Archive of Our Own

“Hey, you alright?” 

Your attention snapped back to the girl ahead of you in line. She was watching you with a careful eye, protective in that easy, friendly way some people were with others, even near-strangers. You’d been behind her and her group of friends in line for an hour, and had spent most of the time chatting idly, passing the time as you waited for the venue to let you in. You hadn’t even realized you’d zoned out until she’d called your name, asking if you were okay. 

“I’m fine, Lei. Just thinking.”

“O-kay,” she said, still eyeing you cautiously. “Do you need water?”

You accepted the plastic bottle she pulled from a bag and handed to you, thanking her before she returned to her friend group, quickly jumping back into the somewhat unhinged yet delightfully bizarre conversation they were having. You let your mind wander again as you opened the bottle, taking an absentminded drink from it. 

You were thankful for Lei and her friend’s kindness since you were waiting in line for the concert alone, and had enjoyed their company so far but as it got closer and closer to show time, you couldn't stop yourself from thinking back over the last year and a half.

You’d put the ball in Declan’s court the last time you’d seen him; had laid yourself open for him, confessed your feelings and made him a promise you were still keeping. When you admitted to your friends what you’d done, they’d gently laid into you about masochistic tendencies and unrealistic expectations but you’d found a certain sense of peace as you leaned into the situation, teaching yourself to be patient, to trust Declan and the universe. Fate had brought him to you, you rationalized, and if it were meant to be it would work. So you gave him the time and space he’d said he needed, waiting for him to be ready. 

When the new year came and went and you still hadn’t heard anything from him, you had reached out, just once: telling him you hoped he was well, that you looked forward to talking to him when he was ready. 

And though you wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, at the same time you had begun to quietly prepare yourself for what had started to feel like an inevitability; that you’d never hear from him again, that you’d have to move on with things the way they were and be okay with it. But you weren’t quite ready to throw the towel in, hadn’t quite given up that hope yet, even if a small, bitter part of you laughed at your own optimism, mocked and belittled until you silenced it. You refused to sell yourself, or Declan, short.

Some days, though, it was harder to shut that voice out, to ignore the sting of grief in it. 

But then, a few months ago and out of the blue, you’d received an email from him. 

It had struck you as odd, in the moment, since Declan almost never emailed you even when you’d be talking more consistently and you worried it was going to be something you maybe weren’t fully prepared to read, but found it simply contained a single line:

“Please come.”

Below those two words was a link to a ticket for the nearest stop on Sleep Token’s upcoming tour; in a city an hour or so from your own. You remembered distinctly the flash of pride you’d felt that his band had graduated from performing in podunk little cities like yours to bigger, better venues in bigger, better cities. 

But more than anything your heart had raced at those two words, your brain kicking into overdrive as you instantly overthought and over analyzed them. It had taken you a while to calm yourself down enough to simply reply: to thank him for the ticket and leave it at that as you decided then and there that you weren’t going to expect anything from going to see his show. He’d made no mention of making plans, of wanting to see you and you figured it was better to not set yourself up for disappointment.

What you had allowed yourself to do, once he’d invited you to the show, was finally listen to his new album. Take Me Back to Eden had come out a few months before but you hadn’t been able to give yourself permission to listen to it; not fully, anyway. You couldn’t ignore the band’s meteoric rise in popularity, the sudden leap in attention and you’d been so excited for what it might have meant to Declan for so many people to find resonance with his work. Even with that excitement and all the hype you still held back, afraid he still wanted you at arm’s length from this aspect of his life. But that email, with the ticket and his request? It felt like permission. You’d sat down and listened to it all in one go, biting back the small, creeping fear of what you might hear in those songs but you refused to speculate. You refused to put that worry on your plate, to ruin this for yourself like that. 

The album, unsurprisingly, was incredible. Worrying and comforting and devastating and triumphant in equal measures and you couldn’t help but marvel at Declan’s talent and itched to tell him as much, to talk about the songs and what they might mean to him, what they meant to you but as your tour date approached you decided to wait, and see if you’d have the chance to tell him in person. 

Which brought you to that moment; you were in line, waiting, and with a few scant minutes to the doors opening you felt a wave of faint dread come over you. It wasn’t quite like what you’d felt at the last show, this time it was different. Of course you were nervous; to see him, of what might happen or not happen after the show, of what he might say, given the chance and you hoped you’d get the chance to see him but a sense of peace found you as well. A peace that you’d worked hard to make leading up to this show, and what would happen or not happen after. If this was really it, if this ended with you watching him become Vessel once more and then you walked away from him, out of his life without a word or explanation or last goodbye then that was… going to have to be okay. You would learn to be okay with it, someday.

The line began to move, and you followed it dutifully, rounding the corner to see the front of the venue. It was an older place; huge and grand and the marquee out front was bright and had the band’s name plastered squarely in the center. You snapped a picture of it and before you could talk yourself out of it or even think to stop yourself, you sent it to Declan. Last time you’d been afraid to tell him you were going to be there in the crowd, worried it would distract him. This time, though, he’d invited you here and you wanted him to know you’d accepted that invitation. You kept your hand on your phone, waiting for the familiar vibration but it never arrived, even as you showed your ticket and slipped inside. 

