Only An Almost (X)

Only an Almost (X)

Chapter 10: Too Sweet

Hello!! Here is another chapter! This one is very fluffy!! (Surprising, I know) Also, some heavy make-out… let me remind you that this is not written for minors!

We are already halfway-through this fic, as it will be 20-chapters long!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 1549

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Fucking adorable, that was what you were…

As you looked at Andrew with a grin on your lips, expectant, excited, a tidal wave of affection washed over his heart. A warm, peaceful, affectionate feeling that made him giddy, created butterflies in his stomach, made his heart speed up and a dreamy smile form on his lips.

You were trying to get a peek inside his cupboard, to see his brand-new harvest of honey. He had promised you would get some to take home, and had prepared a little honeypot for you. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing you this excited for something as simple as this was turning his heart into a puddle.

“There you go, this one’s yours.”

He handed the small jar. It was nothing special. A plain glass jar filled with honey. You were grinning as you took it in your hands.

“Thank you!”

You rose to your tiptoes to drop a peck to his cheek, and he couldn’t help but blush as he hurried to close the cupboard.

“It’s nothing…”

“It’s your honey! Of course, it’s something! You’ve worked hard to make it.”

“To be fair, the bees are the ones doing all the work,” he dodged the compliment, scrubbing at his cheek in a nervous gesture, feeling his cheeks get warm.

“True,” you admitted in a giggle. “But even if that’s the case, you’re still doing more than I would.”

“Taking care of bees isn’t that hard, you could do it.”

“I don’t know… I’m a little scared at the idea of being surrounded by bees.”

“You’re wearing a suit, it’s alright. It’s perfectly safe. Besides, you’re not harming them, so they won’t harm you either. Perhaps one day, I could teach you. And you could make honey too!”

It would be our honey…

“Hmm… still… I’ll leave the making of the honey to you, and focus on the eating!”

You opened the jar, smelled the sweetness of the nectar inside. You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Smells so good.”

You dipped your finger inside, licked it clean. Andrew struggled to swallow, looking away, trying to control himself.

“It’s delicious! God, Andy! This is so good!”

But Andrew wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he was looking outside, at the rain falling on his garden, holding on the kitchen counter, trying to forget the thoughts that had come up in his mind, the sins he wanted to commit with you…

“You know what would be delicious? Some fruits! Some fruits with your honey would be delicious!”

You opened the cupboard, picked up a plate, and then you reached for the drawer and picked up a knife. Andrew washed an apple and handed it to you without a word. You had spent too much time in his house for this not to be natural. You in his kitchen, making snacks. In silence, he filled up a kettle, still unable to look at you but hiding it well.

You took some mugs from the cupboard above his sink, rising to your tiptoes to reach them. It made Andrew grow a tender smile.

And it was easy. Being there, doing something so insignificant and domestic in his house with you… like you belonged there. It was obvious, the way you moved in this space he called home, like it was yours more than his.

He could picture himself doing this every day with you. Letting you in the spaces that were most private to him, the ones that made him feel safe. You belonged there. You belonged in the warmth of a home he would call his…

“I’ll let you cut the apple, or else you will criticize what I’m doing. I’ll make tea instead,” you told him, a playful smile on your lips, bringing him back to earth.

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny that you were right. So, he picked up the knife and cut the apple into slices, the way his mother had taught him years ago, in another kitchen, in another safe place he called home.

You chose your favourite tea, there was always a stache of it in his home. Your favourite biscuits too. Your favourite ice-cream. Your favourite book. Your favourite movie. Your shampoo and soap had been added recently, now that you stayed for a shower. But pieces of you had always been here, you had always been here…

You put the pieces in a bowl, added a little bit of honey, just enough to make the fruit sticky and sinfully sweet. You gave a happy wiggle when you ate the first piece, not waiting for Andrew to give you a fork, and instead, picking it up with your fingers, making them sticky as well.

“Delicious!” you complimented him, making his heart jump.

This afternoon was lovely. It was raining hard outside, the sky a mournful shade of grey; but it was warm inside Andrew’s home, and you were happy and smiling, and joking around, and life was good for as long as you were in it…

Andrew didn’t think as he bent down, capturing your lips with his. He barely registered his movements when he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, a hand sprayed across your spine, the other holding firmly your waist. You let out a surprised sigh, and then you blinked your eyes closed, hands coming up to cradle his face.

You tasted of apple and honey, sweetness at its finest. Too sweet to be real…

Your lips were sticky with the juice of the fruit and the sugar of the honey. Andrew didn’t care. He didn’t mind either when your fingers ran down his neck to open the buttons of his shirt. He could feel the sugar on them too.

You broke free from his embrace, leaving him dizzy with your taste and your warmth against his body. He blinked down at you.

“Sorry, my hands are all sticky. Hang on.”

You washed the honey away, and Andrew waited impatiently next to you, opening and closing his fists, trying not to reach out, not to scare you away.

You were so beautiful…

“Better,” you smiled, showing your clean hands, and he smiled back at you without noticing.

God, he loved you so fucking much, and he couldn’t say it. But then again, he saw how your gaze softened, how your expression grew peaceful with tenderness. And he caught himself dreaming that this could be love, that you could feel the same.

It was stupid, perhaps, it was him forgetting about the major obstacle that was his career, and your fear of living a lonely life because of him. Still, as he looked at you then, he let himself believe for a second that one day, he could finally speak the words that rested for now on the tip of his tongue.

Still, your touch was soft when you took his hand in yours.

“Andy?”

He hummed, raising an eyebrow to encourage you to speak.

“Can we go to your bedroom now?”

You added mischief to your smile, it made him dizzy; thoroughly addicted to the sight too.

He gently pulled on your hand so you would follow him. You didn’t steal kisses until you were both standing in front of his large bed. And then your lips were back on his, you were freeing his hair from the messy bun he had been sporting. His hand slipped under your t-shirt and your jumper, spreading his fingers over your bare skin. Warm. Soft. Making his entire body burn with desire.

When his lips moved to your neck, you let out a moan, and he reckoned that this ought to be the sound of heaven, the perfect melody he had been looking for all his life.

“Can I be on top?” you asked in a tone made shaky by his fingers pulling on your bra.

“Whatever you want, honey,” Andrew mumbled into your skin, before attaching his lips to yours again.

You didn’t correct him, let him have the pet name. Perhaps your mind was as blurry as his while you kissed passionately, while your fingers finished to unbutton his shirt. The blink of an eye, and somehow you were shirtless, skin exposed to the air and to Andrew’s angry lips while you stumbled to reach his bed.

He lost his shirt before you gently pushed him on the bed, and then you were lying on top of him, and Andrew had to pinch himself to remember that this was real, no matter how many times he had lived this scene before.

You hovered over him, just a breath away, looking at him like you were admiring him…

“You’re so handsome, Andy…” you let out in a whisper, like a confession. It made his body slightly tremble.

“You’re gorgeous, Y/N.”

You shook your head, and he caught himself thinking that this look in your eyes held more than infatuation or physical attraction. Something closer to adoration, the kind of gazes he aimed at you.

You blinked, eyes glimmering in the light made dim by the rain outside. Your voice was deeper when you spoke, almost hoarse, as if tightened with emotions.

“Andy… I lo…”

But you stopped, left him suspended to your words. You let out a shaky breath, and instead of speaking, merely kissed him again.

Only An Almost (V)

Chapter 5: Doubting

Hello!! Here comes a new chapter! There are mentions of sex in this chapter, so a little reminder that this series is not meant to be read by minors. Thank you!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2435

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Three weeks passed. You had spent twelve nights together.

