#dallas nightclubs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetrashbinseries · 4 months

Text

— Fahrenheit Part Three ( bangchan x reader )

rated - mature | minors dni

parts - one, two, three

warnings - idol universe, name changed idols (ones unrelated to skz), mature themes, drug use, alcohol use, sexual themes, mentions of mental illness, slight angst, internet bullying and harassment

x x x

The biting chill of New York City doesn't stop the crowd from forming outside the Mixer nightclub. Glittering dresses cling to shivering bodies, and the line snakes around the corner. Men with cross earrings, edgy tattoos, and silky updos chat, their breath visible in the frigid air. My Uber Black rolls up to the front, and I observe the scene.

Despite being a newcomer, I am now qualified to step into this world. Retrieving my phone from my black clutch, my coffin-shaped nails tap out a message to Jake.

outside now

As I glance out the window, I ponder if the Uber driver's patience stems from the luxury vehicle or my personality. People treat you differently when they think you have something they don't – that disingenuous feeling irks me. I haven't changed; I am still the same person without a record deal or viral singles. The driver doesn’t even likely care that far—if I’m paying for an Uber black, dressed the way I am, I must be somebody.

Rarely stepping out, recognition brings a wave of anxiety. Medication eases my nerves tonight. A text from Jake illuminates my screen.

out front?

yeah where else would I be?

private entrance in the back.

He double-texts.

ill get you from there

“Oh?” I voice my surprise. Leaning toward the driver, I request, “Can you take me to the back, please? This is the wrong entrance.”

With a nod, the driver obliges, and we pull away. Eyes follow the tinted windows, curious about the occupant. The relief washes over me; a private entrance awaits.

As we circle around, a black door with a colossal bouncer in a sleek black suit comes into view. Standing over six feet tall with broad shoulders and flowing black hair in a ponytail, he exudes an imposing presence. Stepping out of the truck, I smooth my little black dress. I hate dresses.

“Hi,” I greet the bouncer with a friendly smile and wave, but his stoic response hints at slim chances of entry. There’s no way he’s letting me in here.

Just as I am about to ask, the door swings open. Jake emerges, looking more expensive than the other night at my house. In a satin cream-colored outfit, he leaves the top unbuttoned over a black tank. Sunglasses push into his styled hair, makeup accentuating his eyes and flawless skin.

“What’s up, beautiful?” he greets, arms outstretched, a confident smile on his lips as he embraces me. I pull away, handing him his knitted hat from my clutch.

“You almost had me fucked,” I say, referring to the way he carelessly left it at my place, after being adamant about no evidence of another guy being there.

“Aww, sweetheart, if he didn't fuck you after flying across the country, I hope you're here to tell me you two broke up.” Jake chuckles, taking the hat.

“You know what I mean,” I reply through clenched teeth. “It’s freezing. Take me inside—”

“Jake?!” A girl's voice jolts me. “Jake Wong?!” Two girls emerge, probably aware of the private entrance and eager for a chance encounter. The bouncer moves to intervene, but Jake waves him off, effortlessly engaging the girls in conversation.

One of them jumps excitedly, phone in hand. “Oh my god, can we get a photo? Please? I'm obsessed with your new album!”

The other rambles on, “I went to see you on tour twice! In Dallas and in Jersey, do you remember me? We met afterwards at the hotpot restaurant!”

“Of course, I remember you, beautiful. How could I forget such a pretty face? Come on, let’s take a group shot.” Jake signals the bouncer to be their photographer, dropping his shades back over his eyes. He positions himself between the two girls, arms around their shoulders as they hug him closely, posing with big smiles and peace signs.

“It’s cold out tonight, you should keep yourself warm—here.” Jake hands one of the girls the knitted beanie, and she can barely contain her excitement as she steps in place.

Officially never have to worry about that again.

I slip into the club before anyone else notices me. Being photographed with Jake would only attract more attention, and I'm not a k-pop idol; it would only lead to unnecessary questions.

Chris would've advised against coming, but he's not my keeper. Jake is a good friend, guiding me through this lifestyle. Chris, who spends most of his time in Korea, can't offer the same advice as Jake, who's immersed in American media.

Speaking of which, I get a notification on my phone.

babydaddy: *2 attachments*

babydaddy: it rained last night and the streets looked like that painting in your bedroom

babydaddy: I know it's random, but it’s real artsy. Might try my hand at photography hahaha

Cool air rushes in as Jake returns. He pushes his glasses back up atop his head. “Sorry about that, you good?”

“Yeah, I just... these places give me anxiety. Too many people, you can hardly move, you know? I don’t really club anymore. It’s not as fun as it used to be.” I hold my phone close.

“You don’t have to worry about that with me. The VIP section here doesn’t get like that. Come on, you've been in that house too long.” Jake takes my wrist, and I follow him, glancing at my phone and opening the photo attachments from Chris.

Wherever Chris was when he took the photos, it’s empty, the dead silent of night. It looks like an alleyway, with neon signs and storefronts. Their glow reflects on the pavement like glittering lucky coins.

A small smile stretches my lips, and I lock the phone, almost tripping and ripping my wrist away from Jake, slapping his arm. “Careful, asshole!” I chide. He shoots back, “Get off your phone and maybe you can be careful too.” He’s not wrong.

Now, back in my environment, I notice a red rope blocking an open doorway. The music is louder, and I wonder how much louder it can get once we’re inside. Were clubs always this loud? I can hardly remember. I’m not that old, am I?

Ugh. This might totally be Jake’s thing, not mine.

Another bouncer. I know their job is to protect the wealthy and influential, but do they all have to be so massive? Where do they find these guys? He steps aside, unhooking the rope by its golden clasp, and I enter, this time voluntarily clutching onto Jake’s arm and pressing my body as close to his as possible.

Sure enough, the VIP section, and this club in general, is a dazzling spectacle. Talk about over-the-top—the mirrored ceilings above the booths reflect the money and gold bars encased in the clear flooring. Crystallized lighting sconces stand outside each booth, offering an option to be covered by a curtain, with lavish black velvet couches inside each. In the darkness, I can't discern individual colors; it's so dark that I'm surprised Jake can navigate us to his table. Even the sconces emit a barely-there, almost tea-light glow.

As I arrive, I see several other folks sitting around—some laughing and talking, others engrossed in their phones. Suddenly, a strange and familiar voice pierces the music, prompting me to let go of Jake as he greets another artist.

Oh, I know this guy. Well, I don’t know him, but I sure do recognize his wavy hair and tattooed arms and hands proudly displayed on the visible parts of his skin showing from his wifebeater top.

“What’s up, Jake?! Inju said you were here, I said—I gotta go say what’s up to my boy!”

It’s an infamously problematic former idol that runs in these circles parallel to Jake in America. Known for shameless and repeated counts of cultural appropriation from black American culture, amongst other questionable moral offenses. He was all but exiled from Korea years ago but seemed to have become even bigger on his own in America and internationally too.

“Good to see you, Ray,” Jake replies, confirming my suspicions.

Ray Park. I look around, but I see no flashes, no cameras, not even any phones directed in our direction. I’m still paranoid about being seen in any close proximity to Ray. I’m quite vain to believe anyone really cares that much about me, but because I’m new, I wanted to observe from the background more than anything else. See how things moved around these parts. I quietly step away while they converse, giving them privacy as I sit down on the couch. About an arm’s length away, there’s another girl. She’s beautiful, a girl with long black hair that falls into her lap. She’s on her phone, and I figure I might have a chance at talking to her to at least figure out where the alcohol is at. A little liquid courage could do me well right now; I feel way too uptight.

“Hey,” I say, raising my voice over the music as I lean over to her. She looks up with wide, glitter-lined eyes, her phone illuminating her blue dolly lenses. “You know where I can get any tequila?”

“Oh yeah! Gimmie a sec.” She jumps up, maybe a little too excitedly for the request, but I figure, that must be her personality. She seems cute. She tugs at the bottom of her silver dress to adjust it before she sidles over to the other side of the couch where a white guy in a fitted cap is sitting. I can see a tattoo going down the side of his neck, but otherwise, he’s pretty covered, including sunglasses. Something about him gives me stay away vibes. She whispers something in his ear, and he affirms her, standing up and nodding to Jake before leaving the section.

I'm confused; what does that mean?

She sits back down, smooths out her dress, and opens her clutch, pulling out what appears to be a very unusually tiny compact mirror. Maybe it’s the size of a quarter? No, that can’t be a compact mirror; it would be impossible to—

To my dismay, she dips the tip of her stiletto pinky nail into it once she flips the lid open and brings it to her nose, taking a big sniff and wriggling her nose after, sniffling a couple more times before dabbing her nose with the back of her hand delicately.

I immediately avert my gaze.

Oh, I’m in the trenches.

I start to feel uneasy. I pull my phone out and bring up my thread with Chris. I quickly type out a reply.

if you become a photographer, Hyunjin has some competition, those are gorgeous. I kinda wanna get them printed in canvas.

cute way to admit it was raining and you thought of me

I’m thinking of you too ;)

I tuck my phone away, feeling a bit more settled. Suddenly, there’s commotion on the opposite side of the VIP section. The DJ is playing air horn sound effects back to back, and then Jake’s newest single starts booming throughout the venue. He walks over to the balcony and begins waving, and I can hear all kinds of screams. I do love this song, and he’s certainly in his element, which I love to see. I stand up, unable to resist a good groove, and I inch my way out from the couch to have standing room.

More airhorns sound, and a bright flash emerges above the heads of everyone else. I'm confused for a split second until I notice they're sparklers.

“Oh shit?!” Jake exclaims, looking back at some members of his crew. “Which one of you?”

“Your girl!” a guy exclaims, pointing at me.

My eyes widen as I catch the error in his identification. Not only am I NOT Jake’s girl, but I am NOT responsible for the bottle girls making their way over here with what appears to be four bottles of…

Casamigos

Tequila. But I didn’t mean--

I immediately shoot a look at the girl from earlier, but she’s already hugged up on another guy on the couch, holding her finger under his nose as he takes a suspiciously long, hard sniff. Jake enthusiastically embraces me, and I already knew he had been drinking, but now? It’s going to get worse.

“Jake, this is—a lot of attention. I didn’t know you were a special fucking guest here tonight.” I say close to his ear so he can hear me and just how annoyed I am. “I told you me and Chris just made up!”

His arm is around my waist as he leans down to pick up one of the bottles, already fitted with a metal spout. “What? You're not allowed to party without asking your stray kid?” He laughs, throwing back what looked to me to be quite the lengthy pour. “I’m kidding, I’m sure he wants you to have fun too, or is he a controlling, abusive boyfriend?”

“It’s not that, it’s just—“

“Open up,” he says, tilting his chin up at me as he holds the bottle in front of me. “C’mon, girl, live a little!”

I do want to drink. In fact, I’m the reason why four bottles of fucking tequila came prancing into the section to begin with. It’s private up here anyway; I’m being paranoid. This is what I convince myself.

I’m not doing anything wrong.

This is what I keep telling myself whenever I’m doing questionable shit morally.

But why do I keep challenging my morals?

What the fuck even are my morals?

Shaking my head, I let my head fall back, I open my mouth, and I take in as much tequila as I can manage before it’s just completely gross. For some reason, this gets the other nearby people cheering, and they too, start passing the other bottles around and pouring shots into glasses and each other’s mouths.

“Look at you, fucking rockstar.” Jake says, his nose nuzzled into the hair by my ear. I’m not sure what gives me the chills, his words, or how he says them.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” I say with as much strength as I can muster, parting our bodies. “This place is pretty cool, the music’s hot. The people--” I don’t finish that sentiment as I look around at the questionable few that I’ve seen thus far.

Jake can’t stop moving; he’s not full-out dancing, but he’s moving around with an excellent sense of rhythm. It’s got me laughing and moving with him too, spinning me around and catching me just in time before I lose my footing. He leans to my ear again, “You should see the downstairs; it’s fucking huge.” He steps back, his eyes widening as he puts his hands out to show the growth in size. He then jerks his head to the balcony. “Here, let me show you.”

I join him at the balcony, feeling the buzz of top-shelf liquor in my loins. I’m not exactly thinking straight. People start cheering again, and I quickly have a knee-jerk reaction as if I’ve made a terrible mistake, but I don’t know why. Jake leans over the balcony, pouring out from the bottle onto expectant fans below. It’s probably not getting in anyone’s mouth; they’re all just collecting at the wall, clamoring to get a drop poured onto them. I try not to make it obvious as I back up into the safety of the darkness, out of the view of the general public below.

This celebrity shit is exhausting.

I just wanna get drunk and shake my ass.

I don’t even wanna do this part. Can’t I just make music?

“Hey beautiful, I don’t think I got your name?”

Once Ray Park approaches me, I know I’ve about had enough of this scene. I force a tight-lipped smile and nod at him. “Y/N.”

He mispronounces it for confirmation.

“No, Y/N” I say a little more clearly.

“Your name sounds familiar, what, you a singer or something?” Ray inquires.

“Yeah, kinda.” I say before I hurriedly add, “I gotta go to the bathroom. Nice meeting you, though!” And I beeline for the door that we came into earlier. Once I’m in the empty hallway, I feel like I can breathe, not even realizing I was holding my breath. I can feel the alcohol settling in more, and it’s getting a bit tough for me to fake sober. I can feel the inhibitions disappearing.

I should smoke. Yeah, I should smoke so I can think out my next moves. I step out the door and nod to the bouncer who steps aside, and I take out my pre-roll, cupping my hand to spark the flame that engulfs the thin paper twisted end of the joint before disappearing with a couple of light puffs from my lips.

I have to leave for LA in two days. Eli, and the rest of the band members are going to meet me out there, at the rental house. It’ll be nice to see Eli again, and get out to perform again, which is what we love doing the most. We’ll have a couple of meetings too, with the label. That’s the part that’s gnawin’ at me. Music reviews, suits with no rhythm telling me what to change, make it more palatable to everyone but me. I take another drag and my phone pulls me from my runaway thought train. I can feel my heart skip a beat, like I’m a child with a crush.