You skipped angling for the barrier this time, instead finding a spot more off to the side and hidden away. You still had a clear view of the stage but you were far enough from it that there was no chance any of them would catch sight of you. His invitation had only been to come to the show, to see them, see him perform. Anything beyond that wasn’t what he’d wanted, as far as you could tell. You were here to observe and bear witness.

Just as the opener took the stage, you felt your phone buzz. You glanced down to see who sent it, and despite yourself, your heart did a backflip. You opened it to see Declan’s brief reply:

‘fifth song’s for you.’

You stared at the message a moment longer before sliding the phone back into your pocket, your heart thumping so loudly in your ears that you could barely hear the openers as they began to play. You couldn't focus throughout their entire set, your mind racing a thousand miles an hour, your stomach suddenly in knots. A vicious cycle of worry and speculation had begun to fester in your mind and even though you’d done so well for so long at keeping those two things at bay, at not engaging them, you suddenly felt completely consumed by them. You barely realized how much time had passed, forcing yourself to focus on the dull roar of the crowd or the slight press of bodies against your own as the first band finished their set and left, the lights coming up just enough for the stage to be flipped for Sleep Token. Even then, only when the lights finally dimmed again and the opening notes to Chokehold started did you realize Declan had come on stage, once again a completely different person, hidden under the mask and paint. 

You felt a strange sense of relief seeing him, hearing him sing and move around the stage just two dozen yards away from you, as if all the time apart might have changed something about him, fundamentally, but he was still the same as far as you could tell. You watched him through each song, your gaze not leaving him while he was on that stage, fixated on him. You really never had been able to shake the awe you felt watching Declan as Vessel, the complete and utter change he went through to perform his music for crowds night after night. Tonight, still transfixed, you couldn’t help but wonder how much Declan might need Vessel, if Declan could do this all without the mask and paint and secrecy. You were certain you wouldn’t be able to.

The thought clung in your mind until you realized Like That was coming to an end, and by your count the next song would be the fifth in the show. Your heart renewed its hammering in your chest as the crowd cheered, a beat passing between the end of the last song and the first notes of the next. When the music started you gasped loud enough that the people standing next to you glanced your way.

As Declan sang the opening lines of Rain, you swallowed against the lump that had lodged itself in your throat, your breathing shaking as he sang, the crowd falling away until it was just you and him. You felt tears welling in your eyes and you wanted to wipe them away before they fell but you didn’t want to look away from him for a second, unwilling to miss a moment of this, taking in every word and committing it to memory as if you didn’t already know the words by heart, but now they were different. Each line, each word was transformed by the fact that they were for you . The entire song felt different, personal and sacred and you felt those tears rolling down your face as you quietly said the words along with him, realizing that while it was Vessel delivering the message to you, these words were Declan’s and now yours. Despite the sea of people between you and him, despite how loudly he sang the words, the message he was sending was quiet; nearly whispered. You watched as he stepped to the edge of the stage, not looking at the crowd but his gaze cast up, as if making a pointed effort to show the words he was singing at that moment weren’t for them.

“...When I open my eyes to the future, I can hear you say my name.” 

—

The rest of the show was a blur. 

Once the band had left the stage, you felt like you’d woken up from a dream. The crowd dutifully melted away, leaving you alone in your corner of the venue. You stayed there as long as you could, gripping your phone and watching the stage as techs and others began breaking it down to pack up and move to the next city. An hour or so later, you were finally gently herded out by weary looking employees as your final defense (the line at the merch table) had finally dispersed. 

You had spent all that time fighting the urge to message Declan, to ask him if you could meet him somewhere and talk, just for a few minutes before you drove home but you had already broken your rule twice and you wouldn’t do it again. If he had wanted to see you, he would have said so, would have asked so you wandered back to your car, still trying to stall as long as you could, still breaking your own heart. 

The parking lot was mostly empty, just your vehicle and a few that you assumed belonged to employees of the venue. You could hear faint shouts that you guessed might have come from the tour buses but none of the voices sounded familiar, especially at the distance you were at. It was nearly midnight when you decided to cut your losses and make your way home, head and heart heavy but before you could even unlock your car your phone rang, making you nearly jump out of your skin. You didn’t bother to look at who was calling before you accepted the call. 

The voice on the other end of the line spoke before you could even utter a greeting, and it sounded tired and stretched thin, but so familiar all the same; enough that it still made your breath catch.

“Please tell me you haven’t left yet.”

“No, not yet.”

“...Can we talk?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” You half expected Declan to start into it then and there, have this conversation with you in the middle of a parking lot in a strange city and him… wherever he was, but he spoke again, the sound of a heavy door closing behind him telling you he wasn’t on the bus.

“We’re at the hotel across the street from the venue. I would… I really need to see you.”

You breathed out your response, promising to get there as soon as you could and hung up, looking down at the device in your hand. There was something in his voice that gave you pause, that scared you. He sounded… defeated. Exhausted and small and you didn’t want to rest on what that could mean.

