Got Milk? | Homelander x Reader

32 | Wall

The weeks with Homelander had been a whirlwind, a rollercoaster of emotions that seemed to have no end in sight. The highs were intoxicating, but the moments of tension were becoming more frequent, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

It was a typical Wednesday evening. You had just finished your work for the day and were curled up on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone when a news alert popped up.

"HOMELANDER'S RECENT ANTICS RAISE QUESTIONS ABOUT THE SEVEN'S LEADERSHIP"

The headline made your stomach drop. It was no secret that Homelander's public persona often clashed with the person you were getting to know in private. Despite your developing feelings, you couldn't shake the unease that sometimes crept in when you thought about his life outside the intimate bubble you shared.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a text from him: "Be there in 10."

You glanced around your apartment, nerves fluttering in your stomach. Lately, he'd been more distant, his attention pulled in a thousand directions. You wanted to ask him about it, but you weren't sure how he'd react.

When Homelander arrived, he seemed tense. There was an edge to his movements, a sharpness in his gaze that hadn't been there before. As he stepped inside, the air seemed to crackle with unspoken tension.

"Hey," you greeted him, trying to sound upbeat. "Long day?"

"Yeah," he replied tersely, heading straight for the living room. You followed him, feeling the shift in atmosphere like a physical weight.

He sat down heavily on the couch, his expression pensive as he stared out the window. You sat beside him, your hand instinctively reaching for his.

"What's going on, Homelander? You seem... different," you ventured carefully, watching his face for any sign of what was bothering him.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening before he spoke. "It's nothing. Just work stuff."

The dismissive tone sent a ripple of annoyance through you. He'd been keeping things from you, and the secrecy was starting to gnaw at the trust you were trying to build.

"Is it really just work?" you pressed gently. "I saw the news. You've been under a lot of scrutiny lately."

His gaze snapped to yours, eyes narrowing slightly. "You believe that crap they put on TV? You of all people should know not to trust everything you read."

"I know that, but... it's not just the news. You've been distant, and I feel like there's something you're not telling me."

He stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You don't get it," he said, his voice rising. "I can't just... explain everything. There are things I have to deal with that you wouldn't understand."

The words stung, a sharp reminder of the vast differences between your lives. You rose to your feet, determination replacing your earlier hesitation.

"Then help me understand," you countered, your voice firm. "I care about you, Homelander, but I can't be in the dark all the time."

He looked at you, his expression conflicted. For a moment, it seemed like he might open up, but then he shook his head, closing himself off again. "I don't want to drag you into my mess."

The frustration boiled over, and you couldn't hold back any longer. "I'm already in it! You brought me into your world, and I want to be there for you, but you need to let me in. You can't have it both ways."

His eyes flashed with something unreadable, and for a second, you thought he might argue back. Instead, he turned away, his silence a wall you couldn't break through.

The tension between you was palpable, an invisible barrier that neither of you knew how to dismantle. The room felt colder, the distance between you more pronounced than ever.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter, almost resigned. "I should go."

The words hit you like a blow, deflating the last of your resolve. "Homelander..."

But he was already moving toward the door, leaving you standing there, the questions and emotions swirling like a storm inside you.

As the door closed behind him, you sank back onto the couch, the weight of the unresolved tension heavy on your shoulders. You wanted to believe that things would get better, that he'd come back ready to talk, but for now, all you could do was wait and hope that the walls between you wouldn't become permanent.

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