21 | thomas bordeleau

word count: 2.1k

a/n: yall i sobbed while writing this (i never cry) so enjoy!!

tw: drinking

inspired by 21 — gracie abrams

It was simple, but it was them. They laid in bed while they listen to the chaos outside. It was soft, light, comforting skin-to-skin contact. Thomas’ arm around your waist, his forehead on your shoulder, occasionally pressing kisses against it. His hair tickling your neck, your warm body pressed against his.

“I feel like I’m on fire,” Thomas mumbles.

Your eyes flutter open at his words, you turn around and face him. “What?” You ask confused.

He softly looks at you, his gaze examining your every feature, looking at you like you’re a goddess from another planet. “Touching you makes me feel like I’m on fire,” He repeats.

You don’t say anything, you don’t know what to say. You simply look back at him, your hand caressing his cheek.

“What’s your favorite thing in the entire world?” He asks.

You look back at him, “Why?” You giggle softly at his random question.

He shrugs, “Just want to talk,” He whispers.

You smile, your fingers coiling around his baby curls. “I don’t know,” You answer. There were an infinite amount of things in this world, you couldn’t choose your favorite, and that would be impossible.

Thomas hummed at your answer, he knew his answer. It was you. No hesitation, no thinking needed, he could live with you for the rest of his life. Just like this—in bed, nothing bothering them, the sun quietly creeping into their room. It was perfect, and that was his favorite thing in the world. You. You were the love of his life.

You watch his face, his expression as he zones out on your face. It was pure awe like you hung the stars yourself like it was you who created life and everything perfect in the world. It made you bite your tongue—the way he looked at you, it was so much awe.

“What’s your favorite thing in the entire world?” You ask back.

He looked at you with all of that awe and lied, “I don’t know either,” He shrugged.

And it was silent for a while. Thomas thought about how much he loved you, how every single thing you did was lovable, and how you were the perfect person for you.

You were thinking about how black and white the world was, how time moves and you sit there blurry-eyed. You thought about how much Thomas meant to you, how much you missed him, how you wish it could work.

Brendan and Matty came stumbling into your room, resuming everything back to normal. The three boys bickering about something, not noticing how quiet you were.

You couldn’t stay forever. You thought he would see it coming, but he never did.

_____

Your phone rings, at the same time every night, every day. You watch it ring. You laying in your bed, your phone ringing. The newfound dark and depressing atmosphere of your room. The quiet of nothing—no feelings, no emotions, no thoughts, no happiness. You numbly lay there and watch the call go through. The tears in your eyes after every night remind you that you’re a real human, and you can feel still.

After a couple of minutes of staring at your phone, you pick it up. You press the voicemail box and listen to what he said.

“Hey,” He sighs, the stress and emotion evident in his voice. “It’s me again. Calling again,” It was silent for a second as he held his breath. He felt the tears collecting again, and he didn’t want you to hear it, so he didn’t talk. “Y/N, please,” He whispered desperately, his voice being overcome with emotion. “Why are you doing this? Why? Was I not enough for you? Did I not treat you right?” He sniffled, after 2 weeks of calling you every night, he said the same thing every time. He told you about his day, he doubted what went wrong, he tried to make up excuses for your feelings, he bargained for something, anything.

He shakily sighed, “I’m in San Jose now, the guys have been welcoming to me. It’s weird not seeing you or the guys every day. I don’t really like it, but people grow up I guess.” He shrugged, picking at the bottom of the workout shorts he was wearing. “I just want my old life back,” He cried. “I want you back.”

You shut off your phone, staring at the wall in front of you. The calm before the storm. You slid your hands to cover your face as your body violently shook. Tears flow out of your eyes. Thomas’ broken voice repeats in your head, reminding you what you did, what you did to yourself. What you made him go through, you wished he blamed you instead of himself. You wished he hated you, to make things easier. To ensure that you did the right thing because he doesn’t actually love you. You’ll be the love of his life in his head, and that’s what you believed. It couldn’t be real, nobody could actually love you as he said.

And every night you went to sleep with dreams plagued with him. Your night terrorized with memories of him—beautiful, beautiful, loving memories that made you want to tear your heart out because it wasn’t real. And it would never be real again. You stayed awake some nights, you couldn’t sleep without replaying you breaking his heart. And you deserved it all.

____

It’s been three months since you guys broke up. He didn’t call you anymore, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. You didn’t have to break your heart every night by listening to him. But now you had nothing from him anymore. No connections or ties that you could pull on to bring him back. Not that you thought he would come back. Now if you spent the night crying it was your own fault, not his. You couldn’t scapegoat him anymore, you were your own destructor now.

