, tiny lips parted against Savannahâs collarbone.
But Savannahâs own eyes kept drifting shut. Her chin dipped once, then twice before her head jerked back up.
Jakeâs chest tightened, âBaby,â he said softly.
Savannah hummed sleepily without looking at him.
âGo lay down.â
Her eyes opened a little more. âIâm okay.â
âYouâre falling asleep sitting up.â
âNo Iâm not.â
Jake raised an eyebrow.
Savannah blinked at him for a second before sighing. âOkay, maybe a little.â
An equally tired smile tugged at his mouth as he crossed the room carefully. âSav.â
She looked up at him then, and God, the exhaustion in her face nearly wrecked him. Dark circles beneath pretty green eyes, her shoulders slumped with fatigue.
Still just as beautiful though, always beautiful, but worn thin.
Jake crouched in front of her, brushing gentle fingers over the babyâs tiny back. âGo upstairs and sleep for a little while.â
Savannah hesitated instantly. âSheâs been fussy all morning.â
âI know.â
âShe probably wonât stay asleep.â
âIâll handle it.â
Her brows pulled together. âJake-â
âSavannah.â His voice softened. âYou need sleep.â
Jake reached for Everly, causing her to stir faintly between them while making a tiny grumbling sound. Instantly Sav instinctively tightened her hold.
âI mean it,â he murmured. âGo lay down for a couple of hours. Two, three, whatever you need.â
Savannah studied him carefully like she wanted to argue, but she was too tired to fully commit to it.
âYou sure?â
Jake leaned forward and kissed her forehead, âPositive.â
Reluctantly, she loosened her grasp and transferred the baby into his arms.
Jake adjusted Everly carefully against his chest as he held the back of her tiny head in his hand. The baby immediately settled there like she already recognized the safety of him.
For one fleeting second, another memory crashed into him unexpectedly. Olivia, asleep on his chest after falling asleep during movie night, tiny curls tickling his chin while Savannah laughed quietly at the sight of them both snoring on the couch.
The memory hurt but somehow now, it also healed.
Savannah stared at them for a second too long. Jake noticed that too, âSheâs okay, mama,â he whispered.
Something soft and emotional flickered across Savannahâs face at the word mama. Jake had started calling her that sometime during the second week home from the hospital, and somehow every single time he said it, it still made her chest ache.
Not because it was new, but because she had once feared she might never hear it again after losing Olivia. Savannah nodded slowly before dragging herself upstairs. The second her head hit the pillow, sleep swallowed her whole.
Downstairs, things actually went surprisingly well at first.
Jake changed Everly, fed her, and walked laps around the living room while quietly humming half-finished melodies under his breath. Every once in a while heâd stop to kiss the top of her tiny head, still unable to fully process the fact that she was real.
His daughter.
There were moments when the weight of it hit him so suddenly it nearly stole the air from his lungs.
Not just because he loved her already beyond reason, but because after Olivia died, there had been a stretch of time where both he and Savannah quietly stopped talking all together. The grief had been too sharp, too unpredictable. Hope had felt dangerous for a while.
And now here he was, standing in the same living room that once held so much unbearable mourning while holding another miracle against his chest. The house still carried Olivia in it, and always would but laughter had started living there again too.
The baby seemed content enough tucked against his shoulder, tiny fingers curled in the fabric of his well worn T-shirt, but around an hour later, she started getting fussy again. Not fully crying, just restless sleepy little whines.
Jake bounced her gently as he moved through the house. âCâmon, sweetheart,â he murmured. âYouâre tired, I know it.â
Nothing worked. He tried the swing, the rocking chair, walking, swaddling her tightly, even another bottle. Through white noise and silence she fought sleep with impressive determination for someone so impossibly tiny.
Jake sighed while rubbing tiredly at his jaw, âYou get that stubbornness from your mother, huh?â
Everly blinked up at him before letting out another tiny unhappy sound.
âYeah, definitely from your mother.â
Through all of it, one thing kept circling his brain.
A chord progression.
Four soft notes looping endlessly in the back of his mind since sometime around sunrise. He could hear it so perfectly, he could almost feel it clawing to get out. Usually, heâd grab his guitar immediately before inspiration disappeared, but heâd been busy being a father all morning. Now the melody was practically vibrating under his skin.
Everly let out another unhappy little sound. Jake glanced toward the hallway before looking back down at her, âYou wanna help me write a song?â he asked quietly. Her tiny face scrunched in response. Jake laughed softly. âYeah, thatâs about what I expected.â
Instead of going to his office, he grabbed his acoustic from beside the couch and sat carefully, settling Everly upright against his chest while he adjusted the guitar across his lap.
The guitar itself was old and worn smooth in places from years of use. Olivia had once covered the back of it in tiny glitter star stickers when she was three because she said it looked âtoo plain.â Jake had never removed them. One tiny silver star still clung stubbornly near the bottom edge.
His chest tightened briefly when he noticed it.
Then he played the progression quietly. Soft, warm notes filled the room like sunlight through sheer curtains. Instantly, the baby stilled. Jake blinked at her when he noticed. Another gentle strum and the babyâs fussing dissolved into tiny little coos. His eyebrows lifted. âOh, seriously?â
He played the progression again, adding another chord this time as the baby made a soft happy sound against his chest. Jake huffed out a surprised laugh. âWell alright then.â
For the next several minutes, he kept playing, building onto the melody slowly. Testing harmonies and adjusting timing. Every time the music continued, Everly would calm, little sleepy noises replacing the fussing entirely.
Jake looked down at her with disbelief, âYou just wanted music?â A tiny yawn answered him, and his heart nearly folded in on itself. He softened immediately, fingers slowing across the strings as he watched her blinking sleepily against him.
âYouâre gonna make your mama think Iâm some kind of baby whisperer.â
Everly stretched faintly before settling again at the sound of the guitar. After a while, Jake worried the guitar might be too loud so close to her tiny ears. Carefully, he stood and transferred her into the swing beside the couch.
The second he stepped away and started playing again her face crumpled and a sharp cry pierced the room. Jake froze, âNo way.â The crying escalated immediately, so he abandoned the guitar and scooped her back up. âOkay, okay, okay.â
The moment he settled her back against him and strummed another chord brought silence followed by soft little coos again. Jake stared at her in absolute confusion, âYouâre kidding me.â He tried laying her beside him on the couch instead, thinking maybe she just wanted proximity.
Wrong move. The second his arm shifted away, she cried again. Jake laughed in disbelief, exhausted and amused all at once. âYou are unbelievably dramatic for someone whoâs been alive less than a month.â Another offended cry ripped through the mostly quiet house.
âAlright, alright,â he picked her up again, adjusting awkwardly as he tried to keep playing but eventually, his arms started burning. The angle wasnât working. Without fully thinking it through, Jake gently laid Everly across the body of the acoustic guitar itself, her tiny stomach against the worn wood while his forearm curved protectively around her.
Then he strummed softly again as the vibrations hummed gently beneath her. Instantly, she relaxed into stillness. Jake stared down at her as her tiny body melted against the guitar. One slow blink followed by another that melted into sleep. Deep, peaceful sleep. Her tiny fingers flexed once against the wood before going completely limp with comfort.
