Chapter Text
Adam knows this party to be so unlike Blake.
Carson and his wife invited every person they once hung out with, to celebrate the new job and move across the country. There’s lots of pastel decorations, a bunch of small talk and harmonized cooing from strangers. It’s one of those parties that you’re not allowed to skip, yet you’d miss nothing if you hadn’t shown.
Adam could do without the party too—probably would have, had Carson not been his best friend since college. He watches Carson and his wife as they talk to one of their mutual friends, a child in two messy braids clinging to the woman’s leg. It’s a strangely right image, and it makes sense that Carson would be the first to leave this town in favor of starting a family.
Adam had been satisfied becoming a producer, a beloved and notorious one at that, living his life fast and furious. Roof top parties, a nice penthouse to call his own, and artists who trust him enough to let him nurture them; it’s all he dreams of these days. Everything else can come later, or not at all, but he’ll cross that bridge once he gets there.
He knows in many ways, Blake is similar to him, and yet so different.
Blake left behind a small town in Oklahoma to study Music Business and Management in LA, only to find out he’s not made for the cut-throat business, and instead settled to become a writer behind the scenes for many well-known artists.
College is what brought all three men together, and if he knows anything about Blake, it’s that he’s uncomfortable watching it all come apart.
He looks over at his friend, taking a swig of his beer, his free hand stuffed in his pocket.
The air is a little cool, but the sun is out which feels nice on his face. The two of them lean back to take it all in. He and Blake hit it off since the first day of class, and neither one had ever needed to fill any silences between them since. There was mutual respect from the jump; they’d found an unexpected, unspoken understanding.
Which is why Adam also notices that Blake is distracted now. Not even his usual brand of tortured and brooding, but in a restless way. Rocking on his heels and eyes darting all around. Adam is trying to ignore it, ignore him.
They don’t press each other for too much these days, but this level of twitching is starting to bug him.
He gives in.
“What’s the matter with you?”
Head shooting over as if he screamed the words in his ear, Blake gives a half-hearted shrug.
“Nothin’.”
Blake cracks his neck, avoiding his stare, and so Adam lets it go.
They watch as Siri, Carson’s wife, laughs as the little girl takes three wobbly steps before collapsing on her butt, her jumper covered in grass strains. It’s still a bit surreal to the producer, how in five months from now, Siri and Carson will have their own baby to attend to.
Then suddenly, Adam feels Blake straighten and freeze next to him, as if on instinct. One palm slides down the front of his shirt as if in preparation. His gaze is fixated and wanting, and Adam follows his line of vision out of unfiltered curiosity.
And he should have known.
Should’ve been in tune with Blake’s fidgeting and twitching, that radiation of nervousness suddenly making all the sense in the world. That type of reaction being reserved for only one person in his life; always has and always will.
Gwen Stefani.
He watches as she crosses the large backyard, stopping in front of the table of gifts. It makes him realize how Carson is in fact not the first to leave this town to make a life for himself elsewhere; that honor belongs to Gwen.
Her band disassembled merely weeks after they graduated, and though her relationship with Blake kept her tethered to California for over three years after that, the break-up was enough to carry her out to New York, to wildly change directions and trade in her many years of musical experience for the make-up brushes and pretty faces.
Her leaving had destroyed Blake, changing him in more ways than one. But in the nine years she’d been away, he’d build himself back up to a fraction of the man he was before.
Over at the gift table, Gwen has her two old friends giggling over something, fitting right in after nearly a decade away. She’s transformed, Adam can see that much. Traded her baggy jeans for tailored clothes, her wild, wavy blonde locks now pulled back and upwards, her expensive sunglasses covering her eyes.
Adam sneaks a glance over at Blake, and the guy could not be more obvious if he tried. He’s gooey, his smile gentle yet unrelenting. Adam chuckles to himself, but also make sure to be loud enough so that Blake can hear him.
Eventually he notices.
“Something funny?”
Adam folds his arms, murmuring. “I hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”
Without turning his head, he slides his eyes over to glare at him; slow and squinting. Blake’s trying to intimidate him into dropping the subject, but he should know better after all this time.
