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ohmeohmayohmy · 4 years

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With the Slightest Smile, Chapter 12

Taglist: @reedusteinrambles @juxt4p0siti0n @kurtnehhh @chlobo6 @reavenedges-lies @livcaper @singularpurplepansy @geek-and-proud

Notes: Hello everyone! Thank you for the patience and kindness. I’ve been swamped with school work for weeks, and had to put this on the back burner. There’s a lot put in this chapter, but I think it’ll set things up nicely for the upcoming ones. And I’m super excited for the next chapter, so hopefully that will be out in like a week. That’s the goal! But don’t hold me to it. Anyway, please enjoy...

Warnings: Drinking, swearing, mentions of illness, sexual implications (no smut)

Words: 11.9k + (whew!)

___________________________________

May 13, 1974

Silent.

The waiting room was completely silent. Or at least, it was to you. You had no interest in what anyone had to say, not unless they were carrying a clipboard with Brian’s chart on it. Something about being on the other side of the nurses’ desk made you realize how alone you were. The person waiting to receive words of comfort, not give them. Being the one to tell visitors about their loved ones was definitely preferable.

But you had to stop thinking about yourself. You didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered until you were able to hold your best friend in your arms.

_______________

July 9

“I don’t want to play Scrabble.”

Brian leaned forward in the bed, confused by your answer. “Why not? You love Scrabble.”

“You always beat me,” you pouted, but a smile quickly snuck across your face and betrayed your jocose demeanor.

“Not always.”

“The times you let me win don’t count.”

He scoffed, dismissing the accusation, and flopped back into the pillows supporting him. “That doesn’t sound like something I'd do.”

You laughed quietly. “But it does, ‘cause you did.”

Brian hummed, unsure of how to respond. “What if you just denied a man his dying wish?” He asked, already knowing the weight of the words he meant to say lightheartedly. He regretted the question as soon as it slipped.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Despite knowing that it was a joke, you choked up thinking about it, because a few weeks ago the notion was a horrifying possibility. After the transportation from New York, and being admitted for hepatitis and gangrene, Brian was rehospitalized for a previously undiagnosed ulcer. He had barely been home for a day between hospital visits.

“Your dying wish would be to play Scrabble with your roommate?” The word roommate felt foreign as it tumbled from your lips, it took you by surprise.

I’ve never referred to him as that before.

Brian’s eyes looked up at you, hopeful, glistening. You were too busy biting the inside of your cheek while zoning out to truly process his expression. “There are worse things in life.”

You sighed before meeting his gaze. “I should think so.”

“And you’ll never win if you never play.”

You shrugged, watching his face intently. “But I wouldn’t lose either.” He shied away from your stare. You frowned at the shift in dynamic, but subtly shook your head to bring yourself out of it. The already-set Scrabble board caught your attention as you cast your sights around the room. A small pit formed in your stomach. “Did May play when she was here?”

Brian cleared his throat, readjusting his sitting position. “Uh, no. Couldn’t convince her. Said she’s terrible.”

Miss Almost-Perfect can’t play Scrabble? They’ll never last. Guiltily, you eased at the thought.

“That’s just a thing girls say when they want to seem demure.”

“They?” He arched an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “So, you don’t?”

You leaned forward, closing some of the distance between the two of you. “I would, but I’m good at everything,” you taunted. A smug grin was etched in your cheeks. This time, Brian’s eyes melted into your fixation. You were the first to break away. He lingered, and you could feel it.

After a quiet moment, Brian took a deep breath. It alarmed you, so you returned your eyes to his face. He had an expression of concentration, but didn’t appear to be pained.

“Something on your mind?”

Brian hesitated. “She doesn’t think you like her,” he mumbled.

Despite knowing exactly what he said, you felt the need to ask “What was that?”

“May doesn’t think you like her.”

You made a face of disbelief, but even you didn’t find it convincing. “I don’t know why she would feel that way. Did I do something?”

“Maybe you’re just intimidating.”

That made you laugh. Genuinely. “Intimidating? Have you seen me?”

“I have,” he teased, scrunching his face with disgust. You glared, squinting your eyes. “You do make scary faces sometimes.” Brian’s voice grew more high-pitched out of defensiveness.

“Maybe you’re just scared of me.”

“Indeed, I am.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re the most terrifying thing I know.” It sounded sad, the way the sentence fell from his lips. Nostalgic. Melancholic. Something.

You couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Well, I’m a woman, not a thing.”

Brian shook his head again, sighing with good nature. “More like a force to be reckoned with.”

You smiled brightly, puffing out your chest in pride. “I like the sound of that.” He grinned back at you, feeling the warmth in your presence. You shifted in your spot at the foot of his hospital bed, clearing your throat. “Why’d you say so?”

Brian was taken aback. “What?”

“Why’d you say May thinks I’m intimidating?”

“Well, I didn’t say—”

“Should I spend more time with her?”

Please say no. Oh god. Please.

Brian wanted to say no. He really did. “Maybe…?” His voice squeaked slightly.

Fuck.

You changed your disappointed expression to one of content. “I was going to lunch with Ronnie tomorrow. Would—” cough “—would May be interested in joining?” That might make it better.

“No Stella?”

“If May finds me intimidating, I don’t think it’d be the right choice to bring Elle.”

Brian chortled softly. “You’re probably right.”

“I tend to be.”

The playful conversation lulled. It wasn’t awkward, but it also wasn’t uncomfortable. You just sat quietly, too far from each other. Neither of you tried to fix the distance. Brian began to twiddle his fingers, not sure what to do with them. You found yourself staring at the Scrabble board. It looked like a short game had been interrupted by something, and the few words on the playing space were the only remnants of the interaction.

Brian made a sudden movement, which brought you back to the moment you were sitting in. Snapping your head to him, you saw Brian trying to reach the guitar case next to his bed. With glee, you watched him wiggle and squirm, trying to reach without having to stand up. Eventually you took pity on him after seeing his frustration, and walked four steps to pick it up and hand it to him. He graciously accepted it.

“Do you want to hear what ‘ve been working on?”

“You’ve been writing songs? What about rest, Bri?”

“I find the music relaxing.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“I’d love to.”

Brian’s heart skipped a beat at your quiet encouragement, he almost forgot to play. When he started strumming in a soft, yet aggressive pattern, you closed your eyes and allowed the sensation to fill your ears. He hummed a melody over the chords. You peeked through a half-opened eyelid, watching the concentration on Brian’s delicate face. He had his forehead relaxed, his eyes fluttering gently, and his bottom lip between his teeth. It was the most beautiful sight you had seen in a while. You never wanted it to end.

Upon playing the final portion, Brian looked up from the strings, wistful. You applauded enthusiastically.

“Beautiful, Brian.”

His cheeks grew rosy. “Thank you, love.”

“Do you have any lyrics for it?”

“Not quite.” He was lying.

“A working title, perhaps? It might help.”

He shrugged. Changing the subject, Brian said, “Tim came by.”

You felt slightly disoriented by his abruptness. “Oh?”

“The Scrabble game,” he gestured to the table. “We played a couple.”

“Oh.” You nodded, trying to express understanding. “How was he? Haven’t seen him around lately.”

“Great! Nellie’s expecting. They’re really happy.”

You beamed. Nellie was one of your childhood friends, the girl Tim had fallen in love with in your teen years. “That’s wonderful,” a tearful response came through. Brian looked concerned by your reaction.

“Y/N, love, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. ’M just so happy for them.”

“Me too.”

