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richardayoadestan92 · 2 years

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This is so beautiful. Thank you so much for writing this brilliant rom-com

Roman Holiday

Yes, this is named after one of my favorite comfort films. Don't fight me on this.

Summary: Richard really does need a break. All he wants to do is get away from the attention, so when he unexpectedly leaves the set of his show, "Travel Man," to be alone, all hell breaks loose... then, he meets you.

Warnings: swearing, smoking, alcohol consumption.

A/N: He is the beautiful Audrey Hepburn. You are the darling Gregory Peck. Let's make something happen.

I DID NOT EDIT THIS. :)

•○●•○●•○●•

Oh, this is just too good. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. Too good. Too fantastic.

Oh, sleep, where art thou? Richard pleaded for it as he was confronted in his pajamas, snuggled up and ready for bed. He lounged with his hands folded in his lap, sitting cross-legged in his king-sized bed while a producer had come in to read him the pre-planned schedule for the following day. All these interviews and all these events were just too much, especially for just a two day getaway trip.

"You have a lunch scheduled for noon tomorrow. The chef will offer to give you a cooking class in the back," the producer read from their thin clipboard.

"No, thank you," Richard practiced his responses, trying his very hardest to not nod off to sleep.

"Which you will accept," the producer clicked. It only illicited a quiet grunt from Richard. He practiced his response again.

"Thank you..."

The producer nodded and continued to read off from the list.

"You have a tour scheduled at the cathedral, and you'll be required to give a detailed but brief explanation on Roman history."

Richard nodded, leaning forward a little more than he should have. He started nodding off again. "Yes, yes, Roman history is very vital, seeing as they once ruled a great portion of Europe," he paused to let out a ghastly yawn, "so on and so forth..." He leaned forward too much now, and his eyes drooped too closed. He fell into a doze with his glasses slipping off of his face and falling (SMACK!) onto his lap, right onto his folded hands and startling him awake.

"Richard!" his producer yelled loudly and made him jolt. "Don't fall asleep! This is very important, you know! If you want to continue to host this show, you must follow your duties to know exactly when and where things will be happening!"

Richard, boiling over being startled awake, put his glasses back on and threw his hands down, hard, in his lap. "What if I don't want to know what is supposed to happen!?" he croned and truly stupefied his producer. "What if I want something new to happen in my life! Every day with you people, it's always the same thing! Read your script," Richard threw off the covers and slung his legs over the side of the bed, "Act polite," Richard stood up and made the producer back up, "and have a great time... but you know what? You tell me to have a great time every God damn time, but guess what!? I never have a great time! My time is always spent with dull people, doing dull, unpleasant things. What if I don't want to do these things anymore!?"

"Richard, calm down," the producer reasoned, "You're just being cynical!"

"I'm being the most rational version of myself right now!" Richard jabbed a finger at his producer. "Leave me! I want to be left alone."

His producer continued to slowly back away. "I'll get you a doctor, Richard," they said and hugged their clipboard to their chest. "Surely, he will have something to calm you."

"Go!" Richard wailed, then tossed himself back down on his king sized bed.

His producer was so unused to seeing Richard out of character and, strangely, throwing a tantrum! They turned on their heels, and hightailed it to the door, tripping only once on the lavish carpeted floor. When the producer returned to the doctor at their side, the room was quiet. Richard had settled in his bed, his face down in his pillow.

"He seems fine," claimed the doctor.

"I swear," the producer pleaded, "he was in hysterics just moments ago!"

"But he's sleeping," the doctor turned with a doubtful eye. The producer merely shrugged and shook their head. The doctor sighed, then approached the kingly bed with a large, brown suitcase in hand. "Mr. Ayoade... Mr. Ayoade, are you awake?"

"Regretfully so," Richard answered and to be muffled by the pillow.

The doctor looked up and over to the producer, then back down at Richard. "Do you feel ill, Mr. Ayoade? Or have you come down with the homesick blues for the first time?"

"I'm rightfully sad, doctor," Richard sniffled and lifted his head from his pillow just enough to speak clearly, "but I do not know why."

The doctor sighed again and knelt beside Richard. He placed his suitcase down on the ground and unlocked it. "Well, sir," the doctor mused as he fiddled with things within the case, "I have something that will make you feel happy. Sleepy, but happy."

"I'm always happiest when I'm asleep," Richard kept himself drearily amused as the doctor continued to prep a shot.

"That's the spirit," the doctor chortled, then flicked the needle at the end of the syringe. Once. Twice. "It'll sting for a second, but it will feel better at once." The doctor wasted no time fishing out Richard's arm from beneath the covers. He rolled up his sleeve and prodded for the vain before making a very quick, yet slow and gentle injection. Richard did not flinch at this. The host remained calm, and once the syringe had been packed away and the doctor finished carrying out his duties, Richard rolled onto his side and prepared for sleep again.

"He'll be incredibly hungry when he wakes up," the doctor forewarned the producer, who had been helplessly standing by. "I'll try to warn the hotel kitchen staff on my way out to have something very large prepared. I've seen even the smallest of men have the most beastly of appetites after that drug."

"What did you give him, exactly?" the producer said, not even taking their eyes off of Richard.

"I'll tell you, but you must let him rest for now. Come," the doctor put his hand on the producer's shoulder, and lead them out of the room.

Richard waited to hear the click of the doors closing shut, before he lobbed off his sheets and sprung from his bed. He put his complimentary robe on and his slippers then shuffled to the vast, glass doors leading to his balcony. He opened one just a crack, having a whiff of curiosity fill him with courage as soon as he spotted the waving of multi-colored lights and the movement of crowds. He peered out, ears open and eyes wide with sudden adrenaline.

There was a party going on outside on the pier! Oh, a party! What fun! Originally, Richard would have never thought parties were fun, but this drug... man, whatever he was on really did make him feel happy again.

"I have to go down there and get a closer look!" Richard hissed to himself then closed the balcony doors. He threw open his suitcase and dug around for a decent set of clothes. A forest green dress shirt complimented by a black and foggy grey plaid tie, khaki pants and shiny dress shoes. His socks were a deep, muggy green with little brown polkadots. He looked civilian-ish enough to go out. Now, the only problem was sneaking out without getting being spotted.

He roused himself to his door and opened it very slowly. The hotel hallway was eerily quiet and only the quiet whirring of the ice machine down the hall provided any solace. Richard swallowed thickly, sticking one hand in his pocket to keep the small amount of change from even tinkling. On his tippy-toes, he crept down the hall, to the elevator. He even leapt at the sound of the ding it sounded when he pressed the down button. He looked back and forth, all around the hall, making sure no one was coming. He held his breath, waiting for anyone to come running from any direction. He released his breath, in relief, when the doors to the elevator opened and he thought he was out for good.

Too bad... he wasn't.

Richard triumphantly prepared to take the first step into the elevator when he came face to face with his producer once more. They were relaxed, carrying a cup of late night coffee, but were quickly shot into a sheer panic.

"Richard!" They yelped, to no regard as to the other hotel patrons.

Richard, decidedly in a panic, did not say anything in response. Instead, he ran. The stairs would do him just fine. He started down the echoy, carpeted hallways in reckless abandon. He shoved the door to the stairway open and ran down those, bumping into the occasional person. He only muttered his apologies before continuing on.

Once in the lobby, he made a beeline for the front doors. He broke out onto the street and immediately looked for the first mode of transportation other than his own two feet.