You noticed a difference now. He wasn’t there to bring you coffee at the library anymore, you didn’t have a study buddy, and there was nobody to bother you in class anymore. You sat in class and stared at the place that Thomas would be, you stared at the right side of your bed that he always slept on. It wasn’t the same and you didn’t it ever could be.

None of the hockey boys came up and talked to you anymore. The ones still left at the campus just looked at you. Some of them glared at you, some of them saw how you were doing just as bad and left you be. It was so lonely, you and Thomas dated for 2 years. You didn’t really have friends outside of him, he was your first friend at Umich so you didn’t have anybody else.

Jade didn’t text you anymore, you were stupid if you thought she was, but she was like your own little sister and her disappearance was noticeable.

You met a group of girls at the local coffee shop and you started to hang out with them. It was dull, you missed the chaos. You missed jumping onto Briss’ back, you missed Matty yelling at you to get down, you missed Turcs trying to jump on Tommy’s back but enormously failing. You often zoned out thinking of those times. Time went by as you sat there blurry-eyed and numb. 

You just stared at things now, you could barely go anywhere because it reminded you of Thomas. The class you met in, the coffee shop where you met most of the time, the sidewalk he would walk you home on, you could barely look at your phone anymore. Your entire social media was filled with his friends, seeing him smiling and playing hockey in San Jose, seeing him hang out with people that you had no clue who they were. Your lock screen was plain white because it didn’t feel right to have him after you broke his heart.

You couldn’t go three minutes without looking at something on campus and thinking of him. Every place had heart-crushingly beautiful memories with him. Even you’re family asked how he was, when you told them that you broke up with him, they didn’t ask how you were feeling. They asked: Why? Why would you break up with him? He was perfect, you’re so stupid. They were right because now the past colorful world turned into a harsh reality of black and white.

_____

You sat in your room, biting your knuckles as you stared at his open contact. He doesn’t want to hear from you. It was his night, you didn’t need to ruin it. You didn’t want to ruin it for everybody. Everybody went to San Jose for Thomas’ 21st birthday, he didn’t need a call from you ruining the mood.

You shut your eyes painfully at your thoughts. He’s out having fun don’t call him. A call from you would ruin his night. He’s moved on from you, he probably has somebody else in his life. He’s found somebody better than you, somebody that will make him happy and appreciate him. That’s not you, you won’t be the one taking pictures with him anymore, you wouldn’t be the one to celebrate with him anymore, he doesn’t want to hear from you again.

You slid down your dorm room and cried in a ball in the corner. It was all true. You would miss his 21st birthday. He was moved on without you. He doesn’t want you anymore. He’s happy without you, probably even happier.

You imagine him getting shitfaced with all of the guys who are already legal. He’s happy, he has all of his friends back, and it’s been a good season for him at SJ. He’s happy.

And that was true. He’s been happily sitting with all of his friends—his Umich ones and the ones he’s made on the Sharks team. They went to a club and partied. They’ve all had a little bit too much to drink. Thomas was drunkenly belting out every song they played. He was so happy to have a slim glimpse of his past. But the one noticeable difference to him was nobody was by his side. He couldn’t look to his right and see you smiling at him. He couldn’t drunkenly belt out a song with you. That was never happening again.

_____

“Hey Y/N,” Audrey softly greets you on the phone.

“Hey, Aud,” You greet back.

You and Audrey had remained ‘friends’ you didn’t talk that much, but she kept up with you and asked if you were okay occasionally. She was a nice person and she knew that you were doing good, so obviously she could just leave you.

“What’s up?” You ask her.

“Just wondering how you are,” She vaguely replies.

“I’m fine,” You respond suspiciously. She never called you, she always texted you. You knew something was wrong.

“Are you telling me the truth?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, Audrey I’m fine,” You kind of lie to her.

“Okay,” She sighs sounding stressed.

“Seriously Aud, what’s wrong? Just tell me.”

She was silent for a second, “He’s got a girlfriend.”

You swallow thickly, “Good for him,” You chirp trying to keep a good composure until she hangs up.

“Y/N,” She sighs.

You quickly wipe the tears escaping from your eyes, “No, that’s good. Good for him.”

“I know you’re not okay, Y/N.”

“I’m fine, Audrey,” You snap. You choke on the sobs coming up from your throat. “I’m sorry,” You sniffle, harsh breaths escaping your body. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

“I know, I know,” She softly says.

“I’m fine,” You assure her.

“Okay, okay. Call me later when you want somebody to talk to,” She says.

“Yep, I will,” I quickly say before hanging up.