Adam has seen his friend tackle the most twisted shit this year, seen him come back to Earth and bring himself from every dark and ungodly place he’d gone to. While he’s not delusional enough to call him peaceful, he is human again.
Adam is proud of him, he’s expressed that many times over, but he’s never been an ass-kisser. He will not become one now.
He and Blake have always had a friendship that was founded on truth. There’s no intimidating Adam out of anything when it comes to him.
Glancing down, Adam finds Blake slowly peeling the label off his bottle. Right then, he decides to break their silent rule of not speaking about her anymore.
The words come out stony and steady.
“How long has it been since you’ve spoken to her?”
He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge him, his stare locked on Gwen.
“Five years.”
Truthfully, Adam was never sure about what happened the last time. Hadn’t been sure if the story about Gwen coming back to LA for a while, only to fall back into old habits with Blake, before deciding to go back to New York and write it all off as a mistake, had been how it really went down.
If they actually quit talking, if Gwen really chose her on-and-off boyfriend to go back to and leave the songwriter here broken-hearted for a second time.
But one glance over to Blake now, the way those two words came out brittle and tormented, Adam knows he’s speaking the truth.
“Are you gonna talk to her?”
Blake does a double take, finally turning enough to meet Adam’s gaze. Then he shakes his head.
“I don’t have much to say to her.”
They both know it’s a lame excuse, it’s also far from the truth. He’s got everything to say to her now.
“She looks…. different.” Adam says, deciding not to push his friend too hard on what he thinks he should do.
He knows that if the tables were reversed, he’d most likely make a mess of things too, to the point of shattering and unforgiving destruction. Perhaps Blake’s just taking the mature route.
His friend hums.
“Almost as if she ran ‘cross country from everything that made her Gwen.”
They share a glance, one of truth and understanding, and Adam doesn’t call out his pettiness; because there’s too much truth in that one statement to try and burry it under semantics.
But Adam can’t help but feel sorry for the woman too.
There’s so much she doesn’t know, so much she’s missed. What happened to Blake, and the cold sharp steel of that reality—one she’s spared of, but would most likely rather not be. Adam wonders what they missed in her life as well; all they know is that she’s successful, beautiful as ever, perhaps a little empty too.
“We’re all just trying to find ourselves.”
He and Blake made it to the other side; found themselves amid all the wrecking, found their true selves after a million and one mistakes, and still, they are on shaky and unsteady ground sometimes.
“Yeah.” Blake begrudgingly agrees, finally tearing his gaze away from the woman he’s loved since he was nineteen. He sighs long and hard, taking another sip of his beer before visibly making up his mind. “Think we’ve been here long enough we can dip now?”
The sun is a molten hallelujah, filtering in warmth through the gates of the open backyard. Old friends reminisce, kids run around freely, and it’s all unfolding in front of them.
Adam chuckles, patting him on the shoulder twice.
“Absolutely not.”
Blake makes a noise of protest, rolling his eyes.
“Saddle up, man. It’s gonna be a long ass night.”
+
Carson knows about Blake’s struggles—all of them.
Raised under the strong values and beliefs of a military father, who disapproved of Blake’s decision to head out to California and study here, out of all places. But Blake had been good at it, at making music, at making a home out of a place he didn’t understand. Carson always figured Blake would be the first to do this; find a girl and knock her up, move away to the countryside and enjoy the fruits of his labour. But perhaps he couldn’t, not after meeting the woman of his dreams at the tender age of eighteen.
He’d buried that hope alive like he buried her alive all those years ago; the ghost of that goodbye hanging like a lark in the air.
He knows that inviting that same girl to this party today, was gonna cause some internal tumult. But Gwen had been his friend too; he’d felt immensely sad when she left, despite staying in touch every now and again. If he’s going to celebrate his own leaving by inviting everyone who’s been important in his life up until now, she deserves to be here.
