y/n: your name

tws: swearing

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naomi's pov *

four days had passed since the truth or dare fiasco, and the day i most dreaded had arrived.

i had to see my ex-boyfriend again.

"i don't understand why he won't just mail you the rest of your stuff," y/n said, accidentally flipping a pancake out of the pan and then sliding it back in with a batter-crusted spatula. i had already dug through the pantry and chowed down on a pop tart before anyone had woken up— a result of my stress eating— so she was just cooking for three this morning.

"cause he's a dick, that's why," i replied, taking the pan from her grasp and successfully flipping the pancake myself.

she sighed and let me take over, leaning against the counter instead. "are you sure you don't want me to come? you know.. like moral support? a cheerleader?"

"as much as i love the idea of that, i need to do this alone. and i don't want to drag you farther into this mess anyway. you do enough just listening to me."

she clicked her tongue. "well i'm just a phone call away if you change your mind. a room away actually. i will end my stream immediately if you say you want me to come."

"no, do your stream," i chuckled lightly, "i'll be fine."

"yeah, yeah. i'M biG tOuGh aNd sTrOnG nAoMi, aNd i tHInK i'M a bAdAsS," she mocked.

"i don't think i'm a badass, i know i'm a badass," i corrected.

she rolled her eyes. "whatever. but just know if i came with i could vouch for you if you decided to give him a black eye at any point."

"noted," i said, and slid the pancake she had been cooking onto a plate. "i should get going. wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

"oh, yeah, like you care about that so much," she laughed, pouring another circle of batter into the sizzling pan.

"yeah." i smiled weakly and slung my purse over my shoulder. "see you later. good luck with your stream. and your pancakes, cause.. yikes."

she glared at me. "thanks. gossip with me when you get home!"

"you know i will!" i tossed up a peace sign and shut the front door behind me.

as the warm touch of the sun-bathed wood pressed against my back, i exhaled through pursed lips and stretched my shoulders.

i'd be lying if i said i wasn't nervous, and i'd also be lying if i said some part of me didn't miss ethan even after the breakup. it was stupid and irrational, but it was hard to get over somebody i had loved for so long. someone that had loved me for so long. why did he stop? i had thought when i hauled my suitcase out of his apartment, why didn't he love me anymore? and then i had cried as i sped down the interstate, not giving a shit about road signs even though i knew i should've, until i caved in the parking lot of some hole-in-the-wall breakfast joint and called clay. the ex-boyfriend that i broke up with.

was this what he felt like when i ended things? this doubt for yourself and the relationship you had thought was oh so perfect until it wasn't?

maybe i hoped, in some weird, twisted way that he had missed me, but i knew he didn't. and i didn't miss him either, at least not in the way you'd think an ex lover would. still, i almost cursed myself for breaking up with him, though i had no doubt that he would have done the same given more time.

it wasn't meant to be.

why did love work that way? i had had my finger wrapped around a respectable, kind, caring guy and yet neither of us ever found it within ourselves to love each other the way soulmates do. maybe a little here and there in small pieces, yes, like the way you think you love your middle school crush or that random stranger in the candle store, but not wholeheartedly. not for forever.

and yet that was what it felt like with ethan. i had wholehearted love for a frat boy from missouri with a shitty sense of humor and a shittier taste in alcohol, and i hated it. why did i love him and not somebody good? somebody that actually cared?

did i know how to love?

maybe, maybe not. but that was something i would think about later, long after i had picked up the last traces of myself from his place and cried about it on the way home.

i didn't even realize i had made it to his apartment complex until i saw the hedges of azaleas overgrowing the entryway sign and a memory knocked loose. a memory of the day we moved in together and he plucked one of the soft pink flowers off the bush and tucked it into my hair. "pretty flower for a pretty girl," he had said, and i had punched him in the arm for being corny.

but the flowers were dead now, and the sky had clouded over. i thought that maybe this was the universe's way of being symbolic, and my lips quirked in the faintest show of a sad smile. a teardrop falling with the rain...