Jake stared down at her like she had personally rewritten the laws of physics with how she was stretched along the top of his guitar body, âWell,â he whispered, stunned. âGuess we figured that out.â
Carefully and softly, he kept playing. The melody shifted and grew beneath his fingers while Everly slept soundly atop the guitar, tiny breaths steady and warm against polished wood.
And suddenly, without warning, Jake realized the melody he was playing sounded faintly familiar. Not identical, but just enough. A distant echo of the lullaby he used to play for Olivia when she couldnât sleep.
His throat tightened instantly.
For a moment grief and love tangled together so tightly inside his chest he couldnât separate them. But instead of breaking him apart the way it once would have, the feeling settled around him gently. Almost tenderly, like maybe Olivia was still part of this somehow too. Still loved, and still here in the spaces between the music.
And for the first time since bringing Everly home, Jake felt confidence settle into him instead of panic. Not because he suddenly knew what he was doing, but because maybe fatherhood wasnât always about having the answers.
Sometimes it was just about paying attention, learning Everly and loving her enough to keep trying until something worked just as he had done with Olivia.
For the first time in weeks, the house felt calm.
Upstairs, Savannah slowly stirred awake. For a moment, she didnât understand what felt different. Then it hit her.
Quiet.
No crying, no monitor sounds, no tension sitting heavy in her chest. Somehow, she actually felt rested. More rested than she had since giving birth. Confused, Savannah pushed herself upright and glanced at the clock. Nearly three hours. Her eyes widened immediately.
âJake?â
Panic flickered briefly before she climbed out of bed and padded toward the stairs. The house downstairs was dim and golden with late afternoon light and quiet. Carefully, Savannah descended the stairs, one hand trailing along the railing and then she saw them.
Jake sat on the couch with his head tipped slightly downward in concentration, fingers moving gently across the strings of his acoustic, and stretched across the top of the guitar in his lap was their daughter, fast asleep.
One tiny hand curled loosely against the wood while soft breaths rose and fell steadily from her tiny chest.
Jake looked impossibly peaceful beneath the golden light, loose strands from his low bun falling into his eyes as he quietly played an unfinished melody. Savannah stopped halfway down the stairs as her chest physically ached at the sight. It was one of those moments she knew would stay with her forever. The kind that settled permanently into the deepest parts of a person.Â
Somehow, heartbreak existed there too because she could almost picture another little girl curled beside Jake on the couch singing nonsense lyrics over his guitar playing. Could almost hear Olivia laughing and insisting she knew all the words when she absolutely did not.
For one brief second, Savannah missed her so fiercely she thought it might split her open. Then Everly sighed softly in her sleep, warm and alive and safe, as joy rushed in right alongside the grief. Not replacing it, but existing beside it.
Jake glanced up at the movement and immediately grinned. âThere she is,â he whispered. Savannah blinked rapidly, emotion climbing unexpectedly into her throat. âWhat⌠is she doing?â Jake looked down at the baby like he still couldnât quite believe it himself. âApparently sleeping on my guitar.â
A soft laugh escaped Savannah before she could stop it. Jake smiled sheepishly. âItâs interesting. I tried moving her, but she hated it.â Savannah descended the rest of the stairs slowly, almost afraid to disturb the moment, âShe wouldnât sleep unless you played?â
âNot just played,â Jake corrected quietly, âApparently she specifically wanted to become one with the acoustic.â Savannah laughed softly again, covering her mouth to muffle the sound.
The sound of her laughter filled the room so warmly that for one impossible heartbeat, Jake could almost hear Olivia laughing too. Not in a haunting or painful way, just remembered and fully loved.
Jakeâs expression became softer as he looked at her more closely, âYou look better.â The tenderness in his voice nearly undid her. She crossed the room carefully before sitting beside him, leaning into his shoulder instinctively.
Jake kissed the top of her head without missing a chord. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat together in the golden quiet while music drifted softly through the room and their daughter slept peacefully between them.
Savannah looked down at Everly stretched across the guitar and smiled tiredly. âI think she already loves music as much as her dad.â Jakeâs fingers slowed briefly against the strings as he looked at Everly with something unbearably soft in his eyes. Then, quietly, he glanced toward the tiny silver star sticker still clinging to the guitar.
âYeah,â he whispered. âI think maybe she does.â
.
.
.
.
AN: Thank you for reading!
I am adding my current tag-list, if you arenât interested just comment or send me a message and I will get you removed or if you are interested and not already tagged just let me know and Iâll get you added to the list.
Warnings - small misunderstanding, couple argument, annoyance, frustration, masturbation, fingering, p in v sex... idk - I never really know what to put here, as always if I missed something please let me know!
AN: This idea was brought forth after Mirador posted this video of Jake to their Instagram. I'll just leave it there as my mind got carried away with a few of those images from the video being burnt into my brain. Anyway, I hope if you read it, you enjoy đ
Finally, it was Thursday.
Three whole days had passed since the small argument you and Jake got into first thing Monday morning. At least, it felt small at the time. Looking back, it had started over something stupid, him forgetting to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer when the cycle finished. To Jake, it was nothing. An honest mistake, that could be easily fixed.
But to you, it stuck.
You couldnât let it go, not when youâd woken up already tense and running late, only to find the clothes you needed still sitting in the washer, damp and already starting to smell a little musty. What bothered you most wasnât even the laundry itself. It was the way Jake brushed it off at first, like he couldnât understand why it mattered so much. Like you were overreacting. That hurt more than you wanted to admit.
You needed that outfit. You had picked it carefully because it made you feel more put together, more confident. Something you desperately needed for your budget presentation in front of the entire foundation. Saying you were nervous didnât even begin to cover it. Your stomach had been in knots all weekend, your thoughts looping over worstâcase scenarios you couldnât seem to shut off.
Youâd torn through your closet in a panic, yanking clothes off hangers, trying things on and tossing them aside until everything you owned ended up in a messy pile on the bed. Jake had sat there with you, offering opinions, cracking jokes, helping you narrow it down. Despite the tightness in your chest, youâd laughed with him. Things felt light again, just by laughing with him.
After you finally found the perfect outfit, you decided to wash it so it would smell fresh instead of like it had been hanging in the closet too long. Jake helped you rehang everything else and finished tidying up while you started the washer.Â
You checked the fridge and pantry, jotting down what you needed and the things Jake wanted before you left for your weekly grocery run. You reminded him to move the clothes to the dryer when they were done. He promised he would.
At the store, as you passed the aisle with all the detergents, a small flicker of anxiety made you pull out your phone and text him a reminder. A few minutes later, he replied that he was doing it now. You trusted him completely, so much that when you got home, arms full of groceries with his beer and snacks balanced on top, you didnât even think to check the dryer.
You didnât realize the mistake until the next morning.
Thatâs when the resentment settled in, heavy and souredâjust like your clothesâin your chest.
You stomped back to the bedroom, muttering under your breath as you dug through your closet again, trying to find something, anything at this point that was acceptable to wear to work. After tearing through everything twice, you finally settled on an outfit, grabbed your things, and left without saying a word to Jake.
You told yourself that a little space would help. That some time away at work would clear your head.
It didnât.
