*ੈ✩‧₊˚
IRL
*ੈ✩‧₊˚

↳ ❝ MY PARENTS WOULD
HAVE REALLY LIKED YOU.❞

Lovette's movements took on a mechanical precision, each action carefully calculated. The abrupt vanishing act Chris pulled sent shockwaves through her, but she refused to let the tremors show. The cookies, once a labour of affection, became casualties of a crumbling reality, transferred meticulously into Tupperware.

The thought echoed in her mind—just because he's planning to break up with her doesn't mean he shouldn't have the cookies. Oatmeal, a flavour she never particularly favoured, but today, has become a symbol of unresolved sweetness and bitterness. Tears lurked at the edges of her eyes, threatening to spill over, yet Lovette held them captive, choosing focus over the freefall into vulnerability.

As the cookies neatly found their place, she confronted the spectre of their relationship with cold efficiency. She compartmentalized her pain, sealing it into an imaginary box, a container for feelings that would be dealt with later.

Her hand instinctively rose to her sternum, fingers grazing the delicate firefly necklace he had once given her. The silver pendant rested against her skin, a silent witness to the turbulence within her.

Then, like an unexpected storm, Chris's voice intruded upon the silence.

"I think I love you."

The admission hit her like a discordant note in a symphony. Lovette's hand recoiled from the necklace as if the silver insect had stung her. Her brow furrowed, confusion etching her expression.

"You 'think' you love me?" she questioned, the edge in her voice betraying the calculated composure.

"I'm 99.99% sure," Chris responded, his certainty marred by a trace of hesitation.

"Care to elaborate?" Lovette pressed, her gaze a mix of analytical scrutiny and guarded vulnerability. The Tupperware lid clicked shut, a sound that was almost too loud in the silence. Lovette's eyes, a mosaic of emotions, met Chris's expectant gaze. His "99.99% sure" hung in the air, waiting to be dissected.

He took a step closer as if bridging the emotional gap between them. "My biggest fear was having a girlfriend," he began, his words a hesitant revelation. "And then I met you, and that fear got a little smaller each time we hung out."

Lovette's brow softened, a flicker of surprise mingling with the myriad of emotions. It was an unexpected admission, opening a door into Chris's vulnerabilities.

He continued, "I didn't want to admit it to myself but I've never been good at this whole relationship thing. It scares me, feeling so... connected. But with you, it's different. It's like... the fear is there, but it's manageable. And that's because of you."

"I love it when you correct me when I use a word wrong, but you don't make me feel stupid," Chris rambled, a half-smile playing on his lips. "I love that face you make when I make you laugh."

"I love the way you colour-code your notes and have a spreadsheet for everything," Chris continued his ramble.

The air seemed to shift, charged with an unspoken weight. Lovette, still clutching the Tupperware, felt a wave of conflicting emotions—confusion, vulnerability, and the echo of unspoken confessions.

"I love you," Chris finally declared, his eyes meeting hers with a sincerity that cut through the tension. "I love you today, I loved you yesterday and the day before that. I just didn't know it until you said it first."

Lovette's grip on the Tupperware tightened as if seeking physical grounding in the face of emotional revelation.

Chris reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against hers. "I'm still figuring this out, but I want to figure it out with you. "

"You love me?" Lovette's voice, a delicate mix of surprise and hope, broke the silence.

Chris met her gaze, his eyes unwavering. "Yeah, I do. A lot, actually."

A smile, unburdened and genuine, slowly spread across Lovette's face. She released her grip on the container of cookies, as if relinquishing the weight of her fears.

"I love you too," she whispered, her words a tender acknowledgment of the intricate dance of emotions that had unfolded.

As if propelled by an invisible force, they closed the remaining distance. Lovette's eyes, glistening with unshed tears, met Chris's unwavering gaze. In the quietude, where words had failed and feelings had risen, they found solace in the simplicity of a kiss.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

THREE MONTHS TILL CHRIS LEAVES:

Triggers are inherently precarious. Mundane to others, yet they unleash havoc on someone else. A cruel twist of fate, and Lovette hadn't expected it to unfold in Chris's house. There she stood, by the sink, preparing to wash off the remnants of icing from a cupcake Chris had thoughtfully gotten for her. Laughter filled the air until the distant sound of a car backfiring disrupted the serenity—a sudden, unexpected bang that lingered like an unwelcome ghost.