You made your way to the hotel in something of a daze, suddenly more nervous about coming face to face with Declan than you’d been over the last year and a half or at any point during the show. Doubt had crept into your thoughts so soundly, his tone during the call not what you had been expecting, his request urgent but in an unfamiliar way. Maybe… you’d misunderstood him, what he’d been trying to tell you with the song, in asking you to come to the show. You took a shaking breath as you entered the hotel, the cool air raising gooseflesh on your skin.

The lobby of the hotel was expansive and devoid of other people, and you felt out of place and small there. The clerk behind the desk paid you no mind as you looked around, hunting for sight of Declan. 

You finally spotted him inside the hotel’s bar: the dark, cozy space a stark contrast to the bright, well-lit lobby. He was perched at the far end of the counter, far from the door and well enough away from the two or three small groups perched at tables scattered around the space and a few more people spread out along the bar itself. You approached him and watched, his gaze kept down as he traced the rim of the glass of amber liquid in front of him with a finger. There was something about the way he held himself, sitting in the barstool and staring at his glass that struck you as off, somehow. You slid into the seat next to him, not saying anything. The bartender dutifully set a white napkin down in front of you, waiting to take your order.

“A gin and tonic, please.” You said quietly, just before Declan motioned for the bartender to add it to his tab. You thanked him and waited for your drink to arrive, neither of you really looking at the other. The bartender returned a moment later with your drink, setting it down carefully before walking back to the other end of the bar to continue the conversation he’d been having with another patron. Only then did Declan finally speak, still not looking at you.

“Did you like the show?”

“It was amazing,” you said softly, glancing towards him. He was still fixated on his glass. “I loved my song, by the way. Thank you.”

“I was worried it wouldn’t be enough,” he said, gnawing a little at his lower lip. You glanced at his hands and realized he’d moved on from his glass and was now fidgeting with a ring on one of his fingers.

“What do you mean?”

Declan shrugged, still fidgeting. Still not looking at you.

“I know it’s probably too little, too late but I wanted to give you something. I wrote it for you but it felt… like it wasn’t enough.”

You felt your heart tighten in your chest again and you traced lines in the condensation of your glass, trying to distract yourself from the feeling. It had been more than enough that he’d simply sung the song for you, but knowing he’d written it for you was… too much. Overwhelmingly too much. How could he ever think it was inadequate? You took a long sip of your drink and tried to gather your scattering thoughts. He seemed so shaken and nervous but you still couldn’t quite pinpoint why; it was making it hard to get a read on where this conversation might be going.

“Declan…”

“I’m so sorry.”

You blinked once, twice. His voice was too apologetic, too strained. The vise on your heart tightened as you turned in your seat enough to face him.

“For what?”

“Taking too long. Making you wait all this time.”

“You didn’t take too long. You took as long as you needed. And I told you I’d wait.”

It was then that Declan finally turned to face you. If he’d sounded different or odd over the phone, during this brief exchange, he looked even worse. It was clear he was exhausted, worn down and just so… unlike how he’d been the last times you’d seen him. For half a moment you wondered if he was alright, if something more was going on with him. While you assessed him, his gaze was laser focused on you, taking you in as he seemed to search for his next words, his voice coming out whisper quiet.

“Why?”

“Why?” You parroted, leaning in just enough to keep your conversation in the bubble between your bodies -  as private as it could be - in the quiet bar. 

“Why did you wait? When I didn’t deserve it, don’t deserve it. I haven’t given you anything worth-”

“Declan, please.” You stopped him, your hand going for his hand to ground him, refocus him. “Please don’t talk like that.”

There was a long silence. You leaned back in your seat, returning to your drink while he looked away, out towards the rest of the bar. Casually you glanced around as well, noticing that the people at one of the tables across the bar were watching you subtly and whispering to one another. The next moment you felt Declan’s hand on your shoulder and you turned your attention back to him. He’d risen from his seat to throw back the last of his drink, setting it back down on the bar gently before leaning in close. 

“Do you want to get out of here?”

You took a final swig of your own drink and nodded, following him past the other patrons and out of the bar, across the lobby to the elevators. You tried not to think of the last time you’d been in an elevator with him, the last time you’d gone up to his room. Then, you could barely keep your hands off of each other but now… it was quiet and heavy. Neither of you spoke as the elevator stopped at the top floor, nor as he stepped off first and led you down the long hall, letting you into a room near the end. You entered behind him and noticed immediately that it seemed like he had it to himself.

“No roommate this time?” You said, intending it as a joke but it just felt forced, so unlike how you usually were together. Declan sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at you.

“It’s not that I was expecting us to - I mean, I just wanted us to have privacy, if we needed it. To talk.”

“I was trying to be funny.” you intoned, toeing off your shoes. He huffed out a laugh - the first all night - and you smiled at him. “There he is.”

Declan dipped his head and stood to shed his own shoes and the brown button down he’d been wearing. You sprawled out on the bed, laying across it casually, closing your eyes to block out the view of the ceiling. You were suddenly bone-tired, and you dreaded the thought of the drive back home ahead of you, because there was no guarantee that this was going to turn out the way you’d hoped it would. Declan seemed equally drained, so altered and you wondered if the last year and a half had been harder on him in ways you hadn’t even considered. When you felt the bed dip next to you, and then an arm tentatively drape across your middle, you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“I still don’t understand,” he murmured, watching as you turned onto your side, coming face to face with him. Loosely entwined with each other like this, basking in the warmth of him you felt like the rest of the world had been put on pause. You brought a hand up to touch his face, as if proving to yourself he’d still let you, that it wasn’t too intimate of a move despite the fact you were laying together on his bed, nearly sharing breath. He closed his eyes at your touch and spoke again, in barely a whisper. “Why did you wait all this time, for me?”