Stumbling slightly, I retrieve my phone from my clutch.

Damn, did I drink that much?

I blink away the drunken haze, opening my notifications and clicking on the message.

babydaddy: Oh, I don’t know about that, baby. Hyunjin's really good, but thanks lol.

babydaddy: yeah……you got me, I’m definitely thinking about you hehe.

babydaddy: I think about you when it rains.

babydaddy: It’s late over there, you’re still up???

I lock my screen, dropping my phone to my side as I take another puff. No immediate response; the right words elude me.

When a familair call breaks the silence. I roll my eyes and answer.

“If I lose you one more time tonight, I swear to God—”

“What? You swear to God what?” I kiss my teeth. “I told you, being the guest of the night, I can’t hang.” Glancing around, I lower my voice, “Shorty on the couch was doing coke off her acrylics. And Ray Park was there? I’m calling an Uber.”

“You for real right now?” Jake's voice struggles against the thumping music.

“I’m out, Jake. You know where to find me. Call me sober, and not a second sooner.”

I end the call, shaking my head with disappointment. Swiping to my Uber app, I call for a ride back to Jersey, the driver just four minutes away. Moving down the alley, I hold my coat tight, shielding myself from the icy wind that pricks my bare thighs.

My stomach grumbles, a mix of emptiness and a craving for something satisfyingly awful. The tap of my heels leads me to a corner where a man grills hot dogs and sausages. Only one person ahead of me, the tantalizing smells engulf me.

“One with everything, please.”

“Spicy or not?”

“Not spicy, please.” “You were at the club tonight?” he asks, looking up only for a second before returning to his task, arranging my hotdog. “It’s early to be going home, no?”

I chuckle, “It’s eleven at night! That’s late.”

“Ah well, not here. Usually, I have line way down the street at three...yes at three everybody is ready for sleep all day.” He gestures behind me.

“Your food must be good then.” I say, impressed with his narrative as he hands me my meal, wrapped neatly in foil. I give him cash, tell him to keep the change, and with the buzz of my Uber arriving, I bid the hot dog chef goodbye. Walking a few paces to a black Escalade, I disappear into the backseat.

Relaxing only when the door is closed, seatbelt secured, I sit back with a sigh.

“Y/N?” The driver confirms.

“Yes.”

The Escalade cruises through the city, leaving the club and its wild allure in my rearview. The smell of street food wafts through the air, and I feel the warmth of the hotdog in my lap. My FaceTime rings, and I glance at my updated contact photo of Chris—black and white, his bare back on full display as he sits on the opposite end of the bed on his phone, completely unaware of how beautiful parts of him can look candidly.

Something simple, but it was sexy to me. His goofy emojis make my dopamine surge, and I answer without hesitation. "Oop."

Changbin's face appears, eyes wide, hand covering his mouth. Another head pops into view and disappears too quickly to identify, accompanied by muffled exclamations of "Oop" and "Ope." Changbin, the apparent culprit, glances off-screen guiltily.

He begins in Korean, and my rusty language skills catch words like 'phone,' 'really,' and 'answered.' I respond in both English and Korean, demanding answers. "Yeah, I answered! Why do you have Chan’s phone? What did you do?" The chorus of surprised sounds echoes through the call.

"Your Korean is so good!" Changbin exclaims in English. The phone is snatched away, and I hear Chris' muffled voice through his hand covering the speaker. I can't comprehend the words, but Chris quickly switches back to English, apologizing for the chaotic background. "Oh my God, baby, I'm so sorry about that. They start drinking and turn into monkeys, all of them," Chris explains, his voice slightly higher and choppy with movement. The camera blurs as he paces, and suddenly, a door closes, casting the room into darkness. He flicks on a switch, revealing a studio in the JYPE building.

"It's early to be drinking over there, right?" I question.

"That's what I said!" Chris exclaims, finally settling on a black couch. He tilts the phone toward himself, leaning back. "What're you all done up for? You in a car right now?"

"Just went out with a friend, tried a club in New York. Wasn't my thing," I casually reply, avoiding details.

"Ah," he nods, bringing the phone closer. "What club was it?" Jesus fuck why is he asking me all these questions?!

Chris excels at conversation, delving into details with his myriad of questions. It's never intrusive, just genuine interest. "Club Mixer," I respond, watching his reaction through the screen.

"Hmm, sounds kinda familiar. Was it cool? Bump into anyone interesting?"

"Nah, no one mega-famous or anything." I glance out the window, shrugging. "Getting too old for this kinda thing."

"Same here."

I snort. "Come on, you're practically a baby. Your age talk kills me."

"'Cause I am old! I'm twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight. In Korea, I'm already twenty-eight!"

"I thought they ditched that system."

"They did, but I'm still pushing thirty." He's insistent. "I mean, in the real world, that's young. But in K-Pop, I'm..." He chuckles, envisioning younger idols. "I'm climbing up there." His gaze returns to me.

He's got makeup on, just enough to alter the look of his eyes. Dressed in a deep-cut sleeveless shirt, hair tufted above a designer sweatband, two small silver hoops in his ears.

"I'm a cougar then."

"I mean, cougars are hot."

I laugh, and a chuckle from the driver makes me more aware of my surroundings. Peering out, we pass willow trees lining the street near the grocery store minutes from my home.

"Almost home, beautiful babygirl?" He sings, unusually animated.

“Cap, cap.” I wave my hand.

“What?” he asks with a laugh.

“That’s cap, you’re overdoing it. Did you have something to drink too?” I lift a suspicious brow.

“Are you speaking Gen Z at me?” Chris’ laughter increases. “No I didn’t have anything to drink, someone’s gotta keep things under control around here. You do look gorgeous though, I mean that. Wish I was there with you.”

He holds back a smile, licking his lips. "Not a guarantee, but I might be in LA while you're there. How long are you staying?"

"A week. Leaving this Sunday."

A series of knocks startle Chris, and he yells back. Once he identifies the visitor, he turns to me, "Oh, it's Felix. He was out earlier. Wanna say hi?"

"Oh, sure!" I reply. Talking to Chris's members like this isn't my usual thing. Felix is the one I've chatted with the most, thanks to our shared mother tongues, but the others, well, we've had our interactions, even if they involved a lot of Papago (I'm looking at you, Minho). They were a bit awkward, understandably, knowing this wasn't the norm. Still, they supported their friend, their leader, their brother, and just kept to their business, willingly oblivious unless I was around. But I rarely went to Seoul, it's easier to fly under the radar here in America when we’re together.

"Felix? You can come in," Chris calls. The driver slows to a stop at my driveway, and I rush out to get into my home. Giving the driver five stars and a tip, I open my front door. "Hello!" Felix's voice comes through. He waves with a smile as he sits down next to Chris, running his hands through his blonde hair. "How have you been?"

"Good, good, just working on album three. Lots of extra steps now, now that the label’s involved and stuff." I say, matching his enthusiasm.

"Yeah? Chan showed me a little bit of uh—what was it called again?" Felix turns to Chris, nodding to a rhythm he's established from memory. "Gatekeeping the best parts of you from me." He sings, two octaves deeper than the actual song, but I laugh as Chris snaps his fingers, recognizing the tune.

"Constellations!" Chris exclaims.

"Yeah, that's it! Oh, it's so catchy. I'm excited to hear the new album," Felix says. "I still see your songs on TikTok all the time when I'm scrolling. I send them to Chan when I see a really good one."

Chan looks up thoughtfully as Felix talks. "You do send me some really good ones."

"Yeah, but the last few you didn't respond to."

"I didn't? Maybe I forgot. You send so much sometimes. I don't have enough time to go through it all."

Watching them banter keeps me entertained as I take my heels off and sit down on my bed. "You can always just send them to me, Felix. I'm chronically online too," I joke.

"That's not a bad idea. Y/N likes to game too."

"Yeah? What do you play?"

"Oh, he knows I barely have time these days, but I get lost in Stardew Valley, Pokemon, Apex—"

"You play Apex?"

"Occasionally, like I said, when I get a chance." I laugh.

"Who do you main?"

Chris interrupts, "Alright, alright. I'll give you her number, and you two can continue this conversation later. Felix, did you need me out there?"

Felix stands up, "I just brought home food. We're about to eat, if the others didn't already get to it all by now."

Chris lets out a pained groan and sigh. "What is it?"

"BaeBae's Kitchen." Felix rocks back and forth on his knee on the edge of the couch as he awaits Chris's decision.

"I'm not really hungry, but put some away for me?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem." Felix leans down to wave to me once more. "It was nice seeing you again! Enjoy your night!"

"You too, Felix!"

He leaves the studio, and Chris sits back, watching me for a bit on the camera. "Looks like you're back home."

"Mhm, finally." I rest my phone against my bedside lamp as I stand up and work on unzipping my dress. "Did you eat today yet?" I ask, my back turned as I peel out of my dress. I know Chris's appetite is as poor as mine. Sometimes, we just get so busy and stressed that we forget to eat altogether. Friends have had to physically pull me from my computer when I'm hyper-focused, so I'd go to the bathroom and eat something. Chris is no stranger to this method of work. He works similarly.

"No, not yet," Chris replies hesitantly.

"Then you should go eat with the others." I bring my arms to my bra, unclasping it. "You're not gonna eat the leftovers, be for real."

"You're giving me a strip tease and telling me to go eat. Is this a test? 'Cause I'm failing it. Bad."

I look over my shoulder, holding my bra to my chest now that it's undone, and I come over and pick the phone up, safely showing myself from the shoulders up.

"Go eat," I say, firmly. “Now.”

"Fine, Fine." He stands up, stretching his arm over his head with a sigh before he perks up again. "Alright, babygirl, I love you."

"I love you too."

the next day... I'm barely aware of my phone buzzing. Ignoring it, I turn my head, burying it under another pillow. A heavy, gross feeling engulfs me. How long have I been asleep?

The relentless buzzing continues, jolting me awake. My sleep mode has shut off, and notifications flood through at an alarming rate.

Now, my brain is too active for peaceful sleep. I sit up, blinking, rubbing the crust from my eyes, squinting in the darkness. Have I slept into the next evening? Holy shit.

I touch my bedside lamp, dimming it to let my vision adjust. Pulling back the thick comforter and sheets, I expose my bare legs to the cool air. Why did I leave the thermostat so low? I shuffle to the door, pressing the red button to raise the temperature. With a yawn, I pick up my phone to see what's happening.

Great. Did another song go viral? Instagram and TikTok have hit my icon notification limits. I have eighteen missed calls and 88 text messages.

Well, at least the messages aren't hugely overwhelming.

I open Twitter first, a bad habit. As soon as I'm in, I see myself massively tagged, far more than usual. Pulling up the tweets attached to my name, I feel like I could pass out.

"Omg, look, she's in the VIP too."

"So here's the tea: her name is Y/N, and she's the singer in a shitty garage band called Living to Die."

"Bffr Living To Die is not a garage band, Don't Go is a bop."

"She's fucking problematic as fuck?! She tried to break up Stray Kids! Now she's trying to ruin Jake Wong too?!"

"They do anything for clout lmfao, ugly fat bitch."

"How did she break up Stray Kids?"

"Stray Kids isn't broken up. That's a lie made up by cupcake stays who don't like Chan. Lee Know had to go to the military."

"It happened with BTS, and look at them now."

"Jungkook is hella successful, fym???"

"She's the reason why Lee Know went to his military service early."

"Ur making shit up atp Lee Know went in with everyone else."

"Look!!!! I knew I recognized her. Here she is outside JYPE building last yr, Channie got so much hate for it!!!! She doesn't even care, or she wouldn't keep following all these idols around!! She just wants fame for her band."

"Desperate hoe lmfao."

"#keepY/Nawayfromidols."

"If she is the reason why Chan isn't posting on Instagram anymore, I'm gonna fight her ong, he's going through enough :("

"She should kill herself before she fucks up Jake Wong too."

"She used to be a stay; she's just delulu. She's stalking Chan atp lol he doesnt want her or he would tell stays." “Channie tells us everything~~”

"shes fuckin a known sasaeng." “Channie deserves to be happy if he’s in a relationship let him be! He’s an adult???? Be SO fr yall” “whats a sasaeng?”

"Make it make sense u stupid bitch Chan was literally with her at the building; why would he be there if she's a fucking sasaeng?" “A sasaeng is a crazy idol stalker” “She fits the bill ngl lmao”

"Chan deserves better. I don't like Jake Wong, but he deserves better too." “GUYS STOP SPREADING RUMORS!!!! Chan doesnt have a girlfriend!!!! Stop being TOXIC STAYS! Ur giving us all bad names, vote stray kids for VMAs 2027!!”

"I think they were at the Billboard Music Awards together when Stray Kids performed two years ago. They could have met there."

"What an ugly disgusting bitch. I hope she dies lol." -

My hands are shaking so bad; I drop my phone to the floor. I can’t read anymore. I don’t even know how I’ve read this far. My skin is clammy, and I feel prickling all over. I rush to the bathroom and heave over the toilet. First, it's a little from last night's hot dog, then I'm dry heaving yellow bile from anxiety. My body breaks out in a vicious sweat. When I'm done, I drop my head back against the wall.

And I cry.

32 notes · View notes

wyattjohnston · 2 years

Text

no sound worse than silence - roope hintz

summary: writing songs has always been how eloise deals with her thoughts, she just never anticipated having so many about so many people with so little warning.

word count: 18,290

note: it takes a village. ky, @laurenairay, @officialgritty & @matthewtkachuk have all pitched in with this over the literal years it’s taken to post. it wasn’t even a roope fic at first and i got 13k in and then the player it was originally about was outed as an absolute scumbag, so here we are.

warnings: pregnancy (not the main character), i obviously did not write any of the songs mentioned or referenced in this fic

playlist

The night had ended prematurely, just after midnight, when the group were unceremoniously booted from the club half an hour after they’d gotten in. Eloise very nearly stayed behind, only to realise that she would be the last one standing if she didn’t also follow Levi and his glass jaw out the door.