Her fingers instinctively tightened around the edges of the sink as the sound became a key, unlocking a door to memories buried deep within her. In that split second, the world around her underwent a metamorphosis. The air thickened, and the familiar scent of soap twisted into an acrid odour of blood, transporting her back to the night of the accident. The edges of her vision blurred, as if a veil had descended, creating a barrier between her and reality.

Chris noticed the subtle change in her demeanour, the way her eyes lost focus for a heartbeat too long. He reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Lovie, are you okay?"

A flicker of panic raced through Lovette's mind. She was supposed to be okay, but the sound had unravelled something within her. "Yeah," she managed, her voice distant and detached. "Just... just a bit overwhelmed."

The repetition of the car backfiring outside intensified the disconnection. Lovette robotically turned on the tap, the water streaming over her hands. The sensation, once grounding, now felt distant and foreign. She continued washing, the rhythm of the water hitting her hands merging with the distant echoes in her mind.

Minutes passed, but to Lovette, they felt like fleeting seconds. She was caught in a loop, the world outside the kitchen slipping away. The sound of the water, the scent of soap, the muted noises from the street—they all blended together.

Chris, concerned, watched as Lovette's movements became mechanical. He called her name, but his voice seemed to come from a great distance. Lovette, trapped in the echo of her memories, was oblivious to the passing time.

It wasn't until Chris gently touched her hand that she snapped back. The spell broke, and the realization of the minutes lost washed over her. She looked at the still-running tap, the water now cold against her skin.

"I'm all for good hygiene, but you've been washing your hands for a while," Chris said softly, his eyes searching hers.

Lovette, shaken, managed a weak smile. "Yeah, just got lost in my thoughts."

She shakes her head vigorously as if physically trying to expel the haunting memories of the accident from her mind. The weight of the past bears down on her, and she gratefully accepts the paper towel that Chris offers, using it to dry her hands.

"What does your new tattoo mean?" Chris inquires, his fingers gently reaching over to trace the lettering on her ribcage.

Her gaze shifts to the fresh ink, the words 'GOOD GRIEF' etched in spaced writing, a narrative of pain and healing inked onto her skin just a week ago. Lovette sets the towel aside, her body language steady, not flinching from her boyfriend's touch.

"My therapist once told me that the price of love is grief, that the pain I feel is a testament to how much my parents meant to me. So it's grief, but it's good grief. They loved me, and I loved them. It wouldn't hurt me this bad if it wasn't good grief, you know? It's a reminder of the duality of love and loss," she explains, her voice steady but carrying the weight of an entire universe of pain and resilience.

When she finishes, he simply nods, a silent acknowledgment of the profound emotions laid bare. His fingers, still lingering near her ribcage, convey a silent reassurance. Lovette's strength in sharing her pain doesn't go unnoticed, Chris understands the depths of her grief.

Without saying much, he pulls her into a gentle embrace, a silent understanding passing between them. The hug is a quiet affirmation that he's there, a steadfast presence in the turbulence of her emotions.

"My parents would have really liked you," Lovette's voice, muffled by the fabric of his shirt, carries a weight that tugs at the strings of his heart.

The validation has him soaring. The acknowledgment of not just her pain but also the acknowledgment of their shared connection with those who are no longer present brings warmth to Chris's chest. He realizes the significance of being accepted not just by Lovette but by the memory of those she holds dear.

As they hold each other in the quiet aftermath of her revelation, Chris places a tender kiss on the crown of her head. The gesture is a wordless response, a way of saying, 'I'm here with you.' He understands that her parents are an indelible part of her, and in embracing her, he embraces the entirety of her story—the joy, the grief, and the resilient spirit that weaves through it all.

He holds her a little tighter, as if wanting to anchor her to the present, to the love that lingers in the spaces where grief once dwelled. The unspoken understanding between them grows, weaving a silent narrative of shared pain and shared love.

He lifts her chin gently, meeting her eyes with a soft sincerity.

"I'm honoured to know them through you, Lovette," he says, his voice a gentle reassurance. "And I'm grateful for the love they've given you. If they're anything like you, they must have been incredible people."

Lovette's smile widened, a silent agreement to the sentiment.

TWO MONTHS TILL CHRIS LEAVES:

As Lovette emerged from the whirlwind of her second semester's end, exhaustion gripped her like a vice, seeping into her very bones. The last exam of her first year of college left her drained, and all she craved was a respite, a moment of reprieve with Chris in his house, a place that had effortlessly transformed into a sanctuary.