“I waited because I wanted to.” You said, voice equally soft. You recalled his words back in the bar, about what he deserved or didn’t deserve and let your hand come to rest between your bodies. “It wasn’t your call if you deserved it or not, it was mine; I came to that decision on my own. And I thought that we deserved the chance to see what would happen, if I waited and you had the time you felt you needed.” 

Another silence. It was starting to feel like that was going to be the default between the two of you for now; that heavy, contemplative silence that, despite the tinge of awkwardness between you, there was still no pressing urge to fill with idle chatter. Still mostly comfortable, still easy and unique to the two of you but now laced with a hundred waiting conversations, each vying for their chance to happen. And for a moment you thought maybe he would start picking away at the list; start telling you everything and explaining himself but he hesitated, the silence blanketing you both again. His eyes had slipped shut and you realized he really, truly must have been exhausted.

“I missed you,” he whispered finally, resting his head at the base of your throat. He curled into you and in that moment, despite how much taller he was, he felt so much smaller, fragile, even. You wrapped your arms around him - almost protectively - and didn’t push for words. They’d come when he was ready, when you were ready, and right now what you both needed seemed to be the simple reassurance that you’d gotten this far. That you were together, holding onto one another and at least that couldn’t be taken away from you. All that, and maybe some sleep.

“I missed you, too.” You murmured, letting the warmth of him and his even, deep breathing lure you to blissful unconsciousness.

—

When you woke up a few hours later, the bed was empty. 

A cool breeze moved through the room from the open sliding door that led out to a narrow deck where Declan now stood, his tall body leaning over the railing. You got up and moved to join him, grabbing the brown button down shirt he’d taken off when you’d gotten back to the room to shield yourself against the cool night air.

Outside, the unique hum of a city at two in the morning filled the silence between you as you came to stand next to him, close enough that you were almost touching, resting your forearms against the railing. The city sprawled around you, still bright and alive even this late. A stolen glance at him showed you a different man than the one who had laid down with you a few hours ago. He seemed awake in a way he hadn’t been in the bar, and while he still wasn’t smiling or looking at you, he seemed happier, more settled. You turned your attention back to the blanket of lights and steel before you and watched with him, letting the distant sounds of sparse traffic be your white noise until Declan spoke, his voice a far cry from how he’d sounded earlier. Now it was gentle yet resolute. At peace, even. 

“I have a lot I want to tell you.” He said, still watching the city. You nodded, not saying anything. He took a breath and glanced at you. “I owe you a lot of answers.”

You didn’t say anything, letting him set whatever pace and tone he needed. Declan nodded, mostly to himself it seemed, and set his sights back on the middle distance as he began. 

“You know, the first time I saw you, when I caught you staring ,” he gently nudged you as you dipped your head in a pantomime of embarrassment. “There was something about you that I couldn’t shake, couldn’t sort out. I remember we talked about… opportunities. Being brave enough to take them. I remember feeling like you were… a sign from god, or something.” 

He paused for a long moment and you gently leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder. Nearly imperceptibly, he leaned back against you.

“I was drunk.” you murmured, closing your eyes for a moment, smiling. “And sad.” Declan chuckled.

“I know, but that wasn’t all of it. That whole night, the only thing I wanted was to keep talking to you, to see you smile again. Or find that ass that had been so shit to you and… I don’t know, do something about him. But I was happier to spend the time with you, really. You could have robbed me blind and left me for dead in that garden and I wouldn’t have said a bad word against you, as long as you’d done it with that smile on your face. When you left that next morning, the others had to stop me from running after you. Almost made an idiot out of myself but I just… I hated the idea of letting you go.”

You stayed still, focused on the lights beyond your balcony, beyond the two of you. You’d always wondered about that morning, if he’d felt whatever it was you’d felt as you walked away from him: like you were somehow making a huge mistake. After a moment Declan spoke again.

“When you messaged me, I was so relieved I could have cried. I didn’t know how far we could take…whatever it was we were doing but I just couldn't let you go, not yet. And we kept chatting, kept calling and I was so excited that you seemed interested but it felt like maybe you… regretted what we’d done so I didn’t bring it up, didn’t veer off into that territory again.”

“Then what happened on that New Year’s Eve? Where did that come from?” You interjected, glancing up towards him, eager for an answer to a question you’d had for years now; about that pivot in your journey together. 

“I got too drunk, as one does.” You both laughed a little before he continued. “I’d been out with friends and somehow the topic of hookups came up and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Listening to my friend’s stories about the people they’d hooked up with and the regrets they had with letting some just… walk away? I felt guilty, and… worried. I didn’t want whatever was going on with us to end like that and just let us fall off the face of each other's earth. And in my rat-arsed mind I guess the best way to try and keep you around was to be… embarrassingly honest with you about what I was feeling at the moment.”