A truck! A truck? A truck with a cloth covered back, transporting crates of goods, from what he could see through its open flap. It was stopped, but not turned off, and no one was looking. Before anyone had the chance to, Richard slipped inside and snuggled himself in between two milk crates. After moments of patience, the truck moved down the road, and Richard allowed himself to breathe clearly. He even let himself pull back one of the flaps and look at the flow of traffic.

Vespas blew mechanical raspberries and moved fluidly and gracefully between cars. Richard peered at them with curiosity. Oh, what would it be like to drive one of those? They looked like so much fun.

Richard rested his back against the wall of the truck, hit with a sudden pang of exhaustion. He let the rocking of the truck lull him to a slow sleep. One yawn after another, until the truck came to a slow stop.

Well, his half-concious brain was at least smart enough to register the fact he needed to get out of the truck. He drug himself from it, onto the very quiet street, and found a nearby bench. He sat down, still falling asleep. He laid down on it. Who knew benches would be this comfortable?

....

"Alright, I think it's best if I leave," you sighed, resting your playing cards down on the table. "It's getting late, and I have a deadline to meet tomorrow."

"That's awfully smart for the biggest procrastinator I know," one of your friends huffed, and they were met with a hearty smack on the arm.

"I do not procrastinate," you warned, standing up and putting your jacket on. "Rome is simply boring and uninteresting."

"C'mon, one more round!" Another friend pleaded, folding their playing cards on the table.

"No," you scolded, "I've lost enough money tonight."

"Your loss."

"Yeah, yeah."

To tell the truth, you hardly noticed how much time had passed. The night had started with a few drinks, then poker came up. Snacks were provided, but you didn't bother touching them. Now, your brow was lined with sweat and the stank of cigarettes clung to your hair. Your lips still tasted of the lick of whiskey and rye. You were still the slightest bit drunk. You'd be taking a taxi home tonight.

You stepped out into the dark hallway and spotted a dark glow of a cigarette butt to your immediate right. It was your photographer, Max.

"Tell me when you find a lead," he murmured. "I probably won't be up till noon... think those brownies had some fucked up shit in em..."

"Shit, well," you sighed, "get home safe, okay?" You turned to him for a moment, watching his cigarette smoke dissipate into the grungy hallway.

"Feh," Max murmured, "you say it like you won't ever find another photographer."

"You're just as important as anyone else, Max," you waved a hand at him, meaning that was your cue to exit and go home. He only grumbled a very quiet response.

You wiped the sweat from your head with your sleeve as you stepped outside. The street was quiet and empty. You wouldn't be able to find a taxi here, so you took a leisurely stroll towards the nearest corner, where a car passed more often, but you stopped, suddenly, midway. Someone had caught your eye.

Asleep on a bench was a man dressed in a green shirt, khaki slacks and dark shoes. He looked formally dressed, and yet, here he was, asleep on a public bench for God's sake. You looked around. Should you do something? Was he okay?

"Sir," you said, and got no reply. "Sir, it is not very wise to fall asleep on a bench in Rome."

He grumbled and moaned. "Take me to the... to the Colosseum..."

You sighed. A tourist. Great... and your good will was getting the better of you. "Sir, I'll get you a taxi. What hotel are you staying at?"

"Cathedraaaaal... mrph..."

"Awesome."

You continued to the corner and managed to flag down a cab. You guided it down the street and to where the stranger lay on the bench.

"Sir," you called again. "I've got a cab here for you. It'll take you to where you need to go."

"IIIII'm," the man started, then yawned. "I'm going you the cathedral..."

You frowned, then turned to the cabby. "Excuse me," you leaned down and peered into the cab, "do you speak English?"

"Ah," the cabby seethed through his teeth. "Little bit. No much."

"Okay, um," you thought, "that man," you pointed to the man who was groggily sliding off the bench. "Can you take him where he wants to go?"

The cabby fumbled a little bit. "He has... money?" He rubbed his fingers together, as if cash were between them. You looked back at the man on the bench.

"Sir, do you have enough to pay the fare?" you asked.

"Who?" The man called back to you.

You guessed that meant no.

"Can I... can I just pay you, and can you drive wherever he wants?"

"Ma'am, it is late! Anywhere at night cost extra."

Okay, look. You were near flat broke, running on the fumes of your last paycheck. Maybe the hospitality wasn't worth it. You sighed again, then rustled a hand into your pocket in search of a sticky note. You cleared your throat and held out sticky note to the cabby.

"How much would it cost to get me here?" You pointed to the scribbling on the note.

Suddenly, there came a firm smack on your back.

"IIII-... I-I'm coming with you..."

Before you could protest, the stranger lumped himself into the cab awkwardly and scooted to the far end of the cab. "Cathedral, please," his words were slurred and elongated.

You sighed. He certainly wasn't street smart and you didn't feel like hailing another cab. The only thing you could do was take him in for the night. One night ONLY, you promised.

...

What... in the fresh hell...

Richard groaned, tossed and turned and clawed at the sheets beneath him. What on earth had happened to him? Did he even make it to the party? Did he drink something? Fuck, he felt kinda hungover. He felt... lord, he was famished! Starving for something to eat.

He sat up, a growing pain in his belly from the lack of nutrients. What time was it? He opened his eyes...

This wasn't his hotel room. Nowhere even near it.

It was a shabby, two room apartment. One room combining the kitchen, living room and dining room, and the other room adjoining, he guessed, was a bedroom or bathroom. He was laying on a pullout couch turned bed, surrounded by a hefty amount of pillows and blankets. Beside it was a trashcan, the bag inside freshly changed so nothing was within. If he had eaten something, he was sure he would have vomited by now.

Oh God...

...

You were pent up in your room. How stupid could you have been to bring a guy back to your apartment? A whole ass guy you didn't even know.

You tried to keep yourself steady by pacing back and forth. You tried reading a book. Maybe focusing on something other than your thoughts would help. It didn't. So, you went to your phone. You clicked on the latest news article.

Ayoade on Air?

Richard Ayoade, beloved Travel Man host, the Brains of Team Booner, has mysteriously disappeared from his hotel in Rome last evening. His whereabouts are still unknown.

Ayoade was seen leaving of his own free will wearing a deep green shirt and khakis.

If you have any information about Ayoade's location, contact the police or his office.

A few numbers and a photo were provided at the bottom of the text. You took a look, perhaps thinking if you could find this guy, you'd have a remarkable story to print later this afternoon.

You tapped on the picture without thinking. Upon further examination, your eyes widened. The guy in the photo was in your living room, asleep on your couch. The man you had brought back was Richard Ayoade. Fuck.

This was... PERFECT!!

...

Richard scrambled out of the makeshift bed. He tripped on his shoes, immediately on the floor beside him. He grabbed them and started pulling them on. He panted, in a panic, and started towards the nearest door. Not paying attention, he rushed out just to be met with a balcony. Beyond the balcony gates was a pleasant courtyard, filled with flowers in bloom. He wasn't focused on the flowers. He was just focused on escaping and getting back to his hotel. He had a very busy schedule that must be kept!

Richard saw a woman in a floral gown walk into the courtyard with a watering can in hand. "Ah!" He started, "Señora, uh... per favore!" He started to spout any phrase he knew down at her, to which she looked up at him, confused. "How do I get down?" He called out. She just tilted her head to the side. Richard radically waved his arms around. The woman must have considered this to be a somewhat friendly wave, so she looked around, once, twice, then back up at Richard. She offered a meek wave. Richard sighed in defeat. Bullocks.

