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teaandbacon · 4 months

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i need you (2 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to...maybe this time he feels the same? (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, canon typical themes, unedited)

PART ONE / navigation

Sorry for the things I said.

I appreciate you.

He erases the messages that he wanted to send. It was tempting…

The flowers he let die mocks him by the stove. It was a fire hazard he knew; but if this room burned down, would you come over to check if he was doing well?

His eyes look ahead, empty. Ever since that incident in the kitchen weeks ago, the Chefs have been on edge. Who wouldn’t be? He was cutting away those vegetables like he just didn’t cut his hand. He decided to forget about you…for now. But it was hard, considering the fact that your artwork hung in The Bear like a mantlepiece. A mantlepiece for others but he sees it like a crufix and he, a sinner with no redemption. It mocks him of his mistakes…of what he said. Everything seemd to mock him.

Ever since that bloody incident in the kitchen a few days ago, Carmy made sure to never commit a mistake again. Every second counts, every second counts…every second he counted was spent on you.

Were you alright? Were you in Chicago? Did you still need him? Or were you alright since he's finally out of your life?

You’re so fucking miserable.

It rang in his head because he knew that it was true. He was—is miserable. He made everyone around him just as miserable as he was. He could never grasp the intensity of his feelings; could never seem to grasp anything. He thinks to himself to just fuck it all and go to you and grovel…but he just couldn’t. He knew he wanted more. He was well aware of his feelings for you but to think that he made a mess of everything that he could ever have was hard to swallow.

Carmy has the habit of hiding from his allies. He can’t control his emotions but sometimes, he bides his time hoping to fix it. He tries to wait for the perfect time to fix what he burned but…it’s been too long since you last saw each other. It’s been too long since he sent you a message.

Would you still love me?

You weren’t doing any better. Carmen, despite his refusal to love, was warm. He’s the sun shining on a cold winter day; the warmth that spreads all over your body from the kiss that he leaves on your shoulder. You missed him dearly, but you couldn’t have it in you to reach out first when it was him who didn’t love you.

The realization of Carmen not loving you back was bearable at first but to see it right in front of your eyes…to be on the receiving end of his rejection was more than what you could comprehend.

In a span of those months without Carmen, you felt…like there was a gaping Carmen Berzatto-shaped hole inside your heart that only he could fix. You’ve been in and out of Chicago to forget about him, but you couldn’t. At the end of the day, you were just as miserable as when you first realized that you'd fallen for him. Was it asking for too much when you asked him to still be your friend? The more he pushed you away, the more you were convinced that you didn’t matter to him at all.

Is it too late for me to love you?

You’ve been surrounding yourself with work; painting in your studio for what felt like years until you were sure that your fingers were gonna fall off.

If walls could talk, they’d tell the world of Carmen Berzatto.

You’ve been purging yourself of anything Carmy and you found yourself painting every single food he’s ever made for you. It was all that you could do to relieve yourself of the sobs that choked you at night; when you didn’t want to acknowledge that the man you loved didn’t love you back. You should have been fine—you were expecting this. You were anticipating this but you still wondered what it would be like to be loved by him. You still wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand in the streets of Chicago. You wondered how his hand would feel on your knee while he drives back home. You wondered what it felt like to be loved by him.

You were meeting some art collector today—he seems to be keen on commissioning you for your work and you accepted. He was supposed to arrive in Chicago to meet you and to try a new restaurant that everyone’s been raving about. He said that he already had a reservation for three but he couldn’t go and told you to meet with his art consultant, Isaac on his stead.

You should’ve known from the context clues that you’ll be landing in a place you didn’t want to go to. You should’ve been smarter because maybe, if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting at The Bear, waiting for your frozen grapes and bone broth. Surprise was one word to describe Natalie’s face when she saw you.

“So, how did you realize you wanted to pursue art?”

“Oh,” you licked your lips. “I guess, I wanted to pursue it all my life. It was something that I was good at and…and I can’t really cook well. I liked how food was presented and how empty dinner plates look sometimes, you know. It didn’t take long for me to collaborate with chefs and restaurants and…”

“Is that your piece?” Isaac asked. “I’m sorry, I just—wow. Do you think the manager will let me come nearer to inspect it?”