i pulled into a parking space and let my hands slip from the wheel to my lap. "collect yourself naomi," i whispered, and looked in the review mirror to wipe the wetness from my eyes. it was there balancing on my eyelashes— the eyelashes i had curled to be pretty even though it didn't matter what he thought i looked like— just barely testing my limits to hold tears back. and i did, because i was composed and calm, and i didn't cry over stupid boys or stupid breakups.

i stepped out of my car and into the wet, barren parking lot, heels clacking against the cracked asphalt as i stepped closer and closer to his building. it was like being on autopilot. the glass door opened and the cool air conditioning pricked goosebumps up my arm. the cold draft carried me up the stairs, down the hallway and to the left, past apartment 301, 302, and then 303, until i stood in front of apartment 304 where a crooked wooden sign that said "welcome home" donned the door.

i raised my fist and knocked twice, almost hoping deep down he wouldn't hear it and i would have an excuse to leave, but he did, and he answered a moment later, tall figure leaning against the doorframe with a sad but welcoming smile.

it felt like nostalgia in the worst way.

"hey nomi," he said, which was casual enough considering it was the nickname everyone called me by, and yet it held so much more weight coming from his lips.

"hi," i replied, and shifted my balance from one leg to the other. a beat of uncomfortable silence hung in the air, and i bit the inside of my lip to bear it. "can i—"

"yeah— yes— come in," he stuttered, and stepped aside so i could slip through the door.

the same decor and smells greeted me like they always had as i walked into the room, though this time it didn't feel like a welcome home, it felt like a goodbye. the apartment still felt too familiar and too much like mine, and it stung. even though a box of my junk was pushed against the couch, the old shag rug i had bought at the flea market still carpeted the floor, the kitchen cabinets were still green from when i painted them, and my french vanilla coffee creamer was still sitting on the counter even though ethan absolutely hated that flavor.

"how've you been?" he asked, and i jumped at the break of silence.

"fine. i'm fine." i traced my finger along the arm of the couch idly as i let the words ring in the air. "how about you?"

"fine too."

"right. good." i stood there like a damned fool in front of him, thumbs twiddling, before i willed myself to pick that stupid box of stuff off the floor. i sifted through it to buy myself time, almost praying he would say something despite my atheism, but he didn't, and i found that the box was filled with nothing but knick knacks. a near-empty shampoo bottle, a bag of hair ties, and that awful shade of chartreuse nail polish i had bought when i was having a breakdown one lonely summer afternoon.

i met his eyes hesitantly at first but found they were already on me. it sent a chill down my spine.

"you could have thrown this stuff out, ethan," i finally said, and i surprised myself that the words came out at all.

"i wasn't sure," he replied, and his voice cracked into a whisper.

i nodded once in acknowledgment and squeezed past him with the box clutched in my arms. the "welcome home" sign rattled as i opened the door, and i thought how ironic before sucking up all my feelings and reaching for the gold handle.

it was all behind me now. water under the bridge.

"i've missed you nomi."

and yet the universe liked to throw up the past every once in a while.

i paused, my back still turned to him, fingers loosely holding the door knob as my legs begged me to walk out. but they didn't.

what was the feeling of missing somebody? a loneliness, a yearning, a complete heartache that throbbed in your chest as you thought about what you used to have? missing what used to make you feel whole?

that was what it felt like when i missed somebody, and it was a feeling that swirled in my heart everyday.

i found it hard to believe it swirled in his as well.

