Nearly a week had passed since your fallout with Angel, and despite the toll it was undeniably taking on you, life had gone on as it always did.

It was Thursday now and the clock had just struck 5 PM, signaling the end of a shift that's actual events you couldn't quite recall, the only proof of your labor being the faint throbbing in your skull and the dull ache of your limbs. After flipping the open sign around, you moved about the Francesca's floor to take quick inventory and reorganize the small mess customers typically left at the end of each day. You winced slightly as you bent down, the muscles in your neck and back uncomfortably tight, and you fumbled around for a few flowers scattered on the floor. You quickly placed the colorful pieces into their designated buckets and moved a few potted plants back into place away from walkways. Satisfied enough, it was time to count the till.

You trudged over to the front counter and unlocked the cash register, sighing at how crudely the bills had been shoved into their slots– often in the wrong ones as well, fives being where the tens should be, and even a hundred that should've been placed in the safe below instead resting in the change bin. You'd send a message in the employee group chat later about checkout protocol, but for now, you'd have to fix things up and make sure the mess was at least adding up and balanced.

You grabbed at the mess of cash and coins, pausing to yawn for just a second, but before you could open your eyes and begin to count the sound of light metal clinking on the tile floor rang a bit too loud in your ears. Your eyes shot back open as you looked down to see the currency that had just occupied your hands now strewn around your feet. You confusedly bent to pick it all up, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain that shot through your legs as you rose back to your feet and began to attempt counting again.

You were startled slightly when someone cleared their throat in front of you, but thankfully rather than dropping the money in your hands again, you simply clenched it tighter as you met the concerned gaze of Montell across the counter. Your brows pinched together as you tried to remember whether or not you had dismissed him for his shift yet, but as you attempted to think back the heavy fog filling your brain made what should've been a simple task feel impossible.

"Alright, no more of this. What's wrong with you today?" he inquired after a few seconds of your awkward standoff. "You're a disaster."

"Don't even try to lie," Piper added from where you just then noticed he stood next to Montell. "You've been texting so dry, and you were weird on my Monday shift too. I didn't say anything then, but I can't ignore it today cause now you also look terrible."

"Wow, you both really know how to cheer a girl up when she's down," you scoffed, eyes returning to the bills in your hands that were for some reason nearly indiscernible from each other as you attempted counting them again. "I'm fine."

"Okay, I didn't mean it like that. But you literally just admitted you're down."

"I'm not," you shot back, grunting in frustration when you somehow missed count and had to start over again. "You two are good to go home now. Thanks for your work today."

Montell sighed as walked around the counter, taking the bills from your hands with ease as he began to count for you. Your arms crossed over your chest as he quickly managed to count up the day's earnings and place it all back neatly within its confines.

"How'd the drawer even get this messy?" you asked, vexed by how incapable he was making you look and feel. "Looked like shit when I opened it up even though I have it clearly labeled."

Montell sent Piper a quick glance before shaking his head lightly at you. "That would be on you. You've been doing everything around here lately. Shop's been quite the one-woman show today– one I think I'd sit out on myself."

"What are you– that's not true," you began as you looked between the two in disbelief, your resolve cracking at the pitiful stares they sent you. "You guys have been whispering to each other your whole shift, so I– I had to pick up your slack. And I've been doing fine. I'm running the shop fine. Like always."

"You take one look around and you tell me how fine things look to you," he countered, extending an arm towards the last section of flowers you thought you'd tidied up, except much like how you'd left the register, the bins were a complete mess. The different colors and shapes of each flower placed incorrectly might've looked pretty or interesting in an arrangement, but as they were currently, they served only as further indicators of your shortcomings in holding things together. "We were whispering about you because we're worried about you, (Y/n)."

You had no real defense, so you ignored him and made your way back to the incorrectly placed florals. You wordlessly corrected your mistakes at an agonizingly slow pace, your mind and body struggling to keep up with your willpower, and you could feel the stares of your employees on your back all the while.