A late-night Chinese restaurant was where they ended up; Eloise sitting at the end of the table with her arms crossed as both a sign that she was angry that her night had been ruined and also to fight off a chill. Her mini dress was meant for a nightclub and not much else.

If her group wasn’t loud enough, as their food was being delivered to their table a new group walked through the doors. The guys of the group were… attractive, to say the least. The women they were with were also intimidatingly good looking. The girls of Eloise’s group sat up a little straighter, adjusted their dresses and tried to make eye contact. Eloise wasn’t immune to the behaviour, either.

Levi, through a swollen and food filled mouth, exclaimed that the group who just walked in were hockey players—Dallas Stars, more specifically. None of them would have known that or cared about it if it weren’t for Levi who had grown up in the Northeast before his family moved to Dallas in high school, bringing his love of hockey with him. It had quickly become a fascination of the group.

It was easier to place them when Eloise knew who they were, and she connected their faces to their names, even if she was more used to seeing them in helmets.

“Oh, I’ve heard about her,” Molly said, “The tiny brunette with the huge blond dude, Lindell? I think her name’s Veera. She’s a bitch apparently.”

“You’d have to be a little bit of a bitch to live that life, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. I heard she’s run off like three of Hintz’s girlfriends so…”

Eloise looked back over to their table, her eyes lingering on the tattoos on Hintz’s arms. When she finally stopped trying to work out what the tattoos were of, she realised that he was looking at her, too. Eloise smiled.

The bright white lighting in the restaurant wasn’t going to do her, or anyone, any favours aesthetically; she still made sure to sit up straight with her chin raised as she finally joined the conversation her friends were having.

On more than one occasion Eloise looked up over at the hockey players to see that Hintz was already looking at her—she smiled to herself every time, even if she averted her eyes.

Molly leaned into Eloise’s ear, just to say, “Maybe you can be the fourth girlfriend to get run off.

Eloise bit into her cheek, fighting the smile and laugh that threatened to burst out of her. Across the restaurant, Hintz smiled at her, albeit in confusion.

Once their food was finished, Eloise and the group all stood to leave. Someone mentioned getting Levi to a hospital because both his jaw and his fist were looking worse for wear. Eloise had no interest in being the one to get him there, so she grabbed Molly by the hand and left ahead of everyone else—she spared a glance back over her shoulder to make eye contact with Hintz and give him a cheeky little wave, just her fingers moving. The woman beside him—Veera—pushed him so hard and so unexpectedly that it was enough to send him off his chair. Eloise walked just a bit slower in case he followed her out. He sat back in his chair, though, and Eloise and Molly waited, shivering and impatient, for an Uber to arrive outside.

“I’m going to ignore you for a few minutes,” Eloise said as they finally drove off, pulling her phone out of her bag.

“Did he inspire a song? God, you’re so fucking trashy.”

“Me being trashy is the reason we can afford the house we live in, so I’d shut up if I were you.”

~i only saw you once, in a chinese restaurant~

“God, they’re all over each other,” Molly scoffed, pointing across the club to Hintz and Lindell’s girlfriend. Eloise looked over to them, noting nothing that would really constitute as being ‘all over each other’. Maybe she had looked a second too late. It didn’t make much sense to her that Hintz would be so close with his friend’s girlfriend, but she’d seen weirder and worse. It wouldn’t surprise her given the rumours always flying around regarding professional athletes.

“I think you should go give it a go,” Molly said with a subtle push of Eloise’s shoulder.

“I’m here to have fun with you. I’m not interested in anything else.”

“You literally wrote a love song for him.”

“It’s a song!” Eloise protested. “They’re not all autobiographical. You know that.”

“Fine,” Molly relented. “If you’re not going to try anything, then I’m going to see if Miro’s interested.”

“You do that,” Eloise sighed. She wasn’t going to stop Molly, but she had meant it when her intention for the evening had been to have fun with her best friend. She supposed she could find someone to dance with even if she wasn’t going to go home with anyone.

Eloise fixed her dress—the wet look mini was a favourite for how good it made her look, definitely not for it being the most comfortable—and wormed her way into the middle of the dancefloor, letting the heat of the other bodies consume her. It was liberating to be in the middle of a crowd, moving to the music. It was one of Eloise’s favourite feelings to just close her eyes and let the crowd sweep her up.

A hand touched her waist before the first song was finished; Eloise didn’t even have time to look back over her shoulder before an accented voice in her ear was saying, “Your friends is wasting her time with Miro.”

Eloise couldn’t help but laugh, pressing back into the body and looking over her shoulder to see Hintz. She said, “You underestimate her.”

He didn’t say anything else, just placed his other hand on her waist too and held her close to him, the pressure of his fingers and the warmth of him against her back enough to have her eyes drift shut and let the music and his body consume her.It pained her, when he pulled away at the end of the next song, even though he took her by the hand to lead her back through the bodies and toward the bar—she remembered that she was only in this for the dancing, maybe some making out, but it wouldn’t leave the bar.

She let him buy her a drink, a vodka-soda, and find them somewhere they could sit nice and close so they could talk.

“I remember you from the Chinese place,” he said, despite that having been clear enough to Eloise by the fact that he also remembered that she had been with Molly.

“We’d just been kicked out of Reno’s because one of my friends likes to start fights.”

“You just don’t strike me as the type of girl to sit in a dive bar listening to metal bands.”

The eye roll was instant, and she leant back ever so slightly, to say to him, nearly snarling, “You have no idea what type of girl I am.”

He seemed to notice her movement because he took a drink and didn’t try to press his luck by moving in even closer. Eloise watched him carefully, her own drink raised to her mouth, the tiny, confused lines in between his eyebrows.

“Maybe I’d like to get to know what type of girl you are,” he said, his voice cutting through her so efficiently that her brain momentarily short-circuited.

“I know your type, okay?” she said after clearing her head with a deep sigh. “You know all the right things to say to get my clothes off and, at some point, I’m just going to end up crying myself to sleep.”

The confusion between his eyebrows disappeared, his face contorting into a smirk, “You have no idea what type of guy I am.”

Eloise wanted to punch him.

She scoffed, “Don’t throw that back at me—you’re a hockey player and all hockey players are the same.”

“You have a lot of experience with hockey players?”

She bristled. She didn’t, honestly; not beyond what she’d read about them on the internet or heard from Levi. None of it was favourable.

“I don’t think I need to.”

His shrug was easy. He said, “I think you should get to know me, not just assume things.”

“Seeing as you aren’t getting the hint: I’m not interested. Dating—sex—aren’t anything I want to be involved with, okay? And if you don’t think that’s okay, I will go find my friend who has a habit of getting into fights.”

“It’s okay,” he said, despite his arrogance. “Any chance I can get your name?”

She thought about it, for just long enough to make him uncomfortable, before she nodded and said, “My name is Eloise.”

“Well, Eloise. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

~standing there heavenly, always leaving us sad~

Everyone was gone. All the friends Eloise had arrived with were nowhere to be seen and she had looked everywhere. Her phone was dead—she had no way of calling an Uber and wouldn’t be able to pay a taxi because she was far too reliant on Apple Pay to get her through life. She sighed and tried to look for anybody she could convince to give her some cash.

The bar was full of people, some of whom she was acquainted with and others she had never seen before—not a single one of them she would be willing to borrow money from.

“You look different.”

Eloise was so accustomed to people coming up behind her in bars and speaking into ear that she didn’t even jump at the sudden voice in her ear.

“Do I?”

“You’re wearing pants.”

When she turned to face who she already knew was Roope Hintz, he smiled innocently. He had definitely been checking out her ass.

“I’m in a dive bar, I’m not going to wear a mini dress.”

Hintz hummed, right in her ear before saying, “I came over because you look like you could use some help.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “actually. I really could.”

Silence fell over them until he nudged her to get her to expand on her problems.

“My friends all left, my phone is dead so I can’t get an Uber and I have no cash on me because I’m an idiot who relies solely on Apple Pay.”

“I’ll get you a taxi. Where do you live?”

Eloise looked up at him, her brow furrowed, saying, “Cedars.”

“You want to go now?”

“Yeah,” Eloise said unhappily, “my night’s done.”

Eloise waited patiently near the door as he went back to see his group of friends to tell them that he was heading off—she didn’t entirely understand the practice. She and her friends never did, which is probably why Roope Hintz was having to get her home, so maybe it wasn’t a bad idea.

The goodbyes were expected to be quick and easy, he had promised as much, but it became clear only seconds after he approached his friends that that wasn’t going to be the case. It was, unsurprisingly to Eloise, Veera who was going to be the cause of delay. Veera was getting closer and closer to him, perhaps because it was getting louder as the band started up again, or maybe it was because she was yelling directly in his face. Whatever the reason, it made Eloise uncomfortable and that only got worse when Veera turned her head to glare across the room at Eloise. He put his hands on her upper arms, lowering his head, and soon enough Esa was joining their close conversation. Veera took a step back, shaking his hands off her and turning her back on him.

He deflated visibly, Eloise could tell even from across the bar, but raised his hand in a weak wave to the remainder of his group before he returned to Eloise’s side. With a light hand on her lower back, he started walking them out of the bar without a word.

“What was that about?” she asked tentatively when they were on the sidewalk, as he stepped between some parked cars to try and get the attention of a taxi.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? She just always talks to you like that?”

He huffed, saying nothing to her as a taxi pulled up in front of them. Eloise watched him carefully as she passed him and the door, he was holding open. He refused to make eye contact, so she slid across the backseat and greeted the driver.

“Explain, please,” she said, poking at his thigh. “That was fucking weird, dude.”

He said, tightly and begrudgingly, whilst still staring directly ahead, “It’s her birthday and she was mad at me for leaving.”

“Her birthday? Dude, you should have just stayed! I would have sorted myself out!”

“We’ve spent the entire day hanging out, she’ll get over it.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you played a game tonight. I saw you rock up about half an hour ago.”

He clenched his fists and rested them on his thighs. Eloise watched him closely, the tightness in his jaw. His mouth remained shut for nearly a minute, Eloise never turned away.

When he finally spoke, he also turned to look at her, “I want to hang out with you, is that okay?”

Eloise bit back a comment about how he didn’t even know her—that the whole idea of him helping her get home was weird and probably unsafe—and if he hadn’t sounded so sincere, she probably would have. He did, though, sound like he was just speaking the truth, and Eloise covered one of his clenched fists with her own hand.

In the silence, she could hear the faint sounds of a familiar drumbeat.

“Can you please turn up the song?” Eloise asked the driver, leaning forward ever so slightly. He did so with a quick nod.

He turned to her, his head tilted slightly, “You like this song?”

“Yeah,” she said with a pleased sigh, tension from their conversation leaving her. “It makes me feel… It just makes me feel.”

Underneath her hand, his fist relaxed, and he entangled their fingers together. Eloise’s eyes fluttered shut and a smile grew on her face as she enjoyed the feeling of his hand in hers and the music on the radio flowing through her mind. It was brief, though, because before the song had even finished, they were stopping outside of her apartment building.

With her hand still in his, and very unwilling to pull it away, Eloise looked at him and asked quietly, “Do you want to come in?”

He flexed his fingers against hers, looked at where they were resting on his thigh as he said, “I thought I was the type of guy you should avoid.”

“You’ve been thinking about that for a week, haven’t you?”

“Do you want me to come in?” he asked instead of answering her question.

“Come inside, Roope.”

The next morning, he left her lying in bed with a kiss so tender that Eloise melted into the mattress and reached up to hold him by the collar of his shirt and promised that he would call.

He did call, before she had even been able to really think about what had happened the night before, to tell her that Molly—“your friend with the blonde curly hair”—was on her way in.

~this ain’t the last time that i’ll see your face~

Eloise was going into her first date with Roope completely blind. Despite daily phone calls and near constant texting, all she knew was that she needed to dress to be outside but not for strenuous exercise.

She waited outside on the street, rugged up enough to keep a bitter breeze away, and looked down the street for his car even though she had no idea what he drove. It was going to be something ridiculous, she knew that much, because he was a young man with too much money and yet, when the Porsche Cayenne appeared in front of her and Roope rolled down the passenger’s window, she was still surprised. She didn’t know if she was more shocked because it was lavish or because it wasn’t as lavish as it could have been.

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping,” he chirped, his smile large and sincere. The words sounded unusual coming from him due to his accent, it only delighted her more.

With a suppressed laugh—the ugly snorting one she hated—she climbed inside. It was an unconscious decision to lean across the centre console, but Roope must have read her mind because he met her halfway, kissing her more intently than one might consider normal for nine thirty in the morning.

“You just want to kiss me because you’ve seen my car,” he smirked, still leaning into her.

“This is going to bruise your ego, and I’m only a little sorry, but this isn’t the most expensive car I’ve ever been in.”

“You’re joking, right?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

Eloise shook her head, “Have you ever been in a McLaren?”

“No, I haven’t. When were you in one?”

“Okay.” Eloise inhaled deeply and said, “This is going to sound made up, and I know that, but you’ll just have to trust me—I write songs for a living and those songs sometimes get really popular and sometimes I write songs for really famous singers and sometimes those singers own McLarens.”

There was one beat of silence, followed by another. She watched Roope carefully for the inevitable moment where he decided she was bullshitting him—it happened with everyone she told, after all. It never did come, instead he smiled, shocked but not disbelieving.

“That’s—fuck, Eloise.”

“This is a very nice car,” Eloise said sweetly, kissing him once more before relaxing back in her seat. “I would much rather sit in this than a McLaren.”

She looked sideways just enough to see the smug grin on Roope’s face as he took the car out of park and started to drive.

“What’s the most expensive car you’ve driven?” he asked.