You looked down at your hands, wringing them. “They’re truly the lucky ones, huh?” Brian didn’t know what to say, but he knew exactly what you meant. “He didn’t get the fame he always wanted, but I think he’s happier this way. He finally got his girl.” Brian’s heart sank at the words you whispered. Maybe it could have been him who got his happily ever after if he never rose to fame. Maybe it could have been him who got his girl.

“Bri?”

“Hmm?” He didn’t meet your gaze.

“I think you’d make a great dad.”

That was enough to lift his eyes to your face.

“Really?” The small smile of his surprise made you swoon.

“Yes, I really do.”

Hushed moments ensued, but neither of you seemed to mind. The butterflies in your stomach made up for it.

For the first time in weeks, everything felt alright. Everything felt hopeful.

_______________

July 10

You held the door open for Veronica, whom you had given a ride to the restaurant.

May hadn’t called before you left for the early lunch, so you had assumed she decided not to come, but upon your inspection of the dining area, your eyes landed on a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair. The bell jingled, announcing your arrival to the staff and other patrons. She turned around in her seat and waved at the sight of you two. Veronica waved half-heartedly and made her way to the table. You took a deep breath, and followed after her.

You took the seat across from May, with Veronica next to you.

“Thank you for inviting me,” May chirped. You could tell she was feeling nervous.

Despite wanting to be domineering, you decided against it. You could play nice. No need to make her uncomfortable.

“Of course. A friend of Brian’s is a friend of ours,” Veronica replied. You took a swig from the water glass in front of you. May bit her lip and looked down at the menu.

“Have you been waiting long?” You managed to ask, forcing a pleasant intonation.

May’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.” You could tell she was lying, but didn’t care to point it out. She was clearly making an effort.

“Good.” You picked up your menu and glanced over it. Nothing sounded particularly appetizing. “What are you thinking of getting?” You asked, leaning over to Veronica.

“You can’t go wrong with oatmeal and a side of fruit.” She pointed to the items.

“I love fruit,” May added.

You nodded. “Me too.”

“Brian likes grapefruit, but I don’t understand the appeal.”

“Ha, yeah. He loves grapefruit juice.”

May grew more comfortable with your silly conversation. “Though, I’m more partial to the standard orange.”

“I prefer drinking water,” you snarked, trying to tease her lightly. She appreciated the banter, feeling more accepted by you.

Veronica turned her attention to May, eyes sparkling. “So, how are you and Brian doing? Must be pretty intense, given what he’s going through.”

“It is a lot for a new relationship, but he’s so understanding and kind. He makes it easy to work for it.”

“Brian is worth working for,” you agreed.

May tensed at your comment, feeling threatened by the closeness of your relationship. She didn’t want to hear you talk about Brian like that. “What about Paul?”

“What about him?”

“How are you two doing? Brian says he makes you happy.”

“We’re doing well.” You gave a tight-lipped grin. “He’s rather fit, you know.”

“I’ve noticed,” May laughed. “Very handsome.”

Not as handsome as...no. Stop it.

“He is. And very passionate.”

Veronica whistled, winking and raising her eyebrows suggestively. You stifled a snort, amused by her antics.

The waitress came over to take your orders, she eyed Veronica with an entertained smile. Veronica’s face changed into one of mortification, barely able to order her food.

“Johnny is too,” she whispered, suddenly feeling shy.

“The way he looks at you is almost too much to handle,” you teased. “He’s such a sweetheart.”

“He really is,” Veronica beamed. “I think we might get married.”

“You make John so happy, I’m surprised he hasn’t proposed already.” She giggled at your joke. You engulfed her in a hug, which quickly became uncomfortable due to the table.

May watched the pair sitting across from her, feeling left out. “How long have you been with John, Veronica?”

“Oh, it’s hard to keep track.” Veronica blushed. “I feel like I’ve loved him forever.”

May shifted in her chair, something clearly on her mind. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“You loved him? That he loved you?”

You flicked your eyes from May’s inquisitive expression to Veronica’s glowing face.

“One morning, I heard a knock at the door of my flat. So I threw my robe on and hurried to answer. John stood on the other side and he was holding my morning paper. He was sopping wet, but the paper was completely dry. I asked him when it started raining, and he said it must’ve been hours ago. So, I looked from his dripping hair to the newspaper in his grip, but he didn’t understand the connection I was making. I let him in and insisted on putting his coat away, poor thing was shivering. We spent an hour or so there, he dried off nicely, and we left for a late breakfast. As he led me to his car, I noticed something on the driveway, so I got closer and realized it was the soaked paper that had been delivered to my address.” It was obvious that May had missed the point. Veronica’s blush deepened. “John didn’t say anything, but I figured out that he had seen the original was ruined, and drove all the way to a stand just so I would have one to read that morning. He hasn’t said anything about it since, and I don’t think he knows I know.”

“That’s when you knew?” May’s voice got caught in her throat.

“I think I felt it since the moment I met him, if I’m going to be honest, but that was the moment my mind caught up with the rest of me.”

You felt dewy-eyed, seeing the enamoration in your friend’s smile. The amount of happiness she felt, you hadn’t experienced in a while.

“And you, Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“When did you know you loved Paul?” May’s question caught you off guard, you choked on the water you had been sipping. “Oh, sorry, are you okay?”

Coughing for another few seconds, you finally managed to croak, “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright, really.”

“—pry.”

“Paul and I haven’t…”

“Really?” May’s voice squeaked. “Brian says you’re staying over at his place all the time, I just thought that maybe…”

You paused, realizing May’s misunderstanding. “We haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet.”

“Oh.”

“I stay over plenty.”

Veronica snickered at you what you were implying, amazed that neither you nor May could say what you meant.

“Right.” May caught on after observing Veronica’s reaction. “How is it?” Her voice became more hushed, like she was ashamed about what she was asking. You didn’t want to share your sex life, especially if May was going to talk about hers. With Brian.

You’d rather not know.

But Veronica’s meaningful glance made you relent slightly. “It—he’s good.”

May nodded slowly, averting her eyes. Like she knew something but didn’t want to confront it. “You’re just not in love with him.”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t been long.”

“If you were in love with him, it’d be more than good.”

You were at a loss for words. May made an excellent point. But with indignation, you sat up a little straighter. “It’s rather good, actually. He’s very tender.”

Veronica scrunched her face at the thought. “Great. Now that’s all I’ll be thinking about next time the four of us go for a meal.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “And what about John?” Veronica said nothing. “I thought so.”

May watched Veronica’s face. “Is John…?”

“I’m Catholic,” Veronica remarked, avoiding giving an answer. May’s eyes widened again, embarrassed by her own question.

The waitress came back around with your assorted dishes. You each thanked her as she set the plates down in front of you. She gave a knowing smile as she walked away. You began to eat the warm oatmeal, embracing the quietude that had befallen your group. Veronica, however, was more devious than you had anticipated.

“What about Brian?” She wanted to see your reaction, to confirm her suspicions. You tensed as the question came to its completion, just as Veronica had predicted. “Is he better than you remember?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” May mumbled, not taking her eyes from the salad in her bowl.

“You dated in university, didn’t you?”

Veronica has an excellent ability of making any question sound innocent. You rolled your eyes subtly.

“Briefly,” May said between small bites of lettuce.

“He became a rock star since then, I’m sure things have improved.”

Now both you and May were blushing.

Luckily, only Veronica seemed to notice your reddened face.

May swallowed heavily, obviously self-conscious. “Brian and I have never actually slept together.”

You felt the air leaving your lungs.

“And we’ve never said ‘I love you’ either.”