Now, Andrew knew every detail of your face as you reached orgasm, the beauty spot on your back he loved kissing, the perfect place across your neck to kiss and nip that made you squirm in his arms, the way the most intimate parts of you tasted, how your legs shook when his fingers touched that spot, how you smelled when he held you close after you were both content and happily floating above the room. He knew you liked to hold his hand right after sex, that you loved when he stroked your back or your cheek to help you ease down into the mortal world, that you took your showers way too hot, that you didn’t like when his beard brushed that part of your ribs because it tickled too much. He had mapped every inch of your body with his eyes, his fingers, his lips, his tongue. He knew how to pleasure you precisely by now, how to read through your breathing what you needed him to do to feel as good as possible, how to worship your body the way you deserved.

And judging by your gestures, you had spotted too that he adored when you kissed his collarbone and his chest. That he had a weak spot at the base of his neck, that he was ticklish right behind his knee, that he melted whenever you dragged your fingertips across his spine, and you tugged on his hair the perfect way nor too harsh nor too soft but the ideal strength that turned him on to no end. You had touched and kissed all of him too by now.

Despite this new intimacy, despite the tenderness with which you held him in your arms as he struggled to find back his breathing, the way you whispered his name in pleasure as if in a prayer, the way you showered him in gentle touches and kisses… you still acted the same as always outside the bedroom.

You talked the same, stood next to him at a perfectly respectable distance, asked him about his day and his mom and his bees the way you had always done, as if… as if there was nothing abnormal. As if he had not heard you shout his name in pleasure the night before. As if you could truly spend nights making love to him and act like nothing had changed, when… everything had changed.

Perhaps he just needed to be patient. You would come around. You would love him, eventually. Besides, he was probably not even the problem at all! You had told him that you didn’t want a relationship, with anyone. The fact that you were still sleeping with him showed that you liked him enough to blur that boundary, despite your decision. Yeah, it was an encouraging sign. If he just… if he just waited, and if he made efforts to make you happy and…

“Andy? You’re alright?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re okay?”

He blinked back at you. You had put on an old t-shirt again to cover yourself, but he had nothing on. He felt naked, vulnerable, self-conscious. He drew the covers higher across his chest.

“You want some coffee before leaving? It’s pretty late,” you offered, and if there was kindness in the offer, it still broke his heart.

“I… I don’t know. I’m not sure I can drive,” he answered earnestly.

“You can sleep in the guest room, if you want.”

He looked away to hide the tears that gathered in his eyes.

He was inside you ten minutes ago, he had tasted you, touched you, made you unravel under him several times this evening… and all you could give him was the guest bedroom?

It wasn’t just heartbreak, he realized. It was more vicious than that. You made him feel terrible about himself. Did he not mean more to you than that? You could let him do all these things to you… but you couldn’t fall asleep in the same bed? Really?

“No, no, no… it’s okay, I can drive.”

“It’s late, stay the night. You’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s dangerous, Andy.”

“I said I’m fine.”

You frowned at the harshness of his tone.

“What’s wrong? Did I… Did I do something wrong while we were…”

You left your sentence suspended in mid-air, as if you couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say that you had just had sex with him. What the fuck was wrong with you?

“Sex was amazing, that’s not the problem.”

“What’s the problem, then?”

You seemed to truly have no clue. You seemed genuinely concerned, worried even. Like you cared. Like you cared so fucking much for him. And yet, he was worthy of a moment of pleasure, and the guest bedroom…

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m not tired enough to stay, don’t worry. I can drive home.”

“Can you text me, then, when you’re home?”

“Don’t worry…”

“It’s two in the morning, of course I worry.”

He didn’t argue, merely nodded.

He gathered his clothes, got dressed, left without trying to kiss you, he knew you wouldn’t let him.

No kissing without sex.

He was about to fall asleep after mere minutes behind the wheel, so he stopped on the first parking spot he saw. He waited for a plausible time, and texted you.

I’m home.

Your answer buzzed in his pocket right when he was about to fall asleep.

Good to hear. Sleep well, Andy. Xx

He couldn’t keep on doing this for long. Making love to you, and then feeling like shit about himself because you couldn’t bother letting him fall asleep in your bed. Or hold you close. Or kiss you before leaving.

He closed his eyes, unable to decide on what to do next. Should he just call it quits, already? Stop everything and save himself from suffering… but he would stop having you like this too…

His breathing deepened as he finally surrendered.

Sleep well, Andy…

Rugby night at the pub had turned into Sam freaking out about his wedding, and Andrew taking notes about things he needed to help planning.

Luckily, there was no touring planned, no album to be released before the wedding. He had some charity work to be done, Mavis had called for a concert and he couldn’t refuse the woman anything… all in all, there wasn’t to come. Workwise, Andrew was in a writing phase, shutting himself up into his house for hours was most of what would happen in the coming months. He could help to plan the wedding, he had time for it. And considering the level of stress Sam was under, Andrew’s help wouldn’t be too much…

“Daphne started to mention appetizers yesterday… there are like… so many of these… How am I supposed to choose that? I didn’t fucking know there could be so many appetizers?!”

“Sam, calm down, for Christ’s sake! You’re this far from having a stroke.”

“Easy for you to say, Andy! You’re not the one getting married!”

“You have five months, Sam… Five months. There is plenty of time for you to choose your appetizers.”

“Add it to the list. How many things do we have to plan?”

“Hmmm… I think I’m up to twenty…eight. Twenty-eight things.”

“God… why did I ask Daphne to marry me…”

Andrew opened his mouth to offer a joke, but Sam shushed him with a raised finger.

“Rhetorical question. Don’t.”

“Come on, relax, Sam. You’ll be perfectly fine. Everyone else manages to plan a wedding, you can too.”

“Not everyone else… don’t you remember the fiasco that my uncle’s wedding was?”

“I sang at that wedding!”

“That was the only decent part in the entire day.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“You were seventeen, don’t get ahead of yourself, you were still pretty shite.”

“Ha, there you go. I thought someone had replaced you with some weird doppelgänger stuff. Or a clone, even.”

“Android?”

“Or organic.”

“Did I grow in a tube?”

“Yeah… with the disgusting liquid.”

“Nice…”

The two friends exchanged a smile.

“Please, stop being so worried. Your wedding will be amazing. Besides… who cares about appetizers? The important part is you marrying the love of your life.”

“I know that this comes from a very romantic point of view, but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’ve met my mom. God, you’ve met Daphne’s mom… anything goes wrong, it’ll be the bloody apocalypse!”

“We’ll find your body somewhere in Wicklow…”

“In the bog.”

“Tragic. I can see the headlines already…”

“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely speech for my funerals, though.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll reveal my true feelings about you, gobshite.”

Sam couldn’t keep the act up any longer, and both him and Andrew exploded with laughter.

“I’m picturing your mother just… shouting at you about appetizers,” Andrew laughed, choking and tears pearling at the corners of his eyes as he doubled over.

Sam was barely breathing at this point, throwing his entire body backwards against the chair.

It took the two of them a moment to calm down. When he looked at his friend again, Sam’s gaze was full of fondness.

“I’m sorry to bother you about that while we could be watching rugby with the rest of the lads.”

“It’s alright. You’re stressed. Besides, I don’t have a real job, plenty of time on my hands to handle your nervous breakdowns.”

“True! You parasite.”

“Absolute junk of our society.”

“Nothing productive coming from you, that’s for sure.”

“I shout very loudly though, it ought to be worth something.”

“Well, apparently, it’s worth millions.”

“Do you want me to shout at your wedding?”

Sam’s lips curled into a smile.

“Aren’t you too expensive for a poor lad like me.”

“Undoubtedly. But if you promise to quit freaking out about appetizers, I might yield.”

