oh, but we all have our histories
title: oh, but we all have our histories
pairing: caroline forbes/nate archibald
word count/rating: 2559/PG-13
summary: In the end, it is really only her. She paints her nails black and decides to go to New York.
oh, but we all have our histories
Caroline thinks of three things when the end of Mystic Falls begins:
1. She doesn’t want to lose anyone.
2. She should’ve spent more time trying to love Tyler.
3. She wishes she wasn’t wearing her favorite jeans - they’ll probably end up getting ripped.
Her jeans get slashed and her cutest top gets blood all over it.
Klaus kills Elena first, and the rest are gone faster than she ever expected. Stefan surrenders, falls to his knees clutching his heart. Bonnie tries her hardest to part the clouds and passes out, easy pickings for the weaker vampires. Jeremy goes down swinging his fists. She doesn’t even know what happens to Matt. And Tyler - oh Tyler just looks at her with betrayed eyes.
“I thought it was just us,” he mutters through the madness and Caroline’s chest constricts.
There is death everywhere - the scent of her friends blood coats the inside of her mouth and the look Tyler’s giving her hurts enough to distract her from all of it.
“Tyler, I just - I didn’t know how to tell you.”
Her voice is quiet, trembling even maybe. This is the end of the world as she knows it - if she survives this, she can’t lose Tyler too.
There’s a noise, somewhere to her left, and Tyler pounces.
He dies trying to protect her, shielding her heart.
In the end, it’s only Damon and her.
He takes one look at Elena’s grave, at Stefan’s grave, at Katherine’s grave.
“Later blondie,” he said and it’s just a reminder that Damon has always been more monster than man.
In the end, it is really only her.
She paints her nails black and decides to go to New York.
Nate wakes up most mornings thinking Serena will still be next to him.
Blair tells him it’s time to move on with sad eyes and a ring on her finger.
In the aftermath, these are the facts:
Caroline has money, more money than she’d ever thought she’d have, because Damon leaves a burlap sack on her stoop that is full of cash. It’s the only truly decent thing he’s ever done for her.
It must be Damon because no one else is left.
Before she leaves town, this empty shell of a place she used to call home, she walks to the Lockwood mansion. She makes herself walk up to Tyler’s room, footsteps falling silent on the plush carpet, and hesitates at the doorway.
His room smells like him. That’s when she starts to cry. It’s not the first time she wishes she hadn’t survived, and it won’t be the last.
In New York, Caroline is hungry. Like, all the time.
God, you’re so stupid, she thinks to herself. She moved to New York for the fashion and the glamour and how it was a polar opposite of Mystic Falls. She didn’t really think about the wild animal population.
For a second, she imagines that Stefan’s voice will ring out with some sage advice.
She allows herself ten seconds of unbearable pain, imagining his hand on her shoulder and eyes on her face and there goes another boy she could have loved.
Opening her eyes, she puts on a black hoodie at three am and goes to Central Park to kill some deer.
“Screw you Bambi,” she mutters as she looks into the animal’s eyes. This is progress, she guesses.
If Caroline learned anything from Damon, it’s that nothing can cure your problems quite like a bottle of something alcoholic.
If Caroline has learned anything from herself, it’s that everything is better in a cute outfit and killer heels. Dancing never hurts either.
There’s no shortage of clubs in New York, and Caroline remembers something on Perez once about this party at a place called Gimlet. Wearing Elena’s cutest dress and Bonnie’s best heels, she hails a cab and goes there.
She compels the bouncer, but she rationalizes that this is hardly using her powers for evil.
The music inside is thumping so loud it vibrates her body, and the whole place reeks of sex and sweat and booze.
It seems like a good place to lose herself.
“You remind me of someone I used to know.”
Caroline almost chokes on the martini the stranger hands her.
“That’s so cliché,” she says with an accompanying sigh.
“No, I’m serious. Not a pickup line, I swear.”
He holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender and laughs. His biceps through the blazer remind Caroline of Tyler.
She tries another sip of the drink before trying again.
“Are you sure it’s not a pickup line?”
She smiles on the edge of the martini glass, already feeling the alcohol buzzing through her system in a rush of excitement.
The sight of her, blonde hair falling in her eyes and lips spread over the rim of her glass, is impossible for Nate to ignore.
“No, I’m not.”