Breathless. You were left breathless.

_______________

August 3

“That one was good, Rog,” Freddie’s voice called into the recording space. Roger gave a thumbs up while rising from the drum stool, stretched his arms, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

It was a particularly warm summer day, and the recording studio was notorious for trapping heat.

“Last take, yeah?” Roger asked in his raspy voice.

“I think so.”

Roger motioned to Brian, who was flopped over on the couch. “What does Mister Perfectionist think?” Brian didn’t budge, only responding with a hmph, not thrilled by the nickname.

“Use your words, dear,” Freddie taunted.

“It was good, Rog.”

Roger crossed his arms, furrowing his brow. “You’re not very convincing there, mate.”

“I promise it was.” Brian sat up. “Just not feeling well.”

“Oi,” Roger groaned, “I thought we were past this.”

“It’s the heat, Rog.”

Freddie nodded in concurrence. “It is a bit sweltering.” He fanned his face with an exaggerated enthusiasm. Roger rolled his eyes while Brian scoffed in amusement. Freddie laughed at himself before scanning the room. “Did Deaky leave?”

Both Roger and Brian swiveled their heads around, looking for the bassist.

“It appears so,” Brian answered.

Roger shrugged. “So we can call it a day?” Freddie nodded reluctantly. “Great, means I can actually go on my date.”

“You weren’t going to be able to before?”

“Well, I would hate to be too exhausted, y’know.” Reaching for a cigarette, Roger raised his eyebrows a couple times, trying to overemphasize the implication. “Girls don’t like that.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” Freddie chided. Roger tried to retaliate, but nothing came to mind, so he settled on pouting as best he could.

Brian smiled at the two men standing in front of him. Things really felt like they were back to normal.

_______________

September 23

The distant sound of clanging metal startled you, rousing you from slumber. You cracked open your left eye just enough to confirm that it was daytime. The pale sunlight streaked through Paul’s bedroom curtains, leaving a splotchy pattern on the carpeted floor. With a sigh, you turned your body the other way, despite knowing your boyfriend was not lying there beside you.

“Boyfriend” still didn’t feel right, despite the fact that you had been officially dating for…

Seven months.

Your anniversary. It was today.

Shit.

You forgot.

The boys were supposed to debut their newly finished album, in its entirety, to you tonight.

The panic was enough to get you into an upright position. You removed yourself from the warm cocoon of blankets and stood on the floor, unmoving, for a moment, playing through many scenarios in your mind.

I could tell him I was unable to get his gift done in time, between social life and work.

No. Too obviously an excuse.

I can throw together a last minute plan for a trip.

No. You didn’t have much time off in the upcoming days. In fact, today and tomorrow were supposed the only ones for at least another week.

It’ll come to me.

At least, you hoped.

Forcing a smile on your face, you walked through the door to enter into the living room.

As expected, Paul was clambering around in the kitchen, whisking away at something you couldn’t quite see with much intensity. Frustration. You slowly made your way past the sofa and coffee table to get to him.

He looked up and instantly melted into a softer emotion. That always made you blush. Made you feel special.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning, babe.” You wrapped your arms around Paul’s waist, peering down at the mixing bowl. The red batter was easily recognizable. You couldn’t hide the smile working its way across your face.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispered before planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“Oh, that’s today?” You mocked innocence, though you had only remembered about three minutes prior to that moment. “I thought you just wanted to spoil me.”

Paul smirked. He set the bowl down and spun around to hold you. “Trust me, I wouldn’t need an excuse.”

“Is that so?” Your voice became more playful, trying to be a tease. You stood on your toes and brought your lips to meet with his.

All you could feel was his warmth. Nothing existed beyond that sensation.

It was lovely, being so engrossed in someone.

“Do you want to open your present now?”

You blinked. “The red velvet cake isn’t my gift?” He nodded, his smirk deepening. “You really do know how to spoil a woman.” He leaned in for another kiss and you met him halfway, humming into it. When you broke away, the pair of you were all smiles.

“Wait here,” Paul instructed. You complied, releasing the grip you had on him. He rushed off, giddy with excitement. It was cute.

You pulled your body up onto the countertop and let your legs dangle while waiting for him to return. The vague shuffling noises coming from the other room grew less frantic.

Paul called out “Close your eyes!” You rolled your eyes to yourself and obliged to his request. He crossed the flat quickly, obviously excited. “Alright, you can look.”

A sizable box was placed in the center of the dining table. Beside it was an extremely flat parcel.

Your interest was piqued, you hopped down from the spot and approached Paul, who was standing next to the table proudly. With a quick exchange of permissive glances, you moved to tear the wrapping of the smaller item. He stopped you, pointing to the larger package. You shrugged and pulled the box closer to you.

With ease, you pulled the shiny paper from its contents.

That’s a box, alright, you joked to yourself.

“Just what ‘ve always wanted.”

Paul gave an insincere laugh, which made you smile. He made a gesture, telling you to keep going. You tore the box open, surprised by the record player inside.

It was brand new, so unlike the one you and Brian shared back at your apartment.

“I know you’re used to having music surrounding you constantly,” Paul started, a little nervous. “I wanted you to feel more at home here.” The sentiment was almost enough to make you cry. Without you needing to say it, he understood the discomfort musickessness brought you.

“Thank you, Paul, I—”

He held up a hand to stop you, smiled kindly, then indicated to the second item.

As you guessed, it was a record. You ghosted a finger around the edges of the slip covering it. Upon further inspection, you realized what it was.

All I Have to Do Is Dream.

An original copy of the Everly Brothers’ single.

It left you speechless.

How did he know?

Without a word, you pulled your boyfriend into a firm embrace, tears filling your eyes. Paul stroked your hair, unsure of what to do.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to give you something that would make you happy...”

You gazed up at his worried expression. “I am happy,” you assured him. “It’s perfect.” You could feel the sigh of relief that Paul expelled. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

My love.

As wrong as it seemed, all that you could think about in that moment was Brian.

You tried to push the creeping thoughts as far from your mind as possible, settling your attention on Paul. Your boyfriend. Panicking, you said, “Your gift will be ready tonight.”

He smiled, almost shyly. “I get a gift too?”

“Of course, silly. It’s not just my anniversary.” You paused for a moment. “You still don’t mind going to hear the album tonight, right?”

“So long as we can go after dinner.”

Dinner. Of course he planned to go to dinner.

“Yes, yes we can. They can wait for us. It’s our night too.”

Paul nodded, then kissed you atop the head and relinquished his hold on you. “I’m sorry I have to go to work, babe.”

Perfect. Maybe I’ll actually be able to figure something out.

“I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you,” you replied, as melodramatically as possible. “Should I put the cake in the oven?”

“I can do that later.”

“But the batter might go bad if we don’t do it now…”

“I suppose you might know better than me,” Paul joked.

“You suppose?”

He chuckled before pouring the batter into a prepared cake pan.

“I’ll see you later, baby. Dinner at six?”

“Mmhmm. Can you pick me up from my flat?”

He hesitated. “Of course.”

* * *

“Elle, please, I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

Stella groaned into the telephone. “What does Paul like? He likes plants, right?”

“I feel like the past six anniversaries I’ve gotten him something plant-related. If I buy him another fern, he’s sure to know something’s amiss.”

She cleared her throat and leaned forward in her seat. Intrigued. “Is something amiss?”

“What? No.”

You felt like you were lying.

Stella could tell.

“He makes you happy, right?”

“Of course he does. Why would I stay in a joyless relationship?”

“To make up for something else.”