"Hey, are you okay?" Someone from behind him said. He swung around and his eyes met with yours. You had peculiar, yet entrancing features and you seemed to know how to dress. You had a short sleeve dress shirt on with the collar tucked neatly and folded. At your waist, a navy blue skirt began and and sprawled more openly when it met your hips. Richard didn't dare look any further down.

"Where am I?" Richard asked first.

"Uh... Rome," you replied and offered a smile. The smile, he did not reciprocate. "This is my apartment."

"Why am I here?" Richard kept coming with questions.

"I found you asleep on a public bench. You wouldn't tell me where your hotel was, so I had to bring you back. It's not safe for tourists to be out so late at night."

"How did I get here?"

"We took a cab."

Richard looked around the apartment again, trying to think of more questions. Maybe... Mayne he didn't feel like going back to the hotel yet.

"Do you..." he began, then paused, "Do you have any food?"

"I don't have much here," you avoided eye contact and so did he. "How about we go out to eat? You need fresh coffee after the night I'm sure you've had."

"Let's do that, then..."

After a very awkward walk downstairs and down the road a few blocks, you presented Richard with a neat café on the corner. They were still serving their breakfast menu.

Richard was hungry, so he ordered everything that they had extra of, or what was relatively quickest to get. He ended up with a bowl of soup, three beignets, a ham and cheese omlette and a large variety of teas. You ordered a simple cup of soup, and while waiting, you had to watch him eat. He devoured every last bit of his meal, right in front of you.

While he was busy scraping up his omlette, you managed to text your photographer, Max.

I have a story for you. It's a good one. Get here ASAP.

You shared your location.

"So, what's your name? I take it your only a tourist here," you started friendly conversation, only to be met by a somewhat threatening glare. As if you interrupting the first meal he had eaten in days.

"Richard," he gave a shout answer, then went down on a beignet.

"Well, Richard, it's nice to meet you," you tried to smile at him while he porked out. You then gave him your name, then continued on with questions.

"What do you do for a living, Richard?" you asked, curiously.

Richard wiped his mouth on his napkin, just as your cup of simple soup was delivered to you. "I'm a writer."

"A writer? Have you written anything I would know?"

Richard decided to lie. "No, not really. My book just launched and my publisher recommended going in a tour to spread the word."

Okay, you knew it was a lie, but you didn't say anything. You looked up just in time to see Max standing in the doorway. You waved to him. Richard didn't notice.

"Would you mind if a friend joined us?" you asked, but it wasn't too much of a question. Max was already on his way over. Before Richard could respond, having his mouth full beforehand, Max took a seat beside you and smiled.

"Well hello there," Max greeted a bit too charmingly. Having known him already, you knew he was instantly interested in Richard. Perhaps he had read the news article too. "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I might stop by." That was a lie. Max lived too blocks away. "Who might you be?"

"Max," you kicked his leg beneath the table lightly to keep him from getting too excited. "This is Richard. We met last night."

"So I see," Max quipped, barring his teeth. The kick had left him sore. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is mine," Richard replied in total politeness. He folded his hand in your lap.

"How do you know each other?" Richard asked, curious. You both looked somewhat suspicious. He didn't want to be exploited over brunch.

"We work for a new--" Max started, but then you kicked him again. This time he curled over with a blood-curdling yelp.

"Oh my, Max, are you alright?" you feigned concern and Max glared at you. "We're realtors, Richard. We sell houses around this area."

"Bet that must be rough," Richard openly criticized your work. "Since Rome is mainly a tourist place, I mean."

"You would think," you laughed half-heartedly. Max was still incredibly upset with you for kicking him. "It's actually pretty easy to sell a place once it's up on the market. Everyone just wants to be a part of the fun." Everything you were saying was complete, made up bullshit. You knew nothing about being a realtor.

"I prefer more quiet places," Richard mumbled, frowning. He gave off an aura of uncomfort, which gave you an opportunity to perhaps move places.

"You know, I'd like to talk to you more, Richard," you implied with a smile. "How about we find somewhere more quiet?"

Richard looked from you to Max, who had managed to sit up and act normal through the pain. He still didn't feel like going back to the hotel. He swallowed then nodded slightly. "You've intrigued me so... why not," he shrugged.

"Great!" you said cheerily and began to stand.

"But on one condition," he started again, and you stopped. He paused, shy, but then lifted his chin with a rousing confidence. "We must travel there via Vespa." Why not, he thought, if I'm avoiding work, I might as well do all the things I want to do.

Man, this guy is going to drink up all my money. You panicked. "Sounds just fine to me!" You agreed to her terms, begrudgingly but you didn't show it. "Have you ever driven one before?"

"No," Richard answered honestly, "it's on my bucket list, though."

You hummed in reply then reached for your wallet. You began to pull out what was left of your paycheck when Richard stopped you. "Please, let me pay," he offered, "it's the least I can do, especially after my most likely embarrassing adventure last night." He took his wallet from his pocket and paid in for the entire meal.

...

"Okay, so it's just like riding a bike," you explained.

"Uh-huh," Richard muttered.

"But you don't move your feet. There are no pedals."

"Okay."

"You got your brake and your gas. That's basically it."

"Are you sure that's all he said?"

"Who speaks better Italian here? You or me?"

Richard was quiet for a moment. Then he muttered, "You..."

"That's right. Now... please, go slow. We're not trying to die today, understand?"

Richard only nodded.

"You can go now," you said, allowing him to proceed. Suddenly, the Vespa bolted to life and you yelped. "Good Lord, slow down!" You screamed, but he did not hear you. The sound of his joy pulsed too loudly in his ears. You squealed and wrapped your arms around his waist. You buried your face in his back.

Once the bustling and bumping of the Vespa ceased and you could only feel the wind in your hair, you looked up. Richard was moving gracefully in and out of traffic, bobbing and weaving like he had driven a Vespa thousands of times. You were entranced, watching the buildings go by. Suddenly, there you felt peace. Somehow, trembling with your arms wrapped around the man you only met one night ago, you felt at peace.

"Oh!" You suddenly yelled to him, "take a left up here!" You directed. He followed instructions, dipping down a thin, one-way road and he followed it until it came to a roundabout. A few cars and another Vespa was parked along the curb. It belonged to Max. Max, himself, was leaning against the building of your choice. His camera was around his neck.

"Took you guys long enough," Max snorted.

"We went for a joy ride. What's the big deal?" You laughed. You wanted to kick him again for bringing the camera so carelessly into Richard's view.

You were first off the bike and Richard followed soon after. In one of the buildings was a large, gaping doorway, absent of anything blocking entry. You lead the way, having come to this place a marvelous amount of times.

"What is this place?" Richard squinted as soon as he was out of the blazing afternoon sun.

"It doesn't really have a name," Max explained before you could, "it's pretty cool though, and completely free. A lot of people don't know about it because of that. It doesn't rake in any revenue. Business owners here want tourists out and about spending money, but the regulars here know the real stuff."

"But what is it, exactly?" Richard was still curious. After a brief dark hall, light was back, seeping through metal bars along the sides, in constant doorways. Beyond those doorways were flower gardens and long vines that grew endlessly.

"Again, nobody knows," you let Max keep going while you kept a slow, steady pace for the group. "It's been here for God knows how long. No one knows how it got here or the exact time it started or finished construction, but it's been a good place to come around if you want to get out of the spotlight for a bit. It's a bunch of gardens with a few quirks here in there. I think it's pretty."