She smiles at him, and when he asks her to dance she doesn’t say no.
It’s four in the morning and Caroline wonders if she should go home.
The boy (“Nate. Nate Archibald.”) is sitting on the stairs of the Met, to her right, with her feet in his lap.
“Caroline, has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of beautiful?”
She throws her head back and laughs, because of course Nate is that kind of boy.
“Not really, no.”
Matt told her sure, but sometimes she wasn’t sure if she was talking to her or Elena and Tyler - well Tyler hurts too much to think about.
“You kinda are,” he says in a teasing tone.
It softens every guard she up, turns her right back into the insecure girl she was before.
“Really?”
Nate’s eyes are half closed, arms supporting as he leans backwards.
“Mmmhmm.”
She only kisses him in the dark.
Sometimes, he calls her Carly.
It feels like a promise somehow, sitting on a blanket in Central Park with his head in her lap and quiet kisses under a blooming tree.
“No one’s ever called me Carly before.”
He smiles and tugs her down to him.
“Good.”
“So, what’re your intentions exactly for our sweet Caroline?”
Nate’s drunk enough to steady himself on the wall in the back alley - and sober enough to realize that he doesn’t remember how he got here in the first place. In fact, the last thing he remembers is doing shots at the bar with some guy and Chuck.
“Dude, who are you?”
There’s a somewhat maniacal laugh that rings through the darkness - it reminds Nate of Chuck.
“That depends, pretty boy.”
Nate’s head is fuzzy and he just wants to sit down, and he leans a shoulder against the brick wall before he feels the death grip of a hand around his neck.
“If you hurt her, I will find you.”
It sounds like bad dialogue from some show that Nate used to watch high all the time.
The hand comes off and he gasps for breath.
“Enjoy yourself, kid.”
Damon appears at Caroline’s door one night with an armful of blood bags and a smirk on his face.
“Tell me, Caroline, have you taken a bite out of the Big Apple yet?”
He laughs at his own joke and she cringes.
“Damon, go away.”
She turns away from him, from the doorway, from her past.
His eyes harden and he clenches his jaw.
“Well, you know I don’t like to overstay my welcome.”
There’s a melancholy tone to the words, and Caroline turns around with the word wait on her lips.
He’s gone, but there are five blood bags spread around the room.
Change, it seems, doesn’t affect just her.
There is more than one time when she wishes she was kissing Tyler instead.
It hangs there in her brain for a second too long - until the guilt washes over her and she realizes how perfect Nate really is.
You never forget your first, they say, whoever they are. Tyler wasn’t her first kiss or first boyfriend or first time - but he seems so much more important than all of those guys combined.
Nate’s arm rests heavy on her shoulders and she closes her eyes, leans back into the warmth.
“Nate, there are too many things that you don’t know about me. I’m not good for you, okay? Just leave me alone.”
The past hits him in the face like a brick wall and Nate physically stumbles backwards, grabbing onto a chair to prevent falling on his ass in front of her.
Serena’s gone, and at her funeral Blair said, “Serena always believed it was better to burn out than fade away,” and the words are pulsing through Nate’s ears like a bad song, stuck on replay and he wonders if this will be the pattern in his life.
(It was late at night and Serena crawled into bed with him, smooth long legs tangled in his and her head on his chest.
“Natie, stop trying to save me.”
He laughed because he thought she was kidding.
“Never.”
He couldn’t get the smell of her out of his sheets for weeks.)
Caroline rushes to his side, faster than he would’ve thought she could move in heels, and calmly presses two hands to the side of his face.
“You deserve so much more than me and all my crazy, neurotic, insecure, tragic girl issues. I’m exhausting and high-maintenance and you know, other stuff.”
She sputters out the last part before resuming pacing around the room. Nate wonders if she’s on something.
“Listen. Whatever you wanna throw at me, I can probably handle.”
So she tells him.
Nate copes the way most young adult males do.
Chuck gets him drunk, buys him weed, takes him to a strip club.
He’s at the drunkest point of the evening when he slurs, “You know what Chuck? I think I can handle her.”
Chuck nods and sips on his scotch.
“A drunk man’s actions are a sober man’s thoughts, Nathaniel. And, if I may say so, a little biting in bed never hurt anyone.”
