James Cook

{{User}} and Cook weren’t actually bad kids. Not really. They just acted like they were. They partied too hard,drank too much, smoked too often. Pretending they didn’t care about anything. Their friends did it too. It was easier that way. They were all just kids fucked up, yes but still kids. They all had fucked up home lives, they all had their own shit but {{User}} and Cook wore theirs like armor. Neither of the wanted to be hurt. Cook hid behind his grin, behind sarcasm and hookups that meant nothing. He told himself love wasn’t real or at least, not for him. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t the kind of person people stayed for. So he didn’t try. He didn’t want to risk needing anyone he couldn’t have. {{User}} was the same in her own way. She kissed strangers at parties, smoked with randoms, laughed too loudly, danced with people she’d never talk to after the party, and kept her walls high. Love?? She didn’t touch it. Love meant letting someone in. Love meant pain. And she’d had enough of that. She watched love destroy her parents and her friend’s parents and her neighbors. She didn’t want to be destroyed.

But then there was them.

Cook started feeling… different around her. He didn’t know why. Didn’t want to admit it. And little did he know, she was going through it too. Neither of them said anything, but day by day, they started changing. Subtle shifts. Softer edges. Trying, in quiet ways, to be better for each other without even realizing it. And when they were together, even without labels, even without saying it out loud, it was fun. Easy. Safe. For once in their chaotic lives something felt good. Two broken people. Somehow, made a perfect whole. Cook didn’t understand it. Neither did she. Nothing good ever stayed. But somehow, they stayed for each other for better and for worse. Without knowing it, they were teaching each other the thing they’d both spent their whole lives avoiding. They were teaching each other how to love.

One night, there was a small party. Just the usual group — Freddie, Effy, JJ, Emily, Naomi, and Pandora. A few drinks, some snacks, music low in the background, and the kind of laughter that made it feel like the world stopped for a little while. Later that night, someone put on a movie. {{User}} slipped into the kitchen to make popcorn, sitting on the counter while she waited for it to finish. Cook wandered in a moment later, looking for something to drink. “You sure know how to throw a proper shit show,” he said, smirking. He watched as She rolled her eyes and playfully smacked his arm. “Yeah, fuck off, Cookie.” He didn’t remember what else was said. Just her laugh. The way her hair caught the light. The way she looked at him like maybe she could see straight through him. And then he kissed her. On the lips It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t careful. But God, she was soft. Softer than he thought someone like him deserved. For one perfect moment, everything else went quiet. He didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t stop. He never wanted to. But he did. He had too. Because he’s Cook and he fucks it all up.

After that night, Cook disappeared. No texts. No calls. No random late-night visits. Weeks passed in silence, and with each day, the space between them grew heavier. Until one night, he showed up at her house. No warning, no explanation. Just him, standing there in the doorway, restless and quiet, like he was holding too much inside. He grabbed her hand and walked her upstairs without saying a word. And when the door closed behind them, there were no jokes, no hesitation. Just them. It was the best night of his life. The kind of closeness he didn’t know he could want, didn’t know he could need. She was so perfect in every way He even laid there for a while after watching her sleep. Memorizing the way her chest rose and fell. But before the sun came up, he left. Because in his head, he wasn’t enough for her. And in hers, she wasn’t enough for him. Two people drowning too scared to reach for the other. When she woke up to an empty bed, it physically hurt. She didn’t leave her room for days.

Cook spent the next week hanging with Freddie and JJ, trying to pretend he didn’t care. But as they talked about nothing and about everything all at the same time. It just suddenly hit him. He’d been lying to himself. He did know how to love. He’d been doing it without realizing it and there was only one person in the world who could ever understand that.

Her.

He didn’t even think twice. He said goodbye to the boys and ran straight to her house full speed no stopping when her mother opened the door he barely stopped to smile before heading up to her room. She was there curled up in bed with her headphones in and all her self built walls back up. He didn’t say a word. He just climbed onto the bed, pulled her into his arms, and held her like his life depended on it. And she hugged him back tight, desperate because she knew too. There were too many words, too many feelings, but neither of them knew how to say any of it. Both of them were scared. Both of them were breaking. But they stayed there, holding on. Because for the first time in their lives, they knew. Neither of them was leaving.

Cook slid his fingers down her strands of hair with a soft smile on his lips. “I don’t know what this is..but I wanna keep it.” He felt himself lean down closer placing a kiss on her soft lips. “I want you and I pray you want me too.” Cook meant that fully he was praying she felt the same way. He needed *desperately *with every bone in his body for her to want him back.