"Y'know, I always thought that Francesca's was like an extension of who you are– even more so than it was of your grandmother," Montell commented as you worked. "It might wear her name, but you've been its heart ever since you were brought into this world. And right now... well, the place is falling apart."

You sent him a glare over your shoulder but he was exchanging another concerned glance with Piper. Did you really seem that bad?

"I haven't seen you like this since right when she–" he paused, a somber silence filling the room until he cleared his throat and continued. "When the shop fell into your hands. Three years it's been now. "

"Really?" Piper asked softly. "Is that what this is about?"

You paused as you deposited a couple of filler pieces into their correct bin, shoulders tensing at the reminder of a time you'd sought to move forward from. You took a deep breath and carried on swapping flowers setting things back into place.

"I'm past it now. And I'm not like I was then, either. I'm just thinking about the gala event I texted everyone about, so sorry if I'm a bit in my head."

"You're worried about it?" Piper prodded.

You gave a minuscule nod, fearing that a verbal response would betray just how anxious you truly felt about that night and all it might entail for you.

"Fine then," Montell said dispiritedly. "I sure as hell don't feel good about leaving you like this, but I know better than to force you to talk about things. Stubborn woman. You know you can always give me a call, though, and you oughta give the Bartell girl a call too. She'll have you right back in shape faster than I ever could."

"I'll shoot her a text," you replied, walking ahead and opening the front door for him. "Please get home safe."

You gave him a gentle pat on the back as he hobbled past you and closed the door behind him softly, leaving you alone with Piper. You knew you should get back to work fixing your mess, but you just felt so heavy. So for a moment, you allowed yourself to stay put, your hand gripping the door handle to provide you support.

Frankly, you were embarrassed and disappointed in yourself. Montell was right about at least one thing: in your current state you were incapable of running the shop adequately enough. He wasn't right about you being as much of a mess now as you were three years ago, though. He couldn't compare your grief then to whatever it was you were feeling now, and he shouldn't compare it either, because such a notion felt like an insult to just how significant and devastating Gran Gran's passing had been for you, and in turn also for the shop.

You didn't even want to think about those first few months that you ran the place on your own, and you hadn't thought about them since then either. You'd pushed past it to keep your grandmother's legacy alive, and you'd be damned if you ever let things get that bad again– especially over something as trivial as the friendship drama you were going through.

A force pushed and pulled in your chest that you figured was the grief you'd opted to repress back then for the sake of moving on. Since you couldn't very well claw the feeling out, you instead shut your eyes as tight as you could until had no other choice but to pass.

Part of you wished Montell hadn't brought Gran Gran up, but the other part of you felt a twisted sense of gratitude, because being devastated over the permanent loss of life felt more valid than feeling upset over comparatively miniscule temporary losses. Although technically you were still feeling the pain of both. And ideally, you wouldn't have had to deal with either.

Jesus. Your thoughts had been so confusing and so much all of the time lately, and it was getting exhausting.

"(N/n)," Piper called out from behind you, reminding you that you weren't alone in the shop. "What's going on? Please? Seeing you like this is almost painful... you just look so–"

"Terrible," you finished for him bitterly. "You don't have to repeat it."

"No. Okay, well– yes, but I didn't mean it that way. I always think you look pretty," his noticeably closer voice assured you matter-of-factly, and even though he couldn't see it, you forced a faint smile on your lips at the compliment. Surprisingly, it didn't feel all that forced after all, and with that thought it pulled into something still faint, but more genuine. "Like even when your face is all pinched up and grumpy, which is most of the time when you're not helping customers, it's still pretty cute, actually."

"I'm gonna hurt you."

"You keep saying that, yet here I am unharmed," he pointed out lightheartedly before sobering his tone. "Seriously, though. You've been so quiet and you look exhausted. I mean, fucking up on the job? It's not that you're not allowed to or anything, but... I don't know, you're not yourself and I'm a bit worried. Did something happen?"