Caroline is lying in her bad sulking, watching My Best Friend’s Wedding when she realizes how fucked she is. If Julia Roberts can’t get her man, what kind of chance does she stand?
Then, her phone rings.
The irony here? Nate has spent most of his life loving someone who didn’t want to be around for the rest of it. Maybe this will solve that problem.
“I want to see the,” Nate makes a funny fang gesture with his fingers before getting embarrassed and bringing them into his lap, “you know what I mean.”
Her insecurities wash over her, like they always do, and a million different thoughts go through her mind.
“Are you sure? It looks really freaky, like even worse than that time I was really hungover and my eyes were all bloodshot and my makeup was like, down to my chin.”
Nate leans her to kiss her softly and murmurs yes when he pulls away.
“Ok, just turn around until I’m ready - k?”
She takes a look at his deliciously toned back and can’t help giving herself a silent congratulations on how hot Nate is. Sighing, she puts her vamp face and runs her tongue over the pointy incisors.
“Turn around now.”
Caroline’s standing there - tight tshirt, short skirt, high heels, and a ferocious vamp face.
His breath catches a little, and he stares for thirteen long seconds before striding over and running the pads of his fingers over her raised veins.
It’s scary and intense, but also weirdly kind of sexy and she’s making these nervous little noises until he steps back carefully and smiles.
“Cool.”
Caroline knows that’s Nate-speak for a lot of things, things like you’re beautiful and I’m okay with this and I like you a lot.
She wonders if anyone else has ever known this about Nate: he loves in a thousand different actions everyday, wears his heart on his sleeve, wants to let you know he cares so you won’t run away.
He’s like a Ralph Lauren wearing, Armani smelling, seriously hot golden retriever puppy.
She exhales a sigh and laughs in relief.
“Want to go get lunch?”
They hold hands as they walk out the door.
“I think we should have sex.”
Her tone is so matter-of-fact and normal that Nate wonders if she knows what she just said.
“Ex-excuse, I mean - what?”
“I think we should have sex. Like, now.”
She’s wrapped up in him on the couch, some romantic comedy she said she loves playing in the background while he casually plays with her hair.
“Is this a joke? Trick question?”
“Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. Sex.”
She remembers a lifetime ago, scarves everyday tied tight around her neck and Damon in her bed.
“Is that - is it okay? Is it safe?”
The words of course are barely out of her mouth before Nate sweeps her up and takes her down the hall to his room.
He dreams about Serena a lot.
While he’s sleeping, she dances in front of him, hair and skirt twirling out and a smile on her tanned face.
It’s summer, because with them it always is.
She storms ahead, runs and skips and jumps until she’s out of his vision.
“Come on, Natie!” He hears somewhere far, far ahead but she’s left him behind again and he’s alone.
Nothing feels better than Caroline’s cool body, pressed flush against his, when he wakes up.
They move in together. On their fireplace mantle there are three pictures.
One of Serena, Nate, Blair, and Chuck at some event. Serena’s in a low-cut gold gown and Blair’s in a high-necked silver one, with a flute of champagne in each of their hands. Chuck is looking at Blair and Nate is looking at Serena, but the two are leaning in towards each other. Everyone is laughing.
One of Bonnie, Jeremy, Stefan, Matt, Elena, Tyler, and Caroline. It’s at the Masquerade Ball, everyone dressed in black and white and smiling. Caroline doesn’t even remember what made them take the picture, but everyone is so close to each other, backs pressed to backs, shoulders to shoulders, arms linked in arms that she knows it was a good moment.
The last one is of Caroline and Nate. She’s wearing his t-shirt and he’s just in basketball shorts. He wasn’t looking at the camera when the self-timer went off, so instead he’s gazing at her face. She’s smiling wide, directly at the camera. His hands are around her waist and she looks happy.
Caroline remembers being human and in high school - the feeling of always loving the boy that never loved her.
Her world got destroyed over and over and over again until there was nothing left to ruin; she’s not sure how she managed to end up in bed with a boy who loves her so completely.
He gives her clothes and jewelry and exotic trips, things she only ever dreamed about as a little girl who was blissfully unaware of almost everything.
The most important thing he gives her is a kiss every morning and an I love you every night.