“You win that contest hands-down because it’s probably the Toyota I learnt to drive in.”

Eloise couldn’t work out where they were going, despite having grown up in Dallas her entire life—she did not miss all the signs for Dallas-Lovefield, though, and was growing increasingly curious and a little concerned that she was being swept away for a surprise vacation.

They didn’t make the turn off to the airport and Eloise was equal parts disappointed and relieved.

“Are we here to watch planes land?” she asked as they pulled into a small parking lot right by the airport.

“It's really lame, isn’t it?” Roope said sullenly, his hands still on the steering wheel.

Eloise moved her hand to his thigh, squeezing once, and saying, “It’s great, Roope. We can sit here and talk. It’s perfect.”

“Yeah,” Roope said, breathlessly. Nervously. “I have a thermos and some muffins I bought before I picked you up.”

As they collected Roope’s picnic items from the trunk of the car, he explained to her Dallas-Lovefield was the airport the team plane flew out of for road-trips and Eloise couldn’t stop the image of her waiting for him after he’d returned from a road trip that flashed across her mind.

While they ate, Roope started to search to see what planes were landing in front of them while Eloise pulled out her phone to add a few photos and videos to her Instagram story. Molly liked the story almost instantly and sent a star emoji with a question mark, so Eloise knew she was asking if she was with Roope. It reminded her of a conversation they’d had earlier that week, something she wanted to speak to Roope about in person.

“Molly says she saw something online about us leaving the bar together,” she said cautiously.

To her surprise and relief, Roope laughed. He was still laughing when he said, “Nobody cares enough about me to post that shit.”

“Clearly they do because the post definitely said that Ace left the bar with a small redhead with a septum piercing.”

He laughed again, due to her use of ‘Ace’. Eloise had come across it during the week and he had laughed the first time she’d used it around him, meaning she had been using it liberally since.

Roope moved some of the food items between them and shuffled closer so that he could wrap his arm around her shoulder.

“Sounds like they care more about you than me.”

“They care about what your type is because if they can get a clear picture of who you’re willing to take home then they can work out if you’ll take them home.”

“They think my type is redheads?” Roope asked, confused.

“They’re very confused because they thought your type was girls with tattoos.”

Roope’s confusion grew even more, his arm tightening around her shoulders. “I don’t date girls just because they have tattoos.”

“Obviously,” Eloise said, with a gentle smile. “These girls pull together whatever info they can get their hands on to see if they have a shot.”

“They don’t have a shot.”

Eloise turned to kiss Roope’s jaw and then settled her head on his shoulder as she shuffled even closer to him. She said softly, “Breaking hearts all across the world, there, Ace.”

“I’m only worried about yours.”

Eloise felt overwhelmed, immediately. Her heart felt too full for her chest and her lungs felt like they were failing to let in any air. She froze, trying to regain even just some of her composure. When she was able to move again, she reached for his hand, settling it in her lap.

She sighed, “That was all kinds of soft, oh my god.”

“Is that bad?” Roope was laughing just a little as he asked.

“It was pretty fucking smooth,” Eloise said, snuggling closer and being silenced by a plane landing. She eventually continued, “We’ve only really known each other a week.”

“It’s been a good week.”

“Yeah, it has.”

After countless more planes and one interruption from an excited and surprised teen boy, it was time to move on from the date. At Roope’s car, he asked her to hold out her hand, palm up. She did so, watching expectantly as he reached into his pocket for something. She couldn’t see what he was holding in his fist, until he’d placed it in her hand.

She put her finger through the keyring and spun them around as she asked, “What’s this?”

“This is about to be the most expensive thing you’ve ever driven,” Roope answered easily, patting the back of the car and grinning maniacally.

“Why would you let me drive your car?” She stressed, “I’m twenty-one years old and you hardly know me; you shouldn’t be letting me drive.”

“You have a license, though, and you care so that means you’re probably not going to do anything stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” she said, letting it roll off her tongue as the thought entered her mind.

Even still, she wrapped her hand around the keys, smiled nervously at Roope and then raced around to the driver's seat and proceeded to mess with every single setting she could find. Roope stood beside her; the door open as he pointed to all the things that might help her out.

She beamed up at him when she was satisfied that everything was fixed to her liking and he leant down to kiss her swiftly, casually. Eloise was still thinking about it when he was sitting in the passenger’s seat with his seatbelt on looking at her excitedly.

He tried to start multiple conversations unsuccessfully once they were on the road, Eloise tried to answer, she honestly did, but all her attention was very firmly on the asphalt in front of her.

“Are you always this quiet when you drive?” he asked when she’d given him yet another one-word answer to what should have been very open-ended questions.

“No, only when I drive cars that are worth a quarter of a million dollars.”

It had become clearer the longer she sat in the driver’s seat that no money had been wasted on the accessories of the vehicle, and what she knew about cars meant that he hadn’t scrimped on a single option.

“You should sing for me.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “I’m concentrating.”

She didn’t startle when Roope touched her hand on the wheel because she had seen it coming from the corner of her eye. She let him take her hand, drawing it to his lap and just holding it in place. Her other hand moved to the top of the steering wheel and her knuckles went white.

“I can’t wait to know everything about you.”

Eloise felt flushed but she bit into her cheek, seconds away from chirping him again for being soft or for pulling out all his best lines on their first official date. She kept quiet.

~there’s an ocean here, but you are all i see~

Some might say that it was much too soon for Eloise to be meeting Roope’s friends after less than a month of communication. That communication had, as a result of the Stars’ game schedule, been mostly via phone calls and facetime but whenever Roope was in town, they had been spending all his available time together. It hadn’t even surprised her when Roope asked if she wanted to go with him to Esa’s.

Veera was there, curled up on the couch out on the balcony and Eloise knew from the moment she saw her that it was going to take a lot of effort to get on her good side. Taking Roope away from Veera’s birthday celebrations was still playing heavily on her mind no matter how often Roope assured her that Veera didn’t mind. Judging by the way Veera was tracking Eloise’s movement from the house, Roope had been lying through his teeth.

The small talk was pleasant—Esa, Miro and Joel all inviting her into conversations even where Veera wasn’t, so Eloise quickly gave up trying. Roope was beside her the entire time on one of the other couches, his arm around shoulder so naturally that it felt like they had been together for much longer than they really had. It hadn’t escaped her that they were having their conversations in English for her benefit.

“The bunny blogs are getting unreal,” Veera commented, her phone in hand as she leant towards Esa to show him whatever was on her screen.

Roope laughed, simultaneously amused and disbelieving, “Stop reading them.”

“It’s like a car crash—I want to stop but I can’t not read it all,” Veera stressed, coming across as slightly manic. “None of it’s real. Except maybe it is? Maybe I’d believe that Mat Barzal was cheating on his girlfriend every time the Islanders on the West Coast if the next stupid rumour wasn’t that Miro took two girls back to his hotel room in LA.”

“There are more far-fetched things than athletes in their physical prime having threesomes,” Eloise said, mostly without thinking, barely even remembering that Miro was sitting right across from her. She had always subscribed to the idea that most professional athletes should just do away with relationships because of all the rumours she had seen.

Veera levelled Eloise with a glare so disapproving that it rattled her to her core. Roope’s hand squeezed her arm, noticing the increasing tension in her body.

“I think I’d know more about these boys than you would,” Veera said tersely, barely opening her mouth. “It’s the same thing that has been happening for years.”

“I’m just saying,” Eloise said, leaning forward in her seat, “that it’s a novelty for most people to know what happens in the world of the rich and famous. Some people read books or watch movies to escape into fantasy, I suppose others get that from imagining what goes on in the real world.”

“Do you? Is that why you’re defending them?” Veera asked, one eyebrow raised, daring Eloise to implicate herself.

“I’m not defending them; I’m just offering a reason. You’re the one who reads them.”

“I didn’t know that sort of shit existed until my name started popping up in them.”

Eloise shrugged, a tight smile on her face. It was a conversation that could go on forever, circling endlessly until one of them keeled over from exhaustion but Eloise knew better than to be the new girlfriend entering a group and immediately causing shit.

She didn’t quite understand why it mattered if Veera’s name was popping up in any rumours—if she knew for a fact they were rumours then nothing should be bothering her—but it wasn’t her fight to have. If it were her fight to have, she would have something to say about how nobody would care about what she did as the girlfriend of a not-so-popular player on a not-so-popular team if she didn’t give them a reason to care.

Eloise tried to relax as she waited for dinner to be organised. Roope continued to check on her every now and then, with a quick shake as he looked down at her or a quick kiss to the side of her head if Veera looked in her direction. At least Eloise knew that Veera’s behaviour wasn’t in her own mind.

They were getting pizzas for dinner, and it took far too long to order anything because the boys kept trying to pretend that they weren’t breaking their nutritionist’s heart by scrutinising every pizza on the menu before eventually settling on pizzas that any college kid would order.

“What do you do for work, Eloise?” Esa asked politely when they were finally sitting down to eat dinner.

Eloise smiled, “I’m a musician.”

“She’s really good,” Roope interjected eagerly. “Really, really good.”

Eloise’s cheeks went hot at the compliment, and, when she looked at Roope, she couldn’t help but smile at how proud he looked of her. He hadn’t even heard her sing very much.

“I’ve got a guitar gathering dust inside—”

“Don’t ask her to sing,” Veera chided.

“Maybe later?” Eloise offered, not liking that Esa looked like a scolded child for what was a very typical response to finding out that she was a musician.

Doing her very best to avoid Veera for the rest of the evening was hard for Eloise, especially because the boys were clearly very good friends with her and would bring her in to almost every conversation—even if it meant interrupting one, she was having with someone else.

Eloise smiled through it all, though, and didn’t let them see her fret when Roope wasn’t by her side. Miro was the easiest to talk to, she found, less invested in including other people in their conversations and more than happy to get to know her.

It was made clear that the night had been kept purposely small. Eloise knew Roope played hockey, obviously, but had always assumed that nobody could be best friends with every other player on their team—this group seemed to prove her wrong when they brought up stories and shenanigans of other players and about how “next time when he’s here” was a common phrase used by all of them.

Things did settle, thankfully, and Esa pulled out the guitar when the sun was fully set and, after doing her best to tune it by ear, Eloise set up on a barstool and very seriously said, “so, anyway, here’s Wonderwall.”

~putting on my music while i’m watching the boys~

As surprising as it was, Eloise could not have been more excited to head out to a karaoke bar at Roope’s suggestion. Not once had she brought up that it was something she enjoyed, though she supposed his leap from singer to karaoke wasn’t farfetched. Molly had even come along for the night; the plan was for them to sing The Time of My Life just as they always did whenever they were conned into singing anywhere. Maybe Eloise would throw in a poppy rendition of Lily Allen’s Fuck You just for fun.

Eloise recognised some of the faces at the bar, the same crowd always showing up even on non-karaoke nights, who in turn recognised who she was with. None of the boys seemed bothered by the staring, able to continue on with their night despite it all. She, on the other hand, found her attention being drawn to whoever was looking their way. It was earning the ire of Veera, clearly, who had hardly stopped rolling her eyes.

A reprieve came when Eloise and Molly—who was revelling in the staring if Eloise was being truthful—made their way up to the stage. Eloise kissed Roope for luck, even though she didn’t need it, and couldn’t help but smile as he tapped her on the ass. The song itself was flawless due to it being well practiced. Eloise had a natural stage presence that many had told her was being wasted because all she did was write the music and lyrics.

The entire time she could see Roope watching across the bar, a proud smile on his lips.

Miro and Joel left the bar all together as the clock struck midnight, but Roope and Esa headed to the bar for the next round of drinks—Molly was somewhere in the building, trying her hardest to get somebody to leave with her Eloise was sure.

“God, why don’t you like me?” Eloise asked as soon as she noticed that she and Veera were the only people left at the table. She leant across it in an attempt to intimidate Veera.

Veera rolled her eyes and said, “Because you’re using him to further your music career.”

Eloise had been certain that the Wonderwall joke wouldn’t go over anybody’s head when she’d played it at Esa’s, and she’d followed it up with a cover of Somebody That I Used To Know to drive it home. Maybe she should have made the joke clearer.

Instead of launching into a full explanation, she opted to say, “He can’t do anything for my music career.”

“I’m not stupid, Eloise.”

Veera definitely sounded like she believed Eloise was nothing but a coffee shop cover singer.

“Listen to me: I have multiple Billboard Number Ones under my belt. He’s not going to give me the clout you think I want from him or be able to introduce me to anyone I haven’t already met. If he could even introduce me to anyone.”

The disbelief on Veera’s face only worsened, and Eloise breathed out a disparaging laugh. She shook her head, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“I don’t trust you,” Veera said calmly, her face morphing into a smile.

“I have a fucking Wikipedia page, it’s all there for you to see.”

“Congratulations. I still don’t trust you. He’s too good for you. And I know you think he’s the type of guy who’s going to leave you the second the next hottest thing comes along which is just not true. I don’t trust you because you’re going to break his heart long before he breaks yours.”

Eloise had no words to say. Veera referencing a conversation from the first night she’d ever spoken to Roope wasn’t expected. Or welcome. Her blank expression was only interrupted when Roope and Esa arrived at the table, Roope sitting down beside her, sliding her new drink across the table as Esa did the same on the other side. Veera’s expression softened so quickly at the sight of Esa that Eloise wondered if she’d imagined the entire conversation.

They didn’t stay much longer, basically finishing their drinks and calling it a night. Esa, Veera and Roope all left together—Roope taking his sweet time to say goodbye properly, his arms wrapped around Eloise’s waist as he repeatedly kissed her until Veera grabbed him by the back of his collar and complained that she was exhausted.

“Are you sure she’s with Esa and not Roope?” Molly asked, staring at the car that was taking the other three away.

Eloise shivered as the question washed over her. She answered, as assuredly as she could, “Yes. I’m sure.”