You laughed, whole-heartedly and louder than you meant to before you put a hand over your mouth as you pulled away to look at him. He grinned back at you, a small blush on his face and your heart tightened in your chest. A wave of nostalgia hit you, the smile so similar to the ones he’d given you that first night you’d met, during all those video calls and awkwardly angled photos. He only ever seemed to grin like that for you.

“Honestly,” you started, composing yourself. “I was so confused when that happened. I mean, I loved it. I was so happy you seemed to want to… do that, but I was so scared you were going to regret it the next morning. Or be mad at me for not stopping you, because I’d thought you’d been avoiding that kind of talk for your sake.”

His eyes widened a little and he giggled - that fucking giggle - as he shook his head, turning away from the city to lean his back against the railing. 

“I was trying to follow your lead.”

You groaned, another laugh bubbling up in your chest.

“I was trying to follow yours. ” 

You both laughed for a few moments, finally fully aware of your less than stellar communication skills, and it felt like a slate had been wiped clean, somewhere. Eventually Declan took a deep breath and watched you for a moment, his smile slipping from his face, replaced by a look of longing and regret. 

“This all would have gone so differently if I’d been more honest with you, from the start.”

A frown planted itself on your face and you shook your head.

“I was just as bad. It’s on both of us.”

“Maybe, but I was the coward of the two of us.” He looked away, looking back into the empty hotel room. From somewhere out in the city, a siren kicked on and wailed. “I realized it when I called you on your date, and I saw him. I had thought for a long time before that… that if you were seeing other people it wouldn’t bother me. That I’d be okay with it or force myself to be okay with it but when it happened? It bothered me so badly, made me so angry. I hadn’t been that angry in a long time. And I wasn’t mad at you, or him, even but… myself. Because I couldn’t bring myself to tell you how it made me feel. I was worried you’d write me off as some delusional jealous prat and that’d be the end of it.”

You let his words sink in as the siren faded into the sounds of nighttime in the city. You thought back to that night, how you’d read all of his emotions during that call as things he felt towards you; he’d been annoyed with you , mad at you . It hadn’t occurred to you that he might have been his own target all along, that he’d leveled so much of that negativity at himself.

“I felt awful when I realized what you’d seen,” you started, tentatively reaching for his hand. When your fingers glanced against his skin he easily slid his hand into yours, letting you trace the lines on his palm, passively examining the calluses on his fingertips. “That I couldn’t come up with a good reason why I was on that date when all I wanted was you. I really thought you were annoyed with me, upset with me for not telling you and when it… hurt, when you told me that you didn’t care if I saw other people? I felt like I’d earned that, because I hadn’t been honest and I’d realized when I called you a dozen times on the way home that I had feelings for you but then you went on to say you had too much baggage to date anyone and I felt like that included me.”

“You were always my exception.” Declan said, voice almost sharp, as if the thought of you feeling anything like hurt because of him rekindled that anger. “Not that I did a good job letting you know, or anything. And it didn’t stop me from being an asshole coward again when it came to the band.”

There was such bitterness in his voice that you didn’t know what to do with it. You slotted your fingers between his, holding his hand and he squeezed back, pressing your warm palms together. You willed the pressure there to chase that feeling from him, to remind him you were right here, that you’d kept your promise. But even then, you knew you deserved a few more answers. You knew Declan knew it too.

“Why did you keep that from me?” You breathed, voice barely a whisper. So much of the last year and a half of your life had been spent focused on that question, dredging it up in your weakest, angriest, most fearful moments before pushing it away because you refused to speculate, to make guesses that would only end up breaking your own heart. You’d thought maybe you could go your whole life never knowing, especially if Declan had decided to move on, if he’d decided he didn’t want you to wait for him anymore but standing next to him on the balcony of his hotel, a bed you’d already shared once tonight (however innocently) still waiting for you inside and a still uncertain future waiting for you both in the dawn beyond that told you that that wasn’t an option, anymore. 

“I was afraid.” His voice was steady and solemn, like he was confessing a sin.

“Of what?”

Again, Declan paused, clearly trying to piece together the best way to explain himself to you. You waited, still holding his hand, absently pressing a kiss to the back of his palm as he thought, and his grip on you tightened, just a little.

“There’s a reason for the whole Vessel persona, you know. It’s not just an art thing, or for marketing. It’s… easy to spill your guts about the worst parts of you when you’re faceless and nameless. I put so much of myself into that music, so many difficult and painful and ugly things and putting on a mask, becoming this blank canvas of a person made the trauma consumable, left it open for others to fill in their details so they could own it, for a little while. Kept me from having to be attached to it in a way I couldn’t stomach. Because if it belongs to me, my name and my face… everything gets too open and raw and I still have to look people in the eyes even after they know what’s happened and I didn’t… I don't know if that’s something I can do. I’m still scared you’ll find out what everything means and walk away from me.”