AN: This is for the Free For All Comment Fic meme over at stainofmylove's journal. Written for smc_27. I hope you guys liked it! Ps - the song Nothing by the Script is basically the reason why I was able to write/finish this - you should all take a listen!
pairing: caroline forbes/nate archibald
word count/rating: 2559/PG-13
summary: In the end, it is really only her. She paints her nails black and decides to go to New York.
oh, but we all have our histories
Caroline thinks of three things when the end of Mystic Falls begins:
1. She doesn’t want to lose anyone.
2. She should’ve spent more time trying to love Tyler.
3. She wishes she wasn’t wearing her favorite jeans - they’ll probably end up getting ripped.
Her jeans get slashed and her cutest top gets blood all over it.
Klaus kills Elena first, and the rest are gone faster than she ever expected. Stefan surrenders, falls to his knees clutching his heart. Bonnie tries her hardest to part the clouds and passes out, easy pickings for the weaker vampires. Jeremy goes down swinging his fists. She doesn’t even know what happens to Matt. And Tyler - oh Tyler just looks at her with betrayed eyes.
“I thought it was just us,” he mutters through the madness and Caroline’s chest constricts.
There is death everywhere - the scent of her friends blood coats the inside of her mouth and the look Tyler’s giving her hurts enough to distract her from all of it.
“Tyler, I just - I didn’t know how to tell you.”
Her voice is quiet, trembling even maybe. This is the end of the world as she knows it - if she survives this, she can’t lose Tyler too.
There’s a noise, somewhere to her left, and Tyler pounces.
He dies trying to protect her, shielding her heart.
In the end, it’s only Damon and her.
He takes one look at Elena’s grave, at Stefan’s grave, at Katherine’s grave.
“Later blondie,” he said and it’s just a reminder that Damon has always been more monster than man.
In the end, it is really only her.
She paints her nails black and decides to go to New York.
Nate wakes up most mornings thinking Serena will still be next to him.
Blair tells him it’s time to move on with sad eyes and a ring on her finger.
In the aftermath, these are the facts:
Caroline has money, more money than she’d ever thought she’d have, because Damon leaves a burlap sack on her stoop that is full of cash. It’s the only truly decent thing he’s ever done for her.
It must be Damon because no one else is left.
Before she leaves town, this empty shell of a place she used to call home, she walks to the Lockwood mansion. She makes herself walk up to Tyler’s room, footsteps falling silent on the plush carpet, and hesitates at the doorway.
His room smells like him. That’s when she starts to cry. It’s not the first time she wishes she hadn’t survived, and it won’t be the last.
In New York, Caroline is hungry. Like, all the time.
God, you’re so stupid, she thinks to herself. She moved to New York for the fashion and the glamour and how it was a polar opposite of Mystic Falls. She didn’t really think about the wild animal population.
For a second, she imagines that Stefan’s voice will ring out with some sage advice.
She allows herself ten seconds of unbearable pain, imagining his hand on her shoulder and eyes on her face and there goes another boy she could have loved.
Opening her eyes, she puts on a black hoodie at three am and goes to Central Park to kill some deer.
“Screw you Bambi,” she mutters as she looks into the animal’s eyes. This is progress, she guesses.
If Caroline learned anything from Damon, it’s that nothing can cure your problems quite like a bottle of something alcoholic.
If Caroline has learned anything from herself, it’s that everything is better in a cute outfit and killer heels. Dancing never hurts either.
There’s no shortage of clubs in New York, and Caroline remembers something on Perez once about this party at a place called Gimlet. Wearing Elena’s cutest dress and Bonnie’s best heels, she hails a cab and goes there.
She compels the bouncer, but she rationalizes that this is hardly using her powers for evil.
The music inside is thumping so loud it vibrates her body, and the whole place reeks of sex and sweat and booze.
It seems like a good place to lose herself.
“You remind me of someone I used to know.”
Caroline almost chokes on the martini the stranger hands her.
“That’s so cliché,” she says with an accompanying sigh.
“No, I’m serious. Not a pickup line, I swear.”
He holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender and laughs. His biceps through the blazer remind Caroline of Tyler.
She tries another sip of the drink before trying again.
“Are you sure it’s not a pickup line?”
She smiles on the edge of the martini glass, already feeling the alcohol buzzing through her system in a rush of excitement.
The sight of her, blonde hair falling in her eyes and lips spread over the rim of her glass, is impossible for Nate to ignore.
“No, I’m not.”
She smiles at him, and when he asks her to dance she doesn’t say no.