Quietly and in step, you kept going down the hallway, stopping here and there when you spotted a peculiar flower in bloom, or perhaps an individual garden. The colors were all so perplexing. But, the row of sun and color came to an end, at another rounded dead end. The first thing you saw coming into the room as a sculpture of a lion built into the wall. It had it's mouth wide open and within, there was an inky pit of abyss. Over your heads were more bars, allowing just enough dim light from the sun to shine through.

"Are you finally going to stick your hand in the lion's mouth?" Max teased you, once both he and Richard had joined your side.

"Hell no! Are you crazy?"

"No, you're just a wimp!"

"I am not!"

"What's wrong with the lion's head?" Richard broke the impending argument.

You and Max both looked at each other, then Max decided to open his big mouth again and explain. "People say that only the bravest of the brave may stick their hands in its mouth and seek what lies beyond it. If it senses any fear, it's teeth will come down and snap your hand clean off!" Max added some drama to the tale. "She's been too much of a wimp to try ever since some old dude told her the story." Max jabbed a finger in your direction.

You frowned, your face flushed with red and your arms folded across your chest. You didn't say anything in response. Not even anything to defend yourself.

"I'll do it," Richard said suddenly, making you look up. "Only if you'll do it with me..." He was staring directly at you. You swallowed thickly.

"You sure about that?" Max crooned. "She might chicken out on you.

Richard didn't listen, but instead went right to the lion's head and stood next to it. He was waiting for you. And who were you to deny him? You carefully brushed past Max and stood on the other side of the lion's head.

"I can go first," Richard offered. You nodded.

With a big deep breath, Richard raised his hand slowly and began to hover it towards the mouth. The air was thick with his tension. As if he'd believed the story Max had told, right? His hand went deeper and deeper into the mouth, until he was elbow deep in it. That's as far as he could go. You noticed he had stopped breathing for a while there, but once he had reached his end point, his chest rose and fell normally again. He pulled his hand back out after a brief moment of relief.

"See? Nothing too scary," Richard comforted you. "You can do it," he encouraged you now, tenderly. "Be brave."

You looked from Richard to the gaping mouth. You swallowed thickly again and your hand shook. There's nothing to be afraid of! Nothing! You reached your smaller hand in the mouth, unaware of any further dangers. You forgot to breathe as well, as your hand went deeper and deeper into the gap.

"It's okay... keep going," Richard soothed. You found it comforting.

Eventually, you hit elbow deep, but your hand brushed against something. You nearly yanked your hand right back out, but you managed to stay as still as a rock.

"I feel something," you whispered to Richard, whose eyes were wide with surprise. You summoned your bravery and reached out to where the thing had touched you and brushed up on it again. It certainly wasn't something alive. It was soft, and pleasant. You felt around it, finding a long, thin stick-like base in your hands. You grabbed a hold of it, then gave a short tug. It gave way in an instant. You looked up at Richard one more time. He stayed by your side the entire time and didn't even think of leaving.

With the thing in your grasp, you began to pull your hand out of the mouth, achingly slow. Just as your hand was about to completely exit the mouth of the lion, and right before you could breathe again, someone decided to be funny and grab your sides out of nowhere. You screamed and dropped the thing you had in your hand.

You spun around. Max was bawling with laughter.

"I knew you were a coward!" He cackled.

Embarrassed and ashamed, you huffed and folded your arms. You saw yourself out in a hurry, shoulder-checking Max on your way.

"Don't be so rude about it!" He called after you. "It was just a joke!"

Richard, on the other hand, wasn't laughing. He was angry too.

"Can you believe her? Sheesh," Max tried to bring Richard onto his side, only to see the look of disappointment on Richard's face, and stop all teasing. Richard turned back to the lion's head. Sitting right on the tip of its stone tongue was a flower. A purple flower, speckled in white, peculiar dots. Like stars in a night sky. He carefully picked it up, and silently began to walk out, in search of you.

You were outside by the Vespas and dwindling amount of rental cars. You were pacing back and forth, just to calm down.

"You dropped this," a calm voice spooked you. You turned around to see Richard with a flower in his hand. Curious.

"Is that...?" You didn't even have to finish for him to understand.

"Yeah," Richard nodded and came closer to you. You reached out for it, but Richard refused. "Please," his voice was so gentle and low, "Let me."

Without another word, Richard carefully used his hand to push your hair back behind your ear, and tuck the flower with it. You looked up at him in awe, lips slightly parted as to say something, but nothing came out.

"It suits you," Richard broke the silence. You looked down at the ground and blushed. He could see the glimmer of a smile on your face.

"I'm sorry," you finally added your input, "about Max back there... he's just... he can be so... oh, what's the word..." You trailed off.

"Overbearing?" Richard enthused, "Frustrating?"

You laughed at his insight. "Yeah! That!" Richard was happy to see you smile again. "But um... if you have plans made for today, I don't want to be taking up your time."

Richard had completely forgotten about why he had come to Rome in the span of an hour. You had taken him up, and now he almost didn't want to leave.

"You're not taking up my time at all," Richard smiled at you. "I'd like to stay with you for a little while longer, if you don't mind."

You began to beam. "I don't mind at all," you whispered. "Do you have any place you want to go? Anything on your bucket list?"

"I do, but you're going to think it's mundane," Richard sighed.

"No I'm not," you reassured him. "What is it?"

"I think I'm due for a haircut... do you know any good places?" He seemed so shy asking you.

You grinned at him. "I know just the place!"

...

A bell chimed gleefully as soon as you opened the door.

"Ah-ha! Customers! I will be right with you in a moment!" A cheery man at the front desk cooed. His accent was impeccably strong.

After about a minute of waiting, he appeared in front of you and Richard. "What can I do for the two of you today?"

"He's just wanting a haircut," you pointed to Richard with a smile.

"Wonderful!" The barber clapped his hands together in glee, then lead Richard right to the first chair in the store. Richard took a seat and crossed his legs as a sheet was spread across his body. "What would you like done, sir?"

"Just a trim along the sides, please. Just to make it a bit neater."

"Ah-ha! An English man! I will make you look butch and tough, yes? Very handsome man," the barber grinned and oat Richard's shoulders with enthusiasm. Richard only chuckled. You took a seat in the chair adjoining with a magazine in your hand. Your phone buzzed in your lap. You checked it. It was a text from Max. He had gotten good photos at the lion's head, but he wanted more. Max would be trailing behind you and Richard for the day. "As sneaky as the paparazzi," he specifically said. You just shook your head and turned your attention back to Richard.

"I forgot to ask," you told Richard, "what's the title of your book? You never told me."

"Ayoade On Top," Richard murmured, having to actually physically restrain himself from turning his head to look at you while he spoke to you. The barber continued his business, snipping away.

"What's it about?"

"Ha, that's a long story," Richard hummed. "But I'll be glad to explain it to you, if we have time."

"We have all the time in the world, Richard. Go on..."

You leaned back in your seat while Richard enjoyed his touch up and explained the process of the book. The barber even threw in a free shave, just because he had also taken a keen interest in the book, finding it just as amusing as you did.

The barber was doing the final touches, spraying Richard's hair with some kind of fine product that smelled of roses and allowing Richard to apply moisturizer to his face after the shave.

"So the entire book is based off a movie you watched?" You grinned, leaning your head on your hand.

"Pretty much," Richard laughed quietly, and the barber took the sheet off of him.

"That seems reversed. Movies are always based off of books. It's backwards." You laughed again as Richard stood up. You admired him from afar, liking the fresh look on him. You could really see his little chin dimple more prominently now.

"That's the joke," Richard laughed again. "Thank you for the fine trim, sir," Richard turned to the barber with a smile.