You smiled at him.

“Um, yeah.” you nod. Richie comes by and stops by your table.

“Good evening, guys,” he greets. “Y/N, it’s been a while.”

“Hey, Rich,” you waved.

“We’ll get you started with frozen grapes in a minute,” he says. “How’s your night? Didn’t know I’d find you here.”

“Oh, this is Isaac. Isaac, Richie.”

Isaac stands up to shake Richie’s hand.

“Do you want to go see the painting? It’s even more detailed up close,” Richie said, ushering Isaac to the painting. He throws you a look as if to ask for your permission but you just smiled at him. Your knee was bouncing under the table, trying to calm yourself down. Richie walks back to your table.

“You know he’s not going to like that,”

“I’m in a business meeting,” you shrugged. “Isaac is an art consultant and his boss told us he couldn’t come. Do you need to see my text messages?”

“I know, I’m not fucking accusing you of anything. Don’t be defensive,” Richie says, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “But had I known that we were going here, I would’ve suggested another place. I don’t want to be here either.” Richie looks for the object of your focus, seeing your eyes zero in on the painting you gave to Carmen.

“We all love the painting. Carmy loves it. He looks at it every day before opening,” he offers but you only shrug. If he loved the painting so much, why didn’t he text you? “You should’ve thrown it at me instead of throwing it at the back. Could’ve earned thousands on that one,” you chuckled, telling him that it probably would. He sees Isaac come back to the table after marvelling at your painting. Richie smiles tightly and tells him that starters will be served shortly.

“Yo, Y/N’s outside. We have to bring our A game!” Richie shouts in the kitchen. “Make her first time here an experience. Fak, make sure that the lamp over Y/N and Isaac isn’t too hot and then, ask if you could serve them some drinks.”

“Okay,” Fak nods, fixing his hair to make sure that he was presentable. It takes a bit for Carmy to register what Richie was saying and he blinks.

“Wait, hold up. Cousin. Who’s here? Y/N…she’s here?” Carmy asked, taking the teapot of bone broth. “With…with who?”

“Isaac,” Richie replied, he was watching Carmy fix his hair and his uniform. What an asshole.

“Carmy! Don’t fucking—go,” Sydney whispers the last part, looking pointedly at Richie once Carmy leaves with the fucking teapot. “Really, Richie? Tonight? You want to play fucking games tonight?” she asked. “Need I remind you of the bloody chopping board? Sweeps hasn’t removed the stains out yet,”

“What?” he shrugs. “Everyone’s been on edge since they stopped talking. It’s nice to take a breather,” Richie saw the realization dawn on Sydney’s face and he smirks. “Right, chefs! It will take Carmy two minutes to go do his alpha whatever fucking bullshit outside. That’s two minutes of easy time. I’ll need focaccia for Y/N’s table after the fucking grapes. Make sure that the dishes are warm, chefs! Every second counts,”

“Good evening,” he greets, a tight smile on his face. He catches the way your smile falls slowly into a frown.

“Carmen,” you replied.

“Finally had the time to visit,” he says. “With a date?”

“Ah, no,” you replied. “Isaac is my customer’s art consultant and he’s uh,”

“Here to make a deal,” Isaac replied. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Berzatto.”

“Here’s your broth with the-the grapes,” he says, shakily pouring it over the frozen grapes. “Hope you, uh, enjoy the evening, Y/N. Isaac,”

He turns to leave but pauses.

“Um, sorry, Y/N can I have a word with you?” he asked. “Please,”

You swallowed. “Um—“

Isaac saw your apprehension. “It’s okay. You’re friends…right? I’ll stay here,”

“Sure. I’ll take two minutes. I’m so sorry,” you apologized before letting him lead you to the kitchen. “Hi, guys. Sorry for interrupting,”

“It’s fine,” Richie says, smiling at you sweetly.

“Carmy, we can talk later, okay? Your kitchen needs you,” you tried. You’ve been saying that to him even before your entrance to the kitchen, but he only shakes his head.

“Just…two minutes,” he says. “Please,”

“Carmen…”

“Please,” he tried. He didn’t really want his staff to see him grovel even though he knew that this was bringing them some sort of a sadistic joy.