Your presentation bombed, completely. Every stumble and awkward pause felt magnified, and by the time it was over, all you wanted was to disappear. To make matters worse, you spent the rest of the day dealing with the office neighbor from hell, each interaction chipping away at what little patience you had left. By the time you were driving home, your nerves were shot and your body ached with exhaustion. You thought maybe a quiet evening rotting in bed would help. Just silence and peace.
No such luck.
When you pulled into the driveway, Josh and Dannyâs cars were already there. Which meant Sam was inside too. You groaned, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, as your shoulder sagged.
All you could hope was that their partners werenât with them. Maybe, just maybe you could slip past everyone unnoticed and disappear upstairs. You sat in the car for a few extra minutes, music playing softly while you scrolled through your phone, trying to decompress. You listened to your favorite song twice, and watched a few cute animal videos.
It helped a little, but not enough.
Realizing you were already fifteen minutes later than usual, you finally got out of the car and headed inside before Jake called to check on you.
You could hear their loud laughter before you even opened the door. For half a second you considered turning around and leaving, but you didnât. Slipping inside, you quietly took off your shoes before hanging your purse and coat in the closet by the door. You tip-toed past the kitchen entrance without being noticed.
But the third step on your way upstairs decided to betray you, creaking loudly as you stepped onto it. The laughter in the kitchen died instantly.
âY/N?â Jake called, followed by footsteps heading your way.
You closed your eyes and took a slow, steady breath trying to prepare yourself to not sound as annoyed and worn down as you felt. When Jake rounded the corner, one look at your face was enough. His eyes widened briefly before he caught himself.
âAre you okay?â he asked softly, quiet enough that only you could hear.
The concern in his voice broke something in you. Tears pricked at your eyes as you shook your head. He stepped closer immediately.
âOh, baby,â he whispered. âWhat can I do?â
He lifted his hand, gently wiping the tear that had slipped down your cheek. His touch was tender, like he already knew you were hanging on by a thread.
âSpace,â you said quietly. âI just⌠I need space and time to decompress. Please.â
You watched his expression fall, the shift in his mood subtle but unmistakable. Still, he nodded.
âOkay, sweetheart,â he said. âIâll wrap things up with the guys and try to get them out of here soon. Why donât you go upstairs? Iâll bring you a glass of wine. Maybe take a bubble bath and after they leave, Iâll give you a massage.â
It sounded wonderful. Perfect, even. The lingering irritation you still felt over the laundry, combined with the disaster of a day youâd had still sat heavy in your chest. You nodded silently and turned, heading upstairs.
Fortyâfive minutes later, your fingers and toes were pruned as you sat in the tub, waiting for the wine Jake had promised. You drained and refilled the bath twice trying to stay warm before finally giving up. You dried off, not bothering to put on pajamas, and crawled straight into bed.
The anger and frustration that had followed you all day had softened enough that you could finally let it go. You knew you could forgive Jake for forgetting the laundry. You could even move past the drama at work, tomorrow would be better.
You curled into the sheets, drifting peacefully toward sleep until loud, rambunctious laughter echoed up from downstairs, yanking you right back into consciousness.
Your chest tightened as the noise spilled through the floorboards, sharp and careless. You stared at the ceiling for a long moment, jaw clenching, then forced yourself out of bed. Moving quietly, you crossed the room and locked the bedroom door, the soft click sounding louder than it should have in the silence that followed.
Crawling back in bed, you curled onto your side and shoved your AirPods into your ears, cranking the volume just enough to drown them out. The music became a wall you could hide behind to avoid dealing with your frustrations for now. You turned your back to the door, pulling the covers up and letting exhaustion finally take over.
The next morning, Jake was all quiet competence. Coffee made, dishes rinsed, a gentle, hopeful, âMorning,â like he was auditioning for Most Supportive Partner. You answered with one of your own, polite and neutral, already bracing for the offers you knew were coming. He asked if you wanted a ride. You said you had it covered. He offered to pack you lunch. You declined, not sharply but firmly. It became the rhythm of the week, a very specific, mildly irritating rhythm. Jake offering and you refusing his help.
Like a polite tennis match where no one ever actually scored.
He asked how your meetings went. You said, âFine,â which covered everything from adequate to I survived. He suggested dinner ideas. You said youâd figure it out, even though you absolutely did not want to figure it out. He offered to handle the laundry this timeâreally handle itâand you thanked him, then did it yourself anyway. You werenât proud of it. You also werenât sorry.
It wasnât punishment. It was stubbornness mixed with pride, and the nagging fear that if you let him fix things too quickly, the frustration would never fully burn off. Like picking at a scab to open a wound you insisted needed air.
You could tell he noticed, but he didnât push. He just kept showing up, steady and patient, almost annoyingly kind. The kind of kind that made you want to scream into a pillow because it robbed you of righteous anger. Sometimes that was worse than defensiveness wouldâve been.
You found yourself still just as annoyed with him. He didnât seem to understand why. You chose to exist within the same space as you continued to ignore his offers of help until it was time for him to leave.
Early Thursday morning downstairs, Jake was already there, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee and that too casual posture he used when he knew something was coming.Â
âMorning,â he said carefully.
âMorning,â you replied, equally careful.
You both hovered there for a beat too long. It was almost funny. Two adults, deeply in love, acting as if they were fine not speaking.
âSo,â Jake tried, nodding toward the washer like it might testify on his behalf. âBefore the day gets⌠away from us.â
You sighed, rubbing your eyes. âI donât want to fight.â
âI donât either,â he paused. âBut I also donât want to pretend I didnât screw up.â
That did it.Â
He showed no defensiveness, and didnât try to make any excuses. He just gave you honesty.
You leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. âIt wasnât just the laundry.â
âI know,â he winced. âIâve had⌠time to think about that.â he murmured with a shrug.
âOf course you have,â you said dryly. âYou had a whole audience Monday night you could have appealed to.â
The corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. âIn my defense, I thought you were asleep.â
âYou thought wrong.â
âYeah,â he murmured. âI gathered that.â
The tension eased. It wasnât gone, but it was reshaping. It still felt tight between the two of you, but lighter.
Jake stepped closer, not touching you, but near enough that you were suddenly acutely aware of him as his voice dropped, âI hate that I made your day worse when you were already drowning,â he said. âAnd I hate even more that I couldnât fix it fast enough for you to feel okay.â
His eyes moved from his coffee cup up to yours as he spoke. Your throat tightened when his eyes settled on you. âI didnât want fixing,â you admitted. âI wanted⌠acknowledgement.â
He nodded with a small half smile, âNext time, Iâll start there.â
You exhaled, the knot in your chest loosening just a fraction. Not resolved yet, but definitely softened. It felt more like a truce, temporary, and fragile.
By mid morning, the house buzzed with quiet preparation and the faint chaos that always came with Jake packing lastâminute. His bags by the door, guitar cases lined up along the wall. You resisted the urge to trip over one on principle. Jake moved through the space with purpose, glancing at the clock, then at you, like he was memorizing the room.
âText me when you get home from work,â he said, slipping on his jacket.