Maybe a part of him thinks it’s good for Blake too. Life is short, too short sometimes, and Blake doesn’t deserve to have this hovering over him for the rest of his. He deserves to let this go, to get a second chance, or a third. Blake deserves a lot, probably more than the rest of them—has always been a slightly better person than everyone else.
Why good people so often get handed the short end of the stick, Carson doesn’t know. But maybe this time, he can help shift those tides a little. Can nudge the universe in the back, and give Blake at least a shimmer of what he’s owed.
“You ready to give this all up?” The six-foot something Southerner chuckles, bumping his shoulder against his. “Soon it’s going to be diaper duty and trying to fit some naps in when she’s asleep. No more parties or people playing beer pong with your fancy glasses.”
Blake is nursing what’s got to be the fourth bottle of beer, smiling at himself. He knows his friend attempted at a quip, but it’s too heartfelt, maybe even a little envious-sounding, for him to take it too seriously as one.
“I’m ready.” Carson responds. “Plus, the parties aren’t gonna be over completely. I expect you to visit frequently as well. I’m moving to Seattle, not the other side of the world.”
Blake nods. “Still weird that you won’t be here anymore. Somehow I never thought I’d stay here longer than you would.”
“I don’t think anyone thought you would stick it out here as long as you have.” Carson laughs, remembering the culture shock it had been for Blake when he first got to LA.
“I made something of myself out here. Something I’m proud of.” He states, though his voice is a little too somber for such a statement. “I’ve always been raised not to run from that.”
Carson huffs, wrapping his fingers around Blake’s arm.
“Look, I know this is weird, it’s weird for all of us, but I gotta do this. Siri, she’s been waiting for this moment, and quite frankly, so have I. All of us have worked our asses off for years, I just want to settle a bit now.”
Blake suddenly looks alarmed.
“I wasn’t— “
“Sure you were.” Carson interrupts, smiling. “I know me leaving reminds you of someone, but these are completely different circumstances…”
Blake rubs the back of his head, looking absolutely pained.
“Obviously. I’m not comparing this to my situation with….” He trails off, not willing to say her name.
Carson gladly helps him with it. “Gwen’s here cause I asked her to be. I wanted the old gang back one more time before I officially said goodbye to this place. She’s part of that.”
He rubs his face. “I’m surprised she showed.”
His expression is a haunted one, and for a second Carson wonders if he did the wrong thing by inviting her back here.
“Siri invited her to stay with us for a couple of weeks. Right up to the point we leave.”
Blake nearly recoils as if he got slapped, eyes roaring in alarm. And Carson knew that this would be the deciding factor; either filling Blake with some hope or pushing him far off the ledge he’d been teetering over. The horrified expression on his friend’s face makes him worry it’s leaning more towards the latter.
“She’s staying?”
He asks the question despite already having the answer; the revelation changing the color in his cheeks without having any say over it.
“I thought it’d be nice to have everyone out here for a while, for old times’ sake.”
Blake bites back a frown, fighting demons he thought had been eradicated.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Calm down.” Carson tells him, wishing he could singlehandedly change the way the thirty-five-year-old feels about it. “She’s probably much more nervous about this whole thing than you are.”
He knows it’s probably fairly even.
Gwen has always been a little more intact, a little less willing to let him destroy her. She’d been a girl, burned by expectation most her life. She’s also been catching male gazes ever since she graduated high school. She knows how to manoeuvre her way around it, how to let them in but keep them out all in the same breath.
But Blake had been different; he had obviously awakened something inside her, and he lived inside her heart in a way no other man has been allowed to do. She made a home out of him, and when it all burned down, she ran so freaking fast, it left their whole group reeling with it.
“Why is she here alone?” Blake asks then, voice bereft of any emotion. “Shouldn’t her boyfriend be breathing down her neck somewhere?”
Carson wonders if Blake knows how transparent he’s being right now, but he doesn’t press him on it.
“The engagement is off. I think it’s a done deal for good this time.”
He watches Blake’s face fall, straightening himself up as he attempts at a neutral expression.
“I didn’t know she was engaged.”