“It would be amazing. Thank you, Andy. I’d love for you to sing. Actually, we’ve been talking about it with Daphne… could you do Work Song for our first dance?”

“It would be an honour. Of course, I can.”

“We were hesitating with Cherry Wine…”

“Don’t do this to me, Sam.”

They both exploded with laughter again.

“Don’t do this to me. I will never understand…”

“Don’t people just… listen to the lyrics?” nodded Sam.

“I don’t know, man…” Andrew heaved a sigh. “Sometimes they just kill me.”

His phone buzzed, and there was your name on it. Printed there in the pixels. He didn’t check your text, even though he wanted to.

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on between you and Y/N?”

Andrew averted his gaze, drank some of his beer. On the screen at the back of the pub, Ireland was earning three points with penalty kick. People were shouting, and it was loud and merry.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” Andrew answered, a terrible liar.

“You’ve been weird.”

“I’m always weird.”

“True, but not the usual weird. You’re not on the ‘I love her and I’m too much of a fool to tell her’ kind of weird, you’re on a ‘I feel like shite’ kind of weird.”

“Both miserable situations…”

“True. But then, you’re a moron, it doesn’t help.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

Andrew heaved a sigh.

“I can’t tell you about it. She asked me not to tell you about it.”

“So… something did happen between you and Y/N.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, Sam. I’m serious.”

“Of course, I promise.”

“Not even Daphne.”

“Don’t push it. There are no secrets between us.”

“Sam… please… it’s not your secret, it’s mine.”

He heaved a sigh, but Sam nodded anyway.

“What’s wrong then?”

Andrew struggled to swallow when he lifted his glass of Guiness up to his lips.

“Y/N and I, we… we’ve slept together.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“What?! But… that’s amazing!”

“Is it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” retorted Sam, taken-aback.

Andrew heaved a painful sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“Because she doesn’t want to be in a relationship.”

“Oh.”

“So, we’ve agreed on some kind of… friends with benefits situation. And I… I’m starting to regret it.”

“You bet. Damn… why the fuck would you agree to something like that, though? You’re crazy about the woman!”

“I know, I know… I thought… I thought that she would… I don’t know what I thought. It was that or nothing, and I guess I imagined that having a part of her was better than not having her at all. I was wrong. This is fucking killing me.”

Andrew buried his head in his hands.

“What the fuck did I do, Sam? What did I do? And what the fuck do I do now?”

“Do you want this to go on?”

Andrew shook his head no, face still in his palms.

“Then, tell her you want it to stop.”

“I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want… not to have her. I want to date her.”

“Tell her that then.”

“She explicitly told me that she didn’t want to date anyone. If I say that, she’ll just… leave. She won’t say yes.”

“You need to speak to her. It won’t end well for you, Andy. What if she feels the same?”

“I’ll wait for her,” Andrew answered without a hesitation. “I’ll wait as long as she needs.”

“Then tell her that.”

But Andrew blinked back some tears as he painfully rubbed at his palms.

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?  What then?”

“Then… you’ll move on. It will only mean that she isn’t the one.”

Andrew slowly nodded, resting his chin in his palm and his elbow on the table, but he didn’t seem convinced, and indeed, he wasn’t. What if he lost you for good then? What if you never wanted to see him again? Was it worth it?

“You’re going to do something stupid, I can feel it,” Sam sighed with a shake of his head.

“No…”

“You’re going to ignore my advice.”

“No, I… I’m weighing the pros and the cons.”

“And?”

“And I agree that I can’t handle my relationship with Y/N being just about sex. But I am also terrified at the thought that she will reject me for good. Cause I… I don’t think I could still be her friend. Not after… knowing her that way.”

“Can I be brutally honest?”

“As if you aren’t always…”

“You’ve seriously fucked up accepting this situation with her…”

“Don’t I know it.”

Sam stared at his friend for a moment.

“You really do love her, don’t you?”

Andrew settled an empty stare on his beer.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m afraid I do.”

Only an Almost (XIV)

Chapter 14: Heartbreak

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

Alright, buckle up! We’re up for a wild ride! We are reaching the heights of the angsty mess, from this chapter all the way to chapter 17. Is our girl going to be an asshole? Yes, I’m afraid she’s about to fuck up big time...

Apologies for all the damage that is about to be made in this chapter.

It’s also the first chapter I wrote for this fic! It all started with this mess…

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 3450

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was 11pm, which was early for a night owl such as Andrew, but late for his friends. Neither Sam nor Daphne were nocturnal creatures, and so Andrew answered his phone in a hurry when Sam’s name appeared on the screen. Something had to be wrong. He suddenly wondered where he had put his car keys, in case he needed to leave in a hurry.

“Hello? Andy? It’s me. It’s Sam.”

“Yeah, I know, are you alright?” he asked with worry making his voice deeper than usual, pausing the tv-show he was watching, lounging on his comfortable sofa.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“It’s 11pm, is there something wrong? Is Daphne okay?”

“What? Oh, no! Don’t worry, we’re both fine!”

Andrew heaved a relieved sigh.

“God, don’t scare the shit out of me like that ever again…”

“Did I wake you? I thought you never went to sleep before dawn.”

“Vampires tend to do that indeed.”

“Whose blood did you drink this week?”

Andrew wanted to answer, but he heard Daphne pestering Sam about not having much time, and he merely frowned instead.

“Right… sorry, darling…” Sam mumbled through the phone. “Are you alone, Andy?”

“Erm… yes…?”

“Okay, erm… it’s… it’s about Y/N.”

Andrew sat straighter this time.

“Y/N? Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no… I mean… she’s fine, but…”

“For fuck’s sake, Sam! Spit it out! What’s going on?”

“Look I… I know that you said that I couldn’t tell Daphne about you and Y/N… but Y/N told her, so we’ve talked about you two together…”

Andrew rolled his eyes, lying back down, resting his head on the armrest of the couch.

“It’s alright, Sam… I knew you’d break it to her sooner or later anyway.”

“No, Andy… look… have you talked to Y/N lately?”

Andrew frowned.

“Erm… I don’t know… about… three days ago. Why?”

“I think you should talk to her.”

“Why? Sam, what is it?”

There was a short silence, while the couple exchanged a glance, no doubt.

“Daphne thinks she might take a terrible decision,” Sam answered.

“What kind of decision? What are you talking about?”

Andrew was growing annoyed at this game of riddles. If something was wrong, he ought to know what it was…

But even if he insisted some more, Sam refused to speak.

“Just… call her, and tell her you love her. Tell her to choose you.”

“’Choose’ me? What do you mean?”

“Just… do it tomorrow, will you?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Good… good…”

When he hung up, Andrew stared at the ceiling for a while.

Choose me?

Andrew didn’t need to call you the next day. You were the one to call, and ask him if he was free tonight. You didn’t offer an activity, like you usually would: a movie on Netflix, the cinema, a walk, going to the beach, eating together… There was little ambiguity to the reason behind your demand, and Andrew wasn’t sure whether he was flattered or vexed by it.

He warned you that he wanted to talk to you about something tonight though, and you agreed. You had something to ‘discuss’ with him too. His heart dropped as you spoke those words through the phone. It ought to be some kind of bad news. Or maybe not. Maybe he was reading too much into this, and you meant… to talk about the upcoming wedding, or your job, or… something else entirely. He wondered if you knew that he meant to tell you that he felt more for you than what he had let on.

He parked his car in front of your house, but didn’t climb out just yet. First, he ran through his speech one last time.