“Sorry, everyone,” you forced out, but Sydney was actually thankful to get Carmen out of the kitchen for a few minutes. If it was possible, Carmy was even more unreasonable. His standards were tip top. A second too long was a second too much. He and Sydney have been screaming at each other every night; the volume of their voices louder by the second.

You followed him into the office, being reminded of the hurtful words you’ve said to each other. He locks the door, and runs a hand over his face.

“What…what are you doing here?” he scowls.

“I’m a paying customer. I can go wherever I want,”

“With him? What are you doing here with him?” he asked, hands on his waist to show his impatience. You decided to make him wait and he does, urging you to answer by raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t think it matters to you,” you replied. “I can go eat wherever I want. I can afford it,”

“I’m-I’m not saying that you can’t. Just-just tell me why here?”

“Why are you so bothered? You can’t question every guy you see me with, Carm,” you reasoned out. “You told me you didn’t love me. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to still know where I go and who I spend time with.” He flinches at your tone. You’ve never talked to him like that before. You were always so gentle. So, for you to disregard him and not even give a reason why, an icy glare thrown his way…was mean.

“I can kick you out,” he spits. You scowl at him; he’s never been the subject of your anger and right now, you were seething.

“So, kick me out,” you challenged him, meeting his eyes with the dort of ferocity that he never expected from you. He stays silent, looking at the floor. He didn’t want you to hate him more than you already do. “I thought so,”

Urgent and demanding raps on your door broke you from your reviere. You liked painting in silence; it soothes you from the loudness of the world outside. You sighed, knowing immediately who was on the other side. Your breath was shaky, and you tried to walk slowly towards the door. What would you even say to him?

Carmy was a jittering mess on the other side. He couldn’t get you out of his head ever since you visited The Bear a few days ago. He was watching from the other side after service, seeing you laugh at whatever Isaac said. He was making you laugh when that was reserved to Carmen alone…months ago before he ruined everything he ever wanted. He waits with bated breath as you open the door. He used to be able to just come inside your house whenever he wanted. You used to wait for him with a small smile on your face. It is all gone now. You looked tired; like you didn’t want him there at all.

“Can I come in?” he asked but he didn’t miss the way you shielded your body with the door. He didn’t miss the way your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Sure.” Sure. Like you didn’t have any other choice but to deal with him right now. Sure.

“Thanks,” he licks his lips, putting his shoes on the side like he used to. Your home was clean but it was devoid of anything. The lights were barely on and the music that used to play from your vinyl was nowhere to be heard. Carmy used to tease you for being pretentious. It’s too quiet inside your house right now.

“Do you want anything? Water?”

“No, thanks,” he says, and you nod. “I’m…I just—I don’t know why I’m here,”

“I see,” you replied, looking anywhere but at him. “Can I help you?”

“Um—who-who were you with the other day?”

“You can’t just…question or decide to drop by when you see me with someone else, Carm,” you said, voice low and careful. “He was an art consultant,”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes inviting you to look at him but you wouldn’t budge. He knew why. He knew that he was an art consultant but something inside Carmy was telling him that the planning had been deliberate and that you went there with malice. To spite him…make him jealous…it was narcissistic but what if?

“Because…because you don’t love me,” you chuckled. There was something funny about not being loved back by a person who used to come to you at the smallest inconvenience. “You don’t love me but the first thing you do is to freak out. It was a work meeting and you freaked out. You don’t love me, Carmy,”

“How many times will-will you hold that over me?” he asked, frowning. “Why are you acting like-like I did something wrong? You can’t control how I feel, Y/N! Give it up!”

“Because I can and I want to, Carmen!” you exclaimed, chest heaving. Your throat constricted at his rejection. This was the second time. “I can and I want to hold that over you because I’m hurt. I am hurt. You hurt me. You toss me away to the side and-and you expect me to be forgiving. You expect me to just understand,”

“You have to accept that I…don’t—that I don’t love you that way,” he whispers, and it just breaks your heart because he still couldn’t get it.

“I’m not asking you to love me back,” you croak, your eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want to tell you how to feel—or what to feel but you didn’t even text me. You didn’t ask me how I was doing…or -or said hi to me. You—you…I don’t know. You just stopped.”

“Why didn’t you text me first?”