âI will.â
At the door, he hesitated looking at you, then leaned in familiar but carefully all at once. You kissed him goodbye anywayâbecause of course you did. The kiss lingered a halfâsecond longer than necessary but your body felt that maybe it didnât last long enough. He smiled, relief flickering across his face like heâd been holding his breath all week.Â
âHave a good weekend,â you said.
He smiled, âTry not to miss me too much.â
You snorted. âDonât push it.â
You watched him go, and the house already felt too still without him.
The rest of Thursday passed slowly. Painfully slowly, like the universe had collectively agreed to move at half speed just to test you. Friday at work felt endless, time stretching and dragging like an injured turtle inching forward. When you made it home, you sent a text to Jake letting him know you were home. Saturday you kept busy on purpose. Errands, chores, distractions that felt productive but did little to quiet the undercurrent of restlessness. You reorganized things that absolutely did not need reorganizing.
 Jake had checked in from the road, then called from the venue in the evenings so far only serving to make the burn of missing him worse. You kept the conversations short, kind, and controlled. You didnât want to admit that you in fact were missing him too much, so you told him about cleaning, organizing, and errands.Â
By Saturday night the quiet pressed in differently. You were settling on the bed with a glass of wine and a book he sent one last text.Â
Canât wait to show you how much I miss you
You stared at the message longer than necessary, his words igniting that familiar, traitorous burn low in your belly. Be good you typed, before tossing your phone onto the nightstand like it had betrayed you.
You lay there alone, staring at the ceiling, frustration curling warm and insistent beneath your ribs. The bed felt too big, sheets cool where his body should have been, pillows holding the faintest trace of him that only made it worse. Every sound in the house seemed louder in the quiet, every tick of time deliberate and unhelpful.
You rolled onto your side, exhaling sharply, pressing your knees together as if that might contain the feeling.
Sunday was worse.
Not dramatically worse, just relentless. The kind of day that refused to distract you no matter how hard you tried. You folded laundry and caught yourself lingering with his shirts. You showered, taking longer than necessary. Standing under the spray with your eyes closed, letting your thoughts drift somewhere you absolutely refused to follow all the way.
Jake texted between soundcheck and the show. It was a photo of the stage behind him in a half-blurry selfie, grin easy, his eyes a little tired accompanied with the words, Wish you were here.
You closed your eyes, phone clutched to your chest, and laughed softly at how unfair that felt. Distance had sharpened everything. The want, memories of you together, and your imagination was burning with scenarios. Every message from him felt like a match struck too close to dry tinder.
Sunday night stretched thin and quiet around the house, the kind of quiet that made your thoughts too loud. The bedside lamp cast a soft halo, leaving the rest of the room in shadow, the air heavy with everything youâd been trying not to think about all day.
The burn in your belly had been nagging you all evening. Low and insistent, impossible to ignore now that there was nothing left to distract you. At 3 am you still hadnât been able to fall asleep yet. You told yourself you were just restless. Overtired. Lonely. You shifted beneath the sheets, jaw tightening and exhaling through your nose, then finally gave in with a quiet, irritated huff.
This is ridiculous.
Your hand slipped into your panties as you tried to soothe the ache the way you had before. Familiar motions, and thoughts, but it only made the absence sharper. Everything felt wrong without him. Too quiet, too empty as the tension only tightened, coiling instead of easing, frustration blooming hot and undeniable.
You stopped, breath uneven, hands falling uselessly to your sides.
âGod dammitâ you breathed, the word catching as awareness slammed into you all at once. The room seemed to tilt as you sat up abruptly, sheets twisting around you as if they might offer cover that came a second too late.
And then you froze, thatâs when you saw him.
Jacob stood at the foot of the bed, jacket still on, hair mussed from travel, eyes dark and intent as they tracked you, and took in the scene in front of him. Taking in the rumpled sheets, flushed skin, bare honesty written all over you of what heâd walked in on.
The silence stretched.
Mortification burned fast and bright through you as you scrambled for dignity that was absolutely gone. You opened your mouth, then shut it again, as your pulse roared in your ears and throbbed at the base of your throat. You opened your mouth to explain, to deflectâsomething, anythingâthen snapped it shut again as your pulse continued roaring in your ears.
He didnât look away, of course he didnât.
Jake tilted his head slightly, lips curling into that infuriating, knowing smirk. The one he wore when he was right, when he knew he had you exactly where he wanted you.
âOh, sweetheart,â he murmured, voice low and devastating, âI think this is something I should take care of for you.â
The words hit harder than you expected.
Your embarrassment cracked first, melting under the weight of relief so sharp it nearly made you dizzy. He was there at the end of the bed, really here. The loneliness evaporated in an instant, replaced by something warm and electric that settled deep in your chest and core.
You swallowed, breath unsteady, eyes locked on him as every frustrated, unfinished feeling youâd been carrying all weekend found its target at last.
âHow are you here? You werenât supposed to be home until tomorrow evening?,â you stammered and stumbled as you tried to get out of the tangled sheets to get to him. Jakeâs low laugh only ignited the fire burning for him within you more.Â
âI couldn't wait anymore, I needed to see you so I found a flight to get back, and Iâm so glad I did.â
He took a slow step closer.
âDonât stop,â he added quietly, eyes never leaving yours. Not commanding but encouraging, like he was exactly where he belonged.
Your breath stuttered. Want rushed in to fill every hollow space embarrassment had left behind. You swallowed, fingers curling into the sheets as every unfinished, frustrated feeling youâd been holding onto finally found its focus.
You hesitated for only a second, the embarrassment from moments ago dissolving into a rush of need that pooled low in your belly, making your core throb with insistent heat.Â
Slowly, you let your hand drift back down, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, your eyes never leaving his as he shrugged off his jacket and let it fall to the floor.Â
The room seemed to shrink around you, the air charged with the electricity of his presence as he stood at the edge of the bed. His eye contact sending a jolt through you, your skin tingling for his touch.Â
Jake's hand moved lower, palming himself as he watched you. You tugged at your panties, pushing them down your legs until you could kick them off. Jake reached down on the bed, picking them up to hold in his hand. âSweetheart, youâre soaked,â he said as he unbuckled his belt, and jeans.Â
You couldnât peel your eyes off of him as he freed himself, heavy and hard from his jeans. Your wet panties still in his hand as he began to stroke himself while watching you rub slow circles around your clit. âFuck y/n, I need you. Are you ready for me?â he practically whined as he watched you.Â
âCome here,â you plead as you reached out a hand towards him. Jake licked his lips as his hand warm and calloused from years of playing guitar, settled in yours as he kicked off his jeans. He pulled you up to sitting quickly, making you gasp. "I've got you," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in, his lips brushing the curve of your neck, tasting the salt of your skin.Â
Dragging his hands down your torso, he grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it back up and over your head. âSo fucking beautiful,â he murmured. âAnd all mine.â He settled a hand back under your jaw as he brought his lips to yours in a searing kiss that made your thighs clench.Â
As he deepened the kiss, he situated his body with yours on the bed. The loneliness that had gnawed at you all weekend shattered under the weight of his body. You arched into him, your free hand fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer as the familiar taste of him flooded your senses like the richest wine.Â
His hand slid along your thigh, rough and possessive, until his fingers trailed to your core, circling you with deliberate strokes that made your hips buck, the pleasure building fast and fierce, erasing every trace of frustration.