I know that you are not looking for a relationship at the moment. But I want more than just sex when it comes to you. To us. Our arrangement can’t go on like this. Again, I understand that you are not in a position now where you want to be in a relationship. And that’s okay. If you tell me that you could give us a chance, I will wait for you. I’ll wait until you’re ready, until your job is more stable and you’ve figured things out in your life. I’ll wait until you want a relationship with me. I have feelings for you, feelings that go beyond a casual fling. And that’s the reason why I’m asking you now to give me a chance. To give us a proper chance…

No l-word yet, you might freak out if he used it. But this speech seemed good enough. Short, to the point. He had written six versions of it this morning.

He took a deep breath, before finally climbing out of his car and walking up to your house.

You were quick to unlock your door and welcome him in. You looked lovely tonight. But then, you were always beautiful…

You went through some meaningless chit-chat while Andrew took off his coat and shoes and followed you down the hall to your kitchen.

You offered him tea without asking if he wanted one. It was late afternoon, but not quite dinner time yet. He could have used some alcohol, but it would have been impolite to ask for some, so he thanked you when you handed him his favourite mug with two teabags plunged in warm water. He leaned against your kitchen counter, his back to your tiny window and your sink while you were facing him, a couple of steps away.

“You… you wanted us to talk about something,” Andrew reminded you, taking a sip of the warm beverage. “And I wanted to talk to you too, so… who should start?”

You were growing nervous, the signs were obvious. In your modern kitchen, there was a window above the sink that let in some golden light. The photons embraced your form, in a way that made Andrew’s heart skip a few beats.

You pushed back some hair behind your ear, pulled on the sleeves of your jumper. Andrew frowned at the sight.

“You’re alright? I can start…”

“No, I… I reckon I should start.”

“Okay.”

He was nervous beyond reason and measure. Andrew dried his clammy palms on his jeans, tried to breathe deeply through his nose, but his heart kept on pounding and his stomach was turning into knots…

You stared at each other for a moment, him expectant and you hesitant. He raised an eyebrow as a silent encouragement for you to speak, but you merely bit on your lower lip.

But then you heaved a sigh, crossed the distance between your bodies in a hurry. Andrew barely had time to blink, and you had grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to you while you rose to your tiptoes so you could slam your lips to his. But kissing you was a habit by now, and a delicious one too. Andrew’s body was reacting on instinct as he kissed you back, messy and passionate and breathtaking. Your teeth bumped into his in your passion, but he didn’t mind. It was easy to deepen the kiss instead, cradle your face in his hands while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, always closer.

You were making his brain short-circuit, despite the important talk he wanted to have with you. You were everywhere, blurring his senses, making all traces of reason disappear…

Only when he felt your fingers travel down his chest and towards his belt did he stop you, pulling away.

“Wait, wait… stop…”

You immediately took a step back, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah… yeah… I… look, we… We wanted to talk, like… I think we should, erm, talk before we…”

“Or we can have sex, and talk after that.”

“Is that wise?”

“Do we really need to be wise?”

It was tempting. Too tempting to resist. God, he couldn’t think about anything else but your lips, how inviting they looked, how he wanted to kiss your neck too, he could feel his fingers tickle at the thought of touching all these places of your body, entire landscapes of bare skin…

He blinked a couple of times, struggled to swallow, trying to calm down. But blood was pulsing in his ears, and when he tried to remember his carefully-crafted speech, he couldn’t remember a word…

Fuck all of this…

“Alright,” he nodded. “But we talk tonight… cause it’s important…”

“Deal. Deal. Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes… God, yes, please… please, kiss me…”

You were back in his arms in a second, hands in his hair at first, while his travelled along your frame, from chest to hips and arse, feeling your shape through your clothes. You detached your lips from his to take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

“We should get dressed to talk,” Andrew proposed, his breathing finally settling back into a regular rhythm.

He threw his condom away in the tiny bean next to the door of your bathroom. He grabbed his underwear as he walked back to your bed and handed you your large jumper.

“You’re too beautiful not to be distracting,” he chuckled, only half-joking, while you put on the piece of garment he was giving you.

He noticed how you looked away, how you seemed uncomfortable, all of a sudden. Instead of joining you in bed once more, Andrew sat down on the edge of the mattress, right next to you.

“So… who should begin?” he asked, voice soft and a little timid. “I… like… actually, I think I should…”

“Andy, I… I think you should get dressed.”

He frowned at that remark, or rather… he frowned at the tone you used. Cold and distant, whispered, and your eyes were still fleeing his.

“Why? Am I distracting too?” he asked with a charming smile, forcing a chuckle out. But you didn’t laugh, merely brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Andrew’s nervous smile soon crumbled.

“Right,” he let out in a breath, blushing hard now, heart racing.

He grabbed his undershirt, slowly put it on while trying to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Look, I… We should talk about… this arrangement of ours…” he started, but you interrupted him, blurting out words he wasn’t expecting so fast he second-guessed if he had heard you right.

“We need to stop sleeping together.”

He was half-bent to grab his pants when you spoke. He froze, looking up at you, cursing at his long hair when it fell before his eyes and hid you away. He stood back up in a jolt.

“What?”

“We… we need to stop this arrangement. Things have changed.”

And all of a sudden there was hope again, brighter than a sun and blinding every bit of reason in him… And he fell for it. No matter the odds, he fell for it, flew straight to it like a moth ready to be burned at the pyre of your flames…

“Right… things have changed for me too. So, actually, I do think that we need to change things between us…”

“I have a date next week.”

He froze again. Stared at you, too stunned to say a thing, too stunned to protest or ask any question or even comprehend what you were saying.

“I… I have a date with a coworker, Maggie. Next week. So… we should stop this… We said we would if we wanted to try something with someone else…”

A date? Next week? Maggie?

You… you wanted to date again… just… not him…

“But… we’ve just had sex,” breathed Andrew.

It sounded stupid and he knew it, and yet these were the only words he could summon now. The first that came to mind, the only protest he could find.

There were too many emotions all at once. It felt… like falling… falling forever… like the ground being stolen from under his feet. He had no air left in his lungs, and he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Yeah… it wasn’t planned. But I… I just… Maybe I shouldn’t have done that…”

His lip trembled, but his cheeks were still dry.

You were regretting him now?

“I think I just… wanted one last moment with you. Before we’d stop and I would date someone else.”

“So… you… you have a date?”

“Yes, I have a date with Maggie.”

“What do you mean, you have a date with Maggie? Who the fuck is Maggie?”

Andrew stared at you as he was about to cry, and he couldn’t help it. He blinked tears away, but they lingered at the edges of his eyes, ready to fall at your words.

“She’s nice. She works at HR, she’s a secretary. She asked me out, and… I don’t know, I said yes. So… I think we should stop this arrangement.”

“Oh…”

At long last, the information was being recorded in his brain. Andrew shook himself back to earth, turned around, fleeing you and your beautiful eyes, hurrying to put his trousers back on. He almost fell in the process, already looking for his shirt. He felt so exposed like this, so vulnerable, so flawed…

You were going on a date… with someone else… because you didn’t want to date him… he was the fucking problem. He was all along…

“I just… it was… good.”

He nodded, but didn’t let out a sound.

He couldn’t look at you. He would start crying if he did. He needed to run away as fast as he could…

“And she’s nice, you know? And… just… easy. Not like, easy to sleep with, but…”

“I understand.”

Of course, he did. Same argument all over again. And he couldn’t blame you, how could he?

But what if he dropped everything? What if he stopped touring? Stopped the whole music thing?

He thought about what you looked like right now, perfect and dishevelled and still gently glowing after the efforts of love-making. Absolutely perfect. Yeah… yeah… You deserved better than him, no matter the touring or the staying…

“Andy… are you angry?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t start acknowledging his feelings now. He would start crying if he did.