You sit for a second. Blankly staring at the wall, feeling deja vu in every way possible. You start hysterically laughing as you can’t believe that this is happening. It’s over, this is the final for you two. There are no second chances, nothing left for your relationship. You don’t hysterically sob, you just sit there and let the tears drip down your face. You let no emotion show as your feel your heart being cut out.

“I’m sorry.”

You apologize for everything, you say you’re sorry for every second that Thomas hurt because of you. You whisper it to yourself every second because you can be nothing but sorry. You did this to yourself. You couldn’t stay forever, and now you wish you could’ve. Nobody did this to you but yourself. Because I was always under.

everything | brendan brisson

word count: 1.3k 

You were infatuated with Brendan from the moment you laid eyes on him in freshman English class.

Throughout the year, you would obverse him—the way he talked to people, his little quirks, how he talked about his friends and hockey, how his whole personality could light up an entire room, and how much you loved that.

The thing was he never noticed the girl who knew everything about him. He knew of you, you were a smart student, you were called on frequently and always answered the perfect answer. Every time you spoke, his eyes widened at the use of your complicated words, he made eye contact with his friend asking ‘we’re in the same grade as this girl?’ After that, he never thought of you again.

Until the midterm paper, he was struggling, he had no clue why a mentally ill woman in the 20s would write herself as wallpaper. He hated English in that way, he couldn’t read people’s minds! How the fuck was he supposed to do this?!

He was prepared to fail the essay until he remembered the girl that knew all.

Brendan separated from his friends when he spotted you in the lunch hall. You were sitting in a chair near the back of the cafeteria, both AirPods in, a book in your hand, and eating at the same time. He could hear the music coming from your AirPods and wondered how you could focus on so many things at one time. He could see your eyes moving left to right of the page at a rapid pace, he thought you were some kind of super human if you could read that fast.

He awkwardly stood in front of you waiting for you to notice him. He cleared his throat and slightly kicked your chair, trying to catch your attention. You jolted out of the focus of your book and angrily looked up at the person who bothered you.

You almost fell out of your chair when you saw Brendan looking at you with a smile. You slowly took out both of your AirPods, not knowing what he wanted.

“Hi!” He greeted you.

“Hi,” You said awkwardly. “Can I help you?”

“Oh yeah,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I need help in English.”

You looked around him, checking to see if he was pranking you. “Okay?” You say, not knowing why he told you.

His lips thinned, “Can you help me?” He asked.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, feeling stupid for not getting what he was saying. “With what?”

“The Midterm paper, I really don’t know what I am doing with it,” He laughs awkwardly.

You thought about your answer before you said anything. You had already finished it it was quite easy, but you didn’t want him to feel dumb. You had to study for your midterms coming up, but you’ve been studying already for months. You looked up at him, his desperate demeanor, you knew he had to pass this class to stay on the hockey team. You shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.”

His shoulders relaxed and he put his hand on his chest in relief. “Thank you so much!” He says. “Can I write down my phone number for you?” He gestured to the sticky notes you were using to annotate your book. You nod and he writes down his number.

“Thank you so much! Text me whenever please!” He gushed.

Your cheeks tinted red as he thanked you profusely. You didn’t see the big deal, you helped people all the time. You shrugged again acting nonchalant, “It’s fine. I like helping people,” You smiled.

He smiled back at you, “Still thank you,” He said then glanced over to where was sitting and noticed all of the boys looking at him. His cheeks lit up as they were all smirking at him. He turned back to you and his cheeks got redder as you noticed his friends too. “I’ve got to go thank you again! Text me anytime,” He repeated stumbling away from you.

He practically ran back to his table and casually sat back down ignoring the stares from his teammates. They were all looking at his red cheeks and flustered composure with raised eyebrows. He still ignored them casually eating his food and avoiding all eye contact.

Beech was the first to talk, “She’s in one of my classes, good one you chose.”

Brendan sunk down into his chair as the guys started snickering at his smile.

“The wallpaper is a symbol for the narrator. She sees a woman in a cage in the wallpaper and that reflects on how her husband and society traps her into this space of doing nothing. The more she is driven into insanity, the more she is fixated on the wallpaper and releasing the women from inside. She sees herself in the wallpaper and tries to free herself by tearing it down, but her husband finds out she’s going crazy and he hits her unconscious. Again symboling that she can’t be free because of her husband and society’s standards on women.”

Brendan blankly stares at you while you rant about the story you guys were assigned to write about. When you finish, you laugh at his jaw-dropped wide-eyed face. “Sorry,” You whisper. “Got a little carried away.”