It’s four in the morning and Caroline wonders if she should go home.
The boy (“Nate. Nate Archibald.”) is sitting on the stairs of the Met, to her right, with her feet in his lap.
“Caroline, has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of beautiful?”
She throws her head back and laughs, because of course Nate is that kind of boy.
“Not really, no.”
Matt told her sure, but sometimes she wasn’t sure if she was talking to her or Elena and Tyler - well Tyler hurts too much to think about.
“You kinda are,” he says in a teasing tone.
It softens every guard she up, turns her right back into the insecure girl she was before.
“Really?”
Nate’s eyes are half closed, arms supporting as he leans backwards.
“Mmmhmm.”
She only kisses him in the dark.
Sometimes, he calls her Carly.
It feels like a promise somehow, sitting on a blanket in Central Park with his head in her lap and quiet kisses under a blooming tree.
“No one’s ever called me Carly before.”
He smiles and tugs her down to him.
“Good.”
“So, what’re your intentions exactly for our sweet Caroline?”
Nate’s drunk enough to steady himself on the wall in the back alley - and sober enough to realize that he doesn’t remember how he got here in the first place. In fact, the last thing he remembers is doing shots at the bar with some guy and Chuck.
“Dude, who are you?”
There’s a somewhat maniacal laugh that rings through the darkness - it reminds Nate of Chuck.
“That depends, pretty boy.”
Nate’s head is fuzzy and he just wants to sit down, and he leans a shoulder against the brick wall before he feels the death grip of a hand around his neck.
“If you hurt her, I will find you.”
It sounds like bad dialogue from some show that Nate used to watch high all the time.
The hand comes off and he gasps for breath.
“Enjoy yourself, kid.”
Damon appears at Caroline’s door one night with an armful of blood bags and a smirk on his face.
“Tell me, Caroline, have you taken a bite out of the Big Apple yet?”
He laughs at his own joke and she cringes.
“Damon, go away.”
She turns away from him, from the doorway, from her past.
His eyes harden and he clenches his jaw.
“Well, you know I don’t like to overstay my welcome.”
There’s a melancholy tone to the words, and Caroline turns around with the word wait on her lips.
He’s gone, but there are five blood bags spread around the room.
Change, it seems, doesn’t affect just her.
There is more than one time when she wishes she was kissing Tyler instead.
It hangs there in her brain for a second too long - until the guilt washes over her and she realizes how perfect Nate really is.
You never forget your first, they say, whoever they are. Tyler wasn’t her first kiss or first boyfriend or first time - but he seems so much more important than all of those guys combined.
Nate’s arm rests heavy on her shoulders and she closes her eyes, leans back into the warmth.
“Nate, there are too many things that you don’t know about me. I’m not good for you, okay? Just leave me alone.”
The past hits him in the face like a brick wall and Nate physically stumbles backwards, grabbing onto a chair to prevent falling on his ass in front of her.
Serena’s gone, and at her funeral Blair said, “Serena always believed it was better to burn out than fade away,” and the words are pulsing through Nate’s ears like a bad song, stuck on replay and he wonders if this will be the pattern in his life.
(It was late at night and Serena crawled into bed with him, smooth long legs tangled in his and her head on his chest.
“Natie, stop trying to save me.”
He laughed because he thought she was kidding.
“Never.”
He couldn’t get the smell of her out of his sheets for weeks.)
Caroline rushes to his side, faster than he would’ve thought she could move in heels, and calmly presses two hands to the side of his face.
“You deserve so much more than me and all my crazy, neurotic, insecure, tragic girl issues. I’m exhausting and high-maintenance and you know, other stuff.”
She sputters out the last part before resuming pacing around the room. Nate wonders if she’s on something.
“Listen. Whatever you wanna throw at me, I can probably handle.”
So she tells him.
Nate copes the way most young adult males do.
Chuck gets him drunk, buys him weed, takes him to a strip club.
He’s at the drunkest point of the evening when he slurs, “You know what Chuck? I think I can handle her.”
Chuck nods and sips on his scotch.
“A drunk man’s actions are a sober man’s thoughts, Nathaniel. And, if I may say so, a little biting in bed never hurt anyone.”
Caroline is lying in her bad sulking, watching My Best Friend’s Wedding when she realizes how fucked she is. If Julia Roberts can’t get her man, what kind of chance does she stand?