“Because I told you how much you mattered to me. I told you that I love you. I thought that if I didn’t text you, you'd miss me and…God, Carmen. I would have been fine if you didn’t love me back. It would have been fucking dandy. It would have been great if you could have just…treated me like a—like a friend, you know? I still would’ve been there for you…but you shut me out! You showed me just how little I mattered to you, Carm. Did you know that…? You—you treat me like how you treat everyone else when you’re the one who needs me. ”

“You do—you matter to me…”

“Actions speak louder than words,” you spat, your arms crossed over your chest. “You only text me first when you want a quick fuck. I’m free tonight? Want to go? You can’t even say that you want to have sex with me,”

Carmen was at a loss for words. He was hurt that you’d think that way of him when he thought the world of you. Did you really think that you’d matter to Carmen just because he wanted to fuck you?

“Hey, don’t-don’t do that. That isn’t fair to me. You know that-that you mean more to me than that. You’re being unfair,”

“Unfair,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m being unfair when you’re the one inside my home after seeing me with a guy that I am working with.”

“It’s my fucking restaurant! It’s my goddamn restaurant,” he exclaimed, running his hand over his golden hair that you loved so much. “It’s my fucking goddamn restaurant!”

“And I’m fucking telling you that I can do whatever I want!” you retorted, matching the intensity of his voice. “Why do you care, Carmen?” you spit.

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what? Carm? Carmy? Bear? Carmen…Anthony…Berzatto?” you taunt, the same venom dripping from your voice. He just never heard it from you before and it was an unpleasant feeling. “I’m not…I’m not going to let you push me around just because I love you, Carmy,” you shook your head.

Carmy stares at you, his face pinched in frustration and in sadness. He looks away, swallowing. He presses his hand over his chest to ground him. He didn’t know if he should be mad at you for making him feel this way. Like he needs you all the time to be alright. He didn’t know if he should be angry at himself for letting you lure him into your trap and your promises of warmth and love and…contentment. All this time, he tried to convince himself that he didn’t need anyone much less you for that matter.

“Say something,” you urged, looking at him desperately but he just shakes his head. You could feel it—feel him detach himself from you. You could feel him cower, hide his feelings…the real reason why he was knocking on your door in the first place. “Fucking say something, Carm! Tell me why you’re here,”

He just stands there unmoving, blinking back any emotion. He wanted to store everything in his brain. He didn’t want to feel anymore…he didn’t…

“Fucking hell,” you whispered shakily. “I don’t know what you want from me…but I can’t go on like-like this! I can’t open the door for you every time you knock. I can’t answer every time you call…just…please, Carmy. Fucking say something.”

Still, he stays silent.

A sardonic chuckle escapes your lips.

“Leave when you want to, I don’t give a shit. Just…just don’t come inside my fucking studio, Carmen. I was expecting you to apologize to tell me that you still want to be friends…I guess I thought I mattered to you more than that,” you told him, walking away. He just watches you go to your studio, hearing the sounds of your materials being thrown in different directions. It doesn’t make him flinch; he just watches the fire burn.

It’s time to go.

Carmen has been living in autopilot since his last visit. It was probably jealousy that prompted him to act like a jagoff but he wasn’t ready to admit that. Instead, he was harder on himself, beating himself up over the smallest things—if a dice wasn’t precise, it wasn’t good enough. Food out for a second too long was cold. It was like reliving New York but he was the perpetrator. He was the one pushing his boundaries until he hated what he was doing and Carmy admits, it was not healthy.

But what else could he do? Cooking was the only thing he was good at and there was nothing else to do other than work.

That was a lie.

He sometimes spent hours rereading the messages you sent him. You’d always text him to have a good day…a funny photo that reminded you of him…

He smiles at some of them, but it’s quickly replaced by the frown that etches on his face because he will never receive these messages from you. Isaac probably fucking does though. He grips his phone tightly in his hands; he hates that thought. He looks at his phone blankly, the message from you illuminating his face blue.

parm4carm? carmyggiano reggiano? carmensan hahahahahaha i’m at a meeting and i want to laugh because i’m thinking of things to add to your name

He didn’t remember replying but he did remember the small satisfaction that the message brought him all day. You were thinking of him and you were trying to make him laugh; he tried his best to stop himself from smiling but Richie noticed it immediately.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” he asked him but Carmy only flipped him off, turning around to stop Richie from seeing him.

