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the date could've been going better, really. you had met this guy at a bar a couple weeks ago — let him buy you a few drinks, gave him your number. you had told yourself you needed to get out more. that didn't stop the nerves you'd felt pulling up to the restaurant despite the fact that this was your fourth or fifth date in recent weeks. "putting yourself out there", your friends had said.
it was a nice place, he had obviously put some thought into it. dimly lit, intimate, cocktails costing more than they should. he sat across from you, a tall and commanding presence, and began talking as soon as you sat down. and didn't stop. you could count on one hand how many times you had been asked a question about yourself. you had no idea how he didn't notice your eyes glazing over as he continued to talk about his business endeavours, who he met in his line of work, how he just adored the steak tartare at this place. it felt rehearsed, ingenuine, and you almost felt bad for how desperately you wanted to go back home to your flat and curl into your blankets.
you were nearly home now, his car thrumming under your body as you stared blankly out the window. you were playing with your own thumbs, already resenting the thought of having to reject any advances this guy threw your way after the absolute disaster of a night you had. you were sure that he thought it had been great, though. he must've thought you were so attentive.
"this is me" you huffed, quickly unbuckling and moving to get out of the car. he insisted on walking you to the door, his broad chest and shoulders caging you in against the doorframe as he leaned over you, his breath across your forehead.
"well it was great seeing you again, babe", he flashed a toothy smile, and you nodded, shoving the key into the door. "we'll have to do this again sometime."
"yeah, sure" you waved your hand noncommittally. the smile plastered onto your face was faltering as you ducked under his arm and scrambled into the flat. "goodnight!"
you didn't miss how he sighed and chuckled as the door closed behind you. you were not looking forward to the onslaught of texts that awaited you after he got home and decided you absolutely had to know that he wanted to kiss you goodnight, and that he would be sure to do so the next time he saw you. a sigh of relief escaped your own lips as you kicked off your shoes, soles aching from being shoved into short heels for the past couple of hours.
a familiar smell came from the kitchen; your entire flat smelled like pasta and cologne. it was obvious your flatmate had been enjoying his time alone. he was humming along to the music playing on the speaker that sat on the kitchen counter when you walked in, drumming on the countertops with the wooden spoon he was using.
though your situation wasn't necessarily conventional, you and michael had gotten close. it was hard not to, living in a small flat, but it helped that you had some things in common, and soon after moving in you were hosting movie nights with him and his friends, going out for coffee, cooking dinner together. he had become a comfort to come home to, someone you could talk to about anything without fear of judgement, and you hated to admit you had developed the smallest crush on him. you couldn't help it, the way his hair stuck up when he first woke up, the way he spoke to you so kindly, the way he joked and flirted with you so easily. the dates were meant to distract you from him, knowing that he had brought girls home after nights out and that the two of you ever dating was an absolute fantasy. you convinced yourself it was helping.
"hey player, how was this one?" he teased softly. you knew you looked exhausted, probably pissed, and gave a groan in response. he was quiet after that, studying you as you sat down and laid your head on the counter.
"i know it hasn't been that long, mikey, but i really think i'm giving up". the countertop was cool under your forehead, and it took some strength to not let any tears slip from the corners of your eyes. it felt silly, but in the moment you were just so exhausted. "it was just so awful." you sighed out, turning to rest your cheek on the cold granite.
he remained quiet, stirring the pot on the stove. you watched as his back tensed and flexed with the movement, and felt like crying even more. "what did this one do?" he whispered, tilting his head slightly towards you, soft green eyes flicking up through his lashes. you complained about the lack of questions, the arrogant nature, the attempt at a kiss. with each sentence michael seemed to be listening less and less. it hurt to acknowledge, so you didn't. you assumed he was sick of hearing it all.
"i don't know, it just makes me feel like there's something wrong with me". you said finally, airing out what had been going through your mind the whole night, since before you had even left the flat. you missed how his hand clenched around the pot handle as he scooped out a portion of pasta into a bowl for himself, back turned to you. this was the most quiet you had seen him after one of your dates, and you were missing the validation, the support that usually came in the form of michael loudly saying how stupid the guy was and how you needed to move onto the next. but it never came. you were met with silence as he turned and went to sit on the couch, bowl in hand, eyes not meeting yours. he shook his head as he sat and started to eat.
you turned around on the barstool, a bit hurt at his lack of interest, but realising that you really just wanted him to care. it was unlike him to be so nonverbal no matter how many times he had heard the same complaints before. "hey, i'm sorry for complaining about this shit again. i'm just gonna go to bed." you forced yourself off of the barstool, hot tears pricking the corners of your eyes. did he finally get sick of you talking about yourself? was he having the same experience as you on your date earlier? you would've preferred if he had screamed at you, yelled loud enough to make the walls of the flat shake and the dishes rattle in the cupboards. the silence was devastating.
you were halfway down the hall when his voice sounded for the first time in what felt like hours; small, tired.
"i just don't think i can do this anymore."
"what did you say?" you turned, stalking back into the living room. michael was leaned over, head in his hands, tugging at the roots of his hair. his knee was bouncing so hard the couch shook. you were frustrated now, feeling as though you'd lost someone who you once could tell anything to. to think that he had gotten sick of you this easily made your stomach drop, and a pool of familiarity spread in your chest; was he just like the rest of them?
he dragged his long, ringed fingers through the front of his red-dyed hair and down his face, rubbing at his eyes slowly. when he finally looked at you his face was pink from the motion, his plush lips parted. your chest heaved as you tried to take grounding breaths, getting increasingly upset by the second. his lack of both explanation and urgency tugged at your heartstrings and threatened to lurch into your stomach, wondering if this is where the friendship ended.
you didn't know that he was worried about the exact same thing.