Your hips bucked again under the relentless rhythm of his fingers. Each deliberate circle around your swollen clit from his thumb sent shockwaves of pleasure up your spine, making your breath come in ragged gasps against his mouth.Â
His weight shifted on the bed, his body pressing you further into the mattress as you arched upward, craving more of that delicious friction, your core clenching around his finger as if trying to draw him in. The room filled with the soft sounds of your shared breaths and the faint rustle of fabric, while the scent of his cologne, earthy and warm, made every nerve ending sing.Â
 He pulled back, his eyes darkening as they roamed over your exposed body, taking in the way your breasts rose and fell with each panting breath, nipples hardened into peaks. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he growled, his voice rough with need, and before you could respond, his mouth was on you again, trailing hot kisses down your neck to the curve of your breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.Â
You moaned, the sound raw and uninhibited, your hands fumbling at the hem of his shirt, yanking it up to feel the solid warmth of his chest under your palms. His cock strained against you, pressing hard against your thigh, and you reached down to feel him, eliciting a low groan from him that vibrated through your body.Â
The emotional undercurrent surged between you. Years of knowing each other's rhythms, the way his touch could unravel you completely. Fueling the fire as he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock teasing your entrance, slick and ready as he hovered above you, his forehead pressed to yours.Â
"I missed you," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability that mirrored your own, before he pushed forward, filling you inch by glorious inch. The stretch of him inside you erased any lingering frustration with a rush of pure, overwhelming connection.Â
Your bodies moved in sync, hips rolling together. Each thrust from Jake was deep and measured, building the pleasure to a fever pitch as your fingers dug into his shoulders, holding on as if he might disappear.Â
His eyes never left yours, the soft murmurs of endearment between gasps made the physical sensations even more intense, your core tightening around him, chasing that edge together in a shared release that felt like coming home.
You opened your mouth, trying to talk to him, trying to tell him you were close, but no words would come out. âGive it to me, sweetheart. I need you to come for me,â Jake encourages you. Your body felt hot, your mind beginning to spin as it felt hard to breathe for a second before white hot pleasure shattered from your core.Â
Buzzing through your body until you felt like you could pass out. âThatâs it sweetheart, come for me. Fuck, youâre squeezing me so tight.â Jakeâs movement never faltered, holding a steady pace as he helped you ride out your orgasm.Â
He slowed down and stopped for a bit when your hips began to twitch with overstimulation. He kept himself seated inside you as his mouth trailed your jaw, neck and breasts giving you a second to breathe. You scratched your nails up and down his back as you gathered yourself.Â
You trailed your nails up his back, and tangled them into his hair pulling him into a heated kiss that was all tongues and teeth, want and desire. You began rocking your hips, grinding against him to encourage him to move, but he pressed his weight down onto you. âIf you keep doing that, I am going to cum much sooner than I want to,â he growled in your ear.
His words only encouraged you more as you clenched your core and rocked your hips, moving against him at a steady pace. Slowly you picked up speed until you settled at a dizzying pace. Jakeâs eyes closed as his mouth fell open with heavy breaths, âHoly fuck.âÂ
His words lit that fire deep in your belly again. âJake, I want you to come-I need you to comeâ you whined with desperation. The friction of you grinding against him had your own orgasm building at a maddening speed.Â
Jake opened his eyes, taking in the flush of your face and the desperation of your words. He grabbed a hold of your waist, thrusting himself into you a few times before his hips stuttered, pushing himself into you fully as you continued to try to grind against him as your orgasm tore through you again. Â
He collapses against your chest, bringing his lips back to yours before peppering your face with little kisses as you both tried to catch your breath. You laugh quietly, threading your fingers through his hair. Holding him there like youâre afraid the moment might slip away if you loosen your grip.
âSurprised?â he murmurs against your skin, voice warm and lazy now.
You hum in response, pressing a kiss to his temple. âYouâre impossible.â
âMm,â he agrees easily, shifting just enough to look at you, eyes bright and stupidly affectionate. âBut you missed me.â
You donât bother denying it. Instead, you pull him closer, foreheads touching, the weekâs frustrations, and the weekendâs loneliness finally dissolving into something solid and sure. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, sending your boss a quick text that read Iâm sick.
The outside world can wait.Â
For the first time all weekend, you slept easy wrapped in Jakeâs arms.
About: Josh and Y/N find refuge in a secluded cabin they chose to escape to after a series of tragic events (unspecified). In their mutual search for the peace of mind and the meaning of life, their friendship slowly transforms into something new.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.
Warnings (are spoilers): fluff (loads of it), semi-explicit smut, depression, allusions to loss and past trauma, healing, seclusion, loss of temper, comfort, allusions to sexual orientation, love
I opened up my eyes only to see the snow still falling down behind the window pane, and Iâve spent the last maybe fifteen minutes watching the snowflakes dance in the light wind that makes the rafters above our heads creak. Back in the day, I used to love the sight. The vision of comfort and evenings spent with favorite books and hot chocolate. Thatâs what weâve been doing here too, me and Josh, but it no longer feels comforting. I hate how something so simple â something that should bring me joy â lays so heavily on my chest because itâs connected to the memories of something long lost. Every time I close my eyes to focus on how the fire in the hearth warms my cheeks, I suddenly remember how everythingâs changed, and the illusion of comfort is gone.Â
Itâs hard to find and cherish your own personal peace in the middle of hellfire. And weâre also nearly out of chocolate. I should have packed more. Weâre pretty much snowed in here now, and our supplies are dwindling.Â
We havenât set foot out of the cabin for more than two days. Our phones died a week ago. I really have no idea whatâs been going on since, and I honestly think itâs better this way.Â
I can once again focus on one thing ahead of me without some other stimuli trying to pull my attention in countless different directions. It really feels like my mind is slowly returning back to me. Back to normal⌠except nothingâs really normal.Â
Itâs fortunate that we can at least play pretend here.Â
Just yesterday, we put a record on and for the first time in months, I could really listen to the music. It was once again so much more than just a pleasant background noise. I could hear every note and feel every word. I told Josh and his face lightened for a fleeting moment. âYeah,â he smiled back at me, letting his inner light shine through. It was like looking back in time. But then he added: âI used to believe I could make people understand thisâ, and the spark in his eyes dimmed down to a feeble twinkle once more.Â
Josh still keeps repeating that it should have been him, but each new day, I dare say Iâm more and more successful in trying to keep him distracted most of the time. At the expense of my own mental health, I should say⌠but I wonât admit it openly. I canât.Â
The room is cold and grey this early in the morning, but we both feel pleasantly warm under the thick blanket, sharing the bodily heat because the warmth is not just physical. Josh oozes warmth in many forms⌠Well, at least he used to. He forced himself into the vacant room of my petty life and claimed the black, dim space with his own personal sunlight and boundless friendship. Iâm just desperately trying to repay him now. Iâve never been into cuddling, not even after sex, but this is different. Frankly, partly because thereâs been no sex. I couldnât demand it even if he wanted it too.Â
He said so himself, basically. He said heâs âdriven by tenderness when he holds me, not passion.â Iâm more than fine with it, actually. My own mental state is in sync with it. We simply need something else now, both of us, regardless of what weâve ever wanted.Â
