#I love this because it really betrays the subtle truths behind #a lot what goes on behind the scenes in these relationship dynamics #like of course Bonnie knew about Caroline’s feelings for Stefan #she’s been the ear Caroline would bend about boys for forever #she’s the one Caroline first told Stefan’s favorite color #she was there for the very first “why didn’t he choose me?” #and of course she talked to Damon about it #as he would admit later that day to Elena #while at the same time trying to pretend that all they talked about was her #Damon and Bonnie had 4 months together #their own “summer of our lives” #and they spent that time falling deeper and deeper into each other’s confidance #learning every intricate detail of each other that they didn’t already know #they talked about anything and everything until he was certain that #Bonnie knows every word in the English language #and no matter how much Damon or the fandom tries to pretend that isn’t true #little moments like this or like the moment in 6x21 when Bon says that #they were on the phone all night after Elena walked out #they paint the real picture
Summer held a lot of memories for us.
You kissed me for the first time in summer.
We had the times of our lives in summer.
We had our first fight in summer.
You told your first lie in summer.
You made me cry in summer.
Summary: You’re struggling with being in back in London while Chris is in Boston.
A year. You’d made it a whole year of being separated by thousands of miles. A year consisting of endless lonely nights, knowing that Chris was going about his daily life outside of this dysfunctional routine that the two of you had developed for yourselves. A year that had the potential to make or break you as both an individual and his other half. A year that you needed to come to end before it had the chance to extend into two years, three years, four.
“[Y/N], please. I want to do this for you, for us. You have the job waiting for you, and the one thing that’s stopping you is something I can fix.”
Chris had been begging you for the last two months to accept his offer, but you knew you could never shake the guilt that would inevitably follow you until you could repay him. This money would allow you to create the life you’d spent years pining for.
“You know how much I want to take the money, but it’s not right.” You sighed, watching his eager smile drop almost as fast as it had when you’d told him you’d booked your flight home in the first place. You could probably handle being away from him if it weren’t for the constant online contact, but you knew that all this time spent video chatting had given you a connection that you never would’ve had time to grow if you’d stayed in the United States. This kind of contact meant that he could be on set in Atlanta but still be there when you needed him.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud groan.
“How many times do I have to say it? Whatever this is between us, I’m not willing to let the last year go to waste. So either you fly out here, or I’m coming to pack that suitcase for you.”
You threw your body across the bed, wishing he was next to you. Instead, you stared at the screen at the edge of your duvet and dragged your laptop closer. How had you coped for this long when you could barely stand to be more than a metre away from the virtual version of him?
“I’ll think about it, okay?” You knew he didn’t believe you, and you didn’t believe yourself either but you desperately needed to act on your promise. It was a promise you had been making since he’d first asked you.
“Next time you visit, [Y/N], I’ll take you to this new restaurant in Boston that I found. Fairy lights and wine, what more could you want?”
He’d stopped pushing you for now. and just like that, you were both back to trying to ignore the key factor of your separation.
Four days had passed since you last spoke to Chris and you were craving any form of contact. This wasn’t something you’d experienced before, not with him. Before now, there hadn’t been a single day during which you hadn’t talked. Whether it was a quick text, a video call or a lengthy conversation, you always found a way to remain connected.
You were missing his good morning texts that came in as he went to sleep and you were missing seeing his name light up on your screen. The worst part was you knew it was your fault. If you hadn’t been so stubborn, you could’ve been resting your head on his chest right now. You could’ve been at that restaurant he’d mentioned during your last conversation. You could’ve been doing anything but wishing you weren’t so far away.
And yet here you were, stood on a crowded tube in London and wondering if he’d given up on you. How had you let such an insignificant thing create such a rift? The only reason Chris would even notice that he was missing money would be because you were there. But you weren’t.
You unlocked your door to find a envelope waiting for you. You recognised his handwriting immediately and tore it open to reveal a slip of paper and a letter. This was it; he was going to end it all before it got any harder.
I know you said you’d think about my offer, but I also know that once you get something stuck in your head, you don’t change your mind for anything or anyone. Before you make a final decision and tell me in very specific words that you don’t want this, promise me you’ll at least take my words to heart.