It was your turn to pause, processing his words. You’d guessed, despite yourself, at most of his reasoning, understanding his logic because just a few hours ago you’d had the thought that you couldn’t bare yourself to the world the way Declan did from behind the safety of his mask. You understood the fear, the logic behind the persona and the secrecy, that was simple enough. But his last sentence had gone through you like a sucker punch. His fear was that strong, still, that you standing next to him now wasn’t enough to shake it. That he still harbored the thought that you’d walk away from him, that whatever had happened in his past would still tear you from him. 

Your heart fractured at the thought, and you pushed off the railing, his hand still in yours as you led him back inside and sat with him on the edge of the bed. You needed him to see you. You needed him to understand. He deserved to hear this. A flash of worry laced with panic crossed his face, splintering your heart even further. 

“I could make some guesses at what you’ve been through but I’m not interested in guessing. If you want me to know, you can tell me, if and when you’re ready. But you telling me all that, letting me in… it’s not a condition for anything. I can understand being afraid, but please don’t be afraid of me . Of losing me, of scaring me off or whatever. Yeah, we sucked at talking to each other about our feelings, maybe we weren’t always honest with ourselves or each other but that’s already happened, it’s already been resolved and I’m still here . Whatever you’ve been through… that’s already happened too, and I’m still here.”

Despite your best efforts, a tear slipped down your cheek and you huffed out a laugh as you wiped it away. When you looked back to Declan, tears had slipped loose from his eyes as well, leaving wet trails on his face that he didn’t move to erase; he looked at you with such affection and relief that your heart finally shattered. 

Gently, you took his face in both of your hands, cradling his jaw and wiping away a new tear with your thumb, keeping his gaze locked on you.

“And I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise me that you’ll remember that you’ve more than earned your joy and healing, Declan. So take it with both hands and run .”

In the next heartbeat Declan had surged forward and pressed his mouth to yours, his own hands cradling along your face, the kiss fervent and desperate but at the same time patient and yielding. 

It was as if he was trying to tell you that he understood, even just a little: that he did have time, that he understood now that you weren't going anywhere and neither was he but at the same time it dawned on him that it had been nearly two years since he’d last seen you, since he’d been able to kiss you and touch you and he wanted so badly to make up for lost time. 

Somewhere in the process of you tangling yourselves together you both shed the clothes you’d had on, heedless of the chill air of the room. With nothing between you now, you met him blow for blow, returning each press of his body against yours with one of your own, each wandering, needful touch answered in kind and you relished the soft noises you pulled from each other.

But your mind couldn’t quite keep up with the pace your bodies had set and before you realized it you were both lying on the bed, tangled together effortlessly and so completely that you couldn't mark where either of you began or ended, and you stopped looking, content to feel him pressed to you, real and whole and a few of his tears mixed with your own as he rolled you under him to cage you with his body, careful and possessive. You looked at each other for a long moment, exchanging breath until you gasped when you felt him gently nudge your thighs apart, settling himself between them and you opened yourself to him, inviting him in.

You closed your eyes and sighed softly as he slid into you, sheathing himself fully and stilling, as if he knew you needed that moment to remember the feel of him, to sear it onto your memory. He pressed a soft, feather-light kiss to each closed eye and you smiled, opening them to see him hovering above you, his own grin mirroring yours before it morphed as he began to roll his hips against you in long, slow movements, his jaw dropping as a low, pleasured groan escaped him.

You arched your back, hooking a leg over his hip to pull him closer and let your hands wander over his arms, his shoulders, his back as you held him close. He thrust his hips gently against you as he dipped his head to kiss your mouth, then your neck before letting himself rest there, lips ghosting over your skin as you melted together. 

It was sentimental and sweet and heartbreaking in all the ways you hadn’t realized you’d needed, and you knew he’d needed it too. Needed to ground and center yourselves with one another, atoning for the last three years of aching and longing; forgiving each other for the suffering of your own making that you'd both endured. Declan shifted to rest his forehead gently to yours, kissing you and smiling against your lips as you rolled your hips to meet his, moving so seamlessly together that when you finally shuddered and fell to pieces beneath him, you felt the shadow of that ripple move through his own body. He glanced down at you, a questioning look in his eyes and you nodded before he fully let himself go, breathing your name like a prayer as he finished inside you.

You both stayed still for a long moment before Declan pulled out of you and you sighed for the loss of him, but he immediately pulled you to him, letting you curl into him as you’d done for him. You relished the heat of him and the steady thump of his heartbeat, as well as the sounds of your breathing beginning to even out as you lay together, all of it coalescing into something you hoped wasn’t a dream. 

“There’s one more thing I’m sorry for,” he said, resting his chin against your head. You only hummed in response, the vibration of his voice in his chest a melody you wanted to hear for the rest of your life. “That I didn’t say it back, when you told me.”

At those words you pulled back enough to look up at him to find him grinning at you, sheepish and contrite as he continued.

“You said that you loved me, when we saw each other last. And I was a prick and didn’t say it back.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to if you weren’t ready,” you said, a half smile twisting your lips.