Where the fuck was his sock?

“I loved the nights we had together,” you went on, apparently unaware of the daggers each of your words planted through his heart, and for the first time in the long years the two of you had known each other, he wanted to stop hearing your voice.

You seemed to need to fill up the silence that Andrew was trying to maintain. Perhaps it was a way to reach out, perhaps it was a way to keep him at bay. He wasn’t certain about that.

“It was nice.”

Where was that fucking sock?!

“Andy?”

He put on his jumper, abandoning the thought of his black sock. He couldn’t lose any more time, he couldn’t breathe properly anymore…

“You’re okay? Can you say something?”

Silence. Only the rubbing of fabric against fabric as Andrew was getting ready to leave. He only had to grab his shoes and jacket in your hallway.

“Andy, wait!”

But he was already outside of your bedroom.

“You can’t be mad at me! We agreed about this, Andy! We agreed that… that… this was nothing but sex! It didn’t mean anything.”

He was blinded by tears when he reached for your doorknob, unlocking the door without seeing the keys he was turning in the lock.

“Andy! Where are you going? Stop! We need to talk about this!”

He shrugged you off when you reached for him.

“Andy!”

But then he was shutting the door behind him, his movement so harsh it shook the doorframe. He hurried to his car while he dried his eyes, refusing to crumble now, in the alley leading to your house.

He drove blindly, unaware of a destination, of a will behind the turns he took and the roads he chose. The words kept ringing in his ears, he couldn’t shut them out, they played on repeat in his busy mind…

This was nothing but sex.

It didn’t mean anything.

Did it not? The way you touched him, the way you kissed him, the way you held him… did it not mean something?!

His hold tightened on the wheel. His jaw clenched until it was painful, until he could hear it.

Nothing. The tenderness in your touch, the fondness in your gaze, the sighs on your lips. The way you held him after it was done, like you needed him to land again gently on the ground, like you held onto a dream before it faded. How you stared into his soul when you connected in the most intimate way possible. How you laughed together until none of you could breathe, how you talked for hours about the most meaningless things and the most intimate parts of your lives. How you let him be yours, how you almost let yourself be his…

Only an almost…

He parked the car before a house he had always called home, and it was only then that he realised where he was. He stared at the familiar door of his parents’ house, the curtains behind the windows, the light that came through them.

So, you had let him love you, and it meant nothing at all?

He turned off the engines, stared at the house for a suspended moment. What would he do now? He couldn’t possibly face you again after this. He was about to lose you for good; because after having a taste of what loving you felt like, he couldn’t go back to being a mere friend. No… no, he wasn’t strong enough for that. For seeing you happy with someone else, knowing that you held him close for a moment only to let him go, because he wasn’t enough.

He picked up his phone, ready to do something stupid, something he would regret the second his thumb would press send. He typed the text under your name.

If I gave up on touring, if I stayed home… would you give me a chance? Would I be enough if I weren’t just a ghost?

He heaved a sigh, resting his head against his seat, head tilted upwards in his exhale. He blinked tears away, staring at the dark ceiling of his car.

Did you really feel nothing now? Did it not hurt at all for you? Not even a little bit? Not at all?

Andrew didn’t press send. He deleted the text, opened the door, climbed out of the car and into the street bathed in an inky darkness and orange streetlights. His feet guided him to the safest place on Earth while he tugged his phone into his pocket. His right foot was hurting in his shoe without a sock on. He didn’t even notice.

It took his mother a moment to open the door, nothing surprising at this hour. She saw him through the glass of the backdoor, and her eyes grew round. Andrew finally noticed he was crying.

The door opened in a hurry, bumping into Raine’s foot in the process.

“Andy? Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

His lower lip trembled as he stared at his mother, hands digging further into his pockets, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His throat was too tight to speak.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

She narrowed her eyes a little as she guessed, aiming straight for his heart.

“Is it Y/N?”

He opened his mouth to answer but all that he could let out was a sob. His legs were shaking, he could feel all of his strength leaving his body. He barely registered his own moevements as he bent into his mother’s arms, folding around her frame.

“Oh, Andy… here, it’s alright. It’s gonna be okay, darling. It’s okay. I’m here, I’m here…”

She rubbed his back, in this soothing movement that had never failed to appease him ever since he was a child. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he let out the most painful words he had ever pronounced.

“She doesn’t love me, mom. She doesn’t feel anything… What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do without her?”

She let him cry for a moment longer, his father calling from the living room to know who was at the door. Raine merely answered with her son’s name, and gently pushed him upwards so he would stand straighter again.

“Well, for a start, I’m going to make you a cup of tea, with a lot of honey. And then, we’ll figure out the rest.”

Blackout

Hi everyone! Here comes another fic for Hozier! Hope you like it! It isn’t an enemies to lovers, honestly, more like an… annoyed to lovers.

Hope you like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: none, it’s cute! Adorable even. Lots of interrupted kisses. Annoyed to lovers instead of a real enemies to lovers

Summary: Your new neighbour is insufferable with his music-making and his pretty face and his unbearably tall frame. Or is he? Maybe a blackout through your neighbourhood will make you change your mind about him.

Word Count: 5568

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It wasn’t that you hated him, really. You reckoned that you didn’t know the guy enough to hate him.

It was just that… he simply… got on your nerves.

Why? Well, the fact that your new neighbour was blasting electric guitar and wailing at 2am was a good start. And then there was just… something… something off. You couldn’t explain it. You just saw him and you went nope.

And that was probably mean, and uncalled for, to be fair. He seemed nice enough, during the day, when he was not waking you up at an ungodly hour. He was good-looking too, and he had a nice soothing voice, quiet and surprisingly gentle considering that he was a fucking giant…

Still, you couldn’t forgive him for ruining your nights and never even apologising. Or actually, he did apologise. Every time. And then, he went ahead and did it all over again the next day. The fact that he was a famous musician (that you had obviously recognised, you did not live under a rock, after all) was no excuse to bother your neighbours when they had jobs to go to in the morning.

What a jerk…

Still, you did need some flour to bake these cookies due for your friend tomorrow, now that your little demon of a black cat had dropped the whole thing on the floor… and then decided to roll in it so he could paint your entire kitchen with powder.

What a day…

So, that was the reason why you were now knocking on your neighbour’s door. It was a small building you lived in, with only three flats, and you knew that the couple upstairs were away, gone on vacation somewhere hot and sunny to drink fancy colourful cocktails, the lucky bastards. Meanwhile, you remained in your small town, while it was freezing cold outside, sky as grey as your mood, forced to see this unbearably annoying neighbour of yours…

You knocked a second time, perhaps he had not heard you. You knew he was in, there was light coming out from underneath his door. The shop in your village was closed today. He was your only hope to get these cookies of yours, sadly…

Finally, the door opened. Or well, it was flung open, actually. A grumpy look on handsome features appeared, towering you with his full height, long brown curls messily tied in a bun.

“Hi!” you forced a smile. “Sorry to bother you, but I… have a small flour issue. Could I borrow you some?”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, but nodded anyway.

“Need anything else?” he asked, and his voice was softer than the look on his face would have suggested.

“No, thanks. Just flour.”

He seemed unsure of what to do with his long limbs for a moment, staring at you before he turned in a jolt, hurried back inside. You noticed that he hadn’t bothered with a hello.

What a je…

“I don’t have much left, I hope you’ll have enough.”

He handed you his half-empty bag of flour with a smile. It was pretty, even if it was unmistakeably polite more than anything else.

Why on earth were you thinking that, by the way?

“Thanks! I’ll bring this back quickly, promise.”

He merely gave you another smile, clearly uncomfortable.