Brendan knocks himself out of his trance and shakes his head at your statement. “No, no, you’re very smart, and I don’t deserve to take up your brain time.”

You snicker at his choice of wording. “Bren, don’t say that you’re smart too,” You said softly.

He snorts, “At hockey, yes. At school, no,” He frowned at his open laptop where he was supposed to be writing an 8-page paper.

You sighed sadly at the uncredited side of his brain. “School’s not for everybody, not everybody has to be book smart to succeed in life. You’ve found your path and what you’re amazing at, so being bad at school doesn’t mean you’re a failure.” You said then pointedly looked at him. “Because you’re not a failure and I bet that you’re going to get an NHL contract in the next year. Then you never have to think about school again.”

Brendan was speechless, literally speechless. You were so perfect, you always said the perfect thing, you knew everything about everything, you were everything good in the world. “You’re amazing,” He breathed.

Your cheeks tinted and you chuckled, “No, I’m not, but thank you B.”

He shook his head at your dismissal. You never understood how great you were, but he would show you over time.

He would do anything for you, just to show his gratitude for everything you do. He brought you chocolates and flowers when you were sad. He comforted you when you got overwhelmed. He held you when you need it. He kissed you when you got along perfectly with his friends. He jumped around with you after the call from Vegas. He loved you when you moved to Las Vegas with him. He bought you a new book every week when you didn’t know what to read. He brought you breakfast in bed on your anniversaries. He proposed to you when he thought he couldn’t love you anymore. He loved you, even more, when he saw those two pink lines. He took the kids and dogs to play when you were overworked. He called you after every win because he couldn’t imagine celebrating without you. And every day he smiled at you because you were the best thing that ever happened to him.

In the beginning, you fell first, but in the end, he fell a thousand times harder because you were everything good in his eyes. You were the reason for his very being—the reason he had a smile on his face, the reason he was stable, the reason he was happy. And he never forgot that.

what did you just do to me? | luke hughes

i saw this tiktok and i needed to do it with luke :))) lolz this is bad but idc

word count:1.4k

‘Hurry up’ You texted Luke as you, Thomas, and Brendan were sitting in the car waiting for him. Everybody was hanging out, so you guys all volunteered to get food. You were shifting through your purse when you came across your Too Faced Lip Injection Extreme. You watched Luke walk out of the house with a smirk.

While you were putting on the lip gloss, Luke got into the car. “Sorry, I was getting everybody’s orders,” He mumbled, putting his phone into his pocket.

“’S cool,” You murmured, concentrating on putting a thick layer of the gloss, so it transfers easily to his lips.

He glared at you, you just sent him a text saying hurry up and now 'it’s cool.’

You noticed his glare and pouted. You reached over the center console to give him a kiss.

He pulled back from you, “You’ve got lipstick on, I don’t want that,” He gestured t your lips.

You shook your head, “It’s not lipstick, it’s chapstick.”

He cringed, he didn’t want that on his lips either. But you were giving him a sad face, so he had to.

He spared a glance at Bren and Thom in the back, he leaned in when he saw they were in their own worlds.

You pressed your lips against his, making sure to move your lips a little bit so the gloss could really get on his lips. He pulled back with a weird look on his face, he could feel you moving your lips weirdly.

“Babe, your lips are so dry, you need this,” You make up the quick excuse and gesture to him for another kiss.

He rubs his lips together, trying to see if you were right. Agreeing with you, he leans back in for another kiss, letting you transfer the 'chapstick’ to his lips.

Brendan glances up from his phone when he noticed you two being unusually quiet. He groans and covers his and Thomas’ eyes from the sight of you two kissing, “Really guys? We just want food.”

You two pulled apart, “Sorry, Luke needed chapstick,” You tell them shrugging, trying to keep your cool and not laugh.

Brendan shook his head, disappointedly. “Can’t even put on his own chapstick,” He sighed.

“She offered,” Luke mumbled, defending himself.

He scrunched his face up in a weird way, he started to rub his lips together. He saw you trying not to laugh from the corner of his eyes, he looked at you with an accusatory gaze.

“What did you do?” He questioned you. He shouldn’t be surprised, you always loved playing with people.

“What do you mean?” You ask innocently.

“What did you do to me?” He asked, pulling down the car mirror as his lips felt weird. He looked closer at his lips and they looked pink and glossy. “You said this was chapstick! This is lipstick, Y/N!”

“It’s chapstick, you’re just being dramatic,” You wave him off.

“Y/N, what did you do? My lips are tingling,” He whined. “It’s all over my lips,” He cringed looking in the mirror, the skin surrounding his lips was growing pink and tingly too.