"I already said I was fine, Piper," you stated softly, resting your head on the door. "I'm just nervous. About the gala."

"Right."

"'The flowers."

"Well, yeah," he chuckled lightly. "I mean... what else would you be worried about besides the flowers?"

Your lips drew into a tight line as you genuinely pondered what was likely intended to be a rhetorical question, because what else would have you stressed about the gala other than the flowers? Maybe it was the fact that James and Angel, both of whom you had willfully not spoken to in days, would be there. James, who, despite saying he would let you decide when you could both talk again, had been spamming your phone with countless unanswered calls and unread texts, and Angel, who, unlike your other best friend, hadn't reached out to you once since your fight– two opposite yet equally devastating reactions.

So, yes there were things relating to the gala besides flowers to be anxious about. Namely, the anxiety of once again coming face to face with the two men you hadn't realized held such pronounced places in your very being until you pushed them away, their vacant spots flooded with the inescapable feeling of loneliness. And maybe even more than that, the anxiety that accompanied the realization that that same loneliness you felt in their absence held more weight than the fellowship you had felt with either of them recently, which either spoke to their inability to be good friends to you, or to your propensity to feel negative emotions more than positive ones. Neither option felt too great.

Huh. Now that you thought about it, this wasn't really a gala-related anxiety at all– it was more like a life-related one, which was probably worse for your psyche. Lovely.

Regardless, you shouldn't have been worrying that far into the future in the first place, since you'd yet to decide if you were going to the event as Angel's plus one or as the Francesca's representative. You knew you'd need to choose soon, but all of this pointless mental spiraling had you so stuck in your head that you couldn't bring yourself to take any steps necessary to actually address your situation.

And this funk you were in was also evidently preventing you from doing your job successfully, seeing how terribly today had gone. It shouldn't have been surprising, seeing as the disquiet in your mind was helping you average a whopping two hours of sleep each night. That would also explain why simple tasks felt more and more impossible each passing day, and it would explain the muscle aches, the tremors, and the pounding in your head too. You hated how helpless you were to the natural response of your body, but you were utterly clueless how to get better.

You squeezed your eyes even tighter as if that would somehow pull you from this pit you were falling into. You needed to do something before you really did get as bad as you were three years ago. You couldn't fuck things over again and you couldn't disappoint Gran Gran over childish friendship drama.

Thinking this much while being this tired just couldn't be conducive to anything good, and Piper was kind of diabolical for accidentally sending you further into the warzone that was your current thought process.

"So... are you gonna turn around and look at me now, or am I gonna have to keep talking to the back of your head?" he asked after what was likely a torturously long silence for him to endure. "I won't say anything unintentionally insulting about how you look again, pinky promise."

At the sound of something rushing past your ear, you peeked to the side, and to your slight surprise, there was his hand with its pinky finger extended. Heavy on the surprise being slight, because you'd come to learn as your relationship rekindled with the man that Piper was big on pinky promises even in his adulthood. To your actual surprise though, the earnest gesture pulled a soft, short chuckle from your lips, the sound pretty foreign to you recently.

"There we go," he cheered. "Already got you laughing, now I'm just waiting for you to make this baby official so we can get down to real business."

"Okay, okay," you relented, turning around and hooking your pinky around his.

"I'm too good," he stated with a cocky grin, not releasing your finger and instead bringing your connected pinkies down while smoothly wrapping the rest of his fingers around yours.

"What's with you grabbing my hand all the time?" you questioned in an attempt to stall the inevitable discussion of 'real business'.

"Okay, woman– no need to sound so upset about it. I do it because it seems to calm you down when you're anxious, so if I'm doing it all the time I think that says more about your mental state than it does about me," he retorted with no shortage of sass. "Also, the last time it happened was at Eloise's cheer performance, and I believe it was you who was doing the grabbing that time. Our hand-holding is not one-sided."