“Okay, bye!”

You spun around before he could do anything but mumble a ‘goodbye’, and disappeared in your flat, just across the hall.

Leaning against your front door after closing it, you tried to remember how much of a jerk that man was. How annoying he was. And most of all, you tried not to think of how gorgeous his hazel eyes were…

There was a noise before you, and when you lifted your eyes, Salem was staring at you, paws and fur still partially covered in white flour.

Damn…

It wasn’t that he hated you, really. Andrew reckoned that he didn’t know you enough to hate you.

It was just… simply that you… made him nervous.

There was something about you that just made him struggle to breathe all of a sudden. The fact that the first conversation you had was you not-so-politely telling him to shut up already might have something to do with that. The fact that your cat had been peeing right before his front door on several occasions also played in your disfavour. And perhaps there was also the fact that he found you breathtaking, that he loved the sound of your voice, and that every time he saw you he was torn between an urge to snap at you and another to kiss you to finally make you shut up already. He also sometimes wanted to throw your cat out of the building, but he was too kind-hearted for this to ever fall into the ‘feasible’ category.

The other ones of his urges though…

He shook himself, focused on his guitar again, reached for the cup of tea by his side, sliding the two teabags to the side to take a sip. He needed to focus. He had a song to finish, damn it…

But then again, writing in this small flat he was renting wasn’t ideal. The roof of his home needed to be fixed, he couldn’t stay there for several weeks in a row while people were working on it. And as he was in desperate need for a place to stay while his roof was being repaired, and unwilling to simply stay at a friend’s house for weeks, he wasn’t picky when it came to the choice of flat for this short rental. He would be staying only for a few weeks anyway. He saw the flat on Air BnB, figured it would do, and moved in for six weeks.

The paper-thin walls were a challenge though. And being the night-owl he was, it was tough working only throughout the day.

He took a look at the clock on the wall. 9pm… surely he could make a little bit of noise still. No adult was going to sleep so early these days, lives were too busy for that, workdays too long.

He started recording, trying to get a few back-up vocals in. He could record some guitar quietly later, but he did need some strong vocals to get a feeling of the song. Perhaps it would help him finish this bunch of lyrics he was stuck with.

He had been working for around twenty minutes when he heard someone knocking on his door.

He stopped mid-note, cursing at the interruption. Your interruption, without a doubt…

He needed to work, it was still early, and you were getting on his nerves so fucking much…

He opened his door a little too hard, a dark expression adorning his features. And he was even angrier at you when he found you wearing casual clothes, a warm oversized hoodie and some sweatpants. He was infuriated by your messy hair and the way he wanted to run his fingers through it. He was so frustrated by the white traces of flour splattered across your cheek and sleeves and fingers, and how adorable they made you look. Cosy and comfortable and making him feel lonely like this, on his own, recording alone and singing to no one, making him want to hold you through the night…

“Hi!” you spoke first, but he noticed at once how forced your smile was. “Sorry to bother you, but I… have a small flour issue. Could I borrow you some?”

He was so surprised, he had to raise an eyebrow at that. No complaints about his singing? No… complaints in general? Were you alright?

He wondered why he was so surprised by that, anyway. You seemed to be lovely. He simply had never had the occasion to properly talk to you, that was all…

He nodded.

“Need anything else?” he asked, making his voice softer, knowing he had been a little rough as he had opened the door.

And for God’s sake, he had not even said hello! You would think he was an absolute knob… Was it too late to say hello? Yeah, of course, it was too late, he was pathetic, and there it was again, you were making him so damn nervous, staring at him with these beautiful eyes of yours…

“No, thanks. Just flour.”

He wasn’t sure what to do. For some reason, he was reluctant to walk in again. He didn’t dare question why.

Eventually, though, he did hurry to his kitchen, foraging for his flour. He had barely half a bag left…

“I don’t have much left, I hope you’ll have enough.”

He handed you his half-empty bag of flour and forced a smile. He hoped you wouldn’t notice that his hands had turned clammy, that he was struggling for breath a little… or a lot, actually. He didn’t know what to make of his long limbs, of his tall frame, he didn’t know what to tell you…

“Thanks! I’ll bring this back quickly, promise,” you told him, smiling too, although yours was more relaxed and he found it a little too bright, it made it dangerous.

He wondered if he should tell you about the white streak on your cheek, but decided against it. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, he was awkward enough for the two of you. God, it had been years since he had been that shy in front of someone.

Before he could find something to say (and he was trying hard to find something interesting to say), you were pressing your lips tightly together.

“Okay, bye!”

It was over already? Andrew was a little stunned by it, he mumbled a ‘goodbye’, brain functioning at full speed to find an excuse to make you stay, but found nothing, reaching to grasp only at air. A second later, you were spinning around, hurrying across the corridor and back to the safety of your door. He watched you disappear, and walked back inside with a sigh.

He sat back in his chair, picked up his guitar again. Damn, he needed to get a grip. He was supposed to hate you, for God’s sake…

“Oh, this got to be a joke…”

Andrew mumbled under his breath, heaving a deep sigh. As if things weren’t complicated enough already in this tiny flat…

The light had just gone out. In this wintery season, even though it was still fairly early, the sky was already wearing its nightly colours, although any traces of moon or stars were hidden behind heavy clouds. Without electricity, the whole room was drenched in darkness…

Andrew checked the battery level of his laptop, resting before him on the small desk where he had been working on a new song. Luckily, none of his music equipment was plugged in, so no damage from a power surge could have happened. He had about 35% battery left…

“Great…”

He saved his files, and used the light of the screen to look for his phone. He checked the battery there too, at the corner of the screen.

12%...

“Fuck…”

He turned the torchlight on anyway, having no other source of light in the room but for his electronical devices. He headed for the cupboard by the door, feet making the wooden floor creak quietly in the dark. He checked the fuses on the hidden electrical panel there, but everything was normal.

It wasn’t coming from his flat. In fact, it wasn’t coming from his building. As he peered into the street, all the streetlights had gone out. It was complete darkness, except for the distant lights of a car, that disappeared after a few seconds.

Andrew heaved another sigh, wondering what to do. It was 6pm, he had not eaten dinner, he had not showered – both vital needs that could not be fulfilled without electricity, unless he wanted to opt for a freezingly cold shower, and he was clearly not in the mood for that – and his phone, aka only source of light, was about to die.

Great… fucking great…

He reckoned that he had a few biscuits tugged somewhere, that would make dinner. He could still quickly wash up with cold water and take a proper shower tomorrow. He only needed a proper torchlight, or at least a candle to see something.

He foraged through the cupboards, drawers and every corner of the flat. No candle, no light, nothing…

His phone was down to 7% battery.

Damn…

There was, however, a solution to his problem. He could go and ask you if you could lend him any source of light…

God, he hated his bloody romantic brain for the line that immediately popped into his head.

She’s a source of light…

“Oh, just shut up, already…” he cursed at himself out loud.

He still opened the door, and walked over to your flat. He only hesitated once he was facing the wooden surface, hand raised in a fist and about to knock. He could feel his throat tightening, and some excited butterflies mingle in his stomach with something anxious and not quite nice. He could feel his palms becoming clammy. He bit down on his cheek.

Did he really want to do that? Knock on your door? See you? You could tell him to fuck off. You could be mean. Or worse, you could give him an earnest smile, what would he do with himself if you did?

But Andrew shook himself and finally knocked. He wasn’t a bloody teenager to be this intimidated by someone. He was an accomplished musician, in his thirties, who owned a home, bees and an awful lot of guitars. He had talked to many people who were way more intimidating than you, including the fucking president! He had sung in front of thousands of people! Tens of thousands! He could totally ask you for a torchlight and be cool about it.

