It's been months since you last saw your best friend, Chappell Roan. She's been on tour, living her dreams, and you've missed her like crazy. You've kept in touch through sporadic late-night texts, FaceTime calls that usually end up cutting out because she's somewhere remote, and endless Instagram stalking to keep up with her life on the road. But nothing's quite the same as actually having her there with you.
Tonight is the night she finally comes home.
The second she texts you, letting you know she's landed, your stomach flips. You know she's exhausted, but when you ask if she'd rather sleep and meet tomorrow, she sends you a thousand "NOOOOO" texts, along with her location, showing she's already en route to your place. Just like that, any worries about her being tired melt away because, of course, she'd want to see you now. Chappell always hated waiting.
When she arrives, she bursts through the door like a firework, cheeks flushed from the cold, and eyes bright with excitement. Before you even have a chance to say "hi," she's throwing her arms around you, pulling you into one of those rib-crushing hugs you both pretend you're too cool for but actually can't live without.
"Oh my god, you're actually here," you laugh, feeling a little dazed from the surprise attack. Her scent—a mix of her favorite perfume and just a hint of tour bus—is overwhelming, and it's almost surreal to realise she's really here. Right here.
"You have no idea," she murmurs, her words muffled against your shoulder. "I missed you so much, Y/N."
You hold on tight, not wanting to let go, but she pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes scanning your face like she's trying to memorise every little detail.
"Let me see you," she whispers, her voice barely above a murmur. "You look exactly the same, but... better?" She cocks an eyebrow playfully, nudging your shoulder. You laugh, pushing her back lightly, but the truth is, she's not the only one looking different. Her hair's a little longer, she's got this glow about her that wasn't there before, and the confidence radiating off her is almost tangible.
"Okay, superstar," you tease, poking her arm. "You're the one who looks different. All famous now, are we?"
She rolls her eyes, smirking. "Stop! Don't make me blush. You know it's just me." But even as she says it, you can see the excitement, the pride in her smile. She's worked so hard for this moment, and you're so, so proud of her.
You grab her arm, dragging her to the couch, where you've set up a little surprise—her favourite snacks, a cozy blanket, and a playlist of all the songs she missed while on tour. Her eyes widen when she sees the setup, and she gives you a wide, grateful grin.
"No way!" she exclaims, clapping her hands in excitement. "This is why you're the best!"
You settle in, sharing stories, laughing, and filling each other in on all the little things that didn't make it to the texts and calls. She tells you hilarious tales of mishaps on stage, close calls, late-night drives through cities you've never even heard of. There's a shine in her eyes as she recounts it all, a spark that only someone chasing their dreams could have.
Hours slip by unnoticed, and somewhere between her recounting her favourite performance and you sharing your latest misadventure, you realize the whole world has faded away. It's just you and her, like no time has passed.
Then, she says it.
"I wish you'd come with me," she whispers, looking down at her hands, her voice barely audible. "It felt... I don't know, kind of lonely sometimes. Like, I'd look around after a show, and it didn't feel real. I kept thinking, 'Y/N would love this,' or, 'I wish Y/N was here.'"
Your heart stutters a little, and you look at her, seeing a vulnerability in her that you rarely get to witness. You know how much she loves the spotlight, the thrill of performing, but this is the side of Chappell that the world doesn't always get to see—the girl who loves her best friend just as much as her music.
"You know what?" you say softly, reaching over to take her hand. "I'll be there for the next one. Promise."
She squeezes your hand, her smile soft but so full of happiness. And in that moment, you know that no matter how far she goes, how many cities she conquers, you'll always be there, cheering her on—right by her side.
The night wears on, but neither of you seem ready to let it end. You're both stretched out on the couch, her legs draped across yours, heads propped on cushions. Every once in a while, her hand reaches over to squeeze yours, like she's making sure you're really there.
At some point, you both stop talking, just laying there in comfortable silence, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds the answer to the feeling that's settled over you both: something warm, something content. You realise you're tracing little patterns on the back of her hand, absent-minded, but she doesn't pull away.
Eventually, you feel her head loll against your shoulder. "Is it okay if I just...stay here?" she whispers, her voice barely above a mumble.
You smile, your heart swelling a little at the thought. "Of course. You practically live here, remember?"
She lets out a soft laugh, her breath warm against your shoulder. Then, without another word, she scoots a little closer, tucking her head into the crook of your neck. Her arm finds its way around your waist, and you don't think twice before wrapping yours around her in return. It's a little awkward with the couch cushions digging into your back, but you honestly couldn't care less. She's here, she's finally here, and for the first time in ages, you feel complete.
Before long, her breathing slows, deep and steady, and you know she's fallen asleep. You can feel her heartbeat against your side, steady and calming, and the weight of her against you makes your eyelids feel heavy. You fight sleep for just a few minutes longer, determined to soak in the feeling of having your best friend back, but the gentle rise and fall of her breathing lulls you into a haze.
In the early hours of the morning, tangled in each other's arms and practically on top of each other, you both drift off completely. It's the kind of sleep that's dreamless and deep, and for the first time in months, you both rest easy.
When the first light of morning filters through the windows, you feel her stir beside you. She mumbles something incoherent, barely awake, but you can't help the soft chuckle that escapes. Her eyes open, and for a moment, she looks confused, like she forgot where she was. Then, as her gaze lands on you, she smiles, her sleepy eyes crinkling at the edges.
"You didn't kick me off the couch?" she murmurs, stretching slightly but not moving from her spot.
"Wouldn't dream of it," you reply, your voice soft.
She just shakes her head, nuzzling back into you with a content sigh. "Good. 'Cause I'm not ready to leave yet."
And just like that, you both settle back into each other, letting the morning drift by without a care. It's quiet, peaceful, and perfect. The kind of morning you both wish could last forever, and in a way, you know it will—the memory of this, the warmth, the closeness, will carry you both forward until the next time you're together.
In the end, you know that no matter how far she goes or how much time passes, this will always be home for both of you. And for now, that's more than enough.
——————
a/n
i wrote a kinda sad one but idk if i should publish it
lmk if you acc want it 🙏