He sighs. It’s not like what you had wasn’t fun. In fact, he was quite sure that it was the somewhat-only healthy relationship that he has. You both gave wach other space, you talked things through. When he started dating Claire, he went to your apartment first to tell you about her. You shrugged it off, not really minding who Carmy dated back then. When he apologized for not inviting you to the opening despite multiple protests from Richie and Sydney, you understood. When he stopped responding for a week, you showed up to his door with a pack of his favorite cigarettes and a box of doughnuts.

Looking back, did he ever do anything for you?

“Carmy, you good?” Sugar asked. He was more standoffish; he smokes more, and he doesn’t speak much. It’s always only a grunt or a “yeah yeah.”

“Oh,” Carmy says, blinking. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Carmy…” Sugar tries. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods. “I…I’m just thinking, you know? Like-like, I fuck everything up and-and I’m aware of it,” he says. “I know that what I’m doing isn’t right but…you know, I-I always have this dream of a fire…and I just watch it burn…”

Sugar nods, trying to coax out the lump in Carmy’s throat.

“I wonder if I just don’t speak…will they understand me? I can’t fuck things up again just because I have no cell reception. What if that happens again?” he asked, frowning. “Fuck,”

“Do you think she’s distracting? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,”

“But I…I want to,” he says, his hand pressed on his chest. “I want to, Nat but I can’t,”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Carmy. Go talk to the girl,” she smiles and Carmy could only nod because maybe Nat was right. If he could just…talk to you without jumping on your throat and without blinking, there like a fucking idiot.

That’s an easy job, right?

“I’ve been thinking about-about us, and I just want to say that I’m sorry and that I…Fuck!”

He was walking like a madman inside his apartment, on the verge of texting you about how Isaac chewed with his mouth open. You told him you hated people who chewed with their mouths open—loud and wet. He saw your favorite cereal on sale the other day. He almost wanted to ask you if you were aware that it was marked down. Should he get you a few boxes? What about three? He just wanted to know. Would you…would you come over if he let his kitchen burn? Would you come over if you saw the dead flowers that dried up because he couldn’t find it in himself to throw them away. It was the last piece of evidence that he wanted to go. Would you even accept his dead flowers now that your name was on every art forum? You probably like cereal and milk with fucking gold leaves and fig.

He knows that you didn’t like it when he looked sad but when he visited you, did you notice the way his shoulders slumped? Because he noticed the shallowness of your breathing, the taps on the floor, the pause before you opened the door for him. He noticed the way you blinked back the tears that he threatened to spill because he was cruel. He knew…he knew that he was cruel but would you still forgive him if he ran up to you now?

The cereal you like is marked down at the store. Do you want some?

The vibration in your pocket stops you from talking to the guy who just offered to buy you your coffee.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. “Let me just…get this,”

Your hands slightly trembled when you saw the message that Carmy just sent. It was an odd olive branch but what if you were looking into things again? What if he was just trying to have sex again?

I’m sorry for the things that I said.

Can we talk?

“Hey, hey,” the guy says. You didn’t even know his name. “Are you alright?”

“Uh? Yeah, no-yeah, I am. Sorry,” you replied, locking your phone and putting it in the back pocket. “What was it?”

“Oh, I was wondering if-if you want coffee?”

“I…already ordered, though,” you replied. “Advanced order and I’m just waiting…”

The guy’s face falls, and you smile timidly.

“Sorry,” you offered.

“No, that's fine,” he shrugs. “I should’ve known or something,”

“No, thanks. Um, yeah…”

The barista calls for your name on the counter and you smile at him before leaving. You rushed out of the café without another word, coffee in your hand and Carmen’s message in your backpocket.

The Read label was putting Carmen in a spiral. You read the message twelve fucking minutes ago, why weren’t you replying? He was popping the joints on his knuckles, watching the phone closely until you replied.

what time do you close?

can we go to your apartment instead?

He lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He texts you to just enter the apartment since you still have the keys, completely forgetting about the flowers near his stove.