His breath staggered when your face appeared, opening the door and looking up at him with these gorgeous eyes of yours, and his heart skipped several beats, and his brain simply ceased to function altogether…

Bloody hell…

“Oh, hi!” you spoke in an annoyed voice, but he somehow knew the feeling wasn’t aimed at him. “I was about to go over to your place, Andrew. There’s no power in my flat.”

“None in mine either. And nothing in the street. It seems the whole area is in the dark.”

You heaved a frustrated sigh, a long exhale through your nose, and Andrew couldn’t help but find you adorable like this, all frustration and annoyance. He wanted to kiss that frown of yours away…

But he shook himself instead.

She’s annoying as fuck. And you’ve interviewed your fucking president, you can ask your neighbour for a candle…

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, his voice more hesitant than usual, but steady all the same. “But there’s nothing we can do to get the lights back on, and there’s no candle or torchlight in the flat. And my phone is about to die. Do you have anything you could lend me for the night?”

But you shook your head.

“Sorry, got only one candle, and I’m using it. My phone is about to die too.”

“Oh… okay, nevermind then. Thanks anyway.”

“Oh wait! Your flour!”

You rushed inside, reappeared seconds later with the bag you had borrowed that morning.

“Thanks,” Andrew gave you a smile, one that he tried to make brighter than the ones he usually offered you. “Hope the cooking went well.”

“Yep! I now have lots of cookies! Luckily, they were finished before the power went out. The oven runs on electricity.”

“Yeah, mine too. Everything in the flat does, actually,” he answered with a wince.

“You’ve got some food for tonight?”

“Some snacks, yeah. It will simply not be a night for my infamous pastas.”

Andrew didn’t know how to react when you actually chuckled at his joke, a genuine smile now adorning your lips. It was all butterflies and leaping heart and air leaving his lungs.

Fuck… this was so much more intimidating than talking to the president…

“I’ve got some stuff ready, if you want. Nothing fancy, just a salad.”

You opened your door wider, a silent invitation, one he was too surprised by to seize right away, too busy raising an eyebrow.

“Oh… erhmmm… thanks… you don’t have to bother, though…”

“I’m not! I prepare most of my meals in advance, during the weekend. I have enough for you, if you want.”

“Erhmmm… it won’t bother you?”

“No, I…”

But you were interrupted by sudden darkness as Andrew’s phone decided to give up on life…

“Fuck! Bloody hell…” he cursed under his breath, tapping on the screen, but to no avail.

“Wait, the candle…”

You walked back into your flat, a dim light coming from the other end of the hall. He could only guess your form in the dark, but he noticed that you were stumbling as you cursed.

“Bloody… Salem! No! Andrew, close the door! The cat!”

Andrew didn’t think. He didn’t fully realize what he was doing as he stepped inside your flat and closed the door in a hurry. A soft brush against his ankle told him that your cat had not managed to escape.

“Did he run off?” you asked, reappearing with the candle in your hand, your features bathed in the warm light; something so ethereal, Andrew thought he was dreaming all of this.

But then he felt claws digging into his jeans in an attempt to climb up his leg, and he was reminded that he was not dreaming, indeed.

“No, he’s decided to use me as his personal tree instead,” he joked, bending to gently push the animal away, who mewed in discontent.

You laughed at that, sound clear and blinding, making him a little dizzy.

“For his defence, that’s an easy mistake to make.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Very funny…”

Still, he couldn’t refrain an amused smile, and yours brightened too.

“So, now that you’re in… want some of my brilliant chicken salad?”

You had no idea what had gone through your brain when you invited Andrew to come in and share a meal with you.

You were supposed to hate the guy. He was supposed to be the annoying musician next door who kept on yelling into some microphone when you tried to sleep.

It was difficult to remind yourself of that though, when the annoying musician turned out to be so soft-spoken and sweet. Sweet. Yeah, that was the most fitting word to describe how your evening was going with him so far. He seemed nervous as well, an unexpected reaction to your modest flat and perfectly ordinary self. The guy had sung in front of audiences of thousands and probably met an awful lot of people who were everything but ordinary… and yet he was shifting his weight now from one foot to the other, as if he didn’t know what to make of his long limbs. You found that adorable…

The fact that he looked stunning in the warm light of the candle, with his hazel eyes looking almost black in the dimly lit room, his hair held in a messy bun, the photons caught in his beard and long eyelashes… yeah, that was not helping at all, either.

You cleared your throat while handing him a glass of water, which he quietly thanked you for. There was nothing special about your meal, but he complimented you anyway. He stole a couple extra cookies for dessert, and you smiled at the sight.

“Sweet tooth?” you asked, nodding towards the crumbs in his plate, the last remnants of the fourth cookie he had been devouring.

He looked sheepishly at you.

“Kind of… sorry…”

“Don’t apologise! I’m glad you like them.”

“Well, you did make them with my flour, so I guess I’ve partly paid for them,” he joked, successfully making you laugh.

He was funny, which didn’t help you reminding yourself that you ought to despise him either.

If you had both struggled a little to start a proper conversation at the beginning, you were more relaxed now, and Andrew seemed to be feeling the same. You had barely talked to each other before, your interactions limited to polite chit-chat typical of neighbourhood, and you being annoyed at him, and him being annoyed at you.

It turned out that he was nice, that he was kind, that he was funny and smart and that he had an awful lot of anecdotes to tell. Time flew by, the night deepening faster than expected, and you remained sitting around your dinner table even after your plates were empty, talking about your lives and discovering that you had quite a lot in common, after all.

Alright, he wasn’t as insufferable as you had first thought, and for sure your heart leapt every time he smiled, and you couldn’t deny that he was gorgeous…

… still, you were supposed to hate him.

He helped you wash the dishes, joking and making you laugh, and hell, it was hard to stop your heart from beating too fast.

Out of annoyance, of course! You were annoyed… that was why your stomach made some crazy flip-flops when he bent closer to you to secure a plate in the cupboard above your head. It wasn’t at all because his shoulder was touching yours, because he stood so close you could smell his earthy perfume and it made you dizzy…

Nope! None of that… of course…

And when he looked down at you, remaining just as close, and you caught him staring, caught the bopping of his Adam’s apple and the tensing of the muscle in his jaw, the sudden urge you felt to reach up for his collar and pull him down until you could kiss his lips was a reflection of your frustration against him, nothing more.

Nothing more…

His eyes left yours, blinked a couple of times and landed on your lips, and you were certain that the sound of his breathing had disappeared. And you both remained there, standing still, staring at the other and you wondered if he was thinking the same thought as you did, having the same surprising longing to close the space between your bodies. You weren’t sure why you had invited him when you thought you disliked him. But then did you really dislike him? Or did you simply smell danger in his bright smile, saw risks in his pretty eyes, and the fear of falling in his deep voice? Yeah… yeah, perhaps there was a little bit of that, too… You tilted your head up, and he lowered his head, just a little bit, the ghost of a movement, you could almost have dreamt it…

But then he moved away, in a jolt, blinking and clearing his throat as if catching himself doing something mad and wrong and stopping before he actually performed the sin. You disliked him once again, then, hating that he elicited disappointment…

You finished washing the dishes in silence, and you hated the feeling of discomfort that suddenly replaced the warmth he had brought before. He was back at shuffling around, clearly uncomfortable. And yet, when he looked at you again and caught your gaze with his, his expression softened.

“Can I confess something?” he asked out of the blue, but you nodded in encouragement despite your surprise.

He sounded serious all of a sudden, and he took a moment to look for the right words. His eyes seemed to search for something in yours, and you couldn’t look away while he looked so intensely at you.