“But I did love you then. I loved you when we had that awful pizza the first night we met, I loved you when you left my hotel the next morning. I loved you when you picked up my call on New Year’s Eve and when you told me that you didn’t kiss your date because he wasn’t me. I loved you when Dylan pointed you out in the crowd… I’ve always loved you.“

Your response was to press a kiss to his mouth, hard and needful. He’d told you all this before: just a few scant hours ago in the song he’d sung for you , but hearing it from him as Declan and put so plainly banished any shadow of doubt or worry that was left in you. And as he moved to hover over you again, the slow tenderness he’d shown you before replaced with a simmering hunger you were eager to match, you knew he felt the same way. Whatever barriers either of you had put up between yourselves were gone now, the misunderstandings and fear and longing were washed away with his words and all you wanted to do now was make up for lost time.

You broke away from the kiss to ghost your lips down his jaw, to his neck and you pressed a kiss to his throat, breathing him in.

“You really were kind of a jerk for not saying it back,” you said, smiling wolfishly at him, pressing another lazy kiss to the base of his throat. You could feel his cock twitch against your leg and you moved against him, teasing him. Clearly he was interested in making up that lost time, as well. “But I’m sure you can make it up to me. Besides, now that I know you love me too, you’re gonna be stuck with me.”

“I’ve had worse problems,” he replied with his own roguish grin, dipping his head to nip at your lower lip before kissing down your body, pulling gasps from you as he went. You barely noticed as he held your hands down when he settled himself between your thighs, pushing you open with his shoulders and watching your face while he licked broadly against your cunt with a hint of hungry greed. You let out a keening moan when his tongue met the slick heat of you, realizing he was tasting where he’d already been. That thought alone had you desperate to feel him inside you again but he insisted on playing, his tongue pressing into you just long enough to make the graze of his teeth against your clit a startling contrast.

“Please,” you breathed, pulling your hands from his grip to tangle in his hair; not to hold him or guide him but simply to ground yourself to him, to close the circuit. Declan hummed against you, making you shiver violently before he lifted his head, eyes dark and mouth wet with you.

“I missed that,” he murmured, moving to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hearing you beg.”

You practically purred as you reached for him, sharing another heated kiss to search his mouth for your own taste, stealing it from him and letting your tongue trace the sharp lines of his teeth while his hands found your breasts, your hips, then your thighs, fingers tightening there when you parted, both of you breathless.

“Did you, now?” you said, groaning lightly when Declan released his grip on you and traced gentle, apologetic patterns over the places his fingers had pressed a little too hard. “What else did you miss?”

He chuckled darkly as he slid down your body again and nuzzled against your hip, ghosting kisses along the sensitive skin before finding a spot that made you buck and shiver, pausing there to answer you.

“Feeling your hands on me, your mouth.”

You gasped as his kisses turned from whispers to something harder, rougher, until teeth were introduced: marking, possessing. You hissed at the pain of it and curled your fingers tightly into his hair, tempering his little cruelty. It didn’t stop him from continuing to mark you, neither did your shuddering, half-hearted pleas for mercy. He glanced up at you again from where he pinned your hips to the bed, smirking.

“Hearing you moan.” 

His voice was saccharine, as if he wasn’t marking you up and leaving you breathless in the process. Words escaped you when you tried to form a coherent sentence to respond, your whole body alight from that tangle of pain and pleasure as he finished his task. When he finally released you, he gently kissed the spot where you knew you knew you’d bear a vicious, violet bruise, muttering an apology against your skin while you tried to catch your breath. 

While he sat back on his heels and watched you tentatively reach for the sore spot to test its sensitivity, you committed all of it to memory, the sting of it and how his mouth had felt on you and reveled in it, letting it send a hot wave of desire through you.

“Lay down.” You cooed as you sat up, following him as he obeyed your instructions, laying on his back to watch with rapt attention as you straddled his hips, one hand on his chest as the other guided him into you. He groaned as you gently scratched your nails down his chest towards his stomach before bracing there, leaning over him just a little as you rolled your hips against him, watching his face as his eyes fluttered closed, jaw dropping. You groaned low in your throat, enjoying watching his face as you continued to ride him, his eyes glazing over as you moved above him. His hands found your thighs again, moved up to your hips and he passed a teasing touch over the mark on your hip. You felt yourself tense up and he dropped his head back, his noises matching yours while you continued wringing pleasure from him at your own pace.

“You can’t keep teasing me like this,” Declan groaned, reaching up to roughly palm one of your breasts, earning him a gasp from you. In retaliation you ground your hips down hard and slow, leaning back to change the angle and open yourself to let him touch you again but in that instant Declan managed to flip you over onto the bed facedown, easily hauling your hips up so you were on all fours for him. He slid inside you again, setting a pace that was rough and needy and you were instantly breathless, your moans choked off and louder than you meant them to be but he felt so good pounding into you, his large hands holding your hips, fingers pressing into the edge of the bruise he’d left on you, making some of your moans devolve into half choked cries.

“Will you beg me for it?,” Declan breathed, tightening his grip as he slowed a bit. You looked over your shoulder at him, panting and not sure if you’d be able to form the words necessary to beg him like he wanted. He only grinned back at you, thrusting hard against you once before languidly pulling away, teasing. You moaned at the feeling of it, desperate for him to do it again, again, again until you were being thrown off the precipice in delicious agony but he stopped , waiting for you to speak. 