Your face grew hot at both his reasoning as well as at the memory of that night, and you quickly pulled your hand from his in embarrassment, crossing your arms over your chest to try and maintain an unaffected front.

"Don't call me 'woman,' you sound like Tony," you mumbled before lifting an accusatory brow. "And I'm not anxious that often. You're just trying to diagnose me with your psych degree, which was a minor and an accident, in case you forgot. So you can't say shit, really."

He sent you an unimpressed stare. "Yeah, yeah– okay. You don't experience frequent bouts of intense anxiety, I'm not a perfect expert genius prodigy in the psychological field, you don't like it when I hold your hand, I was your cruel childhood bully," he counted on his fingers sarcastically. "The list goes on, and I am aware. I'm well aware of the many lies you tell yourself, but we can address your issue with self-delusion after we talk about–"

Your phone began to mercifully buzz loudly in your pocket, saving you from having to answer any more questions for the time being. Upon pulling it out, the caller ID revealed your savior to be Oakley. So... maybe not someone you'd like to make a habit of calling your savior, but he still wasn't an unwelcome interruption this time. You clicked the green icon on the bottom of your screen and brought the device to your ear, sending a somewhat fabricated apologetic smile to Piper.

"Hello?" you said unsurely, genuinely unsure of what the man on the other end could want. While he flirted with and pestered you during work, he hadn't tried to contact you much outside of your shared shifts.

"Good evening, princess!" his voice responded, eliciting a quiet 'eugh' from you at your least favorite pet name had had on rotation for you. "Just calling to let you know I'm currently on my way, and I'm just delighted to show you what our evening together has to offer! I'm just around the corner, and don't you worry about what to wear– I've had something just divine prepared in advance. Only the best for my sweet, of course. See you soon, mwah!"

Your brain stalled for a moment as you processed the fact that someone (and of course that someone was Oakley) had actually just kissed you through the phone, but soon enough his other words, though still incredibly insane to be spoken so unironically, got through to your mind as well. And... uh... whoops?

Tonight must've been the night Oakley had scheduled your dinner hangout, and in your recent sluggishness, you had entirely forgotten. After your minor guilt you felt major doom, as you were not at all in the right mental state to put up with his ceaseless dramatics.

"So are we grabbing dinner and talking or what?" Piper asked as you lowered the phone from your ear, apparently not having heard the other side of your call despite the caller's boisterous volume. Only then his phone buzzed, prompting him to pull it out– a text, it seemed. He kissed his teeth as he typed up a response before looking up apologetically. "Shit. I guess we're not. My program director just texted to meet about my research proposal, and for some reason, it cannot wait even though I'm not presenting it until next semester...? I'm really sorry, (N/n)."

"No no, it's okay," you quickly assured him with a shake of your head, though Piper's sympathetic frown told you that your act wasn't all that convincing. You honestly were a bit disappointed, having genuinely considered canceling on Oakley to talk things out with Piper– especially after the calamity of thoughts he had just accidentally spurred within you. However, the more you thought about it, maybe it was for the best?

You were realizing, as Piper looked at you with what you felt was an undeserved amount of tenderness, that you just couldn't keep things from him, mostly because you didn't really want to. But ridding yourself of your burdens by placing them on him was the same thing that you had at least temporarily cut Angel off for, right? You couldn't risk losing Piper in such similar selfishness.

But if you grabbed dinner with Oakley, you could try to forget everything for a few more hours. He only ever really talked about you in relation to himself, and it was unlikely he'd entertain discussion about another man's effect on your life, even if that effect was negative. He wouldn't ask about how things were between you and Angel or you and James because he was simply too possessive to do so. Usually, such behavior made your stomach churn uncomfortably, but tonight it could provide a semi-welcome escape.

This was for the best, for you and for Piper. And as an afterthought, Oakley would be pleased as well.