“But it doesn’t make sense.”

“They’re friends?” Eloise offered, far less certain.

“I’d believe that if you hadn’t also told me that, when Roope got you home last month, he and Veera had a fight in the middle of the bar.”

“She just doesn’t like me, and I haven’t even done anything!” Eloise shrieked, earning a few glances from people who were also waiting for taxis. “She threw it back at me that I told Roope I thought he was the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. He tells her everything.”

Molly’s pensiveness made Eloise anxious, especially so because she remained quiet until a taxi appeared in front of them and she shrugged, saying she didn’t have an explanation that wasn’t Roope and Veera being together. Eloise didn’t doubt that Roope liked her, was the main issue. She wasn’t buying into any conspiracy theories Molly had about Roope and Veera being in a relationship—she just didn’t know what else there was.

~i think of you wherever i go~

It had been a long road trip for the Dallas Stars, up in the Northeast, and no number of Facetime calls had been enough to satiate Eloise’s need to see Roope. Even as he was driving them towards The Great Trinity Forest, Eloise couldn’t keep her eyes off him in case he disappeared while her head was turned.

She was watching him as he drove and also flicking through the most recent playlist she’d put together. She said, “You keep skipping the country songs. I like the country songs; that’s why they’re on there.”

“You couldn’t be more Texan if you tried,” he laughed, letting a Luke Combs song play.

“I could write country music, then I’d be more Texan,” she countered before launching into the song that was playing complete with an overexaggerated southern accent.

Roope laughed at her and let her sing to her heart’s content until the song was over when he shut off the radio. “You write songs—pop songs—that get played on the radio.”

“Okay,” Eloise laughed, “I can do more than write pop songs. The first time I ever talked to you I was at a dive bar watching a metal band.”

Roope hummed taking one hand off the wheel to hold one of Eloise’s when they reached a relatively straight stretch of road.

“Why don’t you write other music?” he asked.

“I’ve written some pop punk songs over the years but people like my regular pop stuff more,” she shrugged, thinking back to her high school years where she almost exclusively listened to All Time Low and The Maine. “I could write a country song.”

Roope laughed, not cruelly, “Trucks and America, right?”

“It’s not all trucks and America,” Eloise said, laughing through it.

Eloise let go of Roope’s hand to turn the music back on, skipping forward a few songs to find the next country song on the playlist—a Jordan Davis song.

There was no picnic involved in their date; it was just the two of them sitting on a bench, cuddled up and looking out to the stars in the sky.

“Write me a country song.”

“It’ll be done when you’re back from your road trip.”

~give me something fun to do~

Eloise spent two weeks writing and perfecting a country song—one without any mention of trucks or cut-off jeans. It was both easier and harder than she expected; the music was a breeze, but the lyrics stumped her for longer than she’d like to admit.

When she let Roope inside, he wrapped his arms around her instantly. It was clear that he was exhausted and devastated after another horrible road trip with a bad win-loss ratio.

“Ready to play me this song you’ve been talking about?” Roope asked, tongue in cheek as he prodded her sides.

“The song I’ve been talking about?” she laughed, untangling herself from his arms. “Not the song you’ve been talking about?”

“I’m so excited,” he said, practically jumping up and down where he was standing. “No one has ever made anything for me before.”

“Buckle up, Ace,” Eloise laughed as she held his hand, leading him slowly to the kitchen.

Beside one of her barstools was her guitar—acoustic, old, familiar. She took a seat and settled the guitar on her knee while Roope watched on, still bouncing in excitement.

Eloise tapped at the body and stared at her fingers resting at the top of the fretboard. She said sheepishly, “You have to turn around.”

“Huh?”

She sighed, “There’s a reason I write songs for other people to sing and it’s because the idea of baring my heart and soul through music is terrifying. So, you can’t watch me.”

“You’re the most confident person I’ve ever met,” Roope said, founded but not moving aside from some twitching fingers. “I watched you sing karaoke in front of a packed bar.”

“They’re never my songs. It’s different,” she told him, keeping her voice low and head tilted down.

He didn’t ask any more questions; Eloise just saw him turn around and she wasted no time in starting to sing.

“Would you walk to the edge of the ocean…?”

Singing to Roope’s back made it no less nerve wracking, Eloise found. Probably because his head kept moving ever so slightly, like he wanted to turn around and watch her but kept catching himself before he did so.

The line she was most nervous to sing had Roope almost turning to ninety degrees before he caught himself. She’d known it was going to catch his attention when she wrote it—and might have been most of the reason she’d wanted him to not be looking directly at her.

“Would you catch a couple thousand fireflies? Put ‘em in a lamp to light my world?”

After the second chorus was when Roope actually did turn around. Eloise was more nervous than she had ever been when singing, the moment when her breath caught in her throat absolutely audible which made it even harder for her to hold it together.

“Perkele, Eloise,” Roope breathed when the song ended, and Eloise lifted her head properly. “That was… I don’t even know what to say. Thank you.”

“I don’t write songs for people,” Eloise said quietly, still tapping gently on the guitar.

“That’s your job.” Roope smiled uncertainly. “You mentioned it just before.”

“No—I—I write songs that other people sing, and sometimes I write songs about others but if someone comes to me and says I should write them a song… I don’t.”

Roope’s brow furrowed. He said slowly, “I asked you to write me a country song, though.”

“Yeah.” Eloise nodded, shrugging but failing at being nonchalant.

“Is this the first song you’ve written for me?”

“It’s not.”

Roope’s smile grew, dopy and sincere. He closed the gap between them, setting the guitar aside so he could wrap Eloise up in his arms again.

Eloise, still on the barstool, buried her face into Roope’s chest and focused on her breathing. That was especially important when Roope lowered his head to whisper into her ear.

“I love you, too, by the way.”

~i just wanna be the only girl you love all your life~

“How was your meeting with Justin Bieber?” Roope asked the second Eloise walked through his door, having just gotten off a flight after a brief trip to Toronto to meet with an artist.

“I still can’t tell you who it was.”

“That’s fine,” Roope said, kissing the top of her head as she stepped into his embrace. “I know it’s him.”

Eloise rolled her eyes and pushed at his chest, the joke familiar and repetitive because he’d been harmlessly needling her about it since she’d told him about her trip. He’d settled on Bieber after scrolling through the Wikipedia list of Toronto musicians. It wasn’t even anyone particularly famous, at least not yet, but that was far less exciting.

She made herself at home, pulling her suitcase from the front door into Roope’s bedroom and taking a shower all while Roope asked questions about her trip as he wandered in and out of the bathroom. The questions ranged from the innocuous about what she’d eaten for breakfast every day, to genuinely concerned about how well she’d slept and everything in between.

Roope barely waited until she had towelled dry before he wrapped his arms around her and let his chin rest on top of her head.

“You always smell so nice,” Roope said as he breathed in deeply. “Do you want to come to Finland with me?”

“Do I—Finland?” Eloise asked, getting tangled in the towel, her hair and Roope’s arms as she tried to turn hastily to gawk at him.

“Yeah?” His voice was filled with amusement. “I go home every summer and I don’t want to be away from you for that long so—come with me?”

After she was finally able to release her arms and her hair, Eloise said slowly, “I need to check a few things, I can’t just disappear overseas for… For how long?”

“A couple months. Depends on the post-season.”

“Even better,” she laughed sarcastically, “Nothing easier to work around than the uncertainty of ice hockey.”

Roope smiled at her sweetly, undermining it immediately by lifting a finger to flick her septum piercing. “You will come, right? Even if it’s not for the whole summer?”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely come to Finland,” Eloise said, casually despite the swell of her heart. She played it off, “Right now, though, you’re wearing way too many clothes.”

His smile morphed into a smirk. “How many clothes is the right amount of clothes?”

“The same amount as I’m wearing.”

Her towel fell to her feet as she moved her hands underneath his shirt, pushing upwards until she was scraping her fingernails down his chest. In no time at all, he was wearing as little clothes as she was.

~who am i to tell fate where it's supposed to go with it~

In the lead up to them getting away, Eloise had a few meetings to fit in. Most of them were just with her publishing company, ensuring them that she was never not actually working so being overseas wasn’t going to impact that, but she had one with one of her favourite artists to write for.

Skye Halstead was one of the biggest names in the music industry and she loved to use Eloise’s songs. It was a lovely working partnership, truly, with Eloise not wanting to be on a stage and Skye being a natural performer.

“You better come back with some Grade-A material, ET,” Skye said, kicking her feet up onto her coffee table.

“I gave you a whole album of material not that long ago. You can’t be ready to release another one. You haven’t even gone on tour yet.”

Skye shrugged flippantly and Eloise just shook her head. There weren’t enough songwriters in the world to keep up with the speed at which Skye wanted to record and perform but that was probably for the best if it made Skye take breaks.

Eloise supposed, taking in the sheer size and luxury of Skye’s home, that that dedication to perform had its benefits. Even more so because she knew that Skye owned a similarly sized house in more locations than just Dallas.

“The album’s doing really well, though.” Skye smiled. “Thank you for it. I know you don’t like some of the producers who worked on it.”

It was true that Eloise had heard who would be working on her songs and nearly marched over to Skye’s and taken them all back. She knew better, though, and said as much.

“Once they get to you, they’re not my songs anymore. You and your people can do what you want with them.”

“Have you thought any more about featuring on a song or two? I want you to get the credit you deserve.”

Eloise’s laugh echoed throughout the room, catching even herself by surprise. She shook her head, reminding Skye that she never had any intention of featuring on anybody’s songs—but if she did, it would be one of hers.

All the credit she needed was on the inside of the CD sleeve—or the metadata of the song file, in a digital word. Enough people knew about her that they checked out her songs regardless of who was singing them. Even then, though, she was ecstatic that she could open the comments on any of Skye’s posts and somebody would be praising a song she wrote, whether or not they knew it.

Social media wasn’t all bad, if she took away the people who kept digging for information about her and Roope.

~on a scale of one to ten, i’m at eleven~

Eloise had flown Business Class before—it had disappointed Roope to know that, just the same as when he found out she’d been in fancier cars than his. She hadn’t been in First Class for a flight as long as theirs to Helsinki, though, which placated him a little, and she was ignoring the mumbled Private Jet she heard come out of his mouth.

They were flying into Helsinki, a direct flight from Dallas-Fort Worth, for a few weeks to hangout with the other Finnish guys before they would head up to Tampere to be with Roope’s family. Veera would be there, but Eloise was trying not to think about it.

Eloise opened Instagram out of happened when she picked up her phone and immediately bit back a groan when she saw the number of DMs she’d received in the few hours since she’d last opened it. At first the Instagram DMs hadn’t bothered her; they were sporadic and curious more than anything else. She’d laughed about them with Molly, showed them to a not-as-amused Roope and then let them all go unanswered.

Her Instagram following was neither small nor large, a few thousand people who typically found her after checking the credits of a song (or three and realising that she’d written a few of their favourite) or on the on occasion because they envied her style. It was getting noticeably larger, though, was the thing. She would wake up every morning to a slew of new follower notifications and more DMs than the day before.

“Did you know that my ex broke up with me because I party too hard? My druggie ex-boyfriend who has never been home before two am ever?”

“What are you talking about?” Roope asked, plucking the phone out of Eloise’s hand over the partition. He sighed. “Do you want me to talk to management and see if there’s something they can do?”

Eloise took her phone back, turning off the screen and tucking it under her leg. She shrugged, “I’m sure someone’s done that for Veera, and it hasn’t stopped for her, right? With all the complaining she does it actually seems to have gotten worse.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable as Roope tried to think of something to respond with. Eloise didn’t say a thing, though, just dropped her hand onto the partition palm up and wiggled her fingers until Roope entwined his with hers.

“I don’t want you to start believing anything they say,” Roope whispered. “I don’t want them to send you anything, but I can’t control that.”

“You can’t control what I believe either, Roope,” Eloise whispered back. “I don’t—believe them, that is. Not yet anyway. They’re all jealous or just bad people. I’ve got you and I know that.”

“Yeah, you do. You’ll always have me.”

~i feel everything tonight with you~

The plan had always been for Roope to spend time with his tattoo artist in Helsinki. The appointment had been standing since he left the summer before with the intention to add to his sleeve. Ever since they’d booked her flight, Eloise had been thinking about the appointment and discussing hypothetical tattoo ideas with Roope.

“I don’t know a lot about tattoos, but I don’t think artists like an audience,” Eloise said the morning of the appointment while Roope was trying to convince her to tag along.

“Please?” he asked with a pout, standing with one hand on the front door handle.

“I don’t like people watching me when I do my thing.”

Roope huffed a little, shifting side to side impatiently, “What if I made you an appointment?”

“An appointment for what?”

“The dentist,” he deadpanned, not even bothering to clarify. Eloise understood why the clarification wasn’t necessary, but it would have helped her process the thought.

“What would I get?” she asked him, not making eye contact because she was paying close attention to the ink on his arm. “We’ve talked about so many ideas.”

“The cassette was a good idea. You liked that one a lot.”

She did like that one a lot, that was true, and the sketch they’d done for it was simple and a good first tattoo idea—there had been an assortment of scribbles, the rest of them were much larger and more daunting.

“I don’t know if you’re supposed to surprise someone with a tattoo,” Eloise said, even as she slid on her shoes and picked up her handbag.

“If we get there and you decide you don’t want it, that’s fine. I have to go there anyway,” Roope shrugged.

When Eloise was close enough, he pulled her towards him with his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. She could practically feel the excitement running through him.

“You have to hold my hand.”

“What else would I be doing?”

It was a nice walk to the tattoo parlour; one they’d done almost every day since they’d arrived—it was central to most of the city meaning they’d passed it repeatedly whilst doing all the touristy things Eloise had planned for them.

Eloise had never been in a tattoo parlour before, and her nerves were at an all-time high—they were only exacerbated by the rapid Finnish flying around the room with they recognised Roope. It hadn’t been much of an issue, the language barrier, but when she was already highly strung, she couldn’t do much more than reach for Roope’s hand and squeeze it tightly.