So here we are: him having yet another restless dream from which I donât dare wake him up because he needs to rest; and me listening to his light snores and intermittent, barely audible whimpers that only tell me that heâs still alive. And I donât mean physically.Â
Yeah, God knows we both need this, so we normally take turns to bury our noses in the small on each otherâs necks. Itâs not sensual, itâs just comforting. Now itâs my turn to snuggle up a little closer, hoping that that alone could make his nightmare go away. And also simply because I like this.Â
Itâs just him now, without all the fragrant layers of iris, myrrh and woody vanilla that used to cover and surround him during the better days. Now heâs stripped naked, being so vulnerably himself here with me, and the contrast between the heat of his skin and the cold air around us immediately gives me goosebumps. But only for a whileâŚ
I didnât want to fall asleep again. I wanted to light the fireplace and make some coffee and buttered toasts so that Josh would wake up in a cozy haven instead of this cold wooden tomb. The supplemental heating can keep this place habitable only for so long, but thatâs the price for the seclusion we were seeking. Every day, I do everything thatâs in my power to make this seem like a simple vacation.Â
The room had grown lighter since my last fleeting moment of wakefulness but the warmth that had lulled me back to sleep was gone. I tried not to panic when I found the spot next to me cold and empty. The idea of Josh getting up before me shouldnât feel this scary, but I couldnât help it. It was me who had found him when he had thought there was nowhere else to go and no one else to either fight or save, and Iâm sure the sight will haunt me forever.Â
I jumped out of bed with abrupt agitation and the chilling air in the room only made it worse, because it meant he hadnât just risen to take over my daily routine. I could smell no coffee, I couldnât hear his movements in the other room.Â
I just felt cold.Â
A deep-rooted feeling by now. Maybe itâs unavoidable once you unlearn to expect any good news, but that doesnât mean Iâm any less tired of it.Â
I found Josh outside, sitting on the snow covered wooden steps that led to the sheltered porch. His ass must have been freezing, I thought, but at least he was fully dressed and apparently deep in thought, so I just let him be. Asking questions is always better with a steaming cup warming up your numb fingers. He looked peaceful through the ice frosted window, and it would have made a pretty cool instagram picture⌠if either of us cared about such bullshit.Â
No, not anymore. In our obsession with trying to capture every detail of every present moment, we had completely forgotten the power and beauty and learning and remembering. We had learned to see the world through the lens, but the camera can never capture the moment the same way your eyes can, because the feelings attached to the particular moment is what makes the memory precious, even when it dims in your mind over time. Iâve been trying to re-learn it, starting with moments like these.Â
And in the meantime, I made the coffee and rekindled the fire, all while watching him stealthily. He had barely moved, except for making a snowball with his bare hands and tossing it into the snowdrift next to his car. It had stopped snowing by then and the sky had cleared, so the whole place was literally glittering. As if nature wanted to remind us that beauty and goodness are absolute concepts, independent of the whims of those who hate both.Â
So I got an idea.Â
âI want to make a snowman!â I exclaimed cheerfully when I finally stepped outside with two mugs of hot liquid, still dressed in just my fluffy bathrobe. Josh must have heard the door open because he smiled without looking at me, acknowledging my presence while still trying to protect the feeble world of his daydreaming.Â
âSorry for not making coffee, but I didnât know how long youâd be asleep anâ I didnât want it to get cold,â he mumbled while packing a second snowball before tossing it towards the nearest conifer, knocking the snow off several branches.Â
I knew he hadnât even thought about it; he was just too reluctant to confess that his mind still runs on autopilot half of the time, and he also didnât want to openly admit he was being selfish. But I knew it was not selfishness so I let it slide, as always.Â
I just cleared my throat to make him turn towards me so that I could hand him his cup. âJust take this⌠and Iâm serious.âÂ
âThank you⌠about the snowman?â
âYeah.â
âWhy?â
I sighed, feeling my previous eagerness deflate like a balloon. âBecause itâs a beautiful day, Josh!â I pleaded. âBecause we canât just sit around and do nothing. I understand that youâre hurting, and I know you had a bad dream again, but if you havenât noticed, Iâve been feeling like shit too. Iâm tryingâŚ,â I paused, because my voice faltered. The truth is that I was also trying to keep my tears at bay just to finish the sentence.Â
Josh too let out a shaky exhale, but otherwise remained silent because he knew I wasnât done.
âIâm trying to pull you out of this pit youâre willingly letting yourself to fall into. When we were baking a cake the other day, I saw a glimpse of someone who once did the same thing for me. And I miss that man dearly!â
We were both crying by the time I finished. I placed my cup on the banister without taking one single sip and crossed my arms to keep me warm while Josh still kept cradling his own in his hands. âIâm sorry,â he mumbled through a sniff. âI know you love me. This is not fair.âÂ
The only thing that wasnât fair was him thinking that pushing me away could make any difference. We are here because I willingly chose to do that. I know he cares about me too, and the only thing that really hurts is him dismissing it like this, thinking that itâs not enough or that it doesnât matter. So, I let my frustration get the worst of me and I knocked my cup down with the back of my hand. It made a nasty brown stain on the pristine snow below the porch.Â
The gesture made him wince as if it made an actual sound. But sometimes, itâs not just the sound waves that resonate.Â
I had no energy left in me to care about his feelings at that moment, even though somewhere at the back of my head, I knew I should have. I knew all he needed to know was that I understood, even though he dismissed my words entirely and instead of taking my offered hand, he nosedived into the hellhole of his gloom. And because he did, my first intuitive reaction was to escape the situation, so I turned around and disappeared back into the cabin.Â
I was really determined to build that snowman, not just for the sake of the momentary distraction it offered. As I retreated back into the bedroom to put some decent day clothes on, the sun was already shining through the frosted window, beckoning me to go back outside and fill my lungs with crispy, fresh air.Â
Joshâs words still kept squeezing my chest tight. I know you love me. Yeah, no shit. It had never been a secret. Still, he suddenly felt the urge to say it aloud. Such a simple statement⌠and yet a whole notebook could be filled with words trying to interpret it. But I didnât want to. I already had more than what I could possibly hope for, and we both learned the hard way about how much of what we wanted was completely out of our control. We both paid the price; Josh perhaps more than me. No, definitely more than me.Â
Trying to change the world⌠Well, youâd better start with simple things that bring you joy and keep the human in you alive. Just like when you realize that the fact that the sun still shines through the clouds and youâre still able to enjoy it is what really matters.Â
Let them fight for all the things that donât.Â
Iâve always been a fighter, but the size of my battles dwindled over time. Call me a coward if you want to, but those are my shoes. So I brushed my teeth and combed my hair and put on more clothes, looking like a snowman myself. I didnât expect him to stand right behind the door, and I squeaked a little when I opened it and saw him there, holding two plates.Â
âI made us some sandwi⌠Where are you going?â The feeble smile disappeared from his face the moment he saw me, but the twinkle in his eyes still lingered, and no wonder. I knew very well how much effort such a simple task could really take in his condition. He was clearly proud of himself, and rightfully so. âAre you still mad?â
âNo, Iâm not mad,â I really wasnât mad and I wanted him to know, so I smiled back when he kept staring at me with his eyebrows furrowed and one eyelid drooping. It told me he hadnât really rested much during his sleep⌠again. âIâm just going out, Josh. Itâs a beautiful dayâŚ,â I repeated.Â