"No really, there's no need to be sorry," you continued to insist. "I don't want you to miss important school shit. And I'm actually getting dinner with Oakley tonight so I won't be alone or anything."

"Oh... okay," he replied, face etched with even more concern than it had been earlier. "That just kinda sounds like the worst possible thing for you to do when you're already so drained. Even though we can't do anything tonight, maybe you should cancel on him? I don't know... you could take it easy tonight and actually talk to Sarah."

You had been texting Sarah, but she was busy with an ongoing story at the station this week so you hadn't quite had ample time to dive into things. You intended to assure him of this, but the ringing of the bell behind you as well as the rush of cool air that followed both startled and interrupted you.

"(Y/n)!" Oakley bellowed from directly behind you at too atrocious of a volume for your poor head to handle.

When you turned around to face him with a peeved glare, he was already sending one of his own at Piper. Typical.

"What's the frail nerd here for?" he asked flatly. "If he was working, his shift should be over by now and he should be halfway to the glorified cardboard box he undoubtedly calls home."

"Some would say I lean more dainty than frail," Piper said with an indifferent shrug that visibly annoyed Oakley more. "Can't beat the cardboard box or nerd allegations, though. Housing's expensive and I'm insanely smart."

"I wasn't talking to you, little boy."

"Yeah okay, pal, I hope I'm not a little boy. For your sake," Piper started with a chuckle. "Cause that would make (Y/n) little girl aged, which would make your whole infatuation thing you've got going on with her so much more uncomfortable for all of us than it already–"

"Don't you dare even go there with that incessant nonsense," Oakley snapped, shoving the box and flowers you just then registered he was holding into your hands so he could point a long, pale finger accusatorially at Piper. "Nothing about my affection for (Y/n) is in any way disgusting or abnormal. What I carry for her is pure as she is, and anyone who says otherwise is unworthy of speaking in either of our presences."

"Man, what..." you sighed, ultimately deciding to move past whatever that was as you awkwardly shifted the large box and bouquet in your hold. "Wait, what was in here, Oakley?"

"You're so amusing, always forgetting things you ought to remember. This is the dress I just told you about? Quite an exquisite piece I know you'll adore, and perfect for the restaurant I reserved."

"Oh," you replied lamely, a bit thrown off. Although you remembered he had said that, as things were, your mind was a bit too tired and preoccupied to fully understand every detail from his earlier spiel, let alone remember them.

"Your response is underwhelming, but I'm sure you'll feel otherwise once you see the dress."

"Weird, Oakley. Buying her a dress is so weird," Piper remarked, echoing your own thoughts.

"To you, maybe," Oakley sneered. "But when a man of high stature has feelings for a woman, it's his job to keep her looking just as gorgeous on the outside as she is on the inside– even before they're inevitably together."

"We're really not inevitably getting together," you groaned, bringing his attention back to you.

"You're cute." He then lifted your chin with his fingers and examined your face, his touch cold yet gentle. You were simply too resigned to pull away from his touch, and his eyes widened as they fell on the circles residing below your eyes. "Although, sweetheart... you're looking somewhat homely this evening, and that simply will not do. Go get dressed so I can rejuvenate you with good food and adoration!"

At his less-than-kind words, you finally pulled from his touch with a slight frown, choosing once again to ignore him to give Piper a proper goodbye. "I really wish things had worked out with us tonight. I'll text you later?"

"Me too," he agreed with a sad smile. "And please do. I've got grades to enter tonight so I'll be up late again, and provoking you to anger over text is my favorite way to spend my study breaks."

"Bully," you chided with another faint, genuine smile.

"Sure. Oh– farmer's market still on for this weekend?" he asked, to which you nodded with the most enthusiasm you could muster. His eyes dipped down to the bouquet in your arms before he met Oakley's impatient gaze, distaste evident in the subtle down-turning of his lips. "You frustrate me, Oakley. Immensely. So treat the boss kindly while you're out, because I will take it personally as her future favorite employee if you do otherwise. And, (N/n), I will be livid if you're doing worse next time I see you, so no taking any unnecessary shit until then. Also, don't think I missed how you avoided my questions earlier– you will be dealt with."