When you entered his apartment, you were greeted with the bareness of it all, save for the dried flowers on the stove. You frowned, walking towards it. Carmy didn’t need flowers… Besides, this was a fire hazard. Was he okay?

You turned over the card attached and took a sharp breath.

Let it rip. I’m so proud of you.

Love, Carm

Was this deliberate? Did he plan this all out to get you to forgive him? You turned away, trying to forget the note that he was meant to give you. You sat on his couch instead, settling on the corner and flipping through the channels on his cable. You wanted something to fill the silence so that when he comes, you wouldn’t have to try to make up for it by saying something stupid like the weather in Chicago.

You settled on some reality show, looking at the screen with your eyes glazed over when you heard someone mess with the lock. You looked over, watching Carmy in his grey sweater. He tossed the backpack to the side and his shoes were laying somewhere. You saw this scene before—multiple times but the undertone was different.

“Hi,”

“Hey,”

“Um—“

“I hope you…you don’t mind me watching—“

Carmy’s eyes flicks to the stove and realization dawns on his face.

“Fuck, fuck. Sorry—you, ah, weren’t supposed to…” he puts the flowers in the cupboard hastily, some leaves falling. “See that,”

“Yeah—“

“Um, I’ll just…”

“Yeah,”

He nods, blinking, before stalking to his bedroom. He locks the door behind him and heaves. Fuck. He shakes his head entering the bathroom to wash the day away.

You couldn't focus anymore. Why was he so ashamed of the flowers he got you? You swallow the thickness down your throat. Were you intruding if you got yourself a glass of water? Carmy goes out of the bedroom a few minutes later, fresh and clean. He looks at you and heads to the kitchen. You don’t move.

He comes back with a glass of water for you, laying it down on the coffee table and then sitting beside you—as far as he could because he didn’t know where you stood right now. What boundaries can he cross?

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, taking a huge gulp of the cold water. “Um…”

“Shit—I don't know what to say,” he says, folding his hands on his lap.

“We can…we can start with what we said,” you replied slowly. “I…”

“I’m sorry,”

“Carm—“

“I’m sorry. I didn’t take-I didn’t take your feelings into consideration and I…I hurt you,” he says, looking down. You were both sitting straight ahead, the TV illuminating your faces. It felt like a thick wall was between you two and that it was up to you to break it. “I just…I don’t know. I can’t keep on doing shitty things and then-then, feeling bad about myself but I…I spent my life trying to-to understand mom and Mi—key,” he chokes. “I guess I don’t want to understand anyone else anymore because I wouldn’t be able to but I—but you’re not anyone else.”

“I fucked up,” he says. “When I was with Claire…I was locked in the fucking freezer because I had no cell reception. I don’t want that…but I don’t—“

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked.

“I want to—I want…I,”

“I’m sorry for calling you miserable and unreliable,” you told him. “I was hurt and I’m sorry for uh, holding things over you. It’s not your fault that I caught feelings. It wasn’t fair to just…expect you to…love me, you know? Wasn’t fair,”

“No, I was a shitty friend. I shouldn’t have let you go like that,”

“Yeah,” you nod. You heard him shift in his seat, legs crossed over each other and facing you. You glanced and did the same.

“I got you your cereal,” A small smile.

“Yeah?” A beat.

“Like four boxes.”

“I’ll be sick of them,” you teased.

“I know but maybe you’d hate that instead,” A confession.

“I don’t hate you…”

“You don’t?” he asked. “Why…I’m really sorry. I don’t want to…I’m really fucking sorry,”

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked, a brave hand on his knee. “Tell me what you want,”

“Please,”

“And we’ll make it work,”

“I want everything. But I…I don’t…It’s funny. A fridge started Claire and I’s relationship. A fridge ended it too. I’m sorry for bringing her up…but I never felt like I was deserving of…of happiness and I,” he blinks, eyes pinching at the bitterness of every word that rolled off his tongue. “Who the fuck said I could be in a relationship? I am the best because I was focused and I…I had cell reception and I didn’t have the bullshit of understanding feelings. I don’t need amusement or enjoyment…I…no amount of good was worth it, you know? I thought-thought that it was a complete waste of my fucking time but I crave for it,”