âBut you need to eat,â he basically pleaded, making it sound as if me having breakfast was the most important thing in the world. It was kind of cute⌠in that heartbreaking, gut-wrenching way, like when a kid tells their mama that she shouldnât cry. I took one of the plates from his hand and beckoned him to follow me to the table. We sat down, me not bothering to take off my parka or my beanie, which still made him eye me warily, so I grabbed my sandwich and took a healthy bite, despite me not being hungry at all. âIfs deuicioush, Shosh.âÂ
âHardly⌠but I justâŚâ
âI know.â I put the sandwich down and slowly took his hand in mine. âAnd Iâm glad nothing got shattered this time.â I meant it as a joke, and I smiled, hoping heâd get that. Thankfully, the remark made Josh chuckle and he squeezed my hand in a silent response.Â
Every once in a while, Josh managed to break free from the prison of his lethargy, but only to end up in a raging fit when things didnât turn out the way he wanted and his sense of powerlessness suddenly turned to anger. It was never directed at me, or anyone else he cared about for the matter, but he still frightened me when he smashed a frying pan against the tiled kitchen wall and burned his hand with cooking oil while doing so. That happened when we were still back home and I tried to keep him company as often as possible⌠but not nearly enough. So it was precisely one of those moments when I thought I should try to convince him to just leave for a while.Â
âIâm tryinâ,â he mumbled. âAnâthanks for the coffee. Anâalso⌠Iâm sorry.â
I like silence. Sometimes you donât really need words to be able to communicate, and you just know that saying something aloud could cause unintended harm. What was he sorry for? Not loving me exactly the way I did love him? For not being that person who had always been the first one to take your hand, but who got â quite understandably â lost on the way? I did not demand or expect any of that. All I really wanted was to help him find the way back home, even though it would never be the same again.Â
And so we sat there, looking each other in the eye in the complete silence of that place, until my back started to sweat under all those layers of winter clothing. I took another bite before I finally stood up. âWill you join me?â
He sighed, and it could mean maybe⌠later, and I was fine with that.Â
Iâm a Tennessee town girl. I donât know two shits about snowmen, and I had absolutely no idea how to build one.Â
It was all just improvisation, fueled by my determination to have some fun⌠or at least to chase away all the bad thoughts for a while. We need to learn to adapt, otherwise we perish. Simple as that. Does it sound too weird and gloomy when Iâm still basically talking about frolicking in the snow? Well, go figure. I donât wanna think too much about it, and yet I still keep thinking about it. One just has to start somewhere.Â
So I started with a small snowball, and then I just kept adding layers until the lump in my hand was too big and heavy for me to hold, so I just dropped it and continued working on the first sphere on the ground. If one could call that sphere, anyway. It still looked more like a giant potato, and I groaned in frustration when it eventually split in two.Â
I heard his footsteps first, crunchy on the tamped down path leading to the porch. The sun had moved in the sky by the time I had been outside, so Joshâs shadow fell right down on me like a silent hello. And silent he remained. Even after he got on his knees right behind me.
As I said before, I value silence very much â exactly for moments like these.
Josh took my gloved hand in his and slowly led my movement. Like a marionette. He let me scoop another handful of snow and with his hand still cupping mine, we both moulded a brand new snowball. âItâs barely holding together,â I mumbled, sad that I finally had to break the silence, but this was exactly the reason why my previous attempt failed.Â
ââCause itâs too cold anâfresh. Here, breathe on it.â
I did as he said and the melting substance slowly turned to a crunchy sort of putty. âUsing your bare hands would be even better, but ya wouldnât last long,â he continued mumbling while helping me sculpt a nearly perfect sphere, as if something depended on it. I didnât know what, but thatâs now even the point. Just something.Â
âI really suck at this,â I sighed in exasperation.Â
âAnâthatâs why Iâm here, darling,â he replied with such tenderness in his voice that I couldnât be mad at him for not contradicting me even if I wanted to. âOkay, mmm, here,â Josh cleared his throat next and took the ball from me before he moved a little aside and started rolling it around in the snow. âHave ya never heard the phrase âit snowballed quicklyâ?â
I had heard the phrase way too many times in the past few months, and none of the occasions had been particularly pleasant, so I merely huffed and quickly changed the subject back to him joining me. âYou were watching me?â
âYeah⌠⌠So this is how ya do it,â Josh continued and soon the ball was big enough for him to have to get back on his feet. He remained crouching down, though, and briefly took off his own gloves to mould and firm up the surface of the sphere a little bit. âStill too powdery. We should have waited a few more hours⌠for the sun to⌠uh!... To make it heavier and more sticky.â
Josh groaned from exertion again right after finishing that sentence and he probably also expected me to retort, because he looked up at me just when I absentmindedly bit my lip. âWhat⌠seriously, woman! What are you? Fifteen?â
âNever too old for lame innuendos,â I giggled, but the truth is that for the first time in weeks, I felt that. Maybe it was because of how he held me just a few moments before that, with his chin practically resting on my shoulder. It was no different from the platonic intimacy we always shared⌠and yet it was.Â
Josh⌠he kept watching me, and it only made me nervous, so I quickly averted my eyes and scooped another handful. âShould⌠start making another one?â I looked up again just to see his face merely a few inches away from mine and after two or three excruciatingly long seconds, he closed the gap. Our lips met in a tender, innocent kiss that still made my heart racing.Â
âYeah, go ahead,â he replied when we finally parted.Â
âWhat was that?â
âYour lips are chapped, baby, and I forgot my lip balm inside, so this is⌠the best I can do right now.â
I knew what he really meant. And it left me wonderingâŚ
We finished the snowman and named him Charlie. The poor guy unfortunately got no scarf, because we didnât have a spare one. But other than that, it was a pretty handsome fellow.Â
âI actually feel much better, now that we have such a cool guard outside,â Josh nodded in appreciation while he was standing by the window, watching the outline of our new friend in the growing semi-darkness. âIt was a really good idea. Thank you!â
He really was feeling better. I could tell from the tone of his voice, which never fooled me. âYouâre welcome, buddy!â I scuttled from behind to have one more peek myself before it got completely dark, and also to hand Josh a cup with freshly brewed green tea.Â
More comfortable silence passed between us as the window slowly turned to a mirror that showed me Joshâs focus turned from the snowman to my own reflection in it. I let my fingers trace the outline of Joshâs shoulder and he let me do it. It was still the same thing. Comfort and care. Save for the elephant in the room.Â
âI want you to know that I really donât expect anything else,â I blurted out all of the sudden.Â
Josh shot me an almost startled glance and I quickly added, because I was tired of speaking in riddles: âI donât want you to feel guilty, or that you owe me something. Iâm exactly where I wanna be. I donât feel like Iâm missing out on anything and youâre not breaking my heart. Youâve always been filling it. I wanna make all this clear once and for all.â
Josh sighed, and carefully placed the cup on the window ledge before he gently cupped my face in his hands. âAnd I want you to know that everything I do is genuine.âÂ
âOk,â I mumbled. In moments like these it was always so easy to drown in his eyes. Even if it was lethal, Iâd still die happy.Â
âAnd everything I donât doâŚ,â he continued. âItâs probably because it still feels too early. And maybe I just donât know how. And I also donât wanna lose you⌠like this.âÂ
The oven timer chimed then, letting us know the casserole was ready.Â
Days went by, and soon we ran out of milk and coffee as well, but neither of us wanted to venture outside just yet, so we concluded that tea was all we really needed.Â
It was just half a mile to the main road, and then six more to the nearest general store. Driving there was still out of the question due to snow, but we could still walk. It could be done, even though it meant a whole day trip. We would have to go, eventually. But each new day, we decided to postpone it.