"It was my pleasure, Mr. Richard! Please, come back any time you want!" The barber then turned to you. "My friends and I," he began, "we are having a party on the pier tonight! You must come! It will be so much fun!"

You looked to Richard who shrugged and nodded with a smile. "We can be there!" You said and looked back to the barber.

"Perfect, perfect! I'll see you there, yes!"

You and Richard left the barber shop in chipper attitudes.

"What to do to pass the time?" You asked. "Are you hungry?"

"Goodness no," Richard smiled, "after that breakfast, I think I'll be good for a few days. But I would like to stop in for some gellato."

He walked with you to the little Vespa parked by the curb and he climbed on. You got on behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. You gave him a few directions, having a place in mind where he might want to go.

The warmth of him was pleasant enough. On the first ride on the Vespa, he seemed squeamish with someone else touching him, let alone squeezing him to death like you were. Now, he seemed so calm and relaxed, like he actually enjoyed your touch. You wouldn't admit it, but you were actually starting to appreciate getting to hold him like this.

...

The afternoon went as smooth as silk, and you could always feel the presence of Max somewhere, wherever you were. You presented Richard with every little fun thing that wasn't as popular as most of the attractions in Rome. It wasn't just to keep him out of the limelight and prevent him from being spotted by some other individual, but to also spend some quality time with him. You two both ended up closer by the end of the day.

After day, came night, and you took the little rental Vespa to the pier, where the barber you had met said there would be a party. It wasn't hard to spot, either. Plush crowds of people moved about on a large, open dock, strung with lights. Music played and there was boisterous laughter. Oh yeah, that had to be it.

You left the Vespa on the curb and went right on into the party, where everyone was welcomed. At first glance, Richard didn't know what to do. He stuck closely by your side. He didn't know why parties seemed so fun from afar, when it's really just a group of loitering peoples wreaking nothing but havoc. He learned to relax, though, seeing you wander with people so freely and effortlessly. You talked to strangers like you were best friends with them! He wanted to be like that too, so he gave it his best shot. For you.

You met with the barber along the sidelines of a small dancefloor. You greeted each other happily, and he offered you and Richard drinks.

You snuck in a few snacks as well with Richard in your company at all times.

"You can go mingle, you know," you teased him. "I'm not much for a bodyguard."

"You probably don't believe me, but I honestly have no interest in anyone at this party but you," he spoke softly to you, and he had to lean in close to you, just to be heard. His breath touched up by your ear.

You looked up at him, curiosity filling your gaze. You set your drink down, then reached for his and set it down as well.

"Come, dance with me," you smiled, and his face ran red. He didn't deny the offer, though.

You took his hand and lead him onto the softly swaying group of dancers. The party had toned down a bit, to let those who needed a break rest. Your arms wrapped around Richard's neck, and his hands found your waist. He gently caressed your sides, slowly. Neither of you spoke any words during the first song. You both just smiled and were fascinated with one another.

"This day... it really has been marvelous," Richard whispered. "All thanks to you."

"There's no need to thank me... if it weren't for you, my day would have gone on as normal, and God, I hate it when my days turn out normal," you laughed, and Richard laughed with you.

You both were quiet again, lost in the music and the murmurs of the crowd.

"Richard?" You asked.

"Yes?"

"After tonight," you said sweetly, "will I ever see you again?"

Richard looked down at you, a deep sadness falling upon his features.

"That depends," he said, "do you want to see me again?"

That question was so easy to answer. So so easy. Your heart was fluttering and you began to hold him closer.

"I do," you answered him. You were trapped in a daze with him, unaware of your surroundings. Your eyes drooped low, and he seemed to drift closer to you, his lips wanting yours. You got so close. So so close.

"THERE HE IS!" A shout ripped through the bustling crowd and you and Richard broke apart. Someone was pointing directly at Richard and shouting at others. "Get him!!"

"Run!" Richard yelled, suddenly pumped full of adrenaline. The crowd had cleared from the makeshift dancefloor, so there wasn't a need to push past people until you came to the edge of it. Luckily, most people shied away and let you through. But once the men chasing after you came through, the fights began, and all hell broke loose in the matter of seconds! It was a sight to behold. Even the band providing the music got involved in the fighting. One even smashed a guitar over someone's head!

"Richard Ayoade, you get back here this instant! You have a job to do!" Someone shouted. Through crowd was back to bustling again, searching high and low for the two of you, once the situation spread like wildfire.

"Richard, we can't go this way!" You shouted to him, "it's the end of the pier!" But it was too late. You had been cornered at the edge. Now, surrounding you and Richard was murky sea waters and the group of angry television workers.

"Jump!" Richard encouraged and pointed to the cool waters below.

"But we won't make it!" You were petrified.

"Yes we will," he said and looked into your eyes. "Be brave." Richard squeezed your hand tightly, then counted to three. "One... two... three!"

In a haze of glory, he and you leapt from the edge of the tall pier and into the water, right on time to not be seen by the television workers.

The water was freezing! You swam for your life in any direction, desperate to climb on land and get warm again. When your feet touched ground again, you climbed up in a haze, on your hands and knees. The ground you stumbled onto was covered in rock and sand. You plopped down and curled up into a ball. Your teeth chattered and your body shook. What a night!

"Hey!" You heard a call from down the shore. It was Richard. He was soaked head to toe in sea water and it made his clothes sag heavily. You stood up and rushed over to him. You embraced him as soon as you were close enough to him. You were both so cold, but the warmth you both had combined was enough to survive.

"We should go..." You whispered after a few moments. The hug could wait.

...

You sat in your robe, nice and dry. You could hear your shower running in the distance. You had your legs pulled up on your couch, and you casually scrolled through your phone. You only then realized you had barely touched it since you met Richard. It was still above fifty percent full. You set it down, eventually, filled with boredom and longing to see Richard again. But you were patient. You rested your head in your hand and began to drift into a soft slumber when the shower had shut off. You still waited.

Soon, Richard waltzed out in a brown robe you borrowed from the front desk of the apartment complex. He was cleaning his glasses of steam when he saw you waiting for him.

"Exciting night, wasn't it?" He smiled, making friendly conversation.

You sat up and smiled back. "As exciting as the day." You stood up and walked towards him. He came towards you as well. You met with him in the center of your living room/kitchen/dining room. Everything was at peace.

You took a deep breath, "How long will you be staying in Rome?"

He answered honestly, "Not too much longer, now."

"Will I see you again?" You asked, meekly. He couldn't resist the feebleness of your eyes and oh, how they shined for him. Richard raised his hand and touched your cheek.

"Of course, you will..."

You leaned up to meet him, and he leaned down to you. The smell of your warm vanilla soap wafted from him and made your eyes flutter closed. He took this as an opportunity to finally kiss you.

Life came to a standstill. There was only you and him at that moment, just that moment. Just that heartbeat.

There was a knock at the door. Subtle, but abrupt. You only broke apart then. You sighed, your eyes squeezed shut.

"I'll be back," you told Richard, then went to the door. Upon opening it, you were greeted with three, tough-looking men, dressed in suits. They had come for Richard. Richard, who was still standing in the center of your room. Richard, who you had just kissed.

There was no escaping this time. You hardly had the time to tell him goodbye and give him his clothes, before he was gone.

You were lost, mentally, for the rest of the night.

...

You had fallen asleep on your couch and didn't wake up until noon. Well, someone woke you up, more like it. It was another knock.

Drowsily, you fixed your robe and put on a pair of slippers. Hope shot right through you. Could it be Richard? Would you see him again?