"spit it out already, clifford. can't do what anymore?" you forced out, obsessing over the silence that had been dragging on since you had got home. you tried to steady your voice but it wasn't working.
"i can't keep hearing about you going on dates, y/n." he said finally, refusing to meet your gaze. the room felt warm, like the walls were going to start closing in at any second. you were right. you had annoyed him until he couldn't take it anymore, taken advantage of his friendship until it broke. you nodded, even though he still wasn't looking at you.
"it's just frustrating." he stood then, taking a step towards you, eyes still on the floor. "it's frustrating hearing about these guys you deal with, who treat you this way." he breathed, closer still. your body had gone rigid when he stood up, tense under the pressure of his words, the clench of his fists at his sides. you reached up to grab your own elbows in any sort of comfort that would maybe make you feel better than the shivers running hot down your spine.
instinctively, you took a step back. "i'm sorry, mikey, i didn't realise it bothered you so much." the words hung heavy over your heads as you rubbed your own arms, praying this would be the end of it and you'd go back to being the close friends you were. it didn't have to change anything. "i'll stop talking about them, okay?"
he shook his head and finally met your gaze before turning away, an exasperated hand back through his hair. "that's not the point, y/n," he nearly whined, voice getting louder. angry. his childish tone was the breaking point for you.
"then what is the point?" you near shouted, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders tensed. "you tell me you don't want to hear me talking about my dates, so i say i won't, but that's not the point?" your voice cracked unfaithfully, revealing how close you were to breaking. you swallowed hard, eyes boring into the back of his head, and you hoped he could feel their heat. your body was on fire now, between dealing with the bullshit at dinner and now this.
he whirled around to face you, pretty green eyes turned to something darker, possessive. he was standing over you now, and you didn't know how you had missed him closing the distance between you. the electricity radiating off of both of you was like a live wire. close to snapping.
"i don't want you to go on them anymore, okay?" you were stunned into silence, mouth dropping open, then tightening shut into a thin line. his voice was calm, a stark contrast with your obvious anger, radiating off you in waves. "i can't keep hearing about all these guys who think that they can treat you the way they do when you show up looking like that, i don't want to hear about how they tried to kiss you, i just can't fucking take it." he tilted his head, fingers trailing up your wrist to rest above your elbow, not holding you in place, but it kept you planted nonetheless. the spots where his fingers rested felt unbearably hot.
"and what about that bothers you, mikey?" you dared, so close you could feel his heart hammering in his chest as you looked up at him through your lashes. your heart thumped in time with his, hoping, wishing, praying he would cross the boundary that you had told yourself you never would.
his head turned to the side and his eyes squeezed shut quickly before looking up at the ceiling, no longer emanating confidence. his eyes dropped to yours, and you felt your heart stutter.
"because it's not me, alright? fuck!" he turned quickly and moved to lean against the counter, head hanging, breath heavy as if he had just run a mile. blood rushed so loudly in your ears it felt like drowning; you were certain your face was bright red. your feet moved behind him before you could even think, coming to lean down next to him, elbows on the countertop in line with where his palms were planted. you stared up at him, wondering what the right thing to say next was. that you'd been waiting for this for months? that you had started going on dates to get over him in the first place? that you wanted him to kiss you stupid?
"just forget about it, y/n, i didn't-"
"you mean it?"
you spoke at the same time, hope tinging the soft, frayed edges of your question, unfiltered. vulnerability was always easy with your best friend, and this was no different. it felt like a weight lifted.
he nodded, bottom lip caught in his teeth where he chewed on it fervently. his hands were shaking against the countertop, and his eyes were glassy with fresh tears that threatened to spill over down his pretty, blushed cheeks. he kept nodding as you placed a hand up to his face, thumb pad brushing under his eye where the tears were starting to collect. he looked up through his thick lashes, eyes catching yours as he leaned into your palm affectionately, as if he belonged there. as far as he was concerned, he did. only now did it register how he was looking at you; as if you were everything good in the world, could do no wrong, with the playful sparkle he always had in his eyes. he looked like a man in love, with a soft smile playing on his pink, bitten lips as if he knew the answer already.
you nodded back. that was enough.
his hands flew to your waist, forehead leaning down to press against yours. his eyes flitted back and forth down to your lips, silently begging for permission. his name escaped your lips in a quiet breath, and his lips were on yours. a warm hand found the small of your lower back, the other staking claim on the nape of your neck, tangled in your hair, as your teeth and tongues clashed in the breaking of something sacred. he was smiling into the kiss, eyes scrunched closed, and you squeezed his back under your hands, making him laugh softly before breaking the kiss to pull you into a soul-crushing hug, head buried in your neck as your fingers trailed up and down his shoulder blades. he pressed a few sweet, open-mouthed kisses up your jawline before stealing another lingering kiss to your still-parted lips, hands on either side of your face to pull you into him as close as possible. he trapped you against the counter, arms on either side of your body, and you leaned back to look up at him happily, teeth flashing, chest heaving, skin hot.
"should've done that before i had to deal with all those awful dates, mikey." you laughed, cocking your head to the side as you stared up at him with sickly sweet reverence that you hoped he could feel. he took your hand in his, playing with your fingers as he grinned goofily at you, nerves finally dissipated.
"i promise i'll make it worth the wait."