He affectionately palmed the top of your head and gave you a good, light shake before taking his leave of the shop, Oakley glaring daggers into him until he was gone, turning to you with a huff. "The nerve. He's a bit too comfortable around you for my liking."

"Well it was never really about your liking, was it? I think he's nice," you countered as you waved through the shop window a final time to Piper. "I guess I'll go change then. Can you wait outside while I go upstairs? I don't really like leaving anyone alone in the shop after hours."

He sent you an almost hostile look you'd never seen him wear before, though he still complied with your instructions and stepped outside. You weren't trying to insult him or anything– you'd probably only leave Montell alone in the shop before or after opening if you needed to, just as a safety precaution. He didn't need to take it so personally, but you just didn't have it in you to try convincing him of that, so you quickly locked the door behind him and made your way upstairs.

On your way up you decided to further investigate the uncomfortably personal gifts Oakley bestowed upon you. You'd emphasized to him countless times this was not a date, but his actions so far seemed pretty romantic to you, which was pretty uncool on his part. Or maybe he wasn't trying to be romantic, you considered as you shifted your attention away from the fancy black box to the other present that had been given to you, your eyes widening.

Piper's reaction to Oakley's floral preferences suddenly made much more sense, seeing as he'd gifted you an array of pink azaleas, wrapped in varied shades of brown butcher's paper with a quaint little white bow keeping it all together. Many aspects of the deceptively cutesy bouquet were somewhat troubling to you: the slight droop of the flowers due to them not barely still being in season, the clumsy way in which the flowers seemed to have bunched together without much thought, and most strikingly, the fact that while azaleas could have sweeter connotations, they were also technically also rhododendrons– flowers infamous for their blatant meaning of dangerous intent towards the one they were gifted to.

You first questioned what would inspire any respectable florist to craft such an all-around menacing arrangement, though you knew that not everyone in your profession cared about the messages being conveyed through their creations. The fault then shifted back to Oakley, who ultimately was the one who'd gifted it to you. You doubted he'd done it intentionally based on how he had proudly proclaimed his disinterest in the language of flowers on his first shift, but that just implied that he blindly gifted whatever he was handed to you without a second thought. Truthfully, the second scenario would feel more insulting to you than if he were sending you threats knowingly.

Maybe it was foolish for you to feel upset, but why would someone who knew you immensely valued the language of flowers not take care to verify that they agreed with the meaning of the ones they gifted you? You had experienced similar hurt when James had gifted you simple Gardenias your past few birthdays, and–

Wow. Just great. Now you were doing the one thing you sought to avoid in going out with Oakley: remembering. You hadn't even made it to the front door of your apartment yet and you were already back to suffering internally, both over old and new relational developments.

You made a guttural noise as you entered your home, dropping the flowers on your kitchen counter and moving into your room with the dress box in hand. You pried off the top after an outrageous amount of struggle, revealing a delicate fold of satiny white material confined in glittery translucent tissue paper. You pulled it out, the fabric soft and thick on your fingertips, suggestive of the steep price it had likely cost Oakley. How he could afford it on a Francesca's salary you weren't sure, and entertaining the question was causing you to once again doubt how honest he'd been with you since the beginning.

You'd shut James down that day before he could tell you if he had found any evidence of Oakley actually working for any superhuman rights organizations. Even if he had, what advocacy work could afford him such a dress, or any of his expensive lifestyle choices?

Like you had multiple times these past couple of weeks, you reached for your phone reflexively to text James and ask, but you paused mid-grab, reinforcing your resolve with a deep breath. Pulling your hand back, you undressed yourself and subsequently pulled on the white dress. You couldn't text anyone you shouldn't be texting if your hands were occupied with ensuring you didn't somehow rip or snag the dress that was bound to be too tight or too loose in certain places and– huh... The dress fit perfectly, or at least it felt like it did.