Her accusation made you angry. “I’m feeling plenty fulfilled in my other endeavors, thank you. My job is what I want to be doing, I’ve got good friends. What could I possibly be making up for? What am I lacking?”

“Nothing.” Stella's tone was colder, more sarcastic. “Everything’s perfect. Maybe you’ll get married and have the perfect family, right?”

“We’ve only known each other since the beginning of the year. I wouldn’t marry someone I’ve only barely—”

“Then how long would you like to know him for, eh? Twenty some odd years?”

Your face started heating up. “That’s not fair.”

Stella knew she had gone too far, but she was in a fairly antagonistic mood. “Do you even let him come to your place anymore?”

“It’s not my fault his flat is in a better location. It’s easier to get there from both of our jobs.” You huffed. “And this really isn’t any of your business.”

“We’ve barely spoken in weeks, Y/N. I think I’m entitled to ask my best friend some questions. Sorry.”

“I don’t even know how we got here! I just called to ask about gifts. I guess I asked the wrong person about what guys like.”

Stella laughed quietly. “I’d say you did.” It hit you. You started laughing too.

The sound of jingling keys rang outside your door, but you weren’t really paying attention. Brian pushed through, walking in to see you in hysterics with the phone tucked under your ear. You turned to look at him, which only made you giggle more.

“You alright, Y/N?”

You could only nod, too worked up in laughter.

Stella asked, “Is that Brian?”

“Yeah,” you wheezed, trying to calm down.

Then May walked in, and it sobered you up instantly.

“Y/N?” Stella’s voice was only a distant drone now.

You swallowed heavily. “I should go.”

“Are you alr—”

“Bye, Stella.”

You hung up, not moving your eyes from the couple in the doorway.

Brian had a sheepish expression plastered across his face. May looked surprised.

“Good afternoon,” you said, trying to relieve some of the tension.

“Hi.”

May didn’t say anything, just waved hesitantly.

You took a deep breath. “Excited for tonight?”

“Yes. Yeah.”

“Me too,” you smiled. Brian relaxed.

“What were you and Stella laughing about?”

You bit your lip, suddenly self-conscious about the phone call. “I was just asking her advice on something.”

Brian moved closer to you, quizzical. He rested on the arm of the sofa nearest to you. “Can I be of any help?” May didn’t look thrilled by his eagerness. You cast your eyes down to your feet, avoiding the two pairs of eyes set on you.

She looks...disMayed. You grinned at the double meaning.

“Uh, I don’t know…”

“Have I ever given you poor advice?” There was an edge of hurt in his voice. But it was barely detectable.

He masks it pretty well around her.

“Can’t say that you have,” you admitted. “But I don’t know how much help you’d be.”

He extended his arms out, puffing his chest slightly. “Try me.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. It felt wrong to talk about Paul. Especially in front of Brian.

May came around behind your best friend and nestled her head on his shoulder. “We want to help, Y/N.” Her tone was innocent enough, but you read too far into it.

Considering the way she was touching Brian, maybe you just wanted to believe she had mal intent.

“Fine,” you replied, your voice sickeningly sweet. “It’s mine and Paul’s anniversary today, and—”

“And you forgot to get him something?” Again, you detected a smugness in May’s words. Something that, rationally, you were sure wasn’t there.

“Essentially.” You made it known you didn’t appreciate the interruption. Brian read your body language intuitively, knowing that he was the one who should be helping you.

But he didn’t want to get in the middle of it. He didn’t want to think about Paul. He didn’t like to think about Paul.

May was unscathed by your bitterness. “How how long have you two been together?”

“Seven.” A pause. “Months.”

Brian’s heart sank. It had already been seven months? Had you said ‘I love you’ to each other yet? Did he miss his chance?

Keeping a stoic expression, Brian just gave an impressed whistle. “Practically married,” he tried to joke. But no one was laughing.

You moved past it, not wanting to even consider the possibility. “I’ve already gotten him so many houseplants, I can’t continue in that way. And he bought this beautiful record player...” And a beautiful vinyl.

Brian’s eyes widened, like he knew something, but you were too busy staring at the coffee table to see it.

All too quickly, May blurted, “Maybe get him something...more personal…” She blushed at whatever she was thinking.

“More personal?” What the hell does she mean by that? “Like a handwritten note?”

“No.” May glanced longingly at Brian, who was desperately trying to look anywhere but at her. “Something more intimate.”

It dawned on you. She was referring to lingerie.

“I’ve never bought anything like that before,” you said quietly, almost embarrassed. “Brian, do guys—”

Brian did not engage.

You overstepped, and you knew it instantly.

The room grew quieter.

May was the first to speak, breaking the awkward silence with more awkwardness. “If you want, I can help you pick something out.”

Oh god.

“No, May, it’s fine, you don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” she insisted.

You looked at Brian, hoping he would do something or say something, but he just sat there, avoiding eye contact. And it frustrated you.

“Thank you, May. I appreciate it.” You paused. “Where do you even go?”

She smiled, but it felt condescending. “Department stores tend to have things.”

You were not satisfied with her answer. “I mean, yes, but…” You weren’t really sure what words you were searching for.

“Bri can take us,” May piped. It finally dragged Brian out of his daze.

“Hmm?”

“I said you can take us to the store, right? For Paul’s anniversary gift.” She winked at you.

Brian was visibly uncomfortable. You wanted to relieve him of his “duties”, but you were still a little frustrated with him.

“That would be great,” you said, trying to feign sweetness. Brian knew.

“Alright,” he replied cheerfully. May gave him a kiss and walked back to the door. You stood up from the couch and straightened your clothes. Brian had a glint in his eye. “But I’m not trying anything on this time.”

You giggled, with sincerity. You missed the snarky comments when he wasn’t around. The flat always felt so empty without them. Him.

* * *

This is by far the most awkward experience of my life.

You rifled through the racks of delicates, feeling a little overwhelmed. May was keeping Brian close, holding up things and asking for his opinion. He didn’t know if she meant for you, or for her. And he didn’t want to think about it. She held up a set, it was very fine black lace.

“What about this one?”

You looked at it from across the many racks between you.

You had to admit, it was gorgeous.

“I like it,” you said with a smile.

May looked very pleased with herself.

Brian was doing his best not to think about you wearing it. He couldn’t take any more of this outing. “I’m going to browse the men’s blazers,” he declared, trying to excuse himself. You and May both nodded with concern. He stalked off in a hurry.

May sighed as she watched him go. “He’s so cute.”

You didn’t want to say anything, so you just bobbed your head slowly. You didn’t want to convey agreement, but you also didn’t want to seem uninterested in what she was saying.

“Are you excited about Helsinki?”

You were very confused and disoriented by May’s question. “What?”

“The tour. They’re going to Helsinki. I assumed you’d go with them, right? Show them around?”

“Oh.” You laughed uneasily. “Yeah. Right.”

“Brian hasn’t told you yet, has he?”

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “He’s mentioned the tour.”

May noticed your evasion of the question, but she didn’t want to cross any boundaries. “You want to try this on?” She waved the black lingerie set.

“Sure.”

But your mind was on Helsinki, not undergarments.

* * *

“Thank you so much for bringing me here.” You gestured to the upscale restaurant in which you were dining. “I’ve always been curious about what it looked like on the inside.”

“And now you know,” Paul remarked.

“Now I know!” You reached across the table and held his hand. “The food was delicious.”

“Well, I hope you don’t feel too full for cake.”

“I would never be too full for red velvet cake.” You grinned. “Besides, we have a couple hours before we get to eat it.”

