28 | Fuck ups & thongs

"People come and go, that's life."

Dominic

𓇼𓇼𓇼𓇼

I'm fucked up.

Not in the usual way.

Not in the way that makes me numb, that lets me pretend for a few hours that the world doesn't have its claws in me. This time, the high feels wrong.

Tainted.

Because I can still feel the ache in my chest.

Because I can still hear Willa's voice in my head—furious, hurt, telling me I don't care about myself.

I care about her.

That's why I'm here, climbing through her bedroom window with shaky hands, my heart pounding louder than it should be.

The room is dimly lit, the glow of her bedside lamp casting soft shadows against the walls. And then I see her.

Standing in front of her full-length mirror, brushing her fingers absently over her bare arms, lost in thought.

She's so fucking beautiful it hurts.

I move before I can stop myself, stepping up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, letting it soothe the raw, jagged parts of me.

For a moment, she melts into me.

And then, she stiffens.

Her hands reach down, gripping my wrists, and I brace myself for what I already know is coming.

"You're high." Her voice is quiet. Flat.

I close my eyes. "Yeah."

She exhales sharply, pulling away from me and turning around. "Jesus, Dominic," she whispers, running a hand through her hair. "Again?"

I don't answer. What the fuck am I supposed to say?

She sighs, looking at me—really looking at me—and I swear I see something crack in her expression.

Then, without another word, she takes my hand and leads me to the bed.

I don't resist.

I let her guide me down until I'm sitting, and then she climbs onto the mattress, settling behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and pulling me back against her.

I let myself collapse into her warmth.

Let myself breathe.

Her fingers trail gently through my hair, slow and soothing, and it's enough to undo me.

"I don't—" My throat tightens. I have to force the words out. "I don't know how to stop being like this, Willa."

She stays silent, waiting.

I swallow hard. My head feels heavy, my limbs sluggish, but the words keep pouring out of me anyway.

"Two days ago," I start, voice raw, "my dad came home."

I feel her body tense slightly behind me, but she doesn't interrupt.

I keep going.

"Said he quit his job. That he was staying for the sake of our family." I let out a humorless laugh. "Our family," I mock. "As if he's ever given a shit about anything but himself."

Willa's hold on me tightens.

"He—" My jaw clenches. "He started shouting at me. Told me to stop acting like a screw-up. Told me to handle things like a man instead of running away to get high."

A sharp, painful breath leaves me.

"I wasn't even high when he said that. But after?" My voice drops. "After, I needed something to make me forget."

A tear slips out before I can stop it.

I don't move to wipe it away.

Neither does she.

Instead, she presses a kiss to the top of my head, arms still wrapped around me, holding me like I'm something fragile.

Like I'm something worth holding.

And then she whispers, "I love you."

I freeze.

My body goes completely still, but my mind is screaming.

She loves me.

She loves me, and I'm fucked up out of my mind, and I don't deserve to hear it like this.

But I do.

I hear every word.

And for once, I don't run.

I turn in her arms, tilting my head up, my hands sliding to the sides of her face.

Her eyes are wide, searching.

I don't know what she sees when she looks at me, but she doesn't pull away when I press my lips to hers.

It's slow. Soft. Nothing like the usual desperate, hungry kisses we steal from each other.

This one is different.

This one means something.

And when she pulls away and rests her forehead against mine, I whisper, "I love you too."

She lets out a shaky breath, her fingers lacing through mine.

We don't say anything else.

We just lie down together, wrapped up in each other, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself fall asleep without trying to escape anything.

She's the only thing I need.

𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝜚

I probably look like a damn idiot.

Dressed in all black jeans, black hoodie, and worn out trainers, the usual. But in my hand? A bouquet of pink peonies.

If Roman or Alec saw me right now, I'd never live it down. Hell, if anyone saw me, they'd probably have a stroke.

Dominic West doesn't do flowers.

Except—I do. For her.

I climb off my bike, gripping the bouquet tightly, and knock on the Myers' front door.

It swings open.

And I forget how to breathe.

Willa stands there, beaming up at me like she's been expecting me all morning. Like I belong here. And she's wearing—

Jesus fucking Christ.

Willa stands in the doorway in nothing but a tight little crop top and a bright pink thong. That's it.

A full-body crime scene.

My brain short-circuits, and all I can manage is a strangled, "Jesus."

Her grin widens. "Hello, baby."

I don't even think. I shove inside, slamming the door shut behind me, making sure no one else on this damn street gets the same view I just did.

Willa just giggles, her hands resting on her bare hips. "Relax, Dom. I'm home alone."

I glare at her. "Clearly," I mutter, dragging my eyes away from her legs. "You answering the door like that? What if it wasn't me?"

She shrugs, completely unbothered. "Then the mailman would've had a great morning."

I groan, running a hand down my face. "You're actually trying to kill me, aren't you?"

Her grin is mischievous as she reaches for the flowers in my hand. "Ooooh, are these for me?"

I hesitate before handing them over. "Yeah."

She brings them to her nose, inhaling deeply, then peeks up at me. "Pink peonies? You do love me."

I smirk, shaking my head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She twines her fingers with mine and tugs me toward the couch. "You're totally my bitch."

I scoff, but let her pull me down beside her. "I am not your bitch."

She gives me a knowing look. "Mmm, you so are."

"Am not."

She tilts her head, studying me. "Would you kill someone for me?"

"Without hesitation."

She beams. "See? My bitch."

I exhale sharply through my nose, trying so damn hard not to smile. "You're insufferable."

She ignores me, climbing into my lap, straddling me like she belongs there.

And hell. Maybe she does.

Her fingers play with the ends of my hair, her voice light. "So, I was thinking—our wedding should be on a cliff somewhere in South America. It would be so cool. Maybe at sunset. Or dawn? Ooh, maybe a waterfall behind us—"

I blink, thrown off. "What?"

"Our wedding," she repeats glaring at me, like it's obvious. "You do want to marry me, right?"

I open my mouth. Close it. My chest tightens.

Because fuck. Yeah.

She's teasing. But she's not.

And it's the most Willa thing ever.

I tighten my grip on her waist and murmur, "Willa West, huh?"

She beams. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

I stare at her.

Then I kiss her.

It starts slow, playful, but quickly turns into something deeper. Something real.

And then—

A shriek.

We rip apart, both whipping our heads toward the hallway.

And there, standing frozen in absolute horror, is Luke Myers.

"Jesus Christ, Willa!" he bellows. "Put some damn clothes on!"

Then, like he physically can't be here anymore, he storms up the stairs, still shouting obscenities.

Willa just grins down at me, completely unbothered.

"That went well," she says.

I groan, dropping my head back against the couch. "That's it, I'm dating a psycho."

She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to my jaw.

Then she tilts her head, studying me. "Hey, wanna come to the bar with me tonight?"

I frown. "The bar?"

"Yeah," she says. "A bunch of people from our grade are going."

I hesitate. "I don't know, butterfly..."

She pouts. "Come oooon, it'll be fun."

"I don't really do shit like that."

"Then let's start." She runs her fingers through my hair, her voice dipping into something softer. "Please, dom?"

And that's all it takes.

A long exhale. Then—"Fine."

Her whole face lights up. "You love me."

I smirk, gripping her hips. "You love me."

"That's true," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. "Now, be a good boy and help me pick out what I'm wearing tonight."

I groan, already knowing this is going to be a long night.

𓇼𓇼𓇼𓇼

They r actually so cool and cute and I love them.