“This is Eloise,” he said, switching to English without missing a beat; everyone in the store switched, too, and Eloise was overwhelmed in an entirely different way. She nodded and smiled politely, offering short answers as she was led to a chair.

“Did you decide on which tattoo you wanted?”

“Which one I wanted?”

“Of the tidied-up art I sent back to Roope?”

Eloise’s head snapped to Roope. “You sent my shitty drawings?”

“You can’t just show up without any warning to the artist.” He then spoke to the artist who had introduced herself as Rali, “Eloise didn’t know I made the appointment but we’re going with the cassette.”

“Can I see the final product?”

Rali organised the stencil, muttering under her breath in Finnish—Roope was translating it to Eloise despite it being not very flattering about him and his spontaneity.

With the stencil on her inner right forearm and a death grip on Roope with her left hand, Eloise sat down for her very first tattoo. Roope laughed kindly when he noticed just how tightly her teeth were clenched; no amount of coaxing was going to get her to stop.

The pain was unlike anything Eloise had experienced before. Not necessarily unbearable but definitely not pleasant or something she was rushing to experience again in a hurry. It was a little magical, though, to watch the tattoo form on her arm and even before it was finished, she understood how addictive it was to get tattoos.

Rali left the tattoo uncovered while she worked on Roope—Eloise was mesmerised by it and paid little attention to him. When it was time to leave, Eloise was disappointed to watch it be covered up.

“You can’t take it off,” Roope reminded her when he caught her staring at it for the umpteenth time.

“I know. I was listening,” she huffed. “It’s just mine, you know? I was the same with this,” she said, playing with her septum piercing.

“It’s not going anywhere. It’ll be there later.”

“I don’t know if I can wait that long—hey, where are we going? It feels like you’re leading me somewhere.”

“I am. I have another surprise for you.”

“Another? I don’t know if I can handle more than one surprise body modification in one day.”

“It’s nothing like that. Just somewhere I want to take you.”

Eloise raised a curious eyebrow, pausing just long enough to realise that Roope wasn’t going to tell her anything and then followed him towards their mystery destination.

He took her to a park, which wasn’t unusual for Roope, nor was him keeping it a secret. Eloise was rapt by the sculpture before her, understanding immediately that it was representative of an organ.

“I don’t think you’ll know who he is, but it’s for Jean Sibelius—he’s Finland’s greatest composer. This whole park is named after him.”

“I know the name but have never heard or played the compositions,” Eloise admitted, her attention still on the organ. “Thank you for bring me here.”

Roope was sincerely apologetic when he said, “There’s a museum, too, but it’s in Turku which isn’t near here.”

It was enough, believe it or not, to distract Eloise from the tattoo. The tranquility of the park and the small bits of information Roope was reading off his phone about Jean Sibelius were fascinating, even more so because he was trying to add inflection to everything that didn’t exist—and the random Finnish he filtered into the sentence without realising it wasn’t English.

Eloise stopped him mid-sentence with her mouth on his, overwhelmed by the love that was coursing through her body. There was nowhere else to put it but into a kiss.

~how can i resist, when it feels like this?~

“Hey, babe!” Eloise shouted, poking her head out from the bedroom she’d turned into a temporary music room. “Can you come here, please?”

Roope was there in a heartbeat, nearly tiptoeing because he knew she was in the middle of an important call and needed to be quiet. Eloise couldn’t help but smile.

“The mount for my phone broke,” she said. “Can you go full Instagram boyfriend and hold it while I preview the song?”

Roope nodded enthusiastically, “I’m gonna be the best Instagram boyfriend. You’re never going to want anyone else taking your photos ever again.”

Eloise smiled at him, biting at the inside of her cheek because she knew she hadn’t muted the FaceTime call she was on and the Australian artist, and her manager, definitely heard him—and also probably saw him wrap his arms around her as they walked awkwardly back into the room because he refused to let go.

Singing in front of Roope had become easier, not least because he was always so excited to hear what she’d created. He never stopped smiling while she was playing, and that smile seemed to grow impossibly bigger whenever they were even slightly romantic. Perhaps it was pride, because he was the source of inspiration, or perhaps it was just because she was singing hopelessly romantic songs while making eye contact with him.

When she was done with the song, she saw the phone move in Roope’s hands and knew that he was nearly failing in his attempt to not clap for her, because he knew that he still needed to hold the phone up so she could be seen. When she took it from him, she moved it so it was facing the wall, pretending that she was just rearranging everything, and kissed him softly, thanking him.

Climbing into bed together, as they did later, had become so normal that Eloise and Roope had their night-time routines perfectly planned around each other and timed so that they were pulling back the covers at the same time. They both moved to the centre of the mattress, rolling onto their sides so they were facing each other. It was all ridiculously honeymoon phase, Eloise thought, but it was nicer than anything she’d ever experienced so she wasn’t going to fight it.

“What’s on your mind, babe?” Eloise asked, cupping Roope’s cheek.

“I want you to be friends with my friends.”

“I am. Your friends are great, Roope,” Eloise assured him.

Roope frowned. Eloise brushed her thumb between Roope’s eyebrows, trying to smooth out the creases. He didn’t say anything in response, just let his eyes flicker over various parts of his face as she did the same to him.

She sighed, quietly, “I’m trying with Veera. I love you, right? And I love the guys, too. I’ll work something out with her. Promise.”

He kissed her softly, his eyes fluttering shut. Eloise let herself melt into it.

~i just might love you forever~

The drive from Helsinki to Tampere was just over two hours. Roope had told her that once upon a time he had considered that too far for a day trip but since moving to the US that had changed—for him and the other Finns.

As a little weekend getaway, the whole crew was coming to Tampere. Esa and Veera from Helsinki, Miro from Espoo and Joel from Vantaa. Eloise was learning a lot about Finland’s geography.

Their presence was more than welcome for the company and the semblance of home, which Eloise was starting to miss just a little more as the days went by. Their boisterousness, particularly, was something that Eloise had missed even in the short time since they’d left Helsinki. She was even starting to miss Veera if she was being perfectly honest.

“While we’re all here,” Esa said, cutting through a small silence that occurred while they were sitting around empty plates, and drawing all attention to him, “we have some news.”

“We’re going to have a baby.”

Hands banging on tables was the next sound heard, closely followed by loud hollering that Eloise was more than happy to partake in. Things settled into hugs and congratulations and conversations about the future.

“I’m really so happy for you,” Eloise said when she managed to get Veera in a space they could actually hear each other. “It’s so obvious that you’re both going to be amazing parents.”

Veera smiled at Eloise, any animosity between them seemingly non-existent. The lack of animosity was almost certainly by Veera being determined to not let anything ruin her day, but she still let Eloise wrap her up in a hug.

“We’ve been talking about it for so long. Trying for so long,” Veera admitted. “Now that it’s actually happening, I am… Not scared but maybe a little.”

“That feels like a really normal reaction. I’d be shitting myself, personally, so you’re doing much better than that.”

“Do you want kids? With Roope?”

Eloise breathed in deeply, held it for a few moments to think of her next words before she said, “I haven’t decided for certain one way or another. Roope and I haven’t talked about it.”

“You should. Not to immediately scare you off, but he wants kids. He doesn’t talk about it a lot and he’s obviously not that that point right now. He does, though.”

That wasn’t a surprise to Eloise. He hadn’t ever given her any indication that he didn’t want kids, and any interaction he had with kids was always positive—if not a little awkward but that wasn’t any reason to believe he wasn’t interested in having his own.

Everyone was staying in Tampere for the night because, despite them all admitting that it wasn’t so far away, nobody was interested in driving home after eating dinner, so they all left Roope and Eloise’s rental close to midnight with high spirits.

She was crawling into bed beside Roope, easing into the space he’d created for her and cuddling against his bare chest without any hesitation. It was too late and they were both a little too drunk to want to have much fun, but they would never turn down cuddling.

“Does it make you want to have kids?” Eloise asked, keeping her voice quiet to not disturb the bedroom’s calm.

“Right now?”

“No, but… at some point. Is that what you want?”

“I think so, yeah. We don’t have to talk about it now, kulta,” his voice was filled with a little laugh. “Just because Esa’s having a baby doesn’t mean I need to.”

Eloise let it go in favour of sleep.

~and i like the thought of being the one you come home to~

“You’re so fucking far away,” Molly grumbled as she stared down the phone.

“You’re in Cabo.”

“Yeah, and if you didn’t have a foreign boyfriend, you’d be here with me.”

Molly moved around, giving Eloise a stunning view of the beach she was sunbathing on. Eloise retaliated by turning the camera around to show off the Museum she was about to walk into; she knew before she’d even shown it that Molly wasn’t interested.

“Next time you should take me somewhere I’ve never been before,” Eloise countered. She’d lost track of the trips they’d taken to Cabo since they met in college.

Molly made a comment about Eloise being the one to take them anywhere, being the one who made more money eliciting a strained laugh from Eloise.

“What have I missed since you last made time for me?” Molly asked, rolling over so that the sun could get her back and set the phone up in front of her so she could rest up on her elbows.

Eloise sat down on a bench outside the museum, making sure it was in the sun, because seeing Molly on a beach was making her feel much colder than she really was.

Recounting the few days since they’d last spoke was quick—Eloise hadn’t met Roope’s parents yet because they, too, were on a vacation and not yet returned, so she only had details of places she’d eaten at or places Roope had taken her. No places that were of interested to Molly, of course, because there wasn’t sand.

“Oh! Veera’s pregnant!”

Molly’s eyes widened behind her sunglasses.

“Good for her,” she said, failing to hide her sarcasm. “Pretty big, though. What did Roope have to say?”

Eloise, knowing what Molly was getting at, simply said, “He’s happy for his friends.”

“Well, duh, but like… You’re thinking about it now, right? Having a baby with Roope?”

“We’ve been together for five months. He also doesn’t want to talk about it beyond saying that he wants kids one day.”

Molly hummed. “Bummer for you, though.”

“Bummer for me.”

~let’s play pretend that we’re out here alone~

Eloise was more than enjoying her time in Tampere—she spent a lot of time searching for parks to break up the monotony of cobblestone, but even the stone was charming. She also did some shopping on her travels, practicing some Finnish but mostly being grateful that most people seemed to have enough of a grasp on English that she was never stranded.

By the time she ventured back to their apartment, it was nearing dinner time and she was ready to find out what Roope had planned—he’d been surprising her every night with a home cooked meal or a new restaurant.

Things began to turn when she had to knock on the door to be let in. Roope had been so lax with security since they got to Finland that he’d just been leaving the door open when Eloise was out.

Veera answered the door, entirely unexpectedly, but Eloise accepted that she had probably locked the door when she entered out of habit, so that explained that away.

“I didn’t know you and Esa were coming back up,” Eloise said, smiling. “It’s good to see you.”

“I’ve booked you a hotel room.”

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t staying here tonight. You don’t get to tell strangers on the internet our secrets and stay.”

“What are you talking about? Just let me in and we can talk about it,” Eloise said as she tried to push her way in, but Veera was holding firm. “I’ve been on my feet for hours, Veera. I want to sit down.”

“What am I talking about? I’m talking about the message I received this morning all asking me when I’m going to post about the baby, or when I’m going to tell what the sex is.”

“But that wasn’t me. I didn’t… I wouldn’t do that!” Eloise protested. “You have to believe me.”

Veera laughed, cold and cruel, asked “Wanna know how I know you’re lying? I can count on one hand the number of people who know about that and you’re the one I don’t trust.”

There were so many words flying through Eloise’s mind and not a single one word was making it to her mouth—any sort of defence would have been better than standing in the hall with a gaping mouth and wide eyes whilst Veera stared at her stone-faced and murderous.

People were moving around inside, noisily and chaotically and Eloise wanted nothing more than to push Veera aside and join them, to be as far from her as she could get.

Veera cleared her through, drawing Eloise’s attention back and clearly expecting something from Eloise who was feeling even sicker as she finally recalled something.

“I—I only told Molly,” she admitted quietly, staring at her feet. “She’s my best friend and I tell her everything… She's the only one I told.”

“Maybe you need to think about getting a new best friend, then,” Veera said bitterly.

“It’s just one thing, an accident, I’m sure!” Eloise all but shouted, her defences right up. She hoped that the boys inside would hear and come to her rescue; would pull Veera up for what she was going.

“An accident?” Veera laughed sarcastically. “I thought you were the one leaking your relationship with Roope for the clout, but maybe your best friend is behind that, too.”

The coldness that washed over Eloise was freezing and the shiver down her spine was as startling as the revelation that the people on Instagram might have had a direct line into her life.

Without a word, Eloise turned her back to Veera and walked to the lift so quickly that her legs began to burn—only because her eyes were already burning and there was no way she was going to let Veera see her cry.

~i know a girl; she gets what she wants all the time~

Getting a hotel room hadn’t been fun with her minimal Finnish and the clerk’s minimal English but there were only so many things a person could be asking for when they stand at hotel reception, handing over their passport and a credit card to try and match the booking Veera had told her existed.

The thought did cross her mind that Veera had been lying just to fuck with her even more, but apparently even she wasn’t that cruel.

Loneliness had crept in almost as soon as she stepped foot inside the room, and it had never left. Being alone with her thoughts exacerbated all her confusion and sorrow as she tried to parse what Veera had said—what Veera had done. Tried to parse Roope not responding to her text asking for clarification, nor for her saying that she’d be back at his place in the morning so that they could talk.

The time she gave him didn’t matter, nor did the alarm she set on her phone because she laid in the uncomfortable bed and just waiting for the sun to rise so she could put on some of the clothes she’d bought just the day before and walk through Tampere.