"i've missed you too, but it's a little late for that now isn't it?" i replied. my voice felt quiet even though the room was dead silent. i could have heard a pin drop and yet my voice— the voice that could shout louder than anyone else's— felt small and tiny.

i felt small and tiny.

he didn't say anything at first, but took a few steps forward, the drumming of his shoes thudding against the floor like a light tapping on my heels. it made me feel like i was closer to him when i wasn't. as the footsteps came to a halt behind me, he started talking again, voice low. "i'm sorry for what i said, and i'm sorry for breaking up with you. i'm sorry for thinking we couldn't work—"

"we don't work, ethan, that's why you broke up with me. that's why you said those— those awful things—"

"i didn't mean them—"

"you always mean what you say." i turned to look over my shoulder at him. he looked unkept, maybe, his usually neatly brushed hair falling over his brow, shirt wrinkled by the chest pocket from where he messed up with the iron. that's cause you used to iron his clothes, i thought, and i cursed the logical side of my brain for making me acknowledge all the work i put in to be in a relationship with him.

"ignorance is bliss" is something i wished i could feel, but i was too cynical and too smart to do so. i knew he was unfiltered, and i knew he meant what he said when he said it, and i knew he had underlying anger issues and an absolute inability to do anything for himself. maybe it wasn't so much me he was missing but my hard work. still, the words clung to my thoughts in a useless drapery of hope and past heartbreak.

"goodbye ethan," i said plainly, begging for my voice to come out in a monotone— and it did— but my face was still flushed red and my hands were still shaking.

"dammit, naomi!" he raised his voice, "i'm trying to make things right here! i said i'm sorry! what else do you want from me?"

"for you to stop making this harder than it has to be."

"it doesn't have to be hard at all!" he closed the distance between us and placed his hand over mine as i pressed down on the door handle.

"ethan—"

"i'm saying i want you back. i want you, nomi."

"and i'm saying it's too late for that." i turned around fully to meet his eyes, and his tall figure hovered over me so close that i could almost feel the warmth of his skin.

"what are you without me?" he yelled, and his hand tightened on mine if only for a moment, and a brief moment it was. his face paled as soon as the words left his mouth, and he loosened his grip almost immediately.

my eyebrows shot up as a sudden anger flushed through my body. i thought about how it would have been nice to have y/n behind me to vouch if i decided to punch him now, but he quickly stumbled over his words again, and my rage settled only slightly, like a lid being lifted off a boiling pot.

"okay that— that came out wrong."

"yeah." i pushed his hand off mine, not liking his touch anymore.

"i meant like— like—" he groaned and pressed his arm against the doorframe to stop me from leaving— "we were good together, nomi! damn good!"

"for a while, maybe, but now?" i looked him up and down. "we can't do this again." i ducked under his arm and stepped into the hallway.

"think about it! think about us! please!"

"goodbye ethan," i deadpanned, and rushed out of the building and into the parking lot before he could see that i was on the verge of crying.

"think about it." as if i hadn't been thinking about him for the past week? as if i hadn't been slowly drowning out my feelings for him in booze every other night only to feel worse in the morning?

i slammed my car door shut and whipped out of the parking lot. i sped down the interstate again, repeating the same sorry process i had the last time i left that godforsaken apartment, only this time i didn't cry. no, it wasn't until i got home and crashed onto the couch that i let tears fall, and when they did they fell hard.

i'd never cried like this before.

my whole body was racked with sobs, my head whirring with thoughts and my ears drumming with the racing of my heart. despite everything— despite the lies, and the yelling, and the belittling, and the laziness— why did a part of me still love him? why did a part of me want to go back to him?

everything was drowned out by everything, and i didn't hear my name the first time or the second time it was called until clay was knelt down in front of me pulling my hands away from my crying eyes.

"naomi?" he said softly, and i wiped my smudged eyeliner with my fingers immediately.

"i'm sorry, i was waiting for—"

"naomi, what happened?"

"nothing, it's fine. just ethan stuff. i'm waiting for some girl advice from y/n when she's done— done streaming," i said, doing my best to keep a steady tone but still hyperventilating slightly between words, a single gasp for air every so often as i forced my tears to dry.

he offered me a sympathetic smile and shifted to sit next to me. "will some boy advice do in the meantime?"