Chris's parents' warm reception during their smooth meeting reinforced the sense of belonging. MaryLou's unexpected kindness, expressed in a private moment, became a soothing balm for Lovette's nerves, extinguishing the flicker of worry that Chris's mother might disapprove of their relationship.

A sweet kiss from Chris greeted her at the door, a silent but reassuring exchange of affection. However, the weariness etched on Lovette's face did not escape Chris's notice.

"Lovie, please don't take this the wrong way, but you look really tired," Chris remarked, concern shadowing his eyes.

"'Cause I am. I got like three hours of sleep," Lovette replied, her words punctuated by a weary nod.

"And you drove here?" The worry in Chris's voice mirrored the creases on his forehead.

Again, Lovette nodded, the exhaustion momentarily claiming her once more.

"Hey, I know we love each other, but please don't drive on three hours of sleep just to see me," Chris urged, his concern palpable.

A light, airy laugh escaped Lovette's lips as the couple made their way to Chris's bedroom. The exhaustion and the comfort of Chris's presence blended into a surreal haze. The sight of his inviting bed almost distracted her, but her gaze shifted to the book on his bedside table, a detail she hadn't expected.

Little Women.

Her favorite book.

"You're reading Little Women?" she asked, a spark of surprise in her eyes.

Chris, nonchalant, shrugged. "You said you like it, so I wanted to read it."

"But you hate reading."

"I love you more than I hate reading," he declared matter-of-factly, settling onto his bed and beckoning her to join him.

Lovette eased onto the bed beside him, the gentle curve of his arm finding a natural home around her waist. In a fluid motion, Chris reached for the book, fingers deftly flipping through pages until he found his makeshift bookmark.

"Do you like it?" Lovette inquired, her head finding a comfortable perch on his chest.

"Yeah, but I was a little confused because I thought Jo was the guy and Laurie was the girl for a few chapters," Chris admitted, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You want me to read it to you?"

Lovette responded with a contented hum, "I like the sound of your voice."

A soft chuckle escaped Chris before he delved into the chapter where Amy burned Jo's writings. His narration, a gentle cadence, wove a soothing tapestry that lulled Lovette into a peaceful slumber. Dreams eluded her, and in the tranquil realm of sleep, Chris's voice became a comforting melody.

She awoke to a gentle shake, realizing her head had shifted from his chest to the pillow. As her eyes adjusted to the room, she noticed Chris standing in front of her, holding a cake that bore the charming signs of homemade imperfection.

"What's this for?" Lovette questioned, a curious eyebrow arched.

"Read it," Chris simply replied.

Moving closer to the cake, Lovette read the message aloud, "Happy ending your first year of college with a 4.0 day!"

The writing seemed a bit messy, and the words crowded together, but the sincerity behind the effort warmed Lovette's heart.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp painted the room in a warm embrace as Lovette looked from the cake to Chris, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"You made this?" she asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and delight.

Chris scratched the back of his head, a modest smile gracing his features. "Well, sort of. I had a bit of help since it's a box mix, but the intention was all mine."

Lovette chuckled, appreciating his honesty. "Well, it's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

As they shared a moment of quiet admiration for the cake, Chris couldn't help but notice the weariness still lingering in Lovette's eyes.

"You know," he began, "you've been through a lot with exams and everything. I was thinking maybe a little celebration was in order."

Lovette's gaze met his, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "What did you have in mind?"

Chris pointed to the cake with a flourish. "Well, cake, obviously. And then maybe a movie night? Your pick."

Her eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Cake and a movie night? That sounds perfect."

He grinned, feeling a sense of accomplishment at bringing a genuine smile to her face. "Alright then Lovie, let the celebration begin."

ONE MONTH TILL CHRIS LEAVES:

"I have a present for you," Lovette sings as Chris slides into the passenger seat of her car.

"What is it?" Chris asks, his eyes curious.

In response, Lovette hands him a sleek envelope. "It's an early birthday gift."

He accepts it with a grin, his fingers eagerly tearing open the seal. The excitement in his eyes intensifies. "You got me Dominic Fike tickets?" Chris exclaims.

"He's performing in Boston on the 20th," Lovette confirms, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Lovie, that's next week! How did you manage to get these? It's been sold out for months!" Chris's disbelief is mixed with genuine awe.

Lovette shrugs nonchalantly, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. "I have my ways."

The elation in Chris's expression warms her, but as they drive, the echo of distant worries intensifies. The upcoming concert, a celebration of his birthday, feels like a temporary reprieve from the looming reality—his imminent departure.