“Declan,” you started, breathless and keening. “Declan please, I… fuck, please.” You were nearly incoherent, not quite able to vocalize what exactly you wanted because how could you tell him you needed him buried deep inside you until you the line between the two of you blurred, wanted him to pull pleasure from you until you weren’t yourself anymore, until you were unmade and unraveled? So instead you rolled your hips back against him, the feeling enough to send a shiver through you, inching you closer to the edge you were so desperate for. If he wouldn’t give it to you, you’d chase it yourself.

“Oh no, darling, that’s not fair.” Declan purred, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips again to hold you in place while he slid out of you so unbearably slowly, before sliding back in with the same maddening, glacial pace. You nearly cursed at him when he kept you still when you tried to push back onto him, trying to set the pace for him.

“I need you to fuck me Declan, please. Make me cum, please, please.” you babbled and you could have sobbed when he snapped his hips against you hard once, twice. But he stopped again. For a moment you wondered if this was a punishment for something you’d done, a little teasing revenge but then you felt him curl over your back to whisper in your ear, hips moving again.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, licking the shell of your ear as he gave you what you asked for. “Let me see you cum, beautiful. Give it to me.” 

Those words were all the permission you needed to finally splinter apart, your orgasm nearly painful as it rolled through you, your whole body shivering. Declan’s breath was ragged and tight while you came and he released your hips and pulled out of you before he could follow down the same path, his breathing a sharp hiss as you guessed he tried to focus on not coming yet.

“Declan,” you sighed dreamily, sitting up enough to turn yourself towards him. He was still kneeling on the bed, his own breathing labored and gaze clouded with lust. You reached for his cock, wet and twitching and leaking precum. The barest touch of your fingertips against it and he cursed under his breath, the muscles in his hips and groin twitching in response, his hand reaching for yours as if to stop you. You lifted an eyebrow and quirked a wicked smile at him. “Seems someone’s sensitive.”

“Please,” he ground out and you smiled wider, reaching for him again to take hold of his cock, stroking him lazily. The noises you pulled from him were nearly musical. “Please, I don’t want to… not yet.”

“Oh, I could get used to this,” you whispered, lowering your mouth to him. The mere touch of your tongue on him had him shuddering, hips thrusting forward before he could even stop himself. You hummed as you sunk your mouth lower on him and he groaned viscerally, hands reaching for your head but you cast your gaze up at him through your lashes and he stopped. You then pulled away, replacing your mouth with your hand to play the same game he had just minutes before. 

When he remained silent, you placed a gentle kiss on the head of his cock, earning you a sharp moan and a string of curses from under his breath. From the state of him, you guessed he had to be painfully close. 

“Your turn, handsome. You’ve earned it.” Still looking up at him through your lashes, you put your mouth back to him while you stroked him. Just as his words had been enough for you, Declan groaned low in his throat, his hips twitching against your mouth before he stilled and you waited patiently for him to finish in your mouth, taking everything he gave you, a proud, feline smile blossoming on your face as you did.

“Fuck,” he groaned, still kneeling before you, catching his breath as you let yourself lay back on the bed, lazily wiping at stray strands of his cum on your lips. You felt him stand and your heart fluttered a little when you heard the bathroom sink run for a moment. When he returned, he sat closer to your head, looking at you with a fondness that didn’t match the vulgarity of what you’d just done together. 

“You doing alright?” he asked, wiping gently at a spot you’d missed on your chin with the damp cloth he’d brought back with him. You laughed and took it from him, cleaning yourself up a little before setting it aside and moving to crawl under the blankets, the chill of the room suddenly overwhelming against your bare skin.

“I’m good. Very good. What about you?”

Declan slid himself under the covers and pulled you closer to him, wrapping you in another layer of warmth, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“This is the best I’ve felt in nearly three years.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” you chided, nestling into his chest and getting comfortable, your eyes quickly growing heavy. 

“I’m not,” he said, his voice back to that steady, peaceful tone he’d had when you’d joined him on the balcony earlier. “Honestly, the last time I felt like this was when you agreed to stay the first time. I sort of thought I’d never feel like that ever again.”

You frowned, small and hidden as you pressed your face into the crook of his shoulder, his words hanging in your mind in a way you couldn’t shake. You’d covered so much ground tonight, had rectified so many things and the universe finally felt righted and aligned in a way you hadn’t even realized was off-kilter but you knew there were more conversations the two of you would need to have, worries you still needed to lay to rest, more hurts to soothe and forgive, someday. 

But for now? It could wait. None of it needed to be dredged up now, none of it had any bearing on today, or even tomorrow, or the day after that. Because there were still a few hours until you’d have to part again, until a whole new set of struggles would put themselves between the two of you and you’d gotten so good at knowing when to give weight to things, when to let problems be solved and when to give them time so it could all wait. Because tonight you’d both earned the rest that was waiting for you at the edge of sleep, wrapped in his arms and dreaming about the future you could have together, that you’d let yourself wish for now. You’d both earned the right to dream of all the mornings you’d meet together, still tangled together and sharing breath. 

And as you drifted off, you felt the fluttering hope you’d thought left you nearly two years ago, flickering and warm, settling back in your chest. You’d sort of thought you’d never feel it there again.