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IRL!
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↳ ❝ I'M JUST THE WORLD'S
SHITTEST BOYFRIEND.❞

Three days had stretched into what felt like an eternity since Chris's last encounter with Lovette. He could grasp the rationale behind her absence – reuniting with her friends was important, after all – but his longing for her presence had only intensified. In the labyrinth of emotions he found himself navigating, he was certain of one thing: this was all new to him, this intense feeling that seemed to stretch his heartstrings.

Now, they stood in his kitchen, a space he had seen her occupy before, yet it felt different today. She looked beautiful, draped in his 'FRESH LOVE' sweatshirt, and the sight of her brought a faint smile to his lips. A small offering was extended – a brownie crafted by his mother's hands.

She accepted it with gratitude, her attention momentarily diverted by her phone. The first bite landed, and then another, before everything unravelled in an instant. The taste seemed to betray her, a moment of savoured delight contorted into instant rejection as the brownie was expelled from her mouth.

"There's no way they're that bad." Chris said, confusion mixed with his jest lacing his voice. His hand reached instinctively for a brownie, his own chuckle underscored with playful disbelief.

But then her reaction hit him like a freight train. Her eyes were saucers of alarm, mouth agape in sheer shock. "Are there peanuts in there?" she uttered, an undertone of urgency in her voice.

His heart dropped like a stone in his chest, realization dawning. "They're peanut butter brownies," he responded, a pang of dread crawling up his spine.

And then her body convulsed, her hands clutching at her throat as though grappling with an invisible assailant. It was a terrifying dance with something he couldn't see, a nightmare unfurling before his very eyes. Panic rippled through him, a torrent of helplessness and fear.

Lovette's face contorted in agony, and her eyes, wide with terror, darted around the room as though searching for an escape from her torment. She struggled to breathe, her gasps for air coming in frantic, wheezing bursts. Her body shivered violently as the allergy's venom coursed through her veins, and her limbs went limp as if all strength had been drained from her.

"You're allergic?" The words fell from his lips, laced with terror. Time seemed to freeze, the reality of the situation smashing into him like a tidal wave. He was on his feet, his chair scraping backward as he lunged toward her.

"Where's your EpiPen?" he demanded, a desperate urgency in his voice as he scanned their surroundings for a lifeline.

She shakes her head, her voice strained and wavering, "Didn't bring it." The admission hung between them, a heavy confession that bordered on recklessness.

Bile rose in his throat as he comprehended the severity of the situation. Her body writhed with an invisible enemy, and it was a nightmare unfolding right before his eyes.

His mind raced, thoughts colliding and dissipating like vapour in his turmoil. He wanted to act, to do something, anything, but his brain felt mired in a fog of terror. His gaze clung to her, his heart hammering in his chest, the seconds stretching into an agonizing eternity.

Chris's eyes darted around the kitchen, frantic fingers tugging at his hair in distress. The air grew thick with desperation, and a chilling realization struck him: he had no medical training, no experience with situations like this.

"Call an ambulance," she rasped, her voice emerging in the midst of chaos. And in that moment, her voice crystallized his purpose. His fingers shook as he fumbled for his phone, his hands finding a tremulous steadiness as he dialled the digits that could bridge the gap between her and safety. The operator's voice was distant, a lifeline to guide him as he relayed their location and the urgency of their situation.

It was a test of time, a brutal waiting game where every second was too long, every heartbeat too loud. But he stood rooted, his hand tightly clenching the phone, his gaze unwavering as he watched over her, his fear transforming into a fierce determination to ensure that she would be okay.

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Chris found himself all too familiar with the sterile, antiseptic scent of the emergency room. The wait in the uncomfortable plastic chairs weighed on him, his fingers twitching with nervous energy as he fiddled with his hands. Levi and Maeve were there too, summoned by his call when they entered the ambulance. The hope had been simple: the EpiPen administered, an immediate recovery, and a smooth sail from there. But as minutes stretched into uncertainty, Lovette's lack of response to the EpiPen's dose began to escalate his fear rather than soothe it.

And then it came, like a blade slicing through the air, Layla's cutting accent searing through his thoughts. The one who already held no fondness for him was adding fuel to the fire. He could almost feel the weight of her disapproval, the sharpness of her criticism burrowing beneath his skin.

"What type of boyfriend doesn't know his girlfriend is deathly allergic to peanuts?" Her words lashed out, the sharpness of her anger creating an invisible barrier that seemed to encase him. He could practically sense her eyes drilling into him, her disdain for him radiating like a tangible force.

Imani, the voice of reason, tried to intervene, to bridge the gap. But Layla's frustration seemed to drown out any attempt at reconciliation. "Layla—" Imani's voice carried a weariness, a plea for understanding.

Yet Layla was relentless, her gaze sweeping past him, as if he was inconsequential, unworthy of her acknowledgment. "It's fucking ridiculous. The last time she had peanuts she almost died." The venom in her words left no room for misunderstanding.