The conversation drifts to the concert details, the excitement palpable. But amidst the laughter and planning, Lovette's mind flits to the unspoken uncertainties. She steals a glance at him, her eyes reflecting the joy of successfully pulling off the unexpected gift. A part of Lovette is worried about how things will be when he moves.

She turns down the volume of the joint playlist they created, the hum of the engine underscored by the weight of impending change. Lovette's fingers drum a nervous beat on the steering wheel, a physical manifestation of the anxiety that simmers beneath the surface.

"I'm going to miss you," the words hang in the air, a quiet admission that carries the weight of unspoken fears. Lovette's gaze lingers on Chris, the lines of his face etching themselves into her memory.

Chris's eyes show a mix of thankfulness and an unspoken understanding of the feelings in the air. He takes Lovette's hand, his fingers weaving with hers as a quiet comfort.

"I'm going to miss you too, Lovie," he says, the words carrying a weight that transcends the casual tone. His gaze holds hers, a shared understanding passing between them. 

She parks the car, the engine's hum dissipating into the quiet of the moment. The city buzzes around them, indifferent to the quiet turmoil within the car. Lovette turns to Chris, searching his eyes for reassurance, for an anchor in the storm of uncertainties.

The spectre of borrowed time casts a shadow over Lovette's heart, its weight an oppressive force. As the day of Chris's departure draws closer (which is just the day after her birthday), the anticipation of birthday celebrations morphs into a poignant dance with bittersweet notes.

His enthusiasm for their shared birthday plans echoes in her ears, a melody tinged with the awareness of imminent separation. He paints a canvas of togetherness, planning to stay with her until midnight, the transition of his birthday to her's marked by his voice uttering the first "Happy Birthday."

Lovette fights the urge to let the tears escape. She knows the statistics and the daunting challenges that long-distance relationships often face. The fragility of what they share seems inevitable in the face of the miles that will stretch between them.

Fear, like a persistent tide, threatens to erode the foundation they've built. The birthday plans bear the weight of a countdown—a ticking clock measuring the fleeting moments before a departure that threatens to redefine their relationship.

Each passing day feels like a whisper, a reminder that the narrative is hurtling toward an inevitable crossroads. Lovette grapples with the paradox of wanting to hold on tighter and the awareness that some threads of connection are bound to loosen with the passage of miles.

For now, she clings to the present, to the moments with Chris that defy the encroaching future. 

THREE HOURS TILL CHRIS' FLIGHT DEPARTS: 

Lovette has never been too fond of the airport. That was until she met Chris there.

Three hours until Chris's flight departs, and Lovette finds herself in the familiar yet unwelcome embrace of the airport. The airport buzzed with the familiar hum of activity, the intermingling scents of coffee creating an oddly comforting atmosphere. But today, every sight, every sound seemed to carry an undertone of impending farewell.

Chris, flanked by his brothers exudes a bittersweet excitement. The trio shares a camaraderie that Lovette admires and, in this moment, envies. Matt's girlfriend, Leanna, stands beside Lovette, both women grappling with the distance that will wedge itself between their boyfriends. Leanna squeezes Lovette's hand, a wordless sign that tells her she understands.

Chris gently pulls her aside from the group. He can see the apprehension in her eyes, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?"

Lovette nods, her gaze fixed on the departure gates.  "Yeah, but airports make the goodbyes harder."

"I'll call you as soon as I land," he assures, his voice a gentle anchor in the midst of swirling emotions

"I'll be waiting," Lovette replies.

Chris, reaching out to hold her hand, says, "I love you."

"I love you too." She responds, squeezing his hand gently.

After that, everything seemed to move too fast, the digital display above announced the departure gates, each flash counting down the precious minutes they had left. 

Leanna, sensing Lovette's internal struggle, puts an arm around her. "They'll be back before you know it." 

Chris, now on the other side of the checkpoint, playfully blows a final kiss. Lovette catches it with a smile, a silent promise to hold onto until the day distance becomes nothing more than a memory. 

Amidst the hum of the terminal and the echoes of other goodbyes, she clings to the hope that he will call as soon as he lands. A reassurance that,  even with the distance, a tiny connection remains. Yet, as the hours tick by, the absence of that familiar ringtone weighs heavily on her heart. 

He never did call when he landed, and Lovette's not sure how she should take that.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

the calm before the storm 😋

this is loonng overdue but life has been very busy for me to say the least

hopefully regular updates will be back

until next time <3!