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freddiesaysalright · 5 years

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Peace Like A River Part 2

A Gwilym Lee x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a stand up comic with a pretty dark past. She has a three new lights in her life: her daughter, Violet; her anonymous correspondent, Dear Friend; and Gwilym Lee.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @simmisblog, @assembledherethevolunteers, @lookuptotheskiesandsee If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Wow, you all caught on to the inspo from She Loves Me real quick lol! One of my favorite musicals of all and definitely a part of what inspired this fic. Hope you enjoy the update!

Part I

Part 2 here we go!!!

Saturday was approaching faster than you wished. On Friday night, before getting on stage, you were tempted to text Gwilym and cancel. And then call your mother and cancel going to the reunion as well. If it hadn’t been for Stacy, you absolutely would have done those things. Unfortunately, your assistant was strong willed and persistent. You were going. You thought her real intentions were to get you to see Gwilym more romantically and forget about Dear Friend. But you could never forget Dear Friend, even if Gwilym was sickeningly handsome and fun to hang out with.

On Saturday, Gwilym arrived to pick you and Violet up from your hotel around noon. You wore a simple blouse and jeans and had Violet in a dress your mother had sent her a few weeks earlier. Violet twirled around in the lobby and giggled.

“Careful, sweetie, you’re gonna get dizzy,” you warned gently.

“If she falls, I’ll catch her,” Gwilym said as he walked up.

You beamed at him. “Aren’t you a gentleman?”

“I do what I can,” he returned. “Are you ladies ready?”

“We are,” you said. “Violet, can you say hi to Gwilym?”

“Hi!” she chirped, waving to him.

“Hello, sweet girl!” he returned, along with the wave. He looked at you. “She’s certainly friendlier today.”

“It’s amazing how different they are when they aren’t tired,” you said. You turned to your daughter. “Take my hand, baby.”

She obeyed. She reached her other hand toward Gwil.

“It’s the rule,” she told him.

“Well, who am I to argue with rules?” he said with a smile.

He offered her his hand and she wrapped her little fist around his pinky. Together, you all walked out of the hotel and to the waiting car. Gwilym helped Violet in first and then you. You looked at the floor and smiled. He had brought flowers. He climbed in beside you and closed the door.

“Flowers?” you questioned.

“Naturally,” he replied with a shrug.

He picked them up and you saw there were two bouquets and a small bunch. He handed a bouquet to you.

“For you,” he said. The small bunch (which consisted of only three flowers) he handed to Violet. “For you, dear.”

“Thank you,” she said happily.

“And the last is for your mother,” he finished.

“Gwil…” you trailed off. “This is too much.”

“I’m just a dedicated actor,” he joked.

You laughed. “Whatever you say.”

The reunion was in Central Park. You and Gwilym discussed a plan and decided to go with as close to truth as possible. You had filmed together years ago and recently reconnected. It was just vague enough that it wouldn’t be hard to explain the “breakup” to your mother in a few weeks. You reached the park in no time and Gwilym helped you out of the car, just as he had helped you in. He held your hand as you walked across the grass toward your mother. Violet took off running to her grandmother, who scooped her up and kissed her cheek, leaving a big red lipstick mark.

“Hi, Grammy!” Violet giggled.

“Hello, sweetheart!” she returned.

You and Gwilym finally caught up just as she was returning Violet to the ground. Immediately, her cousins pulled her aside to play. You smiled as she ran around with them, her curls bouncing right out of her ponytail.

“Mom, this is Gwilym,” you said. “Gwilym, this is my mother.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Gwilym said, extending the flowers to her.

She took them and smiled wide. “Oh, how thoughtful! Are you a special friend of Y/N’s?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” you lied.

She let out such a shriek of delight, it startled you. She yanked a shocked Gwilym into a tight hug as she giggled.

“Finally!” she cried. “Thank God!”

She pulled away and straightened his shirt, still grinning like a madwoman.

“Mom, what the hell?” you demanded.

“I can’t help it, dear,” she returned. “I just - you know how long I’ve waited for someone to take care of you since you left Henry. Now you won’t have to do anymore of that vulgar comedy!”