No. No, it was only Max.

"Looks like you had a fun night!" He quipped cheerfully and invited himself in. "Look at all these pictures I got of you two! These will look great in the paper? Have you started writing the article yet? Did you get it submitted?"

Oh shit, the article...

"No, actually," you muttered. "I missed the deadline."

"Oh," Max frowned, "well that's okay. The next one ought to make us rich! We have coverage of his entire day!" Max reached into his pocket and pulled put printed photos of you and Richard having a ball the day before. "I have so many names for these! These are so great!"

You were silent. You let him do all the talking. Max didn't shut up until he realized you weren't going to join him in his enthusiasm.

"What's the matter with you?" Max asked.

"I kissed him," you said, your voice trembling. "That's what's the matter."

"Oh no, (Y/N), you didn't!" Max groaned, "That'll muck up the entire story! You have to leave that part out!"

"But I can't!" You pleaded.

"And why not?"

"Because it isn't the whole truth if I do..." You put a hand against your mouth.

"Oh, oh, this is rich. Is there anything else I should know?" Max said, truly upset. He looked you directly into your eyes. He had been best friends with you, ever since you arrived in Rome. He knew your moods. He could tell by the look on your face. "You've fallen in love with him, haven't you?"

You sucked in a big, deep breath. Be brave. You nodded.

Max's face scrunched up a million ways in one. He took the pictures and threw them down on the nearest table. "For fucks sake..." he faced away from you, while you quietly kept analyzing your feelings for Richard. It was another quiet moment or two when Max turned back around. "Look," Max said, "he's going to have a press conference this evening. If you want to go see him... I recommend doing it then."

Your eyes watered a little bit, but you pushed past it.

"Thank you..." You whispered.

...

The crowd was bustling with reporters, all cramped into one compact room within the lavish hotel Richard was staying at. Richard, himself, was at the head of it all, standing on a podium with five microphones shoved in his face.

"Ayoade, what happened yesterday?"

"Richard, will we get full coverage of yesterday's events?"

"Richard Ayoade, was the cause of your disappearance work related?"

All of these questions, he answered stoutly. He had no interest in any of them.

"Mr. Ayoade?"

But there would always be one that would have his attention.

"Mr. Ayoade, did you do anything fun yesterday?"

You had dressed up for the occasion. A yellow sun dress with a black belt around your waist. You had a purple flower, spotted with white flecks tucked behind your ear.

Richard looked around the room at the other people for a few moments, then looked right back at you.

"I had a lot of fun yesterday," Richard cracked a smile. "The food was wonderful, the transport was amazing..." he trailed off in this intimate not so intimate moment. "And I loved the company I had with me, most of all..."

The questions raged again. Who was with him? Could they be called up too? Where on earth were they?

Once the press had been rounded up like sheep and calmed, it was announced that Richard would no longer be accepting any further questions, but if anyone wanted to come and visit, they may. The crowd was in a rush for Richard's heavily guarded attention. You had to wait quite some time before it was finally your turn. You had the pictures from Max in your clutches.

The look on his face when he saw you said it all. You handed the pictures to him, and smiled.

"I'll see you again," Richard whispered into your ear as he took the pictures from you. "I promise..." He found a way to subtly kiss your cheek without anyone else noticing, then it was time for the next person to speak to him.

Walking on not there legs, you walked out of the small conference room and began towards the exit. If there was sadness in your heart, you did not show it. Whether it be in the paper, on television, in the movies, or in person, you would be seeing him again. You just knew it.

○●□○●□○●□○

@honorarytenenbaum

#fanfiction #richard ayode x reader #richard ayoade imagines #richard ayoade #richard ayoade fanfic #holiday fanfic

36 notes · View notes

richardayoadestan92 · 2 years

Text

With Love, Ayoade

SEQUEL TO "With Care, Ayoade". ENJOY.

Summary: Beyond the Christmas crashing fiasco when you two first locked eyes, you have finally found the time to spend time together. Ah, Valentine's day. No one wants to be alone on Valentine's.

Warnings: YOU WILL BE UNCOMFORTABLE AT SOME POINT. Swearing, drinking (and eventual drunkenness), gossip, infidelity.

A/N: this goes out to my lovesick homies all over the world. Happy Valentine's Day.

@honorarytenenbaum

•○●•○●•○●•

All over the world, sweethearts and significant others delivered boxes of too sweet chocolates, delightful roses that were doomed to die within a week, and teddybears that were stuffed with labor as well as love. Richard, however, was only delivering letters. Why?

"It appeals to the overrated stereotype that you need to buy an expensive gift to get the affection of others. The social pressure is horrifying," he had told you once in a letter to you after you had asked about Valentine's. You really wanted to ask if he would like to go out on that evening,, since you both had never been on a traditional or discussed date with each other. No one, still, had made the first move. Originally, if only he had responded more positively, you would have asked if he wanted to have dinner. Now, you purposely avoided the question altogether. If something were to happen, then it would happen. And something did happen, of course.

"I need you to attend this weird Valentine double date thing with me and my friends," you pleaded, standing on Richard's front step at the touch of dusk.

"This is totally going against our relationship code right now," Richard, so used to communicating via letters, complained. "You're breaking our bro code. And a little warning would have been nice."

"Can we not talk about the bro code? Please, this is important!"

Richard begrudgingly listened to your heart's every quip with his arms folded over his cream colored sweater vest. Apparently, this entire mix up was a massive mistake and you had to pay the price for your inability to focus on certain conversation pieces.

You had gone to lunch with your favorite friend group, and the quiet chatter of the table lulled you into autopilot while you, simultaneously, chewed on a leafy salad. Everything was all calm until your name was spoken out loud to get your attention. You looked up, surprised and mid-chew on a crouton. Staring back at you was a friend named Alex and her eager-enough looking boyfriend from across the table.

"Well?" Alex primed expectantly. "What about you, (Y/N)? Could you do it?"

Your teeth halted to a grinding stop on your crouton. You felt embarrassed for not listening in on the conversation but refused to admit it. So, instead of asking to repeat the question, you shrugged your shoulders and muttered a very cautious, "Yes?"

"You don't have to! We just really don't want to be there alone! It's special!" Alex went on, and you picked at a piece of spinach stuck in your teeth.

"No, no, I can do it!" Now insisting on your own. Although, you still had no idea what it was, until someone who wasn't Alex or her dopey boyfriend explained it to you. It was time to face the music and you would not, could not, face it alone.

So, there you stood, dressed in your finest evening gown with your makeup done to perfection, asking for Richard's help.

"I'm honestly very flattered, but..." Richard had to look away for a minute, the slightest bit flustered. "Do I have to, really?"

"Yes, you have to!" You begged once more. "C'mon, Rich," you grew softer for him, which made him flustered further. You leaned forward on your toes, approaching him, just to be closer. "Just this one time? For me?"

"God damn you, woman, with your eyes," Richard turned his eyes up to the ceiling to avoid your doe-like gaze. It was too much for him to take. After a prolonged silence and a very quiet whine, Richard huffed an agreement. "Fine."

You waited patiently in the foyer while he dressed for the occasion, clicking the sides of your heels together, wishing like Dorothy that this night wouldn't end in spectacular failure. You closed your eyes. "There's no place like home. There's no place like home," you dreamed outloud.

"Gone mad, have we?" Richard broke your faint plea from the stairway. He was watching you the entire time, and he was very amused. He had also traded his sweatervest and slacks for one of his more gaunting, colorful suits. He claimed to be an introvert, but with suits like his, he's bound to get some attention from somebody.