“She was.” Carson counters. “But from what she told Siri, she’s glad it’s called off. Whatever happened supposedly was pretty irreversible.”
There’s a certain stillness to him now, that borders on detachment.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Blake murmurs, gripping the bottle of his beer so tightly in his hand, Carson’s worried it might snap and cut his fingers, sending blood gushing all over his porcelain floors.
“Yeah, you must be real sorry to hear that.”
Blake stares at him, unblinking. “I want her happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m not looking to hear about all the ways she’s not.”
A jagged edge swims in Carson’s silence then, his response in the vacancy of it.
“I never said she wasn’t happy.”
Blake rubs his nose, taking a bold breath.
“Good.”
“But you can’t hide from her forever, man. You deserve some happiness too; whether that’s closure from her or another chance to reconnect. You should use this opportunity to get out of it what you need. Stop thinking about what’s best for everyone else so much, and think of yourself a bit more. Lord knows— “
“Don’t.” Blake cuts him off, brittle and angry. “Don’t give me that pity, crap.”
Carson throws his hands up. “Alright, I’m just saying…”
“You shouldn’t be saying anything.” Blake mutters, annoyed.
“Are you gonna talk to her?” He asks, changing the direction of the conversation only slightly.
Even when they’ve been walking circles around each other all evening, Blake’s attention has only been half-here. He’s completely lost in her, they are completely lost in one another. It appears as though everyone but them can see the greater tides changing ahead.
Blake sighs, shaking his head wistfully.
“I have nothing to say to her.”
In the years Blake spent making amends with himself, with his life, he performed many duties. He’d talked, worked, even had relationships with other people. He had created a life for himself, one that will have his imprint on it once he inevitably leaves it behind one day.
He made a new circle of vital people, ones he needs to propel further in life, ones he can count on, ones that make him feel good and he feels good about pouring energy into.
He seemed to have decided Gwen was no longer one of them.
+
He stole a glance, just one. As much as she doesn’t like to admit it— she’s been counting.
The glance happened as she was excusing herself to go to the restroom, upstairs. She’d felt it immediately, that prickly sensation that alerted her that he was nearby. That his eyes were on her.
She’d almost thought he’d follow her up there, easier to talk when not in the earshot of everyone else, but he had stayed right where he was. Eyes firmly planted back on his drink, leaning over to whisper something to Carson.
There was disappointment in the realization, but safety too. She and Blake had a way of crashing together; setting each other ablaze and nearly crumbling to pieces in the comedown.
She doesn’t know exactly what she expected, coming out here after so many years.
It surely was weird, and a little bit uncomfortable. She had a whole life here, a childhood, an upbringing, that was left behind when she packed her bags to go elsewhere. She made a choice, a hefty one, to go where no one knew her and start over. She didn’t just leave behind her birthplace, she also left behind the career she went to school for, throwing in the towel before it had really been able to take off.
In make-up, she found a way to hide while expressing herself. Music was always just a little too exposing; narcissistic in the way it was always about her. Performing meant eyes on her, writing her own songs meant letting people in on her thoughts, even when she hadn’t yet learned to be comfortable with her own brain. But make-up was different. She could help people find their true selves, create looks and fake personas.
Hell, she’d even created a few for herself.
But coming back to California, to all her friends and old acquaintances, made it clear she was once again, unable to hide here. They know the woman she was before she left, and they won’t let her forget it. Even with Blake not speaking a word to her all afternoon, she’s felt more exposed and unravelled by his gaze, than anything else in the last few years.
It was always him
Her legs had been shockingly steady as they carried her across the room, to stand next to Adam. He used to be one of her best friends too, so it feels like a safe choice.
She also couldn’t deny that it helped to have him be the next best thing to Blake.
“I can’t believe you’re here for weeks, this time.” He speaks enthusiastically, a hint of true disbelief coloring his voice.
She realizes she’s been way too good at avoiding this place—not even Adam can fathom having her back for such a long period of time.
Gwen nods, carefully adjusting the perfectly tidied bun on top of her head.
“It was the perfect time for me to get out of New York for a bit. I also owe Carson and Siri a lot; I couldn’t not show up.”