“I’m still gonna do comedy,” you told her. “I’m not having this argument again.” You looked at Gwil. “Sorry about this.”

“No worries, love,” he assured you.

“Oh, he’s so English,” your mother gushed. “Well, come on and meet the rest of us, Gwilym. We won’t bite you...until we know you better.” She giggled at herself.

“Mom,” you groaned.

Gwilym chuckled.

“Don’t encourage her,” you snapped.

“What? It was cute,” he argued.

Before you could answer, he was being dragged away by your mother to meet your dad, siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. You felt sorry for him as she paraded him around. The way she acted, you would think you’d won a prize. But to your mother, there was no greater prize than having a man in your life. Gwilym handled it all well, charming everyone. In fact, everyone was so enthralled with your pretend boyfriend, you were pretty much ignored. It hit you once again just how angry they still were at you for leaving Henry.

Your family was traditional. No one had ever gotten a divorce until you. What made it all the worse was that they loved Henry. He had them all so wrapped up in his big personality that no one saw that you were deteriorating beneath him. They never saw the monster that he was. When you divorced and announced that you were cutting him from your life - he was never to contact you again - they were devastated. They believed you when you explained you were abused, but none of them ever fully believed the extent of it. They were shocked to their collective core when he signed away all his rights to Violet. Now as you watched them fawn over Gwilym, that neglected feeling returned. Your stomach churned uncomfortably.

You took a seat on a bench and tried to swallow the lump that had appeared in your throat. It was especially bruising since you knew that if you were a man, you would be considered successful. You had two Netflix specials, after all. You were completely financially independent and provided a good life for your daughter. But because of your family’s backwards ideas, none of that meant anything. Simply because you were a single woman. Your eyes found Violet where she ran with her cousins. You could not allow her to grow up around people who made her feel less than just because of her gender. You took a deep breath.

A sigh escaped you just as Gwilym took a seat on your right. You looked at him and concern clouded his face as he handed you a glass of wine. You took a large gulp of it.

“Woah, are you alright?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, not really. I don’t wanna talk about it, but this is the last time I’m coming to one of these fucking things.”

“Did something happen?” he pressed.

“No,” you told him. “It’s what’s been happening my whole life. I left my husband to protect my daughter, and I’ll leave my family too if I have to.”

“I’m confused,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him. “It’s just...it’s my own shit that I’m realizing now that I brought someone here. Thank you for coming, Gwilym, really.”

“I’m sorry for...whatever it is that’s hurting you,” he replied. “I’m glad I was helpful to you. Your family is certainly unique in their beliefs. Your mother mentioned twice to me that you refused to give Violet her father’s last name.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, not that again.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked. “Just out of curiosity.”

“Because she’s not his,” you said. “She’s mine.”

“So he has no contact with either of you?”

“No,” you said firmly. “I’d never let my daughter around that animal.”

A beat passed as he looked at you. It was not pity in his gaze. Admiration lay behind his eyes, and you appreciated that. So many people pitied you when you talked about your marriage. Part of the reason you joked about it was so that people would not look at you with pity. Humor has a way of showing people you were over it, even if you weren’t.

“It amazes me how you were able to pull yourself out of that,” he told you. “I know another woman who was in a similar situation and had the courage to leave, and I can’t say it enough...you’re impressive.”

Tears stung your eyes but you quickly blinked them away.

“Thank you,” you said.

Somehow, it was exactly what you needed to hear. His timing was almost as good as Dear Friend’s. Your heart rested again. Even so, you only stayed for about another hour before you left the reunion. As the car pulled away from the park, relief began to wash over you. Violet crawled onto Gwilym’s lap and dozed against his chest. You closed your eyes and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“I’ve got some tired girls,” he said with a small laugh.

You nodded. “Sorry if this is weird, I just feel heavy.”

“Rest, Y/N, I don’t mind,” he replied.

When you reached the hotel again, Gwilym carried the now sleeping Violet up to your room. You followed close behind and felt an ache in your heart. Why couldn’t she have had a father like him? Or like Dear Friend? It was so unfair. He put her in bed and you pulled the covers up over her shoulders.