“Right.” He sounded disappointed.

You felt guilty about going to hear the new album tonight, of all nights.

I do have tomorrow off as well…

And you were mad at Brian for not telling you about Helsinki.

But you refused to consider that as an excuse.

“Or we could just wrap up here and go back to your place.” You tried to sound seductive, but you weren’t sure it was coming across that way. “I’ll let you open your gift.”

Paul’s disappointment was replaced by hope. “Really? You wouldn’t mind not going?”

“I can prioritize.”

His smile broadened, and waved for the waiter.

You felt a pit form in your stomach, but you didn’t want your face to reflect it. You hated the thought of being flaky. You didn’t want to let the boys down.

It’ll be alright. Right?

* * *

“Shall we begin?”

Brian shot Freddie a dirty look. “Y/N’s not here yet.”

“I doubt she’s coming, dear.”

“It is a special night,” May chimed in. Brian’s back was to her, so he was grateful she couldn’t see him rolling his eyes.

“But she wanted to come. We shouldn’t just go ahead without her.”

“Yeah, but she’s not here,” Roger sniped. He wasn’t too involved in the conversation, he was more involved with the brunette on his arm.

“Fuck off, Rog.”

May put a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright, baby. You can make it up to her, give her a private show of it.”

But Brian didn’t feel like he had to make anything up to you. He felt betrayed. Replaced.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time, Sheer Heart Attack.”

The record started playing.

* * *

“No peeking!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Paul had his eyes squeezed shut, patiently waiting for you to reveal his big surprise as he sat on the sofa.

You took a deep breath, studying yourself in the mirror one last time. It looks good, you told yourself. With that, you took a step out from the bedroom.

“Tada!”

His eyes flew open and widened at the sight of you. “You’re breathtaking.” His compliment made you feel more self conscious. You wrapped your arms around your torso. He shook his head. “No, seriously Y/N. I can’t...you...I love you.”

The words caught you off guard.

In the seven months of your relationship, you made it clear that you wanted something more casual. You adored the commitment and seriousness of it, but the three words made it real. Too real.

“You love me?” Your voice was meek, almost a whimper.

“Helplessly.”

Your eyes stung. You felt like you were giving something up. Someone.

“I love you too, Paul.”

_______________

November 1

Roger was sprawled across your couch, not minding the wrinkles being etched into his suit.

Paul had an exhibit transfer to oversee that evening, so Roger stepped in as your date to the album release party. Or, rather, you stepped in to be his.

“Hey, Rog?” You called from your bedroom.

“Yeah?”

“Can you zip me up?”

He groaned as he pushed himself up from his seat, and strutted to your door. With a gentle knock, he came into the room.

“You could’ve at least asked if I was decent,” you scolded, jokingly.

“You’re right, I could have.” Roger nodded his head. “It was a risk I was willing to take.” You smacked him playfully, then turned around to allow him access to your zipper. He guided it up your spine with ease.

“Thank you.” You started fixing your hair in the mirror.

“Of course, I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”

“If you say so, Rog,” Brian’s voice filled your ears. Both you and Roger turned to face the door, where he was standing just up against the frame. He was wearing a new suit and an amused smile. “You look nice, Y/N.”

You swished the fabric of your skirt around. “Like my dress?”

“I do.” It wasn’t his favorite black one, but he was more entranced by your face anyway. The subtle makeup didn’t hide your natural beauty, but rather enhanced it. Your eyes perfectly complemented by the eyeshadow.

He had always loved your eyes. They radiated kindness and affection.

But he couldn’t afford to get lost in them, not tonight.

“Are we all going to pick May up?”

Before Brian could respond, Roger answered you with another question, “Might as well take one car, yeah?”

Brian didn’t protest. “Yeah. Might as well.”

“Then I get front seat,” you exclaimed.

“Why? ‘T was my idea.” Roger was indignant.

You patted his cheek. “Age before beauty.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” he ceded.

“Should we go?” Brian interrupted the snarky conversation.

“Yes, let me just grab my wrap.” You began to scope the room.

“Is that it, on the back of your chair?”

You snapped your neck to look. “It is.” You pulled it from its spot and settled it on the crooks of your arms. “Am I missing anything?” You were asking yourself aloud. The boys shrugged. You mirrored their action and started for the door.

“Alright,” Brian said. “Off we go.”

* * *

Roger had left you to get drinks twenty minutes ago. Something tells me he’s not coming back, you smirked to yourself at the thought.

The evening seemed longer than these release parties tended to feel. You didn’t want to attribute it to the fact that Brian was somewhere else with someone else, but you knew it was true, no matter how much you didn’t want it to be.

With a sigh, you walked to the bar to get your own beverage.

“May I get a flute of champagne, please?”

The bartender obliged, nodding at your request.

You inspected the room from your vantage point, watching studio executives rubbing elbows, people drinking, couples dancing. Your eyes landed on John and Veronica laughing at themselves as they grooved to the upbeat music. They were smiling fondly, their faces flushed, glowing in each other’s presence.

Beautiful.

The sight made you wistful.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the bartender setting down your glass. You thanked him and moved closer to your friends. They greeted you pleasantly, embracing you as if they hadn’t just seen you an hour earlier.

“Did your date abandon you?” Deaky scanned the nearby space for Roger.

“It appears so,” you replied.

Veronica ran her hand along her boyfriend’s back, unconsciously. “Well, he’s missing out on lovely company.”

“I imagine he’ll get over it,” John quipped under his breath. You and Veronica shared quiet laughter.

“I haven’t seen Fred since we got here.”

“He’s quite elusive, isn’t he?”

“Well, so is Brian.” You tried to cover the hurt. Veronica and John exchanged glances. “I’m sure he and May are having a great time.”

“Mmhmm.”

You bit your lip. “She looks lovely tonight, doesn’t she?”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Veronica feigned innocence in the way only she could.

John wrapped his arms tight around her waist. “Not as lovely as my girl, that’s for certain.”

Ronnie kissed his sweetly and passionately.

You looked away, not wanting to watch them in their intimate moment, not wanting to be awkward. “Do you want anything to drink? The champagne is good.”

They broke apart. Veronica politely declined, and John merely nodded in agreement.

Something about it made you tear up.

“It’s just as well,” you choked. “I should go find Roger.”

“You don’t have to leave, Y/N.” Deaky’s voice was gentle.

You shook your head. “He could be slumped over somewhere no one will find him. I really should go.”

Veronica picked up on the desperation in your voice. It wasn’t actually about Roger. She understood. “Okay.”

You left the dancing area, searching for a secluded place to sit. With a stroke of luck, Brian also seemed to have had the same idea. He was settled into a loveseat in the corner of the ballroom, exactly where you thought he might be. And he was completely alone. Your heart skipped a beat.

“This seat taken?”

Brian shifted his eyes up to your face. He was startled by recognition, not expecting it to be you.

“It’s all yours.” He gestured to the empty seat beside his. You carefully sat down, not wanting your dress to ride up and flash anyone.

“You don’t look very excited to be here,” you said. Why is that how you open? “Where’s May?”

“I don’t know.” The candor sounded dry coming from his mouth. He showed no emotion.

“Bri? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Y/N.” You were taken aback by his harshness. Brian saw the shock. He regretted it instantly. “I’m sorry. I’m just having a bad night.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

How could you, when you were part of the problem.

He simply shook his head. “No, but I’ll be okay.”

To you, it sounded like Brian’s spirits were lifting. It made you happy.

The song changed, and your ears perked at the first note.

Tiny Dancer.