“I… I’m sorry we kind of… hit it off in a bad way. Cause I… you’re not as bad as I thought you were,” he added with a tinge of humour and lopsided smile, which made you smile too.

“Yeah… you’re not as insufferable as I thought you were either,” you admitted despite yourself. And yet, as soon as the confession passed your lips, you couldn’t deny that you truly meant it.

He grinned, the sight making your heart skip a few beats.

“Is there a way that I can repay you for your amazing chicken salad?” he asked, his tone more playful again, eliciting warmth across your frame.

You couldn’t refrain a laugh.

“I mean, it was an amazing salad,” you leaned into his joking tone.

“Spectacular. It deserves some kind of retribution, somehow…”

“Well, you’re a musician aren’t you? I’m sure you can find something.”

He laughed at that, clearly taken aback by your answer, but if he blushed and rubbed his neck in a mark of sudden shyness, he didn’t back down.

“You’re aiming straight for the serious topics,” he teased.

“For the free concert tickets, if we’re being fully honest…” you joked, making both of you laugh.

“Oh, I see! That’s where the sudden kindness comes from! You want to exchange a chicken salad for a show!”

“Absolutely! Do you have any idea how much time and energy I’ve put in that salad?!”

“A tremendous amount, no doubt! Well… sorry to disappoint, but I’m not on tour at the moment.”

“Good, cause I was aiming for that other artist you might know.”

He broke into a loud laughter, one that filled your apartment and your frame alike with joy.

“What a well-thought plan! I’m afraid you might make me more important than I truly am, though.”

“If I give you an extra-cookie, I’m sure you’ll find a way to get me the show I want.”

“And here you go, using my weaknesses already, you clever lass!”

“A genius, that’s what I am!”

You laughed again, before you would grow more serious again.

“Seriously though, don’t mention it. It was nice to have dinner with you.”

His smile grew more tender, his gaze softened.

“Yeah… it was nice for me too. And perhaps you… perhaps we could do that again? Next time I could be doing the cooking.”

“And with actual lights on, that could be good too,” you joked, making him chuckle as he nodded.

“And well… I’ll have my guitar with me, perhaps I can repay you with some music then.”

“Wow… are you offering a free concert, or a form of serenading?”

You were joking, but you noticed the way his cheeks reddened, and he averted his eyes for a few seconds, before capturing your stare with his once more.

“Rather the second option, I reckon.”

You tried very hard to hide your reaction: the way your heart skipped a few beats and then became absolutely erratic, so much so that you wondered if it could beat hard enough to break your ribs and escape your chest altogether; the butterflies that flew across your stomach; the breath that got caught in your throat…

Damn, you hadn’t felt like that in years…

He averted his eyes once more to speak again.

“Ermmm… unless you wouldn’t like that, of course.”

“I… Actually, I think I would like that. Quite a lot.”

He looked at you then, his smile turning into a grin. And he blinked, eyes falling to your lips a second time this evening…

You reached for your kitchen counter, hesitating in taking the first step and leaning into your urge to pull him down to kiss him. How crazy was that thought? That you could be kissing Hozier, of all people; that you wanted to kiss the neighbour you had categorized as annoying for weeks; that you felt exhilarated like a teenager at the mere thought of touching his cheek…

He seemed to be hesitating too, and you heard him take a sharp intake of breath, blink again, and then he slowly leant down…

… and then it was complete darkness in the room, as the candle died out.

You jumped in surprise, taking a step back involuntarily and letting out a squeal as you felt your heel brushing your cat’s tail. Salem hissed, although you stopped your step before you could hurt him. You started to lose your balance though, when a pair of hands reached blindly in the dark for you, grabbing both of your upper arms and pulling you forward. You collided with something warm, hard and steady, and the earthy scent that enveloped your senses and made your head spin told you that you were pressed against Andrew’s chest.

“You’re alright?” he asked, worry audible in his tone.

“Yeah, just… almost stepped on my cat.”

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, I almost stepped on him.”

He let out a low hum, almost a rumble, the vibrations echoing through your cheek and you had to close your eyes at the reassuring feeling. You reached up to hold him without thinking; there was something so safe and soft about his embrace…

His left hand moved from your arm to your back, a soothing caress as he pressed you closer. Meanwhile, his other hand was slowly moving up your arm, torturingly slow, making its way from your arm to your shoulder, and then it was time for a brush of long fingers across your neck that made your whole body tremble, and he kept on going until you moved your face so he could cup your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing delicate circles into your cheekbone. You didn’t dare to move, afraid he would leave your arms, afraid you wouldn’t feel the warmth of his body sipping into your clothes anymore. But then, you felt his warm breath fan over your forehead, near your hairline, and you looked up to see nothing but shadows, your hair brushed against the tip of his nose.

But then you were blinded, as the power was back on, the lights now turned on again.

You both jolted backwards, blinking hard against the outburst of light, and you heard him cursing under his breath.

And just like that he was gone, and you could have cried from the cold that replaced his body in your arms.

It took both of you a moment to regain your composure, to realize what was happening, where you were, what had almost happened.

Almost…

When you caught his gaze again, you couldn’t make out what his hazel eyes were saying, pupils still dilated after spending so long in a dimly lit room and then in complete darkness.

You struggled to swallow, unsure what to do next. Were you supposed to act like you had not been close to kissing a second ago? Were you supposed to joke around again? Were you supposed to talk about it? Were you supposed to ask him on a date?

You read the same hesitations in Andrew’s eyes, although something soon shifted in his gaze. Something determined appeared, and a little scared, but lovely all the same. And before you could react, he had taken a step forward to close back the space between your bodies, had reached up to hold your face in both his hands, and was crushing his lips to yours.

Your brain ceased to function altogether, you were too stunned to realize fully what was happening. But then your braincells caught on, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to bring his even closer as you kissed him, sighing in his mouth as he parted his lips to taste you.

For how long did you remain like this, standing in your kitchen, untangled and kissing? Hard to tell, impossible even. But when you broke apart, both of you out of breath, you rested your forehead against his shoulder, and he held you close, as if he were afraid you could leave.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked, your voice full of shock.

He chuckled at your reaction.

“You know, when a man and a woman really like each other, sometimes…”

“Don’t,” you warned him, but couldn’t refrain a smile all the same.

“Sorry, bad timing.”

You looked up at him, and by the look he gave you, you guessed that you weren’t very good at hiding your sudden nervousness.

“I’m not the ‘one-night stand’ type,” you warned him.

Andrew slowly nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Okay.”

“Besides, I’m supposed to hate you so…”

“Hate me?”

“You’re supposed to be the hot but very annoying neighbour who I blame for all of my life’s problems.”

He laughed at that, a smirk forming on his lips.

“You think I’m hot?”

It was your time to laugh.

“You’re not too bad,” you answered, but the look you gave him made him blush.

“Well, you’re not too bad either. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“I’m sure you can do better than that.”

A spark of mischief appeared in his eyes.

“If you want, I can get going with the serenading.”

You laughed again, shaking your head, but playing along all the same.

“Tempting. I won’t give myself away for less than that.”

“Dully noted. I’ll make efforts to woo you properly, I promise.”

You shied away a little, but he held you a little more tightly against him.

“What about a proper date though?” he asked, all traces of humour now gone from his voice. “Tomorrow night?”

You smiled up at him, nodding your head, before burying your face in his shoulder again, and he held you tightly against him in response.

Yeah, he truly was insufferable, without a doubt…

Hozier On Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)

❝ if you want a metaphor for oral sex, right, here you go. ❞

Hozier for LINDA.meiden

❝ Hozier sings like he was taught to love a woman by an amazing lesbian mom. ❞