AMARANTHINE [streamers × reader]

48

I sit in the front seat of Wil's car. I can feel his worried gaze searching my face every now and then, as his eyes flick between the quickly moving road in front of us, and me.

My head is leant against the window, my back slightly turned to Wilbur, eyes fixed on the blurred road lines as they—or we—zoom past. I have to move my head from the window as the road below us cuts to an older, less smooth part, so I redirect my stare out the windscreen in front of me.

I admire the raindrops that run down the glass before being wiped away, they capture the light of everything around us, blurring the image on the otherside of the pane. I hear the click through the sound of the rain on the roof as Wil quickens the speed of the window wipers.

There is no music playing, the radio isn't even on. The ride is quiet, but not awkward. Only the sound of the car rumbling and the tyres against the wet road can be heard as we drive along the highways back home, it sounds like white noise almost.

Wil must have a good memory, because he seems to remember the way back fine.

I don't feel unwell, I feel just as I do usually. Maybe I'm just tired, after dealing with all that anxiety as well as the panic attack. That sounds normal.

My knuckles turn white on my lap from squeezing my fists shut. I don't know why. Maybe it's the aftermath.

My confused thoughts are interrupted by a newfound sensation on my hand, I look down to see Wil has reached over to the closest hand to him.

His fingers curl around my downturned palm, forcefully breaking my painful grip and intertwining our fingers instead. I sigh, squeezing his hand briefly, then turning my gaze back out the window.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, quietly. I savor the sound of his voice before replying;

"Just good, how are you feeling?" I return the question. He chuckles.

"Alright, thank you" He returns his gaze to the road as he slows and turns into the entrance of the parking building.

After we stop, he's at my door before I've even taken off my seatbelt. He opens my door and offers his hands to me.

"I can walk" I laugh, gently taking his hand as he helps me up from the car seat, even though I don't need it.

Once we get up to our floor, he leads me to the door across the hall from mine, letting me into his own apartment, which I don't mind.

After he's taken off his coat, he leads me to his living room, the layout of his complex is similar to mine, but definitely not the same. He sits me down on his couch, patting my shoulder, then wiping his hand on his pants.

"Take that off, I'll get you another sweater. You'll get a cold if you keep that on" He says, referring to Dream's hoodie, which—I now realize—is heavily soaked with water. I pull the weighing fabric off without hesitation.

"It's okay, it's warm enough in here" I lie with a smile, the cool air now grazing uncomfortably against my skin.

"No, I insist." He glares, calling my bluff as he pulls Dream's hoodie from my grasp, hanging it neatly on the back of a dining chair at the small table.

As Wil was away in his room doing things, I look around the familiar room. He's tidied it up a bit since last time I was here. He's got his guitars and amps against one wall in the living room, the guitars on their own rack-stand thing.

Wil soon returns, handing me a crimson sweater.

"You didn't have to.." I sigh with a small smile.

"Well I did. Put it on" He smiles back, grabbing his precious acoustic guitar from the rack.

I pull the warm clothing over my head, and pull the long sleeves up, it's far too big for me. I look down, struggling to read the print upside-down.

It's says "DOOMED" with a flag on a pole, and "Los Campesinos!" underneath, all in white.

"My favourite band" Wil muses as he sits down, legs crossed on the ground.

"Cool!" I grin. I see Wil is quite—very—into his music.

He begins to play a soft tune on his guitar. I slip down onto the ground, adjacent to him. I watch his long, slim fingers as they change chords with one hand, and the other intricately plucks at the strings with phenomenal coordination.

He looks up, smiling at me as he stops his gentle tune, placing the instrument into my own hands.

"You should play me another song. I like hearing you play" He encourages softly. I scoff and begin to mimic his tune, but adding my own rhythm and melody into it.

"Have you thought about making music together yet?" He seeks answers within my eyes. I shake my head.

"Not really.." I admit, my music begining to lack the enthusiasm it once had.

"Hey, what's up?" He asks softly, leaning foward.

"Well if I were to join you on your journey of making music, I feel like it'd just turn into more of a responsibility. Especially with me, I don't know what's wrong with me, I probably wouldn't even be able to uphold that sort of thing with you, what, with all these health issues and mental problems like the things that happened toda—" I was so focused on my rambling that I didn't notice that Wil was growing closer until he gently placed his hand at the back of my neck, the warmth seeping into my bones.

"Y/n." He murmurs, his forehead now presses against mine. I blush madly, I'm sure he can feel the heat radiating from my cheeks.

"Y-yes?" I stammer, immediately nervous and flustered by his close proximity.

"You're so perfect just the way you are. It doesn't matter what health problems you have, or—how fucked up your mind is, that could never change the way I see you, Y/n. And I'm sure anyone, and everyone would feel the same." He soothes softly, I can feel the hum of his warm, deep voice as he speaks. I'm lost for words, no one has ever said or spoken to me that way before.

"Can I.." He trails of, his breath reflecting against my lips as our noses brush.

I finally close the distance, our lips gently caressing eachother. My eyes drift closed as he pulls me closer by the nape of my neck, pulling the guitar out from between us and setting it aside before slowly pulling me onto his crossed lap.

We both pull away at the same time, he moves his hands down and wraps his arms tightly around my waist, pulling me to his chest as he rests his cheek on my shoulder.

I can feel as he gently presses his soft lips to the side of my neck, only once before whispering;

"You're perfect, Y/n." And I can't help but clutch his frame against me, sobbing into his shoulder.

How bittersweet.

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I get so emotional writing these scenes pls.

Stay safe and hydrated you little brats <3