“Hey, Bri?”

“Hmm?”

You stood up and held out your hand. “May I have this dance?” Brian’s cold expression didn’t shift. You wiggled your fingers, goading him without a word.

“Not tonight, Y/N.”

“Don’t leave me without a partner. I hate dancing alone.” You were trying so hard not to beg.

Brian averted his eyes, hating the hurt he knew he was inflicting upon you. But he couldn’t handle it right now.

The yearning.

He couldn’t bring himself to feel it.

“I don’t want to dance, Y/N.”

You felt your heart drop into your stomach.

“No worries,” you said, coolly. With tears in your eyes, you left Brian sitting, alone as you found him.

He watched you go, helpless.

_______________

November 25

“It’s stunning here,” Freddie affirmed before kissing you on the cheek.

You ended up agreeing to join the band on their trip to Helsinki, despite Brian never formally asking you.

“I do miss it sometimes.”

Roger was sceptical. “Why? It’s cold as fuck.”

“Life was simpler here.” Much simpler. “And it was fun to live on my own.”

Brian frowned at your comment, thinking it was a dig at him. “Except those times when you called, crying over how much you missed me.”

You scoffed. “It’s not like you never called me with tears in your eyes.”

“You’re the one who left, Y/N. I was allowed to feel miserable in your absence.”

His words stung. A lot.

“Why don’t we just have a nice time in Helsinki?” Freddie soothed. “We’re with the people we love in a gorgeous city, anything is possible.”

“You’re right,” you muttered. “I’m sorry, Fred.”

“Sorry, Fred.”

He smiled in a knowing manner. “You two drive me mad. It’s a good thing I love you.”

“Is that a threat?” You teased.

“Of course, my dear.”

Brian checked his wristwatch. “We should hurry if we want to make it to dinner on time.”

“Stupid couples,” Roger snorted. “Always an inconvenience.”

“Ronnie and John made it sound important,” you said in their defense. “And you really should eat before a performance, anyway.”

“Alright, alright, mum.”

You stuck your tongue out at Roger, who copied you instantly.

* * *

“Drinks?” The waitress asked, holding up her pad of paper.

“Water all around,” John answered.

Everyone seemed surprised at him taking charge, but no one minded.

Well, Roger minded.

“And one whiskey, please.”

The waitress nodded politely and left your table. She came back quickly and took your meal requests, promising to be back shortly.

You happily talked amongst yourselves as you waited for the food to come out.

“So, what are your impressions of the city?” You asked the couple sitting next to you.

John was the only one to bring a significant other.

“I love it,” Veronica said. She was all aglow. “It’s beautiful. And I love the cold weather.”

“I don’t care much for the freezing temperatures,” Deaky retorted, “but I do agree it’s beautiful.”

You beamed. “I’m glad.”

The food was ready soon thereafter, as the waitress said. She set the dishes in front of their respective orderers without fault and wished you all a pleasant dining experience.

As she was walking away, John rose from his seat, wringing his hands. Veronica placed one of hers on his forearm, urging him on. He couldn’t resist her encouragement.

Clapping his hands together suddenly, Deaky demanded everyone’s attention. All eyes were focused on him. He seemed nervous about something, but a happy, giddy kind of nervous.

“Since we’re in such a beautiful place, with the best company, Ronnie and I thought this would be an appropriate time to tell you all.”

You sat with bated breath.

“You know I’m a man of few words, or perhaps seem deceptively so, so I would like to make this as short as possible. For some time now, I won’t say exactly, Veronica and I have been engaged to be married.”

Veronica stood up from her seat, and wrapped her arms around her fiance tenderly.

The table, and a few others nearby, erupted in applause.

“We’ve decided on a date already, January 18th, so we can celebrate before the tour in America.”

Tour in America?

As excited as you were for your friends, the words echoed through your mind.

Tour in America.

Among the chorus of “Congratulations” streaming from your party, and others from surrounding groups, Brian stared at you from across the table, but you were too far gone to notice.

He had meant to tell you weeks ago, when they all found out, but he had still been mad at you about missing the private debut of the album. The one he insisted on just for you. The one that he had convinced the boys to schedule on that specific night so that you wouldn’t be alone with Paul on your anniversary.

The night you left him stranded.

But now, Brian watched you expectantly, hoping you’d stay true to your word about joining them in America, when they would be headliners.

Without so much as a glance in his direction, you stood up to hug the happy couple.

“I’m so excited for you.” The news came as no surprise, you had suspected it for a while, but now was not the time to make that point.

They shared a secret smile.

* * *

The performance was as good as they always were. Freddie flirted with the crowd shamelessly, Roger managed to warm up to the cold atmosphere wearing nothing but a fringe vest and tight pants, John was smiling more than usual, and Brian kept an incredible focus on his instrument.

You really missed standing side stage. It had been a while. And it was nice to have Veronica there with you. She made up for the groupies, giving you smug expressions whenever they were particularly annoying. When they screamed, you didn’t feel as awkward about joining them ironically, because she did it with you. But at some point you lost your focus on her. She dropped off your radar and you only found yourself staring at Brian. He was playing intensely, drawing out the “Brighton Rock” solo with much gusto, rhythmically, sensually rutting his hips against the guitar whenever the music became aggressive. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

He’s magnificent.

Your ogling was interrupted by a firm tap on your shoulder. You spun around, expecting to see Ronnie with a question formed at her lips. It took you by surprise when a stagehand was there instead.

“We have a call for you, miss,” he said over the music. He looked like he felt bad.

“Is it an emergency?”

He shook his head. “Someone just called asking for you. A mister McCarthy?”

You felt extremely torn. You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay and watch Brian, but you feared your mind might wander too much. And Paul wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t of some importance.

Plus, he was your boyfriend.

You groaned. Paul won.

You gave Veronica a small wave as the stagehand led you back to the dressing room. She looked confused as she watched you walk away, right in the middle of the guitar solo.

Down the corridor you went, still hearing the echoes of rock ‘n roll drifting through. It made you a little angry with Paul. He knew this was important to you.

Upon coming into the room, you marched up to the telephone, all riled up.

“Paul?”

A hiccough came through.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sweetie.” His words were slurring.

You’d never heard him in this drunken condition before. At least, not to this extent.

“Are you alright?” The frustration you had pent up was melting away. Something wasn’t right.

“I just wanted to call to say I was thinking of you.”

“Well, that’s very nice of you, but-”

“Will you move in with me?”

You held your breath. “What?”

“Will you move in with me? It’s been the better part of a year, and I meant to ask you before you left…What d’ya think?”

“I think you’re drunk, Paul. You’re not being serious.”

“I promise I am being serious, Y/N. I love you more than ’ve ever loved a woman, and I want you to live with me.”

You said nothing.

“Y/N? Please answer me.”

Not a word.

Paul fell quiet, though you could hear him breathing through the phone.

“It’s Brian, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Everything’s about Brian.”

You had enough.

“Paul, we’ll talk about this when I get back.”

You slammed the phone down on its hook and walked back to watch the show.

--October 28, 1961--

“Please don’t make me go alone,” you begged. “I don’t really know anyone who’s going to be there.”

Brian tutted, not looking up from the camera he was fiddling with. “I wasn’t invited, Y/N. Would be rude of me to go.”

“But I’m inviting you.”

Hearing your want for him made his chest swell. But he knew he couldn’t just show up to someone else’s party without their sayso. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”

His voice was nearly successful at calming you down, but you still felt a little riled up, anxious.

“God, I hate parties. I hate people.”

Brian laughed at your outburst. “No, you don’t hate people.”