Eloise knocked on the door, after trying the door handle and finding it locked despite Roope knowing she was coming over and waited. Her foot tapped of its own will. Roope didn’t look happy to see her. It was a startling realisation to see that he wasn’t even fighting a smile when he opened the door. He just stared at her, exhaled, and stood aside to let her in.

Eloise brought her purse to her stomach, something to hold close.

“You didn’t text me back yesterday,” Eloise whispered, filling the silence that was consuming her. Them.

Roope waited a moment, until they were standing the entry hall with the door shut behind them to say, “I didn’t have anything to say.”

“But you have something to say now?”

“You promised me you’d try to be friends with Veera.”

“I was trying!” Eloise protested. “She hated me from the moment I showed up and then last night she accused me of something horrible and wouldn’t even let me see you! She put me into a fucking hotel room.”

There was another beat as Roope collected his thoughts, adding to the tension between them. He was so tall, so large, so intimidating standing opposite her and Eloise had never felt that way around him.

“It was the truth, though,” Roope said. “What she accused you of.”

“You don’t even want to hear my side of the story?”

“No. I don’t,” he said firmly. “This is it, Eloise. We’re done.”

The words fell from his mouth with so much conviction that Eloise felt like a kick to the gut. She gasped, her body shaking, and her vision instantly began to blur. She took a step closer to him; only for him to step back out of reach and cross his arms over his chest.

“You’re choosing her over me?” she asked in a whisper, her voice trembling.

With the same steely voice, Roope said, “She’s my friend—”

“I’m your girlfriend,” she pleaded. “I made a mistake. I trusted someone I really thought I could trust and you’re going to break up with me for it?”

“You shouldn’t have told anyone, Eloise. That was never your secret to tell, not even to Molly.”

There were so many tears in her eyes, and rolling down her cheeks, that she could hardly even see Roope. She wiped them away furiously, hoping that when she could see clearly Roope would magically be smiling at her—that it would all be over. He looked exactly the same as when he’d opened the door, emotionless. So emotionless in fact, that Eloise couldn’t help her next question.

“Do you even love me? Have you ever?”

Roope flinched, but it was so slight that Eloise may have imagined it. He did clench his jaw, though.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re just going to break up with me because of what someone else has said. You’re not even going to listen to me.”

“How do I even know if I can trust you? If you’re going to share something as big as that, what’s to say you won’t start telling the world about my life? About the other boys’ lives? People on Instagram and Twitter already know way too fucking much about us—how does it not get worse from here, Eloise?”

“I can’t believe you think so little of me.”

“I don’t know what I think of you right now.”

“Fine. That’s fine. You won’t hear from me again.”

Eloise, halfway out the door, stopped, just to turn around and spit in his face, “Nobody even gave a fuck about you guys before I showed up.”

“Exactly.”

~are you as sad as me now?~

Entering Finland with Roope by her side had been easier for the primary reason that he’d navigated every section of their path through the airport in Finnish or been able to turn the conversation easily into English without Eloise having to admit, embarrassed, that she couldn’t speak the native language.

That was all out the window as she stood in a queue for the customer service desk and tried to control her breathing, pre-preparing anything she might say. Though, that all went out the window when she opened her mouth and nothing, but a sob came out.

The poor desk attendant was visibly startled, her finger hovering over the keyboard for a brief second before she reached for a box of tissues to put in front of Eloise and remained silent whilst Eloise controlled herself.

She asked a question in Finnish, and Eloise just shrugged hopelessly, a watery apology coming out of her mouth to explain that she only spoke English.

“Where would you like to go?” she asked, softly.

“Anywhere in America. I just need—I need to go home.”

It took awhile for Eloise to explain that she didn’t care which city she went to, that she could end up in North Dakota if it meant that she was no longer in Finland. When she finally revealed that she wanted to end up in Dallas no matter how many flights it took, the woman at the desk, Liisa was on her nametag when Eloise’s eyes were finally not clouded by tears, looked at Eloise a little more closely.

Eloise’s gaze dropped immediately—there was only one reason someone in Finland would know her, and he was the reason she was sobbing while trying to flee the country.

There was a lot of back and forth as they tried to organise the best way for her to get out—she’d have to wait until the next morning for a flight out of Tampere which connected through Helsinki and Paris but she would happily take whatever she could get and she was so desperate that the business class airfare didn’t even make her flinch.

“I hope that whatever you’re going through passes,” Liisa said as she handed over a boarding pass and information for Eloise’s hotel room.

Eloise managed a small thank you as she left.

~but i can’t go back to that night~

Eloise was waiting for Molly on their couch when she wheeled in her suitcase and carry-on, sporting a lovely new tan courtesy of Cabo San Lucas. She’d spent the better part of two days planning a conversation to have with Molly about boundaries and secrets and she had every intention of being level-headed about it—up until the very moment Molly came into view.

“You couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut?” Eloise snapped, cutting through whatever greeting Molly was going to offer.

Molly recoiled at the intensity and asked, “What the fuck are you talking about, Eloise? Do you have to ruin my Zen the second I walk through the door?”

“Who did you tell about Veera? Why did you tell anyone? Jesus Christ, Molly,” Eloise stressed, standing up and throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “I told you not to tell anyone!”

“Why are you so upset with me?” Molly huffed, flopping down onto the couch. “They’re celebrities, they’re not even real.”

“What do you mean they’re not real? Of course, they’re real! You’ve met them!”

“It doesn’t count when they’re famous.”

“Veera isn’t famous.”

Molly opened her phone, starting to scroll right in front of Eloise. She said, “She knew what she was getting in to.”

Eloise slapped the phone right of out Molly’s hand, it hit the couch cushion with a thud, and Molly gawped.

“Because she met Esa when they were fifteen?” Eloise asked. “Molly, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“She throws herself all over those boys,” Molly answered, sneering, but otherwise not showing any sign that Eloise had even done anything, “and they’re famous so people deserve to know what they’re up to.”

“That includes telling the world my secrets?”

Molly, innocently, without a care in the world, shrugged, “It’s all harmless.”

“But it’s not. I was telling you because I trusted you and you took my trust and laughed behind my back.”

“God, you’re so dramatic.”

“You want dramatic?” Eloise snapped, her voice louder and angrier than she could ever remember it being. “I’m kicking you out, right now. I want you gone tonight, and all your shit gone by the end of the week.”

“Eloise!” Molly shrieked, springing up from the couch.

Eloise ignored Molly’s disbelief, saying, “Your last piece of gossip is that Roope Hintz is now single.”

“Oh,” Molly said, her head tilting and a malicious surprise filling her voice and eyes, “so she ran you off, too, huh? You’re pathetic, Eloise.”

Eloise left, closing the door to her room as she did so. She wasn’t going to give Molly the satisfaction of knowing that she didn’t disagree.

~’cause you’re on your own in the real world~

Eloise tried to keep a low profile, or as a low a profile as she could when she was getting coffee with Skye Halstead in busy Dallas cafés. She wasn’t getting noticed when she was on her own aside from a few fans who had recognised her, and she wasn’t aiming to change that.

Spending time with Skye, who was taking a break from touring, meant that they were frequently interrupted but they both knew the risks they ran by being out and about and Eloise couldn’t deny Skye wanting to get out of the house.

“I’m in love with all the demos you’ve sent me.”

“Nothing quite like heartbreak to get the inspiration flowing,” Eloise said disparagingly.

“Selfishly, I’m glad, but I’m also human so I am sorry. Sorry about your boyfriend, and that friend of his, and for Molly.”

Eloise didn’t divulge much information to Skye, trying to keep their relationship semi-professional, but it had been months since she left Finland and she still couldn’t get past what had happened. Nobody really knew, was the worst part. Her friends were still talking to Molly, too, and Eloise couldn’t risk them letting anything slip to her, so one day, after a lonely Christmas, she’d spilled her heart out to Skye who already knew the realities of Eloise’s emotions based on the songs she’d been producing. Eloise’s eyes kept flicking to the door, it caught her attention every time it moved. Nobody had caught her eye the entire time they’d been there, and she’d looked back to Skye just as quickly as she’d looked away—right up until someone did.

“That’s Veera—my ex’s friend,” Eloise said when Skye noticed she’d lost her attention. “I… Dallas is so fucking big.”

“Do you want to leave?” Skye asked, already reaching for her purse. “Or, do you want to talk to her?”

“No,” Eloise shook her head. “Neither.”

The month of January passed by and at least once a week Eloise managed to be where Veera was.

She was mostly going out for coffee alone after Skye went back on tour, so she had to make a conscious effort to distract herself and not stare at Veera and get growing belly.

Veera was often with other WAGs, most of whom Eloise had met only once or twice so they never really noticed her and the fact that they never did indicated to her that Veera at least hasn’t thrown her name through the mud.

When the opportunity arose thanks to Veera being alone at a table, Eloise walked over cautiously. She didn’t sit in the spare seat, immediately, just quietly greeted Veera to get her attention.

“Roope told me you lived in Cedars when Esa and I were looking at houses,” Veera stated. “I didn’t think it would be an issue and we moved down in September and for like four months I didn’t see you at all—”

“And now I’m everywhere,” Eloise finished. “It’s not on purpose, freelance work let’s me be wherever and we like the same cafes, apparently.”

“I’m not accusing you of stalking me. If you were, I don’t doubt there’d be random photos of me somewhere.”

“I kicked Molly out—it was her. I’m so sorry. She thought that just because you’re famous—or Esa is—that you were fair game.”

“He’s a hockey player in Dallas,” Veera said, her disbelieving laugh sounding more stressed and confused than anything else. “Tyler Seguin isn’t even really famous. I’ve seen you with Skye Halstead; she’s famous.”

“We weren’t really friends when Molly was around,” Eloise said, thankfully, “or it would’ve been a fucking nightmare. It wasn’t fair to you, that she didn’t care about your privacy and I just came over to say I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, Eloise. That means a lot. I’m sorry you lost a friend.”

Eloise noted that Veera wasn’t sorry about her losing her boyfriend but didn’t bring it up because causing a scene would be good for nobody. She apologised for interrupting, made a joke about probably seeing Veera around and then left without any further fanfare.

~here’s an opportunity to get your feelings straight~

Eloise wasn’t surprised when Veera walked in. She was surely not far from giving birth, if Eloise had remembered the due date correctly as being in February but even if she had remembered wrong there was no denying that Veera was visibly near full-term.

They hadn’t seen each other since Eloise decided to speak to her, and Eloise expected them to just continue living their separate lives in the same coffee shops—which is why she stared up with her mouth agape when Veera stood beside the table and asked if she could sit down.

Eloise eventually nodded and cleared a space on the table for when Veera’s coffee was delivered.

“I can’t wait to not be pregnant,” Veera griped as she slowly lowered herself down onto the chair, after pulling it out far enough to accommodate her bump. “I don’t remember what it’s like to sit down like a regular person. Or to have regular sized ankles.”

Eloise smiled, mostly out of politeness than anything else because she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t really think of a reason Veera would sit down with her unless to berate her even further—which she wasn’t particularly interested in after so many months of the loathing being internal.

“Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I—I don’t know? I feel like I owe you something now that you’ve told me you’re not friends with Molly anymore. I don’t even really know if I believe that she isn’t.”

“You don’t have to believe me. I didn’t tell you to gain anything from it, I just wanted you to know who was really behind it.”

The silence they fell into wasn’t comfortable but Eloise had no idea what to say, given that Veera was the one who’d sat down and initiated the conversation. Only, it didn’t look like Veera knew what she wanted to say either.

Veera’s coffee was delivered and the silence stretched out until Eloise spoke, before she could overthink.

“Can you tell me why you hate me so much? I just… Sure, you don’t have to like everyone, but I didn’t do anything to you. Even before you thought I was telling everybody your secrets, you hated my guts.”

“Roope’s basically my little brother,” Veera said, slowly as she tried to think. She was clearly caught off guard by the question, though Eloise didn’t know what else they would have spoken about. “Every girl he’s ever dated has been with him for fame or money and you reminded me of every single one of them.”

“If I was trying to get famous… Why would I have picked a hockey player in Texas?” Eloise asked, throwing back to what Veera had said when they spoke previously. “He’s good at what he does, sure, but that’s not exactly a winning combo.”

“No, I worked that out. Then I thought that that was the exact reason… You didn’t want to be famous, or you would be, so you must have wanted his money. All the benefits of fame without the hassle.”

“That’s a pretty shit reason to hate me so much. To try and break us up. With zero proof.”

Veera looked sheepish, staring down at her food. She nodded, hesitantly, before she looked Eloise in the eye, “I’m sorry. I had no right to treat you that way from the beginning.”

It wasn’t the apology Eloise was looking for, even if she couldn’t actually say what it was that she was actually wanting, but it did settle some of the discomfort she’d been feeling in her chest.

She ordered another coffee and Veera did, too—apparently ready to settle in for a longer conversation.

“You written any songs about this whole thing?” Veera’s question was tentative but interested. “I know how hard it can be when you’ve got no inspiration. I just thought that this was great stuff for some songs.”

“I’ve got a few. One’s about Molly but, um, one of them might be about you.”

“About me? Perkele, like some Misery Business once a whore, you’re nothing more stuff?”

Eloise denied it, though she couldn’t deny that it was an unflattering song. That it was literally titled Mean.

She picked up her bag, reached into the side pocket and pulled out a USB stick, saying, “This is the only copy of the song. It was cathartic and it doesn’t need to go anywhere. So, it’s yours.”

“You want me to listen to you talk shit about me?”

“No,” Eloise said, shaking her head. “If you want to, be my guest, you can just destroy it, though. It doesn’t matter.”

Veera took the USB, rolled it in the palm of her hands, and shook her head in disbelief.

“I always wanted someone to write me a song. Not quite like this.”

~she just wants one thing from you (your money)~

It was so late that her phone made her jump when it rang. Nobody really called her during a regular day, let alone when it was nearly midnight. She scrambled to answered it and was even more shocked by the name that appeared across.

Veera Koskinen.