Adam nods. “I think the news of them leaving is rattling all of us a bit.”
“I can imagine. How long have you known him now?”
“We grew up next door to each other, so basically…. twenty-six years?”
Gwen’s eyes widen. “And all this time, you two remained living closely to each other. That’s pretty serious.”
Adam hums with a grin.
“Outlasted all my other relationships.”
Gwen recoils only slightly at those words, feeling them a little too deeply herself.
Her personal hell being every relationship after Blake, that felt like chasing a feeling she would never feel again.
“Starting to think relationships are all doomed. We’re better off just seeking friendships for the rest of our lives.”
Adam snorts. “Remind me not to come to you for relationship advice anytime soon.”
She smiles softly at him.
“How has he been?”
It’s the first time today that she bluntly asked about him, making it to a whole four hours before she gave in.
Adam straightens, fighting off the smirk that threatens to overtake his features. Even after all this time, she can tell he’s feeling smug; having predicted this question from the start.
“He’s…okay.” Adam says, and it takes him a little too long to utter that word, for it to be believable. “He’s gone through a lot, but grown immensely too.”
“It’s weird seeing him after all this time.” She admits, talking softly. “I know he must think so too.”
“You’re going to be here for weeks, it might be nice to get it out of the way.” Adam suggests, shrugging. “I think Blake’s mostly just surprised. None of us really expected to see you back here.”
Gwen casts her gaze down.
“Neither did I.”
“He’s just gonna have to get used to you being back in his orbit again. It’s a lot for him to take in…” After all that’s happened. “…you gotta understand that.”
Adam is looking at her with a weary gaze, and she’d probably look at herself the same way if she wasn’t too overwhelmed with everything that came with being in Blake’s proximity again.
“I’ll probably hide out in the house mostly, so I won’t get in the way of whatever you guys have going on around here.”
She laughs awkwardly, while pressing the back of her thumb against her teeth.
She doesn’t know what returning to her birthplace has in store for her, but something tells her she’s not ready for the monumental shift. Hiding out in Carson’s huge mansion surely feels like a safer option, to facing whatever it is that’s still out there for her outside these walls.
“What we’ve got going on?” Adam parrots, teasingly. “You make it sound like we’re in Fightclub or something.”
Gwen rolls her eyes, resting them up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to dispel the tension that has so inconveniently taken over her being.
Before either one of them can say anything else, her body prickles with sudden awareness. An instinct that only kicks in when it’s about him.
And when she turns, Blake’s only steps away from her.
Their eyes lock and hold instantly, and god…he’s still here, even after hiding himself from her all these hours. He comes right up to her, only glancing at Adam for half a second, before cupping her elbow and guiding her out of the middle of the scene.
It’s the most brazen thing he’s done in years; claiming her so selfishly, so confidently.
Her frayed nerves are happy to have their connection restored though, and she falls into step beside him without any thought, feeling the familiar warmth of him so close at her shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, silently leading her twenty feet away and around one of the giant dividers, until they’re behind it, sheltered from everyone else.
The tile figure towers over them.
Five years, she reminds herself. It’s been that long since she’s been in this close vicinity of him, and her nerve endings feel raw and exposed as she stands before him now. Not speaking, simply looking.
She leans against the sturdy divider, and takes a couple of deep, slow breaths, watching him pace a short path in front of her. He repeats it, once, twice—and she knows it’s his way of calming himself.
She doesn’t question why he’s brought her over here; they both need a moment, and she’s grateful for it. Whatever he ends up saying next, she’ll brace herself for. In a way, she knows it’ll be worth it. Be worth seeing him like this, up close and personal. Away from wandering and judgemental eyes.
But when he abruptly turns and steps in close, bracing his arms on either side of her, she has questions. It shocks her, his sudden closeness, as she hasn’t been used to it in so long.
Her breath catches and she instinctually looks up into his eyes; and then she sees. The way he looks at her as if she’s the one thing that’s been returning to him every night, right after he closes his eyes. Like she’s the only brightness amongst that nostalgic sepia image.