“I really do, Bri. ‘Specially teenage girls,” you pouted.

He smirked. “I’m really quite fond of ‘em.”

You rolled your eyes, but the comment sounded funny coming out of Brian’s mouth. It was enough to make you break your scowl.

“But I’m serious, I hate parties. And I really hate going alone.”

“I just said you’ll be fine.”

“No, you promised.” You took a step closer, your face mere inches from Brian’s. Challenging him.

“Yeah, because I know you’ll be fine.”

You softened, backing away. He instantly noticed the change in your demeanor.

“What’s wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, Y/N.”

“What if I’m dressed wrong? Or they don’t like it?” You whispered.

Brian’s heart broke a little, hearing the worry in your tone. Seeing the embarrassment on your face. He cleared his throat, nervous.

“I think you look beautiful.” His whisper matched yours.

Your eyes fluttered up to meet his. The warmth of their hazel hue brought you an inexplicable comfort.

“Really?”

His face reddened. “Really.”

You saw the blush creeping across his face. “Are you hot?” Maybe you misinterpreted it.

“Uh, yeah.” Brian shifted awkwardly. “It’s just a little warm.” It wasn’t.

“Can you at least walk me?”

He sighed. “How can I say no?” Brian looked down at the Agfa isola on his desk, and picked it up. Then he looked at you and held up the camera to his face. “Smile, Y/N!”

You gave him an unamused glare. “What are you doing?”

Brian shrugged, not removing the camera from his face. “Want to see if it works.”

You used for hands to cover your face. “No, Brian, put it away.”

He reached on of his hands out to move yours. “Please? I need something dynamic, wanna see how it works with complex subjects.” He didn’t want you to see the hopeful smile that was pulling at his lips. “You’re the most complex thing I know.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should! Now, will you please give me a smile?”

You kept your lips pursed, but more playfully this time.

Brian finally moved the camera, making eye contact with you. It was pleading. And he was doing you a favor by walking you to Jeanette’s house. You groaned and flashed a fake smile. He furrowed his brow, obviously not pleased.

“Don’t make faces. Give me a real smile?”

“Better to look bad on purpose,” you taunted.

Brian scratched his nose. “You always look good,” he mumbled, not even you could decipher what he said.

“What?” A surprised, confused grin formed on your cheeks. He took that opportunity and quickly took a snapshot of the moment. “Brian!”

“Sorry, Y/N, my finger must’ve slipped.”

You didn’t believe his sorry excuse for one moment, but before you could say anything, he glanced at his wristwatch.

“We should go, don’t want to be too late.”

“But—”

“C’mon, you don’t want to be rude.”

You frowned. No, I guess not.

* * *

The walk had been rather brisk, both in speed and in temperature. You had shivered for only a few seconds before Brian draped his jacket over your shoulders. Though you protested, neither of you did anything to change it.

When you arrived to the property, you felt your insides twist with unease. He saw the nervousness spelled out in you features and wrapped his arm around you, holding you close.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispered kindly. “I bet you’ll be the scariest person in there.”

“I wish I hadn’t said yes.” I wish I could just stay with you.

“But you did, and I admire you keeping to your commitment.” He kissed the top of your head. It was new to you. Brian felt mortified at what he’d done. You felt more at ease than you had before. Neither of you moved. But eventually he pulled away, feeling the moment grow more tense. You didn’t feel that way.

“You’ll call me when you get home, right?”

You gazed up at him, towering over you. Has he always been this much taller? “What are you, my mum?”

He laughed softly. “Please, just let me know.”

“But I don’t want you to wait up.”

“Trust me, I’ll stay up longer worrying if you don’t.”

Brian’s words struck you. How caring he was. Without thinking, you reached up, pulled his face to you, and planted a small peck on his cheek.

“I promise, I’ll call.” Then you turned your sights to the manor in front of you. With a deep breath, you trudged to the front door. You didn’t look back at Brian, you didn’t want him to see your dizzy expression.

Brian, watching you walk away, held a hand to his cheek. He felt as though he stopped breathing, as though the world had frozen so it was just you and him, standing in that moment in front of the house.

But you were gone, and he was alone.

So he started the walk back home.

Knock knock

As you stood waiting for someone to answer the door, you fussed over the hem of your new purple dress. It was the one Brian had helped you pick out at the boutique.

The door swung open. Jeanette Oliver stood opposite you, smiling gleefully. “Y/N! You made it!” You nodded shyly. “Come in.” You glanced back behind you to look at Brian one last time, but couldn’t find him. It caused a pang in your chest, but didn’t want to let on that it did.

The house was even bigger on the inside that it had looked on the outside.

“You have a lovely home, Jeanette.”

“I’d say thank you, but I really had very little to do with it,” she tried to joke. When you didn’t know how to react, she shifted into a more serious tone. “I love your dress. It looks nice on you.”

“Well, thank you, but I also had very little to do with it.” Your joke didn’t land, and the pair of you stood awkwardly in the entryway. “Genetics,” you tried to elaborate. “...Or the dress. Didn’t have much to do with either, I suppose…”

“Either way, you look nice.”

“You do too. I like the pink.” You gestured to the pink lace frock she was sporting. With her face lighting up, Jeanette gave a small spin. You gave an obligatory laugh.

“Everyone’s in the other room, but be sure to help yourself to any refreshments we have in the kitchen.”

With that, you moved in the directed she pointed when referring to the kitchen.

* * *

For an hour or so, you kept to yourself, not really engaging with your acquaintances from school. Half of the people in attendance you’d never seen before. Most of them paired up in some way; some significant others snuggled up on a loveseat or against the walls, some friends standing in sets of twos or even larger groups. You were alone. Your customary companion hadn’t been invited, and you didn’t want to impose by bringing Brian along. In this moment, you were really wishing you had.

No, you reminded yourself, that would be rude.

A small group of girls from your class approached you. You knew their names, but never had much of a conversation with any of them. Your hand rebelled against you and gave them a timid wave.

“Hey, it’s Y/N, right?” The first girl to speak was Cynthia, she was a decent student but seldom did extracurriculars.

“Yeah,” you answered quietly. “Hi Cynthia.” She smiled.

“Are you here alone?”

“No, my boyfriend’s just grabbing some punch,” you deadpanned. The girls exchanged looks, unaware that you were kidding. You cleared your throat. “Uh, yeah, I’m alone.”

“So, no Brian?” Rita, a red head with a shrill voice, asked. Cynthia and the third girl, Lucille, gave her dirty looks, telling her to knock it off.

Whatever it was that she was doing.

You shook your head, wary of her intentions. “Not tonight. Just me.”

Rita groaned. Cynthia shushed while Lucille scolded her. Rita turned to her friends, attempting to whisper, “I thought Jeanette said he would come if she did.” You could hear every word.

“Brian wasn’t invited,” you chimed in. “And there wasn’t a plus one.” Rita looked at you, her eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t ask.”

“Rita,” Lucille snipped, “stop it.”

Rita scoffed, not moving her eyes from yours. “I just thought that you were incapable of doing anything without him.”

“Well,” you had trouble coming up with a response. “We go to different schools.” Really? That’s the best you can do? “And why do you care if he’s here or not?”

Rita scowled and walked away, rolling her eyes. Cynthia gave you an expression of sympathy and Lucille mouthed Sorry before they followed after their friend.

You would have preferred being alone all night.

* * *

Dave Dilloway came about two hours into the event. He was greeted by a chorus of “Dave!” as he sauntered into the room. The smug look on his face was replaced by a stupefied one as he saw you standing in the corner. You seemed sad.