Eloise answered it, because there was no way Veera wasn’t calling her if it wasn’t important and, sure enough Eloise hadn’t even cautiously greeted Veera when she was hearing a pained groan down the phone.

Veera managed to say, through gritted teeth, “One second.”

Eloise listened as Veera experienced what was undoubtedly a contraction; frozen still and entirely unsure of what she should be doing while she waited.

“I know I shouldn’t ask this of you,” Veera said, her breathing heavy but her contraction clearly over, “but I am in labour, and the boys are in Colorado, and I just need to get to a hospital and you’re the first person I thought to call.”

Eloise was on her feet instantly, rushing around her house for clothes, shoes and her car keys. She was trying to speak calmly to Veera, assuring her that she was coming and that she’d be there are soon as she could—calm wasn’t easy, though, not when she had no idea what she was doing and Veera herself was panicking because she was in labour.

Eloise didn’t end the call when she got in the car and listened to Veera go through a contraction every five minutes as she drove to her, breaking more than a few traffic laws on her way.

She was waiting at the front door with a ready packed bag, bracing herself against the wall in anticipation of the next contraction. Eloise stood still in the doorway, her eyes wide and her heart in her throat.

“Veera, I am so unequipped for this,” she said honestly, reaching for the bag to do something.

“Just get me to the hospital,” Veera demanded. “Esa’s already on his way to the airport and with any luck he’ll be there before I have to push.”

Eloise did just that—got Veera to the hospital—and tried not to get in the way as she was checked in and checked over by the doctors. The room felt smaller than it actually was as she tried to find a place. She didn’t know if she was even supposed to be sticking around until Veera’s contractions seemed to slow down and she cried frustrated tears.

That was Eloise’s sign to stand right by Veera’s side and hold her hand, offering all the support she could and not complaining for a single second about the pain in her hand as Veera squeezed. She didn’t leave her side until there was some mad rushing outside the door to her room and Esa appeared in the doorway looking perhaps even more frazzled than Veera.

“I’ll head off, then,” Eloise said, letting Esa take her place. “Call me if you need me again. Good luck.”

Esa thanked her profusely, through gritted teeth as Veera squeezed his hand through yet another contraction. Eloise was almost out the door when Veera called her back to her beside so she could kiss Eloise’s head.

~just you rest into your mother’s arms~

Eloise didn’t hear too much about the baby, though she did get a lovely bouquet of flowers with a grateful message, and a text message with a photo of Veera, Esa and baby Osmo. After that everything returned to normal—or the normal of Eloise not seeing Veera at every café she went to.

Tending to a baby probably didn’t leave much time for coffee.

She thought about them frequently, regardless. She may not have been present for the actual birth but the labour wasn’t something she was going to forget any time soon.

Of course, once Eloise had gotten used to not seeing Veera around it was when she showed up at Eloise’s door.

Veera was at her front door, looking very much like the tired mother of a newborn, with Osmo in a baby carrier. Eloise had no idea what to do.

“I know I keep just showing up and forcing you into things, but can I come in?”

“Uh, sure,” Eloise said uncertainly, stepping aside and peering into the baby carrier as Veera passed.

Veera lifted Osmo from the carrier when she was sitting on Eloise’s couch and handed him to Eloise without so much as a second thought and then promptly laughed—kindly—when she told Eloise to relax.

“Why are you here?”

Without any sort of warning or fanfare, Veera said, “I’m willing to try and be friends if you are.”

“Really?”

“I called you in the middle of the night and you drove me to the hospital and stayed with me until Esa arrived,” Veera recounted as if Eloise hadn’t been there as it all happened. “I can’t deny that that’s some best friend shit.”

Her protests were instant just because it wasn’t as if Eloise was going to leave Veera stranded but Veera emphasised the Eloise had stayed and that she very much wanted someone like that as her friend.

Eloise looked down at Osmo because she didn’t know where else to look, trying to find features of his parents but coming up short because he looked like a baby more than he looked like either of them.

“It almost feels like my entire relationship with Roope was more about you and me.”

“I’m sorry,” Veera apologised—every apology was feeling more sincere than the last. “I did want like you for Roope’s sake, there was just something that didn’t sit right—Molly, apparently.”

“Yeah, well I solved that problem and now I need a new best friend.”

“We’ll be best friends one day,” Veera said lightly. “The universe is mysterious like that.”

They chatted, like friends would, for so long that Veera got a call from Esa to check on her and where she’d gone.

Eloise walked Veera to her car, waiting until the very last second to ask, “Do I call him? See if he’ll talk to me.”

“Let him come to you; he’s gotta work through it all, too.”

~i’m just looking for some real friends~

And so it went, Eloise became friends with Veera. It was tentative, at first, but without the presence of Roope they actually got along quite well. Eloise was able to help with Osmo and give Veera some sleep when she in turn was giving her parents a break—they’d flown out from Finland to help out and Eloise had been plied with more Finnish food than she ever could have imagined.

Veera had sat and listened to everything Eloise had been holding in for months—it felt easier with Osmo on the floor between them, a buffer of cuteness and gurgles. She’d looked particularly bereft when Eloise talked about the flight home from Finland and the hassle it had been, and laughed only a little when Eloise recounted having to prevent Levi from booking his own flight to Tampere when he was supposed to be picking her up from the airport.

Eloise was never around when Esa had the boys over. Whether that was by design or a coincidence Eloise wasn’t certain.

Her song writing had slowed down after the entire new album worth of content she gave to Skye, and, despite how often she was sitting down to write, Eloise wasn’t able to conjure up anything new. Her inspiration had well and truly run dry. It was getting depressing, really.

It was late in the evening, Eloise was stretched out on her bed, music playing loudly over the speakers she had set up in her room. It wasn’t up as loud as it could go, just a chilled-out vibe for her to relax to as she rested her eyes. Sleep would soon come, she was sure, but she had the right playlist set up to settle her properly.

Of course, that was ruined when her phone rang, cutting through the music playing. If that wasn’t enough, any calm she was hoping to maintain was shattered when she read who was calling.

Roope Hintz.

“Hello?” she asked cautiously, not wanting to rush into anything if it was Esa or Veera calling from his phone.

It wasn’t, though, because when his voice came through with, “Hei, kulta,” Eloise’s breath caught in her throat.

She didn’t say anything at first, just hoped he could hear her breathing so he knew she hadn’t ended the call; she could hear him breathing at least and he was patient enough to wait for her.

“You’re the last person I was expecting a call from,” Eloise said quietly once she’d got her bearings. She kept her eyes closed and was picturing him calling from his room—though he may well have been in a hotel room anywhere in the country.

“It’s long overdue,” Roope admitted, readily. “I should have called you as soon you left.”

“Maybe.” Then, bravely, she said, “I don’t think you should have let me leave at all.”

Roope sighed, and she sighed, too, but he did say, “No. I shouldn’t have.”

All she had wanted to hear, for months, was an admission—it had been something from Veera, but the silence from Roope had been what was hurting the most. She’d never been able to get past the idea that he wouldn’t ever forgive her.

“Why did you call, Roope?” she asked, desperate to move the conversation on.

“Thank you for helping Veera.”

She sighed, “That’s not worth a phone call after all this time.”

“If you don’t hate me…” he said slowly, tentatively. “Do you want to go out for dinner? I owe you a few explanations. A few apologies.”

What was throwing her the most was that he sounded decidedly less Finnish than she remembered—probably a combination of the fact that the last time she had seen him they had been in Finland and he’d spend far too much time in the US—but it made her feel like she’d missed so much time.

“I probably owe you some, too,” Eloise admitted. “And I don’t hate you. At no point did I hate you, Roope. I thought you hated me.”

“Kulta, I never hated you. I promise. Let me make it up to you.”

~i could spend my whole life getting over you~

Eloise had hesitated when Roope said that he would pick her up for their date. It felt like too much too soon to be in the car with him, and then end up somewhere she had to rely on him to get her home from if things got horrifically awkward. And there was every possibility that it would get horrifically awkward.

Still, she agreed to be picked up because Roope insisted on their date being a surprise and Eloise was lost in the memory of their very first date and how he’d been just as secretive. She got a similar warning to be dressed up to be outside and it was enough to make her pretty certain they were going back to watch the planes at Dallas Love Field, though she never did ask him to confirm.

She saw the same Porsche Cayenne pull up out the front of her house, this time from her living room window. Despite how calm she had been all day—having managed to keep herself sufficiently distracted doing all the cleaning she’d been putting off—seeing Roope get out of his car and walk up the path to her front door had her heart beating at record speed.

Eloise couldn’t even wait for him to ring the doorbell; she was rushing to the door to try and work off the nervous energy. The short distance didn’t make much of a difference.

“Hei, kulta,” Roope smiled, being kind enough not to mention how she’d been waiting for him. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, clutching her purse to her chest nervously. She shook a little as she locked the door behind her and stopped breathing all together when Roope’s hand rested naturally on her lower back on the short walk to the car.

A protest died on her tongue when he walked opened the door for her because she saw the determined look on his face, focused and sure, and knew he was truthfully just as nervous as she.

The nervousness was definitely confirmed when they sat in the car, Eloise letting out nervous laughs every so often and Roope focusing on the road more than he ever had before. He made the decision at a red light to finally put on some music, at least filling the air, and every ounce of tension in his body left when Eloise started singing along. It calmed Eloise down to see his shoulders relax.

It didn’t take her long to work out that they were indeed heading towards Dallas Love Field and she couldn’t help but smile to herself—Roope was clearly determined to start over properly. There was even a picnic in the boot, though he’d packed it with foods more appropriate for dinner than muffins.

Her face hurt from how big and persistent her smile was getting, knowing how hard he was trying.

“Have you been in any more expensive cars?” Roope asked when they were sat on a bench overlooking the runway.

“No, and that’s still the most expensive car I’ve ever driven,” she assured him, a laugh in her voice. “You’re the only one stupid enough to let me do that.”

“Good.”

Only a couple of planes landed while they ate, but Roope had all the information he could get prepared for her. Eloise didn’t care which flights were coming in, but she was delighted to hear him tell her about them. She was able to ignore the conversation she knew they needed to have if he kept telling her.

“We have to talk about it,” Eloise did say after they’d eaten, her smile shifting and her body aching. “Because that was the worst thing that has ever happened to me, Roope.”

“I know,” he admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t know what to do and I know now that we should have spoken about it and I should have trusted you. Veera and Esa—and this isn’t an excuse, I’m just trying to explain—were the first people to really help me out when I got to Dallas. They’re my family, you know? They’ve always come first.”

“And I’d been around for less than a year and was ruining their lives, even if I didn’t mean to,” Eloise filled in the blanks. She kicked up some dirt as she shifted her feet, her attention fixated firmly on the little cloud she’d created.

Roope sighed, tentatively putting his hand on Eloise’s shoulder. Even though she didn’t look at him, he said, “Veera was right about every other girlfriend I had before you. I really didn’t think she could be wrong about you and then you were gone.”

When she did look at hm, after it was clear he wasn’t going to be adding anything else to him, there was a definite sorrow on his face with his eyes and mouth pulled down.

“I get that they’re your family and that you trust them,” she whispered, maintaining eye contact as best she could manage. “That’s fine, Roope, but you should have trusted me, too. I didn’t give you any reason to not and you still let me—made me—leave.”

“I am so sorry, kulta. So, so sorry.”

Eloise nodded, unable to bring herself to say anything else. Roope’s hand moved from her shoulder to her upper back and she fell slowly into a hug that held all the warmth and security she’d been missing. The kiss he dropped to her head only made her feel that much surer that accepting the date had been the right idea.

“How long are you going to spend in Finland this summer?” Eloise asked quietly while they were packing up. She knew that the season didn’t have all that long left—a month, maybe more if they made playoffs. That’s what she’d learnt from Veera and Esa, even if neither of them had been talking about hockey to her as much as just in her presence.

Roope wasn’t taken aback by the question, he just sat up only a tiny bit straighter to answer, “I’ll leave when the season’s over and probably won’t be back until September. Like usual.”

“If we’re… If we’re doing this, and getting back together, then what does that mean for us, do you think?”

“Is it too much to ask you to come visit?”

“I think it might be.”

“Okay,” he nodded as he thought. “I won’t spend as long there. I’ll come back to you.”

~’cause you have the same effect as the first day we met~

Eloise wasn’t one for big birthdays—she was so opposed to them that she’d managed to avoid a Sweet Sixteenth and a 21st despite her mother acting like Eloise was ruining her life by not having them.

It made sense to her to order a fancy cook-at-home meal from her favourite restaurant and invite Roope over to cook it with her. She was only turning twenty-four, anyway, that wasn’t anything special.

Even though it wasn’t special, she and Roope had agreed to get dressed up and make it a tiny bit special. Roope was wearing one of his suits when he walked through her front door, and Eloise had put on a dress she’d worn as a guest to the MTV VMAs the year prior.

“Kulta,” he said breathlessly the moment he saw her. “You look incredible.”

He reached out his hand, turning her in front of him when she took it and looking awestruck as she moved. He reeled her in, wrapping his arm around her and settling into a mind-melting kiss that had Eloise scrambling to wrap her arounds around his neck and pull him closer.

It didn’t escape her that he was only holding her with one arm, and when they pulled apart she chased his other hand to see what he was carrying only for him to turn his back to her and hold the item to his chest. He shut the front door and made a big show of hiding the object as he moved them further into the house.

“What do you have?” she asked, trying and failing to lean around him.

“So, catching fireflies is way harder than I ever thought it would be,” Roope said dramatically, “but I do want you to be the only girl I love all my life.”

His words didn’t immediately register to Eloise, beyond them being disgustingly romantic, because she was focused on the mason jar of fairy lights, he was presenting to her. She took it from him, smiling despite her confusion, and watched as his smile faltered.

Then it hit her.

She’d written him a song.

~you are in love, true love~

#roope hintz imagine #roope hintz fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #fic: stars

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