You made your way to the mirror in your bathroom so your eyes could confirm what your body felt, and sure enough, it was a perfect fit. Strange. The cut of the dress almost seemed to be made specifically for your proportions, an accomplishment you couldn't comprehend how Oakley had achieved without asking for your measurements. You hadn't ever found a piece of clothing that naturally fit you so well in your life, often having to have items custom-tailored to even come close. Even stranger.

You studied yourself in the mirror again, realizing that the dress you currently wore also exhibited multiple similarities to the very few formal dresses you already owned, such as its chiffon off-the-shoulder sleeves and the romantic neckline you'd always sought out in formal wear since the first time you and Sarah went prom shopping. She'd said the style was made for your body, so you best believe every dress you'd purchased since then had a similar cut and vibe.

You hadn't worn one for a while now, so you opened your closet to riffle around the back for confirmation that the dress Oakley had bought really was as similar as you remembered, finding only one in your quick search. Your memory was spot on– it was similar in style, though not nearly as expertly crafted. You would've thought the man outside had sorted through your wardrobe in order to have found such a flattering dress made in the specific style you often pursued, but you had never invited him into your apartment so that wasn't a possibility. So... how on earth had Oakley guessed your taste so accurately?

You felt somewhat unsettled by the intimacy of both the gift and its implications, frowning as you continued to stare at yourself in the mirror. In the reflection, you saw your phone screen light up on your bed behind you, and you walked back over mildly annoyed as you feared it was James hitting you up yet again. You were relieved and subsequently confused to see it was instead Piper, who should've been on his way to his advisor's office.

5:24 - love doctor 🌱

- Hello again my magnificent employer WHY did you agree to get dinner with oakley

- He was being extra insane tonight and those flowers were both ugly and sinister

- And he was rude to you

- You should punch him maybe

5:25 - you

- are you driving rn.

5:25 - love doctor 🌱

- Calm down lady I had to park far away today so I just got to my car

- Btw if Oakleys car is the one Im 99% sure it is he is parked illegally in a handicap spot so you should probably beat him with a bat or something idk Im not huge on violence usually but it just feels deserved with him most of the time

5:26 - you

- okay cause i still have your location so if you text me while driving i'll know and as i'm sure you're aware by now i will actually hurt you :)

- and i will not be beating oakley with a bat sorry to disappoint

5:26 - love doctor 🌱

- MAJOR bummer

- Back to you

- Why dinner with Oakley? Atp just come with me to my meeting my director has candy in his office and I will steal some for you 😇

- Whatever flavor you desire I will provide!

5:27 - you

- if you think i'm ever willingly getting into your car again you're crazy

- but i'm in need of a distraction i guess and there's no one more distracting than oakley

5:27 - love doctor 🌱

- Mhm yes a distraction from what exactly? I don't believe you ever said 🙂

- Does it have to do with a certain hero?

3:27 - you

- ...

- oh okay so anyways the dress oakley got me is really pretty but it has my exact measurements i think

- that's weird right?

- like it looks like it was molded to my body almost

- is that a little bit freaky or am i just really tired and overthinking things?

5:27- love doctor 🌱

- You are really tired but its still quite freaky indeed

- Well wait what kind of freaky do you mean like scary freaky or FREAKY freaky

- Yk actually just give me a peek so I can tell you which one 😏

5:28 - you

- what.

5:28 - love doctor 🌱

- WRONG EMOJI I MEANT 😒 IM SORRY

- PLEASE dont block me PLEASE 😭

5:28 - you

- 😐

- the emoji choice didn't make that text any more or less insane actually!

5:28 - love doctor 🌱

- Okay so I guess I'm not getting a pic is what Im hearing then thats valid thats fair thats fine. Its okay I didn't even want to see you in a pretty dress its whatever (n/n).