"ha, oh yes, boy advice from my ex-boyfriend about my other ex-boyfriend," i snapped, sniffling loudly as i held back another sob. he only quirked a brow, and i sighed at his patience. "sorry, cyn-cynicism helps me cope."

he laughed lightly and leaned forward to meet my eyes. "what happened?"

"ethan.. he.. he wants to get back together. and i don't— i can't will myself to not want to go crawling back to him again." i rubbed my nose as i sniffled another time. "i hate that i love him, clay. he— he sucks. he's and ass, and i— why can't i get over him?" my voice raised and cracked, and i hid my face again.

clay placed a comforting hand on my upper back and took a moment to gather his words. "i— you're gonna hate me for being philosophical, but hear me out, okay?" i looked at him for a brief moment through my fingers and he took it as a go ahead, inhaling a deep breath before speaking. "sometimes we don't always have a say in who we fall in love with, yeah? sometimes we fall in love with the idea of a person and not who they are, and sometimes we fall in love with the front a person puts up until they reveal what's really behind it. sometimes—"

"what are you saying, clay?" i chuckled through sniffles, trying to make sense of this supposed wisdom he was dumping on me.

"i'm saying ethan didn't deserve your love, and that maybe what you guys had wasn't love at all, at least not from his end. he— nobody should make you feel like you're less of a person, naomi, because the person you are is perfect as is."

i laughed dryly. "i'm not perfect, clay, i'm fucked up. i don't know how to love—"

"you love harder than anyone i've ever met nomi, but you love the wrong people." he tilted his head forward to meet my eyes again. "you are a good person. truly. you know that right? and if ethan really loved you and deserved the love you gave him, he wouldn't try and tell you otherwise."

my lips parted in awe as his words rang in my ears. it was a little overwhelming at first, but i sorted out my feelings. first i thought about how annoyingly right he was about everything, and then i thought about how him sitting here talking me was a kind of love— for what was sympathy and empathy but not that same deep care for others— and then i didn't think at all, i just acted. it wasn't out of some buried declaration of love, no, and not even lust, but just impulsiveness, and sadness, and lingering heartbreak, and the way that clay was fixing it all just by being here and being a good guy.

it was in my lack of thoughts and my stupid, reckless impulsivity that i leaned forward and kissed him. why, i wasn't sure. maybe i just wanted the comfort, or maybe i just wanted to feel like somebody cared. but it didn't do anything to make me feel better and the regret seeped into my heart immediately. we both pulled away at the same time like it had hurt—and that was because in a way it had— and i couldn't even meet his eye as i stuttered out an embarrassed apology.

"i'm so sorry, i don't know why i just—"

but before i could finish my sentence, there was already an apology pouring out not from me, and not from clay, but from the person behind us.

it was in this moment i realized that not only did the universe like to throw up the past, but it also liked to fuck shit up for no reason.

"i— sorry— i didn't mean to—" y/n stumbled over her words, gripping the corner of the wall as she came around the corner— "i didn't mean to— um— i'll leave you guys—" and her thought wasn't even finish because she had already retreated back to her room.

i turned to clay to meet his eyes for the first time since the kiss, and it wasn't just the fact that he wasn't looking at me that brought me to an epiphany, but it was the paleness of sheer panic on his face as he watched y/n up and leave the room.

and it was this very look that made me realize what it was like to love somebody, and that clay was not in love with me, or that weird bromance with george, or any other girl but the one that lived with him.

clay was in love with y/n.

and i might've just messed that up.

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clay's pov *

the kiss. it was unexpected, but it was strange, really, to feel so close to someone i used to love, or at least got as close to loving as i ever had. her kiss was familiar, and warm, and tender, and felt nostalgic almost, but that nostalgia quickly turned to bitterness as reality hit and we pulled away, feeling out of breath and full of regret.

and to make matters worse, y/n was there and gone faster than naomi or i could say anything about what had just happened between us.

"y/n! wait—" i called, and leapt up off the couch so fast that i tripped over my own dumb shoelaces as i stumbled to her bedroom door.

everything was going wrong.