It’s a dangerous look, one they’ve only shared in desperate moments, like the one five years ago.
It’s always felt like at some point, they’d been whole; but life and time and circumstances had ripped whatever they shared apart, leaving big chunks raw, frayed, and exposed.
When they’re close, when they connect, it’s a reminder that they’re not untethered yet. Their edges know each other, fizzle and spark when they get too close, and beg to be bonded.
It’s a breathless, intense pull, leaving them overwhelmed and sensitive each time.
She’s done plenty of self-soothing over the years. She’s had to, because they’ve never been able to let those edges find each other, not in the way they so needed to.
But he’s looking at her now like he aches all over with it, like his skin hurts with the trauma of it. The trauma of them.
She wants to reach out for his face, can’t get over the intense gaze of blue that rips her apart at the seams.
It‘s always been him
A second before it happens, she realizes what’s coming, but she can’t prepare for it to safe her life.
He takes another step forward, bringing his hands up to cradle her face, and kisses her.
And it’s not just a kiss either; it’s one he knows she won’t forget— his hands holding her face steady, his tongue gently stroking against hers, before nipping at her bottom lip and going for her mouth again.
Her body freezes, breath catching, brows furrowing. She tries to catch up, but her mind is too focused on the surprise of it, the audacity, his fingers pressing hard into her neck.
Her hands come up and just hover, not touching him, too shocked to reciprocate.
He breaks the kiss and sinks into another, thumbs brushing against her cheeks, urging her to hold onto him in the same way he’s selfishly clinging to her.
They sway a little, because she’s still stiff, still not completely sure what’s happening, still not able to move or think.
“Please…”
He presses his forehead against hers and whispers it, puffs of warm breath against her lips. His first word spoken to her, after years of her absence, is a desperate plea to touch.
Begging to be bonded.
Her hands float down to grasp his shirt, fisting it at his sides, and then she tips her jaw up to meet him—accepting his plea.
It’s still him
He lets out a quiet, desperate kind of sigh and tilts his mouth over hers, sliding his hands down so that he can stroke her jaw with his thumbs. She uses her grip to tug him closer and parts her lips, and they’re just burying; trying to climb inside each other.
It’s a wildfire, completely uncontained and out of their control. Their bodies take over, tongues sliding and pressing, teeth nipping, breathless and perfect.
It is perfect, she realizes.
Whatever this is, whatever’s being forged, it doesn’t feel like a shock anymore. It feels like everything she’s ever felt finally making sense, every involuntary shiver just from his proximity feeling justified.
This isn’t something you can fight.
Everything is throbbing. Her nipples are tight, she’s warm and damp between her thighs, and—
A crash from somewhere on the other side of the wall makes them both jump, and they break apart, breathing hard.
They’re still at their friend’s going away party.
She steadies herself, trying to slow her breathing, rubbing her palms over his chest as if to make his heartbeat her own.
Slowly, she tilts her head back to meet his eyes, and swallows thickly.
He looks wrecked.
He looks irrevocably changed.
And whatever’s just happened, they can’t talk about it here.
She closes her eyes for a moment, before she falls too deeply, and gently pushes him a step back. When she opens her eyes, he’s eyeing her warily, and she can’t help but reach out to cup his cheek, gently brushing her thumb there.
We’ll talk later
Her face relaxes, but she can’t help but feel disappointed when his hand leaves her body, carrying some of its warmth away with him.
He manages to turn and take a few steps backwards, holding her eyes until the second he walks away.
He hadn’t said a word to her. Just kissed her, then walked away as if he didn’t reach inside her chest to keep her soul in a choke hold. It’s a bit cruel she decides, but she can’t be mad at it. Not when she’s hurt him so many times before too. Perhaps he’d finally found a way to even the score.
He’d felt so good against her, as if he was taunting her with everything she walked away from. Asking her if it was worth it, if the relationship she chased back in New York could ever hold a candle to what she felt for him.
And every unspoken question he hurled her way, would be answered with a negative.
It’s always been him