Brady Potter Imagines

rainy days and sweet promises-brady

The room was dimly lit, and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead created a comforting backdrop to the chaos of emotions swirling inside. It was one of those rainy afternoons that felt like a scene straight out of a movie—perfectly dramatic. Outside, the rain drummed steadily against the window, while inside, I was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. My favorite playlist was on loop, filling the space with soft, melodic tunes, and I was trying to lose myself in the music and the comfort of my home. But today was different. Today, my mind kept drifting back to Brady. They'd been together for a while now, and he'd been acting a little off lately. Something was bothering him, and it gnawed at my insides like a persistent little itch that wouldn't go away. As if on cue, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Brady.

"Hey, can I come over?" My heart skipped a beat. I could sense that something was about to change between us. "Of course! Come whenever." I quickly typed back, my fingers flying over the screen, and added a couple of heart emojis because, honestly, I was feeling all the love today. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I jumped up, throwing the blanket aside, and rushed to open it. There stood Brady, drenched from head to toe, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and a hoodie that clung uncomfortably to his frame. But it was his eyes that caught my attention—there was a storm brewing in them, and my heart ached at the sight. "Hey," he said, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Babe, you're soaked! Come in!" I pulled him inside and closed the door against the rain. I quickly grabbed a towel from the kitchen and handed it to him. "You need to dry off."

Brady chuckled softly, rubbing the towel over his hair. "Thanks, I didn't think about the weather when I left." I tilted my head, studying him. "You okay? You seem... off." He shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind." I felt a twist in my stomach. I knew him better than that. "C'mon, you can tell me anything. You know that." He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I know, it's just... I don't want to burden you with my stuff." "Babe, you could never be a burden. I'm here for you, always." I stepped closer, reaching for his hand, and he finally met my gaze. Brady sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just found out my dad lost his job, and it's hitting him hard. I don't know how to help him or what to say."

My heart sank for him. "I'm so sorry, Brady. That must be really tough for you and your family." "Yeah," he murmured, staring at the floor. "It's just... it feels like everything is falling apart." I instinctively wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer. "You're not alone in this, you know. We'll figure it out together." He leaned into my embrace, and for a moment, the world outside faded away. I could feel the tension in his body slowly start to dissolve as he melted against me. But then, just as quickly, he stiffened, pulling away slightly. "Wait, are you crying?" He looked at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. I quickly brushed the tears from my cheeks, surprised that he hadn't even realized I was crying. "What? No," I replied, laughing softly through my tears.

Brady wiped his own eyes, and suddenly, the dam broke. "What the hell? I'm not crying!" He attempted to make a joke out of it, but the tremor in his voice gave him away. "Babe, come here," I said, my voice gentle. I opened my arms wide, and he shuffled over toward me, still hesitant but unable to resist. I hugged him tightly, rubbing his back soothingly. "It's okay. You're allowed to feel this way. You don't have to hide it from me." Brady buried his face in my neck, his breath hitching. "I just... I want to be strong for everyone, you know? I don't want to add to their problems." "You don't have to carry this alone," I murmured, my heart aching for him. "You can lean on me. It's okay to feel weak sometimes." He pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes, his own shimmering with unshed tears. "I feel like I'm failing them."

"You're not failing anyone, Brady. You're human. You care, and that's what matters. It's okay to not have all the answers." He shook his head, frustration flickering across his features. "But I should know what to do!" "No one expects you to have it all figured out. This is hard for you, and it's hard for them. Just be there for each other, and it'll be enough." Brady nodded, seeming to take comfort in my words. "Thanks, Sofia. I don't know what I'd do without you." "You'll never have to find out," I replied softly, reaching up to caress his cheek. We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the rain tapping gently against the window. But even that felt like a soothing rhythm, a reminder that life moved on despite the storms we faced. "Can I just stay here for a while?" Brady asked softly, almost shyly.

"Always. My place is your place," I replied, snuggling closer. And as we settled in together, everything felt a little lighter, the burden shared between us, making it more bearable. We began to talk about lighter things—funny memories from school, our latest inside jokes, and dreams for the future. But even amidst the laughter, the underlying tension lingered. Brady's family struggles were still there, casting a shadow over our sunny moments. "Do you think it'll be okay?" he asked after a while, the weight of his worries returning. I thought for a moment before answering. "I think it will. It might take time, but families go through rough patches. You just have to stick together." "Yeah, I guess." He looked thoughtful, a hint of hope in his eyes. "I want to be there for my dad, but I don't know how."

"Maybe just being there is enough," I suggested gently. "He knows you care. That's what counts." Brady nodded, seemingly comforted by my words. "Thanks, Sofia. Seriously. You're like my personal therapist." "I'll take that as a compliment," I laughed, nudging him playfully. "I charge by the hour, though." He grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. "I'll keep that in mind." As the afternoon wore on, we found ourselves lost in our own little world. The rain continued to pour outside, creating a soothing backdrop to our conversations. We shared stories and silly anecdotes, and for the first time in a while, Brady genuinely laughed, a sound that filled my heart with warmth. But soon, the laughter faded into a comfortable silence, and I felt the weight of the world return. "Hey," I said softly, breaking the silence. "What if we made a plan? Something fun to look forward to?"

"Like what?" he asked, intrigued. "We could have a movie marathon or go out for ice cream—something that takes your mind off things." Brady smiled at the idea. "Ice cream sounds amazing." "Perfect! I'll bring the snacks, and we can binge-watch our favorite shows. Just the two of us." He looked at me, his expression softening. "That sounds really nice." "It'll be fun, I promise," I said, nudging him again. "And you deserve it." He leaned back against the couch, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yeah, I guess I do." As we settled back into the couch, my heart swelled with hope. Despite the storms outside, we had each other. And for now, that was enough. I pulled a soft throw blanket over us, cocooning us in warmth. "So, what's your go-to ice cream flavor?" I asked, a teasing smile playing on my lips. "It has to be mint chocolate chip. Classic," he replied, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "What about you?"

"Salted caramel pretzel, duh! It's the best!" I exclaimed, bouncing a little with excitement. "The sweet and salty combo is unbeatable." Brady laughed, and it felt good to see him smile, even if just for a moment. "Okay, fine! But only if we can do half mint chocolate chip and half salted caramel pretzel!" "Deal!" I beamed, feeling lighter as I imagined us enjoying ice cream together, letting the chaos of the outside world fade away for a while. In that moment, I knew we'd find a way to navigate through the storms together, and that made all the difference.