@pining_hours
enemies to lovers, forbidden lines, and the slow burn that wrecks you.
For three years he has loved you behind a wall of velvet and money. Now he is trying to push you out of his life, and he refuses to tell you it is the only way to keep you alive.
He has watched everyone come and go, but you are the first arrival his grey eyes refuse to leave.
He runs the most exclusive table on campus and has decided, loudly, that you do not belong at his university. The trouble is he cannot stop looking at you.
Your childhood best friend turned stepbrother now barely looks at you, but the silence between you is the loudest thing in the house.
The whole town shelters from the storm, but he is the one still out in the rain making sure everyone stays safe.
For weeks you sent flirty messages to a number you thought belonged to someone else. They were reaching the star quarterback the whole time, and he has just worked out it was you.
He learned to feed on the ache in music instead of bodies, so he mixes records alone in a basement studio, and he just realized he's been starving himself beside the one voice that could actually fill him.
It's 4 a.m. and the frontman who never sends demos to anyone just sent you a half-finished song. The only lyric is your name, in the wrong key.
The touring songwriter who's crashed on your couch between gigs for years, the friend who always leaves. A cancelled tour strands him for a whole winter. And now he's writing a song he won't let you hear.
He left you for the big label and never finished your song. Now he's home for one charity gig and you're teaching kids guitar in the same garage. The unfinished song is still on the amp between you.
You left for the city ten years ago. He stayed, ran the family vineyard, and never got rid of the initials you carved in the cellar beam. He has a question he has been saving the whole time.
He vanished from the world and from your life on the same night, no note, no call. Now there's a sound tech behind the desk at your club whose hands you'd know anywhere, and the band onstage is playing your old song.
He let the clumsy new apprentice share his furnace after their kiln died, and resented every cheerful interruption. Then your hand slipped near the molten gather, and he caught it, and neither of you let go fast enough.
Five years ago she chose the job in another country over you. Tonight she walked into the only wine bar in town, and she is already crossing the room.
He needs a date to his father's gala to dodge a forced engagement, and you, his new translator, got drafted. He scripted every gesture for the evening. The one he didn't plan is the one he can't take back, and on the drive home he admits the hardest part was pretending it was a performance.
He lost his star and his temper in the same week. Now the critic who sank him is the only one steady enough to save his service.
He'll beat you off the blocks and tell you so. One week, one dorm room, and no cameras left to perform for.