"Can we go now? You take longer than me to get ready, and that's including hair and makeup," you whined, trying not to show your embarrassment to him.

"Of course we can go," Richard sighed, "but you must promise me something." He stepped down to your level and offered his arm for you to take.

"Should I be worried?" You wondered with a smile.

"There's nothing to worry about," he opened the front door and turned to close and lock it. "I only request that we only stay for no longer than an hour."

"Only an hour? That's so short," you shrugged, "and who knows how chatty Alex will be once she gets a few glasses of wine in her."

"My social battery cannot withstand more than that, unless it's with you," he made the exception, "and I'd prefer to be staying at home, reading of romance rather than experiencing it."

You took his arm again and he lead you to the end of the sidewalk to hail a cab on the main road.

"Have you ever written anything romantically engaging?" You asked him during the ride to the restaurant where you would meet Alex and her boyfriend.

"I don't believe so," Richard said and fiddled with his tie. "I've never been a big fan of it. It's always been too sappy for me to enjoy."

"Romance isn't always sappy," you reasoned, "it's heartbreak too, you know."

"I'd never read a book to purposely make myself sad or yearn for something," Richard cocked, "I read books to learn from their moral values."

"Ayoade On Top has moral values in it?"

"Hush," he silenced you before you even got the slimmest chance of messing with him. You snuck in a few verbal proddings, though. Just for fun.

"We should have a safe word," Richard suddenly suggested, much to your surprise. The cab slowly veered to the curb and lurched into a stop.

"A safe word?" You want to laugh.

"Just in case either of us gets uncomfortable and wants to leave." His idea was... kind of smart, actually. You had never felt all too comfortable around Alex. Her flamboyant personality was too much to bear sometimes, and when she was with her boyfriend, she was at her worst. You often wondered if that guy was okay. Blink once for yes. Blink twice for no.

"Alright, then," you sigh, peeking out the window to see the bustling street and the warm lights of the buzzing restaurant. "What word would be appropriate for a comfortable dinner setting?"

You saw him place his hand on his right pants pocket and fiddle with it for a moment. He hummed.

"Salad fork," he mused.

"Absolutely not. That's two words. We need one," you shook your head and smiled.

"Then how about..." he thought, again, for a moment, "Booner."

"Booner?" You asked. He nodded. You paused, mulling it over, then shrugged. "Booner it is, then."

With a hesitant smile, Richard opened his door next to the curb and slid out of the cab. You did the same on your side. You regrouped with him on the curb and clung to his arm. You were undoubtedly more nervous about this than he was. Richard was kind enough to guide you inside, where you both would be spotted by Alex, beckoned over, and forced to take a seat where the double date would officially commence.

You were seated in a crescent-shaped booth towards the shady end of the restaurant. Richard sat on the end, next to you. Alex sat on the other end, next to her boyfriend. It started with polite small talk, then ordering food and drinks. After that, you knew everything was about to take a plunge downhill.

"So, how did you two meet?" Alex was the one who liked talking the most. She had been keeping Richard occupied with a personal interview while scraping at her food with her fork, moments before hand. You weren't sure, but you thought you felt a waft of jealousy coming out of her words.

"We've lived across the street from each other for quite some time, as you might know," you decided to handle this question and spare Richard. As a thank you, he placed his hand on your knee and gently squeezed it. This was the first physical advancement he had made to you. "We met for the first time on Christmas, when I locked myself out of my apartment. Richard came to my aid, and made me feel really comfortable. We've been writing letters to each other since." You set your hand on top of Richard's and ran your thumb along the back of it. Richard was still quiet, but you could see he was flattered by the way he stole glances at you or smiled at the table.

The sensation of jealousy was stronger now. Alex picked up her glass of wine and took a long, slow sip as you capped off your brief love story.

"You know," Alex started and you braced yourself, "I've never heard of a celebrity going out with a common girl. How does that relationship work, exactly? I bet it's super hard, isn't it Richard?" Alex clicked her tongue. Richard twitched beneath the table, then reached out to take a drink of his water before answering. It was hard to say you both were dating, when you really weren't. Neither of you had asked, nor have you even kissed, but Richard still played along. For your sake, thankfully.

"I actually enjoy it more than dating another celebrity," he answered truthfully, but starkly all the same. "It's quiet. And (Y/N) just so happens to be more beautiful than anyone I've ever been with. So, I'm happy. Happy with her." He spoke to the table. His hand remained on your knee, and he held tight. You knew he was being genuine with you and you had to hide the fact that your heart began to beat wildly and flutter within your chest.

Alex scrunched up her nose in annoyance and finished off the last of the glass. She beckoned to her dopey boyfriend for more, to which he was happy to respond by refilling her drink to the rim. You, on the other hand, were flattered beyond expectation. You knew Richard had a way with words, but you had only ever read them on pieces of paper. Never had you heard them out loud.

"Well, I'm so glad for the two of you," Alex muttered. "Fuck... I'm gonna go use the bathroom. All this talk about stupid fucking relationships makes me sick." She tore herself away from her boyfriend, who had been coddling her drunk ass. His smile never faltered, though. Alex shimmied her way out of the booth, and somehow managed to stand up. She swayed harshly. You'd be surprised if she actually made it more than two steps without falling flat on her face. But suddenly, she spun around and face you head on. "(Y/N)!" She cooed in a sappy, slurrish voice. "Why don't you come with me? We can have a little one on one girl chat, hm?"

You looked around the table for help. Richard was still looking down at the floor, and Alex's dopey boyfriend was still smiling, glancing from you to Alex. Alright, so no one would get you out of this. Great. You were so close to saying the safe word.

"Sounds like a plan," you put on a fake smile and gently removed your and Richard's hand off of your knee. He was reluctant, however. He wanted you to stay, but didn't know how to voice it. So, he remained quiet, and eventually didn't try to fight it. He slid out of the booth to let you out as well. You climbed out. Your hand brushed with Richard's as you left. He wished he could have held on to you for just a little while longer.

Richard sat back down at the booth while you helped Alex stumble to the little girl's room. Now, it was only him and Alex's boyfriend. Not the best situation. Richard just tried to keep his head down and mouth shut. His social battery was worn down to it's last.

"So you're Gadget Man, ah?"

Fuck.

"Man, I'd give anything to have the amount of money you must spend in a single day on that set."

"I was Gadget Man... there's a difference," Richard mumbled and looked up for a minute. Alex's boyfriend was looking right at him, laid back against the booth so nonchalantly. So menacingly.

"Ah ha, you're funny, Gadget Man," the dope chortled. "I'm Charles, by the way. Friends can call me Charlie. Alex doesn't really bother introducing me all that much, but I don't mind it." A sickly smirk spread across Charles' face. "With the ass she has, I learned to let her do the talking most of the time, and that comes with its own rewards." A waitress passed by and took up an empty wine bottle. Charles eyed her up, smirking. He reached out and touched her thigh with outstretched fingers. His thumb brushed against the hem of her short skirt. The waitress smirked, then walked away. "And sometimes, it pays to keep your mouth shut about other things too."

Richard's uncomfort grew. He missed you. He hoped you were doing well in that bathroom and he hoped you weren't going through a similar situation. But you were.

In the nearest bathroom in the dark recesses of the restaurant, you sat outside a bathroom stall, waiting, albeit impatiently, for Alex to stop puking her guts out. The night couldn't have gotten any worse, and you felt awful for it. You'd have to make it up to Richard somehow.