“And…I don’t know. I failed them and I…I don’t—“ he heaves. He has to let it all out if he wanted to make things right. “I’m scared that if I…jump in, you know? I fuck everything up again. My staff hates me, I hate me, and you…you hate me too. I don’t want to lose cell reception and I…I don’t need enjoyment but I need you. I need you with me all the time but what if you get—sick of me and push me away like Mikey did? What if…what if you learn to hate me? I need you and I don’t know if I can handle it if we—if we just stopped talking and I did. I stopped talking to you because it would have hurt me more if you decided to end things like that…I’m sorry,”

“I’m just…I fuck up everything that I touch, and I know that I’m miserable and I’m so fucking sorry that I hurt you. I’ll take that with me to the grave. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, a hand pressed on his chest, like he was protecting it. The barrier that you had to strike down. A gentle hand takes his, interlacing your fingers with his calloused ones. It makes him flinch, but he accepts the gesture.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you smiled and Carmy could just cry because it was the same thing that Claire had told him. What was the guarantee that it was different this time? “But Carmy, you have to understand that I…I don’t want to hurt you or-or distract you from being the best. I want you to be the best…”

“Is the best…enough?” he asks. “If I lose you?”

“That’s a question you have to answer for yourself, Carm,” you offered. “I’m selfish. I can’t—I don’t want to be the reason why you learn to hate me just because I told you to choose me and I don’t want you to choose. I want you to…be the best and be—be…”

“I need you,”

“I know but I…” I want you to love me.

“I touch everything and I burn everything…Richie and I…I feel so bad about the things I said to him and I fucking hate that I can’t control anything. My life is so fucked up and I—“ he stops, looking at you for the first time that night. “I just wish to just let the everything burn and then it will all go away but I need you to watch it burn with me,”

He still hasn’t said what you wanted to hear from him. He still hasn’t said anything.

“I love you,”

You stop your breathing.

“Carm—don’t say that just for the sake of saying it,” you begged, pulling him away from him and standing up. “Don’t say that if you don’t-don’t mean it…you're just being mean,”

“I do,”

“Carmy,” you whispered. “You didn’t love me months ago. What made you love me now?” you asked. “I’m not invalidating your feelings or-or whatever but I need you to understand that I’ve been loving you for months. I loved you after you broke up with Claire and we drank wine many months ago, but you didn’t…do you love me because you need me?”

“No!” he says. “I love you and I need you. I’ve been—harboring these feelings but I can’t…I can’t say anything and I’m so, so scared that if I don’t say anything now, then everything will just be a big fucking shit show and then, I’ll lose you forever. I’m so scared because what if we don’t work and-and you decide that I do make you miserable? What then?”

“What if we work out?”

“That’s worse because then I’d know that I’ve been holding myself back for nothing,”

“I’m confused, Carm. What do you want?” you asked, shaking your head.

“You and I…together,” he replied. “Only if you want to. I don’t want to make you feel like-like I’m,”

“Can you say that again?”

“What?”

“What do you feel for me,” you begged. “I’ve been…I’ve been waiting months for you to tell me those words and I just have to make sure that I—that I’m hearing you correctly,”

“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats the same words over and over again and you feel your eyes brim with tears because this is what you wanted—this is what you’ve always wanted to hear. He stands up and walks over to you, covering his arms around your frame. “I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t,”

“Carmy…” you trailed off. “I’m sorry for the things that I said,”

“I’m sorry too,” he says. “But it’s okay…consider everything forgotten,” he kisses your temple and checks on you. “We’re okay, baby. We’re okay,”

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he says, ducking his head so his lips could meet yours. “I miss you,” he mumbles, cradling your head with his two hands. He kisses you fervently, like he was thirsty and you were the fountain of life. “Mm,”

“Carm…” you whine when he lets you go. You push him to the couch, his legs open wide as he watches you. “I want to show you how much I missed you,”

“Yeah?” he rasps, tapping his lap. “Come here, baby,”

You nod, watching his chest rise and fall in anticipation. You settle yourself on his lap, legs on either side. His hands immediately find your waist, clutching your body through the soft material of your shirt. You tug on his shirt to bring him closer to you, kissing him slowly. Your hands find themselves tugging on his hair, your hips rocking softly against his clothed crotch.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hips meeting your subconsciously and you giggle at his anticipation.