âThank god we still got toilet paper,â Josh said in jest at one moment.Â
âWell, thereâs still snow,â I replied with a wink. It ended up in a pillow battle.Â
We built two more snowpeople, Norman and Lusinda. One evening I said that I would really miss them when theyâre gone, and Josh replied and I shouldnât be too sad about that, because that would only mean weâd get flowers in bloom instead. My heart swelled at those words because they told me he was finally getting better.Â
One evening, Josh climbed into bed shirtless. âWhat? Gotta save them for daily wear,â he tried to explain in response to my raised eyebrow.Â
âJosh, Iâve been washing your shirts since we got here. Iâm not gonna stop.âÂ
âBut the skin on your hands is already so chapped from all of that and the cold.â
I sighed in mock exasperation. There was no washing in the cabin, just the sink and soap. He was right, but I didnât mind⌠and if he suddenly did, he could still do it himself for a change. And thatâs what I told him.Â
âOr⌠you could just keep me warm like you always do. Now shut up and cuddle up.â
I did more than that, actually. In the middle of the night, the sound of my own snores woke me up and I found myself wrapped around his body like an anaconda and drooling all over his chest. To make my humiliation complete, Josh was awake, and my subsequent curse only made him chuckle. âThatâs ok babe. Thatâs how cats do it, right? Gotta save water. Very frugal of you.â My next remark that he should âgo to hellâ only sent him to a laughing fit.Â
It came naturally â the growing intimacy between us that could no longer be labeled as purely platonic. We were just two people that just wanted to feel good. Our kisses became more frequent and our touches under the shared comforter more and more daring.Â
Those are basic human needs, regardless of what youâre yearning, planning or fearing to do because of some possible future consequences. However, I still sensed Joshâs hesitancy, there were lines he was fearing to cross, and I knew it had nothing to do with me or with what he wanted at that particular moment. So, it didnât bother me at all. What happens, happens.Â
But then came a moment when he prolonged his usual goodnight kiss and â thinking it was deliberate âI parted my lips to encourage him to try more⌠but he suddenly withdrew as if I burned him. And for the very first time, his reaction really hurt. I took a shaky breath and Josh immediately started apologizing quite vehemently, but I quickly shushed him.Â
âJosh⌠.â I was desperately trying to find the right words. âYou will never lose me⌠like this. Whatever happens, I will always be there to make comfort food for you, and you will always be the person I wanna build snowmen with. I love you⌠like that.âÂ
I couldnât see him in the darkness, but I swear I could feel the cogs inside his head whirring. âNow come closer⌠buddy.â I ran my hand down his toned arm and Josh snuggled closer again, accepting my offered embrace. He buried his face in the small of my neck just like he often did, but my breath suddenly hitched when I felt his lips touch my skin.Â
âI love you too⌠like that,â he mumbled.
âSo⌠are you gonna kiss me or not?â
Josh retreated just a little and I could feel his hand slide down the nape of my neck, urging me to meet him halfway until our lips met again. There was no rush. There was no need⌠save for the need to feel happiness and love with my whole being.Â
It was him this time. His hot breath washed over my complexion as he let out a shaky exhale, waiting. I licked over his plump lower lip playfully before I plunged my tongue into his mouth, encouraged by the moan he failed to stifle.Â
For the first time in months, something so simple as a kiss brought me pure joy, untainted by memories of something long lost. This was all brand new. We were forging a brand new world for us. It was just us, and the moment couldnât get stolen from us.Â
I ran my palm down his chest and I could feel it heaving, so I dared to venture further, and he let me. My fingers slid under the waistband of his sweatpants and Josh finally broke the kiss, but only to let out another shaky breath.Â
âDo you want me to stop?â I whispered. I had to be sure.Â
âNoâŚâÂ
I could already tell, anyway. The tip of his already hard cock bumped into the back of my hand as I ran my fingertips down his happy trail, and I gave a handful of the tender skin there a squeeze before I wrapped my fingers around his erection, making him gasp and moan.Â
With both his hands, he pulled the waistband lower, giving me a much better access. âPlease, make it go away,â he pleaded, and I knew exactly what he meant. Here in the darkness, where the nightmares still haunted him, all the touches and all the kind words of our waking hours all led us to this.Â
Two people with all the power in the world. You can either build the walls the evil cannot penetrate⌠only to slowly wither away behind them. Or you can share the good, and love, and kindness.Â
And even though it was passion that quickened my pulse as I was listening to his whimpers, and I would lie if I said I didnât want him badly, this was all tenderness.Â
âBaby⌠stopâŚ,â he suddenly mumbled. For a second I thought I did something wrong, but then I felt his palm cup my breast, and there was an unmistakable urgency in his touch. âAre you really sure about this?â he asked.
âYesâŚâ
âBecause I totally donât deserve you. And I truly hope that one day youâll find someone more deservingâŚâ His voice skipped.
âJoshâŚâ Weâve been through this so many times â his self-deprecating lamentations after his life had hit a seemingly impenetrable wall and the crash nearly robbed him of his sense of self⌠but thatâs not really what he meant this time and he pressed a finger against my lips so that he could continue.
âAnd then maybe I could⌠really just maybe⌠I could be the favorite uncleâŚâ His remark made me giggle, even though the sound got distorted by a sob, and he joined in.Â
â... but I can love you now.â
âThat would be more than what I ever wanted.â
And so he did. The darkness suddenly felt like home when he peppered me with more kisses. It felt like some sort of a sanctuary as the wind made the rafters above our heads creak and I wrapped my thighs around him, feeling him so close to me that my heart was all but ready to jump out of my chest. And it felt like it really did a second later. It felt like heaven when he entered me and I could feel our bodies and minds alike melt together. I finally reclaimed my personal peace in his arms, when we both fought for breath in between heated kisses. Some lines were irreversibly crossed, but that only means we can go anywhere from there. And for a short while, I felt like flying upwards. And a minute later, again. He cried out at last and collapsed on top of me, and I held him close until the shivering subsided.Â
That night we slept completely naked, despite the chill. I hadnât felt so warm and safe for months, maybe years. Josh spooned me and buried his face in my locks, but the feeling of his hand on top of mine is what Iâll remember till the end of my days. He stroked it so gently as I was slowly drifting to sleep, and it was all just pure tenderness.Â