You began to pace about the bathroom, and eventually stopped in front of one of the glimmering sinks and mirrors. You decided to wash up a little bit. Maybe you could scrub some of the memories of watching Alex paint the walls of her occupied stall with her insides out of your mind. You wished that was possible, of all things.

Alex soon crawled out of her stall, stumbling about until she found you at the sinks. She came up right next to you and hunched over the next sink over. Her lipstick was smeared and drool piled up in the corner of her lips where the lipstick was the most caked on. She spat into the sink, then turned the handle until the faucet poured water down the drain. You didn't look at her. You washed your hands and kept your head down.

"Feeling better?" You asked.

"No," she answered blankly. "I still feel fuckin' awful. And you wanna know why?" You still didn't look at her. You heard the handle squeal and the faucet stopped running. "Because you... you worthless piece of shit." You flinched and backed away as she slapped a hand on your faucet. "You've got something that I want."

You had been gone for a long time. Richard's worry increased.

"So why pick her?" Charles clicked his tongue. "What does she have? Or is she just for show?"

Richard didn't move. He feared he'd say something that would offput the night entirely. He fiddled with his front pocket and the letter he kept inside it.

"For a man who I often think can't keep his mouth shut on screen, you're being awfully quiet... She must be for show, then... you've got somebody else on your mind? Tell me..." Charles tapped his fingers against the wooden table.

"You asked me what she had that the other girls don't," Richard took a deep breath. "Right?"

Charles nodded, and the drumming of his fingers stopped against the table. "Yeah. So, what is it? She good in bed or something or is she just your specific type?"

"She has something that neither you nor Alex have..." Richard continued. He reached for his wallet in his back pocket to bring out his card. As soon as you came back, you and him would be leaving.

"And what's that?" Charles chuckled cockily.

"Loyalty."

"I don't understand why you get to have someone like that," Alex yelled at you. While taking it, you were quietly begging for someone to come into the bathroom. Someone. Anyone. "Someone rich... someone famous... how can he even adore you?"

"Alex, you're overreacting. Please, calm down," you tried to reason with her. You could see the tears brimming in her eyes. Tears of hatred or tears of defeat? You weren't sure.

"Oh, please. I'm stuck with some cheating, sniveling brat who can't tell the difference from his brain and his balls!" A tear streaked down her hollow face and dislodged a gooey ball of mascara from the corner of her eye. "Oh!" She exclaimed, "I just want someone to love me... is that so fucking hard?"

For a moment, you felt sympathy for the poor woman. Alex had originally been the "leader" of the friend group. Her title and rank got to her head, and she was stripped of the title. For months, she had been trying to work her way back up to the top, but it was always events like these that grounded her. Back to the bottom, and a lonesome start to gaining power.

"Alex," you whispered faintly, "We've been friends for quite some time now, and I think it's my duty, as your friend, to tell you something."

Alex was furiously weeping now and the tips of her fingers were dewed with her smeared mascara. "What?" She said, sniveling.

You backed away and reached your hand back for the door. What you were going to say was going to hurt, but it needed to be said.

"Alex, you are a terrible person," you shook your head, and put on a face of bravery, "and if you want to be someone again, you need to stop using our friend group like a getting to know only you therapy session." You tugged the door open and quickly got behind it, just as Alex screamed in her fury.

Quickly and in a trance, you ran. You ignored all danger transpiring, pushed past all the people heading in your direction and called out, once you were close enough to the booth.

"BOONER!"

Richard heard it as a beckon call. Charles was still sitting, stunned, across from him.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you, Charles, but I'm afraid this date has come to an end. Alex is pleasant enough as well, but I don't think I'll ever be interested in conversing with you again," Richard shimmied out of the booth just as you came around the corner. "I bid you an awful evening."

Just then, you grabbed Richard by his arm, and, in a rush, made for the exit. Richard just barely managed to tip as you passed by the host of your table. The night may have been shit, but the service wasn't.

"I can't believe I actually screamed 'booner' in the middle of a restaurant," you sighed, as soon as you were far enough down the sidewalk to take a break from running.

"If you weren't going to say it, I was. Alex and Charles seem like nice people, but I, simply, do not care for them," Richard laughed then reached to hold your hand instead of having you hug his arm all night.

"You're absolutely in the right mind not to," you didn't blame him for not liking your 'friends.' "They're awful."

"You said it, not me," Richard grinned, then felt his letter crinkle in his pocket as he walked. "There's still time to turn the night around, you know? I don't know what happened in that bathroom for you, but I would certainly like to forget the experience I had over a cup of tea."

"Tea sounds so nice right now," you groaned in satisfaction of the idea.

"Then... how about my place?" Richard offered. You smiled down at the ground. You knew he originally didn't want to do anything for Valentine's Day, and you knew this is far from how things were supposed to go, but you were so glad he could look past all of that, and want to still spend some genuine time with you.

"I'd really like that," you whispered to him.

Richard took you to the nearest streetcorner and hailed another cab for the two of you to share. You didn't mess with him on the way home, this time. You cuddled close to him to show him your appreciation. He showed his appreciation back by wrapping an affectionate arm around your shoulders and holding you tight.

He warmly invited you into his abode and had you sit in the living room while he got his kettle on the stove. He even went as far as to froth milk for the occasion.

"It's not everyday that I have guests over," Richard said from the kitchen, "so why not make things a little fancy?"

You appreciated the effort. He brought out two steaming cups of tea and set it on the coffee table in front of you. He, then, sat down in a comfy chair on the opposite side of the table from you.

"Valentine's Day has never appealed to me, you know," Richard starts. You nod and reach for your cup of tea. "The only thing that really made me happy was the sweets I would get, but I understand now that not everyone feels the way I do. Like you, for example... and you're one of the last people I want to hurt for not liking a specific holiday." Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter that had been there since he first left the house. "This was going to be left in your mailbox this afternoon. That was, until you came to the door in a hurry," Richard placed the letter in front of you on the table.

You set your cup down, smiling. "You really didn't have to, Richard," you murmured and reached for the letter. He insisted, however, and urged you to open the letter anyway. With a smile, you tore it open and tugged the note out. Surprisingly, it wasn't the normal note card with the Sakura tree on the front. It was a Valentine's Day card. On the front, it had a jolly little bee buzzing about. In big, bold letters it read, "BEE MINE?" You glanced up at Richard. He seemed eager. For his sake, you opened the card to see his fanciful handwriting.

Inside, the card itself provided another sappy note. "We bee-long together." You kept reading to his note to you.

To D6,

There are many ways to display one's affections to another without the use of expensive gifts or sweet candies. Your company has been fulfilling to me over these past few months, and every day that I do not tell you how much I care for you eats at me.

This note doesn't express my gratitude or my feelings towards you. So, I ask to meet in person. I'd like to invite you to dinner with me, if that is okay. I want to get to know you in person, and I want, for once, to spend this holiday with someone. If this is acceptable, please respond in any way that you find necessary. I can only hope for the best.

With love, Ayoade.

Beside his signature, there was a little doodle of a bee. You just stared for a moment, going every word twice to make sure you weren't going insane.

To break the silence, Richard spoke. "Would you have accepted my offer?"

Your eyes shot right back up to him. Your lip quivered, but you smiled. You nodded. Richard, then, smiled as well.

"I'm glad," he whispered, then looked down at the two warm cups of tea. He reached for his, then proudly held it up. "Happy Valentine's Day to you, (Y/N)."

You picked up your tea cup as well and held yours out with his. Your cup clicked with his like a cheers to the holiday. "Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Richard..."

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