“Carm!” you chuckled, lips trailing down to his jaw. He likes that you never fail to leave love bites where everyone can see. He sighs deeply when you suck on the spot he liked so much. You could feel him harden under his joggers, itching for release. When you are done, you smile at him, pecking him on the lips before removing his shirt completely. He sucks in a breath when your soft hands run over his chest. “I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he rasps, tugging on your shirt. You oblige, removing the piece of clothing entirely. His mouth waters at the sight of your naked torso. You rub your heat against his cock, the both of you moaning because of the pleasurable friction. It was slow and deliberate at first but you were soon mewling, his mouth on yours. His tongue pushes past against your lips, swirling with one another. “Remove everything, please—“

You nod, standing in front of him to strip yourselves of what remained between the two of you. Carmy, runs his hand on your waist, looking up at you with need. You run your hands through his hair while you let him kiss every part of your body that he could kiss. You sigh at the contact of his warm lips against your body, settling yourself back on his lap but this time, with less restraint. His hand immediately finds your cunt, fingers working to flick your clit. You whimpered when you felt his fingers prod your entrance.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Fuck yourself with my hand,”

“Carm,” you whine, bouncing slightly. Your hand finds the tip of his cock and his hips jerks, at the contact.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, looking up at you with his eyes half-lidded. He removes his fingers inside you and sucks on them. “You always taste so sweet,”

You couldn’t choke out any reply. So instead, you put your hands on either of his shoulders, slowly sinking on his cock.

“Fuuuuck,” he says, his head falling on the sofa. “Fuck,”

“Carmy,” you said, rolling your hips against his own slowly. “You’re so—“

“Good,” he says, watching his member disappear inside you completely. He could feel your wetness on his thighs, and it kills him. “I’m gonna make you mine,” he says, pinching your nipple.

“Carmy!”

“You like it?” he asked, his head inching closer. He flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud while you ride him. He bites on it and you flinch. He feels your walls clench around him when he does that, so he tries it on your other nipple.

“Carm,” you whined, “Fuck—“

The moans that emitted from his mouth vibrated on your chest. He was continuously sucking and licking your nipple, pinching and twisting it with his rough hands while you gyrated against him. His cock fills you up differently and you let his hips thrust upwards, hitting a certain soot inside of you.

He gives up the need to control, letting you part away from him. You stand up, repositioning yourself to finally—

“Fuck!” he groans, not expecting the sudden feeling of your tight, wet walls wrapping his girth. The tip was just teasing your wntrance a few second ago. His head falls back, arms wrapped around your waist while you bounce on his cock. “Fuck, fuck,”

“Carmy…” you moan. “Kiss me,”

He does what was told, capturing your lips with his. His tongue parts your already open mouth, his arms snaking around gour waist to keep you closer. You whimper, hands holding either side of his neck and you grip slightly.

“Mm,” he groans, breaking away from you. Your pace was speeding up, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling his apartment. “Fuck,”

You smiled at him, constricting his airways a little tighter.

“I’m so—fuck—oh,” he chokes out. His hips stutter against you, cock filling you up completely and he feels your walls clench around him. “close.”

“Baby, baby, baby…” he sighs, the pressure too much for him. “I’ll make you mine. I’ll make you mine,”

“I love you,” you mewled, head falling when he plays with your sensitive buds again. “I want to be yours, Carm,”

He meets your wet pussy with his cock in sloppy thrusts. Your bodies were moving in motion, desperate for that release—that closeness after months of being away from each other. Carmy was holding you so close, grunting and groaning under you.

“Fuck, I fucking love—oh,” his voice breaks and he comes undone. Your walls clench around his gushing member, thrusting inside to chase your high. Your movements slow down, his head on your shoulder. A beat passes with heavy breathing. He peeks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, removing yourself from him. “Are you?”

He nods, pushing your hair away from your face.

“I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up. What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”

“I think cereal’s good.”

A/N: First and foremost, I’d like to thank you guys for the overwhelming love and support that you showed in chapter one. Your comments and reblogs all motivated me to write chapter 2 the best that I can and I hope that you love this chapter as much as the previous one. As always, don’t forget to comment or reblog your thoughts! I’d love to know what you thought about this one.

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