I’m scared too. This doesn’t happen to every actor and it certainly doesn’t happen to every fan, but I knew from the way you approached me at the airport at the start of last Summer that you were my equal in every way. I don’t care that you were or are a fan, my friends don’t care and my family don’t care. Don’t deny that this is one of the biggest issues you have besides the money, I know you better than you think. I guess what I’m trying to say is, if none of the people we hold close to us give a damn about how all of this started out, why should you?
Back to the money, I know you’re worried what people will think but nobody outside of our bubble has to know. You’ve been working towards this since you were eighteen, and I know you didn’t want to take such a big risk until you were fully financially prepared but I’m giving you the chance. Take it. Not just because I want you to be here with me, in Boston, but because you deserve it. You need to do this for yourself, even if we don’t work out.
I know you keep promising me you’ll think about it, but I think we’re both aware that it’s time to take action. As much as I care for you and want to say those three words that you and I have both been longing to hear, I can’t do it until you’re in my arms for more than three months. We can’t live our lives one Summer at a time.
You were shaking as the realisation washed over you. He had known all along that there was more to your rejection of the money than you had confessed and in one short letter he had managed to brush it all off. You no longer had an argument against moving to Boston.
You examined the slip of paper, already knowing what it was. This was your entire future written down in a group of numbers. It was everything you needed to get on a plane and allow yourself to have the future you wanted.
You had packed as many of your belongings as you could into one case, your family had assured you they would handle shipping, and having already said your goodbyes, contacted the company who had kept a spot open for you and made plans to look at apartments in Boston, you knew that there was nothing stopping you from sending the text.
“BAW215, arriving at 16:40.” You switched your phone off before Chris could reply, trusting that he had enough faith in you to read it let alone meet you on the other side.
You’re anxiously scanning every face you can see, desperate for your eyes to land on him. That’s when you see him. Standing there in his baseball cap and sunglasses in a desperate attempt to stay incognito. You smile, yearning for him to reveal his beautiful blue eyes to you.
He removes his sunglasses and barely looks at you before striding towards your motionless body. You can’t move, afraid that if you do he’ll disappear again.
“[Y/N].” Chris breathes your name, wrapping you into his arms as you feel your entire body relax and fall into him. It hasn’t sunk in that he’s in front of you, and you feel the same shock that you had felt in this exact room when you first met.
You’re no longer weak, clutching at his shirt as if you’re checking that he’s real. You feel his chest rise and fall, matching your breathing pattern as you both let the tears fall. He pulls back, running his thumb across your cheek.
He’s gazing at you with a look that you had only had the ability to see through a webcam for over 365 days. You hadn’t realised it, but it was love. Chris was looking at you with love the whole time.
You reach up and pulled him into a deep kiss, a kiss that you had both been needing for far too long. It consumes you, neither of you caring that he could be recognised at any moment. You belong not just in Boston but you belong here, with Chris.
hey guys remember when hook took emma on their first date and he gave her a rose? and he pulled her chair out for her? and he gave her his jacket to wear so she wasn’t cold? and he walked her home and gave her a kiss goodnight? like those are things that actually happened and i just
AN #1: This part is fun times! So fun, all the fun!! Funfunfun. _
Hannah’s pov - Ten Years Later - 1.7k+ words _
My knee begins jumping up and down as I sit and wait. It’s hot, this summer, making everything smell of sweat and warm asphalt. But it’s a good summer, it’s gonna be the time of our lives. Every summer we get to spend together is a good summer, that’s how it has always been.
“Babe, stop that.”
“Your leg.” A hand gets placed upon my thigh. “Why is it so hard for you to sit still for a few minutes, Han? Jeez, stop it already.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Sorry, I just… I’m nervous.”
A frown appears on Sarah’s face. She removes her hand to brush her own hair back, still ogling me curiously, before pulling her waterfalls of blonde up into a bun. It must get horribly hot under those sometimes.
“Why are you nervous,” she mutters without looking at me, in a tone that doesn’t sound like a question, rather like some sort of accusation.
My elbows come to rest on the table, my head in my palms. “I basically haven’t spoken to her in over ten years, well, barring that weird encounter at the reunion. I don’t know, it's… weird.”
Sarah sighs next to me, rummaging her handbag absentmindedly. Because she doesn’t know. She has no idea. She thinks Grace was just a friend.