Ignoring everyone else, Dave walked up to you. You warmed at the sight of a familiar, friendly face.

“Hey, Y/N, I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

You smiled at his kind disposition. “I could say the same for you.”

He chuckled. “Is Brian hanging around here somewhere?”

“Ah. Uh, no. Just me. Though that seems to be the big question of the evening.”

“Well, I can be the stand-in for the time being, if ya like.”

You played with the loose fabric of your dress.

“I would like that.”

* * *

You weren’t sure how you managed to stay long enough to get roped into the game of Truth or Dare. You meant to leave no later than 10. It was now 11:13.

Once Dave had shown up, nobody gave you sneaky glares or gawked at the fact that you came alone, so everything from then on was smooth sailing.

It was Jeanette’s turn to ask someone. She settled on Cynthia, who was distracted by the guy she was sitting next to.

“Cyn?”

“Hmm?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Uh...truth.”

You weren’t bothered to pay attention to what was being said. Instead, you were making snide comments to Dave, who quipped back just as easily. You were completely immersed in him. The only thing to break your focus was the mention of Rita’s name.

It was her turn to be asked.

“Truth!” She exclaimed, her voice piercing through your ears. You felt as though it was just to spite you.

“Alright,” the person started, thinking aloud. You had never seen her before, but it was no concern of yours. “Who do you like?”

The whole room filled with the teasing chuckles and giggles of teenagers, since everyone knew that question was bound to be asked at some point. Rita’s face reddened, not pairing well with the shade of her hair.

“Dare.”

Someone else shouted, “You can’t change your answer!” It sounded like Lucille.

Rita then glanced quickly at you before folding her arms over her chest. “Then ask a different question.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Fine.” Rita glared at the girl who had asked. You already knew the answer before she said it. Brian. “Now it’s my turn.” Her expression could only be described as scheming. She scanned the circle of people over the floor before returning her eyes to you.

You squirmed under her glare.

“Dave.”

You sighed in relief.

“Truth or dare?”

Dave fidgeted in his spot. “...dare?”

That was the wrong answer.

Rita’s mouth twisted in a horrific manner. You did not like where this was going.

“Kiss Y/N.”

Fuck.

Dave didn’t look at you, he was too transfixed on the words. Too shy.

You sighed and leaned closer to him. “You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I was going to say the same to you.”

It made your heart swell, knowing that he thought about your feelings even when it was him who was being called out.

He was the one being humiliated. Of course, to you, it didn’t feel that way.

Everyone’s eyes were on the pair of you.

Dave cupped your cheek gently, searching your eyes for permission. Your heart started beating faster.

You’d never been kissed before.

He closed the space between you, his head tilted to the right. You shut your eyes, not wanting to see everyone watching you.

It finally happened, after what felt like ages. And it wasn’t bad.

You smiled into it, but pulled away after a few seconds, leaving Dave hanging. His skin was flushed.

You felt bad for breaking it off, but the muffled sound of laughter was too much to take. You quickly stood up, straightened your dress, and rushed out of the room. Dave was frozen, watching helplessly as you went away.

With tears in your eyes, you flew through the front door. It was all wrong.

Wrong place.

Wrong time.

Wrong boy.

* * *

The walk home was dark and cold, but you were fortunate that it wasn’t very long. Especially if you walked quickly. You hugged the warmth of the coat tighter around you.

The streets of your hometown were always very quiet at night. It was one of the most beautiful things about it.

However, tonight, you didn’t want to enjoy it. You wanted to be home. But instead of going left where you usually would, you went right.

You had to see him.

The last few blocks were the hardest to get through. You felt a weight building up on your body, heavy with embarrassment, or anger, or guilt. At this point, you weren’t sure if they were separate emotions.

Then you reached your destination.

Stopped in your tracks.

There was a dim light emanating from Brian’s bedroom window.

Please be awake.

You went up to it and tapped lightly.

I need you.

The glass slid carefully, and Brian’s face poked through from the inside. His eyes had been wide, but upon seeing you, he relaxed.

“Y/N?” He sounded unsure that it was really you standing outside his window. At midnight. He thought it could have been a dream.

“Bri.” Your voice was shaking, and Brian realized that your face wasn’t just red from the cold. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

He studied the tear marks on your skin. They made your makeup streaky.

“You said you’d call when you got home. Never did. I tend to worry.”

You felt a sob rise in your chest, but you repressed it. You were so thankful for him. Affection was coursing through your veins.

“Can you come in? ‘M afraid you’ll freeze to death.”

“Won’t your parents wake up?”

“I think they’ll be fine, even if they do.”

“Alri—” but before you could finish, Brian had hopped off to the front door. He held it open for you, shepherding you inside. He took your coat, set it on the coat rack, and replaced it with a blanket. He even rubbed your arms a few times, trying to soothe.

It was working.

You didn’t want to move, and stayed in his arms for another minute without a word.

Brian got the hint and pulled you closer. He rested his face in your hair, closing his eyes as the soft scent lulled him. You buried yourself in his chest.

For once, Brian was the first to break the embrace you were locked in.

“What’s wrong?”

You looked down at your feet and decided that guilt was definitely the emotion you were feeling.

“Y/N?”

Brian’s face sunk as you peered at him through your dampened eyelashes. It hurt him to see you so distraught. Still, you said nothing, and the silence was killing him.

“Please talk to me.” His volume was barely louder than a whisper.

“I hate parties.”

Brian was panic-stricken, fearing the worst. “What hap—did something happen?”

You hesitated.

It felt wrong to tell him about the game. Rita. The kiss.

Maybe another time.

“Can we just play Scrabble? I don’t want to go home yet.”

He felt a small rush of relief. Even if you didn’t want to talk about it now, you trusted him enough to keep him close. For the time being, that was enough.

“What kind of host would I be if I said no?”

You gave him a wide smile, but it was short lived. You just couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that was churning your insides.

* * *

“Alright, I guess I’ll play a W on the ALL over here.” Brian hastily placed the W tile down to complete the word.

“Really?”

He took his focus away from the board, gazing up at you. “What?”

“You’ve got nothing better than WALL?”

“‘Ve got shit letters!” His voice was louder than he intended. You could see the regret in his eyes. It made you giggle.

“Watch your language, young man.” You wagged a finger at him, pretending to scold.

“Isn’t that what Scrabble is?”

You grimaced at the terrible joke. Brian looked mildly embarrassed. You felt bad and decided to move on. Looking at your tiles, you grinned, realizing that he hadn’t messed up the word you had planned, and played on the second L.

While you were placing the tiles, Brian tried to read the word from his angle. He frowned. “MELISSA is a name, not a word.”

“What do you mean it’s not a word?”

“We’ve never used proper nouns, Y/N. Y’ can’t change the rules in the middle.”

“But it is a word.”

He looked skeptical. “Then what does it mean?”

You gave Brian a sly grin. “It means ‘honeybee’ in Greek.”

Brian was only barely paying attention to what you were saying. He was mostly focused on the soft look in your eyes, now that the teary redness had gone away. You were looking renewed, more at ease. The gentleness of your disposition made his heart ache.

But it was definitely just a schoolboy crush. Right?

Nodding, trying to convey that he was listening, Brian uttered, “I think it’s lovely.”

--1974--

Watching the performance with tears streaming down your face, you realized how unhappy you were. Seeing the joy on Veronica’s face as she watched the love of her life wiggle about on stage. You hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

Maybe everything was about Brian. And maybe you were ready to admit it.

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