“Thanks again,” you said to Gwil. “For everything. Let me know if you ever need a fake date to something. I’m your girl.”

He smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You walked him to the door and you found yourself sad to see him go. You didn’t know when you would see him again.

“I’m sorry your day was so difficult,” he said as he took hold of the knob.

You held his gaze. “Not all of it was.”

He released the door and pulled you into a hug. You held each other for a long moment. It felt like it was two years ago. Like he was truly your friend. You heaved a sigh in his arms and drank in the moment, telling yourself you would do better about maintaining the friendship this time.

“We’ll see each other soon,” he said, sounding just a little unsure.

“I’ll make sure we do,” you replied.

With a quick goodbye, he left. You watched him disappear down the hall. With another sigh, you closed the door.

The following week, you were in Boston. You felt lighter now that you had rid yourself of the burden of your family. Even though you only ever saw them at reunions, it was freeing to get away from that. However, your heart grew heavier the longer it took to hear from Dear Friend. It was taking longer than usual to get a letter back, and it sat in the back of your mind as you went through your set.

“It’s hilarious to me when men argue about women’s issues,” you said to another large crowd. “Like, women can say something as simple as ‘hey, can we maybe get paid the same amount of money to do the same job as you?’ and men immediately go ‘oh, so we can hit you now?’”

You heard mostly women in the audience laugh.

“Oh, it’s ridiculous. How is that even related? I would love for someone to explain that logic to me. Because in case y’all didn’t know, you’re already hitting us and getting away with it,” you went on. “My ex-husband beat the shit out of me and I never once got a check in the mail afterwards.”

You took a drink of water as they laughed some more.

“When has that ever been the exchange?” you continued. “And what the fuck do you mean ‘we can hit you now’? You’ve only not been able to legally hit us within the last hundred years, before women were being paid to do anything! Not to mention, you still fucking do it anyway! Our salaries have never made a difference in whether or not you hit us!”

About half the audience cheered, and you soaked in the applause, but your mind wandered briefly to Dear Friend once more. You caught a glimpse of Stacy backstage and hoped she had a letter for you.

“I realize the men in the room are probably a little uncomfortable right now,” you said. “But to be honest, fellas, I didn’t know y’all were coming.”

They laughed.

“So just sit there and take that shit, honestly,” you finished with a shrug.

You continued on through your set and got to the end, where you talked about Violet and shared that part of your life with them. As you took your bows and headed off stage, Stacy smiled at you and held up an envelope. Your heart skipped a beat. You would recognize that handwriting from anywhere. Dear Friend. At last.

“Finally!” you cried, taking the letter from her and tearing it open.

“Good show, by the way,” she said, smirking.

“Thank you,” you replied distractedly. You opened the letter and your eyes scanned across it, taking in every word.

“Dear Friend,” it began, as that was his name for you as well. “I’d like to begin by apologizing for this letter taking so long to reach you. I’m travelling right now and my post is being forwarded to me. I do hope you weren’t too worried. I could never abandon you, darling. I’m happy to hear all is well with you. I read a quote from Tolstoy the other day that made me think of you and our relationship. It went, ‘I already love in you your beauty, but I am only beginning to love in you that which is eternal and ever precious - your heart, your soul. Beauty one could get to know and fall in love with in one hour and cease to love it as speedily; but the soul one must learn to know. Believe me, nothing on earth is given without labor, even love, the most beautiful and natural of feelings.’

“Isn’t that a lovely sentiment? Although I don’t know what you look like, I feel I do know your soul. We have worked hard to establish such a love. I do feel that I love you. Have I ever said it to you before? Well, I’ll say it again. I love you. I love you. I love you. Who cares what it means to others as long as we know what we mean to each other? Looking forward to your response as always. Yours, Dear Friend.”

You hurried back to your hotel, tucked Violet into bed, and then sat down to write a response. Your heart was fluttering around in your chest like a hummingbird. He loved you. You could now tell him you felt the same. Yet another sense of freedom washed over you. You were in love. For perhaps the first time in your life. With a trembling hand, you began to write back.