Then, her phone rings.
The irony here? Nate has spent most of his life loving someone who didn’t want to be around for the rest of it. Maybe this will solve that problem.
“I want to see the,” Nate makes a funny fang gesture with his fingers before getting embarrassed and bringing them into his lap, “you know what I mean.”
Her insecurities wash over her, like they always do, and a million different thoughts go through her mind.
“Are you sure? It looks really freaky, like even worse than that time I was really hungover and my eyes were all bloodshot and my makeup was like, down to my chin.”
Nate leans her to kiss her softly and murmurs yes when he pulls away.
“Ok, just turn around until I’m ready - k?”
She takes a look at his deliciously toned back and can’t help giving herself a silent congratulations on how hot Nate is. Sighing, she puts her vamp face and runs her tongue over the pointy incisors.
“Turn around now.”
Caroline’s standing there - tight tshirt, short skirt, high heels, and a ferocious vamp face.
His breath catches a little, and he stares for thirteen long seconds before striding over and running the pads of his fingers over her raised veins.
It’s scary and intense, but also weirdly kind of sexy and she’s making these nervous little noises until he steps back carefully and smiles.
“Cool.”
Caroline knows that’s Nate-speak for a lot of things, things like you’re beautiful and I’m okay with this and I like you a lot.
She wonders if anyone else has ever known this about Nate: he loves in a thousand different actions everyday, wears his heart on his sleeve, wants to let you know he cares so you won’t run away.
He’s like a Ralph Lauren wearing, Armani smelling, seriously hot golden retriever puppy.
She exhales a sigh and laughs in relief.
“Want to go get lunch?”
They hold hands as they walk out the door.
“I think we should have sex.”
Her tone is so matter-of-fact and normal that Nate wonders if she knows what she just said.
“Ex-excuse, I mean - what?”
“I think we should have sex. Like, now.”
She’s wrapped up in him on the couch, some romantic comedy she said she loves playing in the background while he casually plays with her hair.
“Is this a joke? Trick question?”
“Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. Sex.”
She remembers a lifetime ago, scarves everyday tied tight around her neck and Damon in her bed.
“Is that - is it okay? Is it safe?”
The words of course are barely out of her mouth before Nate sweeps her up and takes her down the hall to his room.
He dreams about Serena a lot.
While he’s sleeping, she dances in front of him, hair and skirt twirling out and a smile on her tanned face.
It’s summer, because with them it always is.
She storms ahead, runs and skips and jumps until she’s out of his vision.
“Come on, Natie!” He hears somewhere far, far ahead but she’s left him behind again and he’s alone.
Nothing feels better than Caroline’s cool body, pressed flush against his, when he wakes up.
They move in together. On their fireplace mantle there are three pictures.
One of Serena, Nate, Blair, and Chuck at some event. Serena’s in a low-cut gold gown and Blair’s in a high-necked silver one, with a flute of champagne in each of their hands. Chuck is looking at Blair and Nate is looking at Serena, but the two are leaning in towards each other. Everyone is laughing.
One of Bonnie, Jeremy, Stefan, Matt, Elena, Tyler, and Caroline. It’s at the Masquerade Ball, everyone dressed in black and white and smiling. Caroline doesn’t even remember what made them take the picture, but everyone is so close to each other, backs pressed to backs, shoulders to shoulders, arms linked in arms that she knows it was a good moment.
The last one is of Caroline and Nate. She’s wearing his t-shirt and he’s just in basketball shorts. He wasn’t looking at the camera when the self-timer went off, so instead he’s gazing at her face. She’s smiling wide, directly at the camera. His hands are around her waist and she looks happy.
Caroline remembers being human and in high school - the feeling of always loving the boy that never loved her.
Her world got destroyed over and over and over again until there was nothing left to ruin; she’s not sure how she managed to end up in bed with a boy who loves her so completely.
He gives her clothes and jewelry and exotic trips, things she only ever dreamed about as a little girl who was blissfully unaware of almost everything.
The most important thing he gives her is a kiss every morning and an I love you every night.
AN: This is for the Free For All Comment Fic meme over at stainofmylove's journal. Written for smc_27. I hope you guys liked it! Ps - the song Nothing by the Script is basically the reason why I was able to write/finish this - you should all take a listen!