Eli's throat-clearing seemed almost like a lifeline, an attempt to dissipate the growing tension. "Layla, let's go find a vending machine. I think we're gonna be here a while."

Their silent exchange communicated volumes, a non-verbal pact that only solidified the isolation Chris felt. Imani excused herself, her determination to be with Lovette overriding any conflict.

With their departure, the air grew more breathable, but the emotional residue remained. Mateo, left beside him, offered comfort in the form of his presence. Chris watched him carefully, apprehensive of the criticism that seemed to have seeped into every corner of his mind.

"You alright? Layla can be a bit protective." Mateo's concern reached him, a gentle gesture amidst the turmoil.

"I'm just the world's shittest boyfriend," Chris muttered, the weight of his inadequacy heavy on his tongue.

Unbeknownst to Chris, Mateo's heart was a battleground. He had loved Lovette for so long, but he had buried those feelings deep within himself, locked them away to respect their relationship. He couldn't let Chris see the truth, couldn't let him know the depth of his emotions for the girl they both cared about.

Mateo's fingers tapped nervously against his thigh, a physical manifestation of the internal struggle he faced. He wanted to be there for Lovette, to hold her hand and tell her everything would be okay. But he couldn't. Not now.

"It's not like you did it on purpose," Mateo's reassurance came, sincere and kind.

But the reassurance couldn't quell the storm brewing within Chris. Layla's words had taken root, and the seed of doubt grew with every passing second. Did Lovette wonder the same? Did she question his lack of knowledge? The uncertainty gnawed at him, overshadowing even Mateo's attempt to alleviate his fears.

"She really cares about you, you know that right?" Mateo's words were an anchor. "She's not going to break up with you over this."

Chris nodded, the sentiment offered a sliver of solace in the midst of his turmoil. Yet, the insecurities lingered, a shadow beneath his thoughts, a haunting reminder of his own limitations in a situation that had spiralled beyond his control.

"I haven't seen her this happy since before what happened last year," Mateo mumbled, his words casting a sudden chill over the room.

Chris's brow furrowed as he absorbed Mateo's cryptic comment. "What happened last year?"

His gaze bore into Mateo, who appeared to have revealed more than he intended. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, until Imani's soft voice broke it.

"They're allowing visitors," Imani's voice is soft, as if she doesn't want to interrupt, "Eli and Layla are already in her room."

Chris watched intently as Mateo followed Imani into the room, as if he were itching to escape their conversation. Mateo's cryptic words continued to echo in his head as he entered the hospital room, standing somewhat apart from Lovette's friend group. A sudden sense of alienation washed over him in the presence of all of them at once, and anxiety churned in his stomach when he caught Layla giving him a particularly disapproving look.

Last year.

What happened last year? And why hadn't Lovette told him?

Layla's candid comment, along with Mateo's cryptic remark, felt like a validation of his growing insecurity. Confirmation that maybe he wasn't the right fit for her. Maybe she didn't trust him. Maybe there was someone else better suited for her than a mere YouTuber.

Chris's eyes roamed the room, scanning the faces of the people inside. Then, they landed on Mateo, who stood close to Lovette, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. Nausea welled up in Chris as he finally noticed the way Mateo was looking at her.

It was the same way Chris looked at her.

Suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place. Layla and Mateo's tense conversation in the kitchen, Layla's evident disdain for him, and her insistence that someone else deserved Lovette. The realization hit Chris like a wave, drowning him in a sea of insecurity and doubt.

Mateo has feelings for Lovette.

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"I don't blame you, Chris. It's not your fault."

Those words, spoken with such sincerity by Lovette, reverberated through Chris's mind like a drum. They offered comfort in the midst of the chaos surrounding them. He appreciated her reassurance more than he could express, especially considering the glances Layla had been throwing his way.

Chris shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to hide the unease that gnawed at him. Lovette laid beside him in the hospital bed, animatedly discussing their plans for the upcoming weekend. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned in closer, her hand gently resting on his arm.

She's amazing, Chris thought, his heart aching with affection. But does she deserve someone better?

He should have felt elated, being the center of her attention, but Mateo's words had cast a shadow over everything. The realization that Mateo had feelings for Lovette had hit him like a ton of bricks, and it was like an invisible wall now separated him from her. Every glance exchanged between Mateo and Lovette felt like a dagger to his heart.

Does she deserve someone who's taller, smarter, more talented than me? Chris couldn't shake these nagging doubts. Mateo's going to Harvard for crying out loud.

Chris couldn't help but notice the subtle signs of Mateo's feelings. It was in the way Mateo smiles, while polite, never quite reached his eyes when he looked at Chris. It was the brief, lingering touches on Lovette's shoulder, the way his fingers brushed against hers as he reached for a glass of water. These small gestures, almost imperceptible to anyone else, were like a silent declaration of Mateo's affections.