- But yes I think thats definitely strange bc how does he know your size 🤨

5:28 - you

- should i ask when i go back downstairs?

5:29 - love doctor 🌱

- No you should cancel on him and beat him up he's a fucking weirdo and an asshole

- But with your horrendous self preservation skills I doubt you will

- Don't worry I also still have your location so if he kidnaps and murders you I will find you and kill him in your honor 😇

5:29 - you

- hey so the angel emoji does not lessen your crimes btw! your emoji choices are insane!

- and you have my location still??? you're worse than oakley 😟

5:29 - love doctor 🌱

- Hey so how could you ever say Im worse than him!

- And yea sure skip over my vow to sacrifice my morals to avenge your death all bc I have your location still WHEN YOU THREATENED TO USE MINE AGAINST ME TWO SECONDS AGO

- Anyways missions accomplished! Im too good

5:30 - you

- ?

5:30 - love doctor 🌱

- I got you joking again and I stole some of your precious time from Oakley 😌

- Man I missed my dearest dumbass texting partner this past week

- Woah okay I gotta go to my meeting now so unless you want to be the reason I text and drive I will talk to you later

- If you do go tonight call me if theres an emergency please Ill fr turn into a supervillain if you get kidnapped and murdered before we get you feeling back to 100% 😇

You brought your phone to your chest and slapped your free hand over your mouth when you felt the huge grin that had subconsciously made its way onto your face. It was sickeningly corny how such a smartass consistently rendered you helpless with such a teenage feeling crush, but you'd be lying if you said that you disliked the feeling.

Honestly, after such a stupidly sweet and silly interaction you felt like maybe you didn't need to use Oakley as a distraction after all, especially since Piper offered to text with you throughout the night once his meeting had finished. Maybe you could even meet up with him after if he was–

Your train of thought stopped when your phone buzzed again, this time with a message from James. Your thumb swiftly moved to swipe the notification away, but unfortunately, the lack of sleep was messing with your motor control and you missed, the message notification staying put on the screen. Your eyes locked on his words before you could think better than to actually read them, and your stomach dropped.

5:43 - the greatest!!!

- I miss you more and more every day. I hope you're doing okay after everything.

Your heart squeezed in your chest when another notification popped up, and then two more.

- The spot by my side is always reserved for you, so come back whenever.

- I love you a lot.

- <3

After staring blankly at the last text for what felt like a lifetime you finally swiped them all away, angry at yourself for not muting your chat with him earlier to prevent this from happening. More than that, you were angry at yourself for the way you felt as you read the texts over and over again.

Why did you still want him after all this time of trying to get over him? The feelings weren't nearly as intense as they used to be, but they were still there, stubborn and unrelenting every time James showed you just a pinch of affection. It felt unfair to you that he would say such emotive and loving things when you wanted so badly to move past your feelings, but how could he know the effect he had on you when you had never told him? You were ultimately the root of your own pain.

Part of you feared that this was how it would always be– that even though James didn't love you how you wanted him to and even though you knew you'd never be with him like that, your feelings for him would persist anyway. Maybe you used to think you could be content being in love secretly for the rest of your life, but things had changed. You didn't want to love someone who couldn't love you back anymore, and lately, Piper was showing you what it felt like to experience mutual, unabashed care for someone.

You wanted to be able to explore the depths of that affection with him, but as long as you felt things for another man you wouldn't allow yourself to. That would be unfair to Piper, and you couldn't ever bring yourself to treat him with such little regard.

Once again, loneliness started to suffocate you, so with a heavy heart, you decided it was back to the original plan. You touched up your hair and face limply, slipping on a pair of heels you'd probably regret later in the night. If your lip started to quiver or your eyes began to sting with tears, that was between you and your empty apartment as you made your way downstairs. Tonight you'd be fine and forget.