“Do your lips usually tingle with chapstick?” You ask him, gaslighting the shit out of him.

“No, they don’t. What did you do to me?”

Your body silently shakes with laughter as he freaks out about his lips. “I didn’t do anything,” You practically wheeze.

He looks at you with a petrified expression that makes you laugh harder. “My lips are tingling,” He emphasizes every word. “What are you putting on? The tickalator 3000?!” He says making you burst out laughing, not being able to control it anymore.

Thomas and Brendan watch this whole interaction from the back of the car, their eyes silently moving between you two. You laughing to the point of tears and Luke freaking out about to cry.

“What the hell did you put on my lips!” Luke exclaimed, staring at the mirror again watching his lips. He quickly wiped it off when his lips started to turn red. “What is this?”

“I just had lipgloss on!” You tell him.

His head snapped towards you, “Lipgloss!? I thought you said it was chapstick! I don’t want lipgloss!”

Again you start cracking up when he starts feverishly wiping his lips with his hoodie sleeve. “You’re lips aren’t going to fall off, Luke! Calm down!”

“I don’t know that, I don’t know what you did to me! My lips could fall off!”

You reach into the side holder where you put the lipgloss and hold it out for him. He snatches it out of your hand and looks at it. He squints his eyes to read the label, but his face drops when he reads all of it.

“Lip Injection!” He exclaims. “Extreme!” He slowly looks up at you with a horrified facial expression. He looks at you, praying that you didn’t just put lip injections on his lips, praying that you’re just joking and that it was chapstick.

“What did you do to me?” He whispered, holding up his hand to touch his red lips. You don’t even look at him because you’re laughing so much.

“Oh god,” He touches his lips and realizes they are much bigger than they usually feel. He quickly opens the door of the car and practically flies out of the car. “I am not getting big lips,” He yells as he’s running.

You, Brendan, and Thomas all burst out into deeper laughter as you guys watch Luke sprint into the house.

Luke busts open the door and sprints into the kitchen. He grabs the sponge sitting next to the sink and violently starts scrubbing his lips.

Everybody in the house walks to the kitchen at the sudden noise. They all stop at the sight of Luke practically scrubbing his entire face off.

“Luke? What are you doing?” Nick questions him.

Luke looks at them, but doesn’t stop scrubbing, “Y/N…bad lipgloss…” Was all they could make out. They all stare at him blankly, all in absolute confusion because they didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

Five minutes later, Nick comes out of the house and gets into the car. You all look at him confused, he wasn’t supposed to come with you guys.

He sighs as he sees your questionable gaze, “Luke refused to come back out,” He said.

You snort but settle back into your seat as Nick starts pulling out of the driveway.

“Hey Nick,” Brendan pipes up. “Can you hand me something?”

Nick nods, looking at Brendan through the rearview mirror. “What?” He asks Brendan.

Brendan awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, “You’re probably sitting on it.”

Nick’s eyebrows furrowed, but he picks his body up to reach under him. He pulls out the small plastic tube of lipgloss. “Is this what you wanted?” He asked Brendan.

Brendan nods excitedly and grabs the lipgloss out of Nick’s hand.

He opens the gloss and reluctantly starts putting it on his lips. You and Thomas looking at him, questionably and in anticipation, for his reaction. He applies the gloss and simply sits there while waiting for anything to happen. Thomas curiously takes the gloss out of Bren’s hand and looks at it. He looks at Bren, who was not having a reaction so far, and opens the tube up and puts some on.

“Hm, smells weird,” Thomas mumbles.

“Well, yeah it’s chemicals,” You say.

Brendan scoffs, “That’s a nice thing to say after we both put it on.”

In surrender, you hold your hands up, “You saw what it did to Luke.”

“No, we didn’t. He was flailing around everywhere so we couldn’t see anything.”

“Oh, it’s starting to tingle,” Brendan gasps.

“Yeah, feels weird,” Thomas rubs his lips together.

“Oh god, it’s really tingling,” Brendan starts to fan his lips. You snicker at their facial expressions. You put this on all the time, so you were used to it, but watching them was funny.

“It feels I’m having surgery on my lips…but from the inside,” Thom says.

“Makes 100% sense, Thom,” You sarcastically say.

Whenever you guys pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot Nick snatched the lipgloss out of Thomas’ hand. “You guys made me curious,” He said before applying the product too.

Later, all of you walked back into the house with big, red lips. Luke, on the couch, shakes his head. His lips still red, not from the lipgloss, but from his excessive scrubbing after.

“I don’t care what you guys think, I look good,” Brendan puckers out his lips and poses with a hand on his hip and a peace sign.