And when Lovette laughed at something Chris said, he saw it—the way Mateo's gaze seemed to linger on her, full of warmth and longing. It was a look that spoke volumes, a silent plea for Lovette's attention.

"Lovette," he began, his voice strained as he interrupted her enthusiastic chatter. Her gaze shifted to him, her smile unwavering.

"Yeah?" she responded, her eyes searching his face.

"I... I have to go," Chris stammered, his fingers drumming nervously on his thigh. The words came out abruptly, surprising even him.

Is this for the best? Am I really what she deserves?

Her brows furrowed, concern evident in her eyes. "Go? Now? What's wrong?"

Layla, who had been sitting nearby, couldn't resist making a comment. "Chris has to go film something with his brothers, right? That's what he's always doing, isn't it?"

What am I even doing? Leaving her here like this?

Chris winced at the slight sarcasm in Layla's tone. He shot her a quick, apologetic glance before turning back to Lovette. "Yeah, it's a last-minute thing," he explained, forcing a smile. "I'm really sorry, Lovette. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Can I ever truly make it up to her? Does she deserve more?

Lovette's expression softened, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. "Don't worry about it, Chris. We'll catch up later."

As Chris rose from his seat, he couldn't help but steal a glance at Mateo, who was watching the exchange with a conflicted expression. It was as if Mateo knew the real reason for Chris's sudden departure, and the tension between them hung heavy in the air.

Is this for the best? Or am I running away from something I should be confronting?

But before he could take a step, Layla couldn't resist one more jab. She raised an eyebrow, her words dripping with sarcasm. "Duty calls, huh, Chris? Don't let your fans down."

Lovette's eyes flashed with irritation as she interjected, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Layla, enough."

Layla looked momentarily taken aback, as if she hadn't expected such a firm response from her friend. She pursed her lips and, without another word, turned her attention elsewhere.

With a final, forced smile, Chris left the room, feeling both relieved and guilty. He should have felt remorse for leaving abruptly, but being in the same room with Mateo and Layla was making him feel like he was losing his mind.

Am I really good enough for her?

"Chris!" Mateo's voice called out from behind him.

Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with Mateo. For a moment, Chris couldn't help but compare himself to him. It was rare for Chris to feel insecure, but standing next to Mateo made him feel obsolete. Did all of Lovette's friends think that Mateo was a better match for her?

Mateo was taller and had a slightly more muscular physique. He was Lovette's duet partner, and there was undeniable chemistry between them. He was also a genuinely nice guy and a certified genius who was transferring from Yale to Harvard in the Fall.

Did Lovette trust him more? She hadn't even told her own boyfriend about some elusive event that had happened before they met. Chris couldn't help but wonder if Mateo was privy to that information.

Chris sighed, his desperation to escape the emergency room growing. "Yeah?"

Mateo's brow furrowed in concern. "You sure you need to go? Can't you reschedule your filming?"

Truth be told, there was nothing to film. He just needed to get out of the room.

Pursing his lips, he replied, "No, I can't."

There was a heavy silence between them, the tension palpable.

"Take care of her for me?" Chris asked, the unspoken understanding passing between them.

Mateo nodded in response, his gaze holding a secret that he wasn't ready to reveal just yet.

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Inside the room, Lovette turned her attention to Layla. "Layla, what's your issue with Chris?" she asked, her tone gentle but curious.

Layla shrugged nonchalantly, feigning indifference. "I don't have an issue, Lovette. Just not my type, that's all."

Imani, aware of how much Lovette wanted everyone to get along, chimed in, "Come on, Layla. Chris seems like a nice guy. What's really bothering you?"

Layla offered a vague smile, keeping her true feelings guarded. "Nothing, seriously. I'm just protective of you guys, that's all."

Lovette's gaze remained fixed on the door through which Chris had just vanished. Her mind churned with a tempest of thoughts, each more turbulent than the last. Her delicate fingers danced unconsciously across the coarse hospital sheets, tracing an intricate pattern as if searching for answers.

The empty chair beside her seemed to mock her, a stark reminder of his sudden departure. It mirrored the void that now threatened to engulf her heart.

Mateo's gentle touch on her arm pulled her from the whirlpool of her thoughts. His voice, filled with concern, reached her ears like a lifeline. "Hey, are you okay?"

She summoned a smile, though it was feeble, unable to dispel the shadows from her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit confused, that's all."

But as the seconds ticked by in the silence of the hospital room, doubt crept in like an unwelcome guest. It clung to her, refusing to be ignored. Lovette couldn't help but question the solidity of their relationship. Was it as steadfast as she had once believed, or was it perched precariously on a fragile foundation, one that could crumble with the weight of something as seemingly trivial as an allergic reaction?

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

hello!!

do you guys have any predictions about the next few chapters? i'd love to hear them

until next time <3!