Dear Friend. That was a lovely sentiment from Tolstoy. I admit I haven’t been reading as much lately since I too am travelling. Where are you in the world? My heart goes with you!

I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to know your true feelings! It’s given me the strength to be vulnerable and express my own! I love you. I love you. I love you. Can you believe we’ve gone so long without saying these simple words? I’m so relieved to have them out there. And I can safely say I’ve never felt so strongly for another person before.

You started to write the next line, but the sound of a voice from the hallway turned your blood cold. The voice of a man who was everything Dear Friend was not. He was talking on the phone judging by the lack of responses between phrases. But what on Earth was your ex-husband doing in Boston?

Shaking your head, you reasoned with yourself. Henry was a sergeant with the NYPD. He was much too busy to be making random trips out of town. You had to be mistaken. The mystery man and his frightening voice faded down the hall, and you released a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. Nearly four years had passed since you left him, and Henry still scared you stiff. You hated his lingering hold on you.

You glanced at Violet, who was still sleeping soundly. Feeling an extra need to be near, you got up and walked over, sitting carefully next to her. You reached out your hand and ran a gentle finger through her curls. She barely stirred and rolled over, cuddling closer to you subconsciously. She took a deep breath as she nuzzled down into your lap and you felt a surge of affection for her.

What you said to Dear Friend wasn’t necessarily true. You had felt a strong love - perhaps the strongest in the world - but he didn’t know about Violet. That felt more like an in-person conversation to have. If you could ever work up the courage to meet him.

Out of nowhere, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. You snatched it up and saw that the caller was Gwilym. A smile claimed your lips as you swiped to answer.

“Hello?” you whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” he wondered.

“Violet’s asleep,” you returned lowly. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Oh it is rather late, isn’t it?” he chuckled. “Are you still in Boston?”

“Yeah,” you told him. “Are you in town?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “But I will be tomorrow. I’ve got this charity gala thing that...well, a person invited me to, and let’s just say it would be better for my pride if I had a date.”

“Oh, I see,” you said with a smirk. “Your ex invited you.”

“How’d you guess?” he asked with a laugh.

“Gee, I dunno, maybe it was the vague ass description and the fact that you need a date,” you teased.

“Can you come?” he pressed.

“Yeah, tonight was my last show, and I don’t fly out for another two days,” you assured him. “Do I need to get a gown?”

“Yeah, it’s black tie,” he said.

“How sexy do you want it to be?” you wondered.

He chuckled and you felt your heart speed up. You narrowed your eyes at yourself. What the hell was that about?

“Make it classy,” he said. “But with a little something extra.”

“Got it,” you returned. “How’s the promo going?”

“It’s loads of fun, but I’m looking forward to doing something else for at least one evening,” he said. “With some fresh company.”

“I’m telling Joe you said that,” you joked.

“Eh, he won’t hook up with me for a few days, but it’s no big deal,” he replied.

You snorted.

“How’s tour?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s sort of the same stuff every day, so I’m looking forward to changing it up as well.”

“Glad to be of service,” he said. “Hey, have you ever thought about touring in England?”

“You think I’d do well over there?” you pondered.

“Sure you would,” he assured you.

“I am a pretty funny fucker, aren’t I?” you remarked.

He laughed. “The funniest of all the fuckers, no doubt.”

You giggled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gwil.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.”

You hung up. Violet stirred again and her eyes fluttered open. She looked sleepily up at you.

“Mommy…”

“What is it, sweetie?” you asked.

“Had a dream,” she said.

“What did you dream?”

“You and Mister Gwilym got married,” she said. “In Mexico.”

“Oh?” you chuckled. “Was it a nice wedding?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Until I got captured by monkeys.”

You laughed. “That would make it a sad day.”

“S’okay, you saved me,” she assured you.

“I’ll always protect you,” you said, stroking her cheek gently.

Her eyes slowly closed again, and she was asleep. You got up and went to finish your letter to Dear Friend. You read over your words again and your heart soared. You were in love. The most beautiful and natural of feelings.

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