Imagines & One Shots

Vic Fuentes ~ Completely Platonic Love

You smiled softly as you watched him run around with his brother on the beach. You could still remember the first time you'd met: he was barely three years old, he had taken your hand in his own, marvelling at the contrast between your milky white, 14 year old skin, and his naturally tanned complexion, your eyes a light icy blue, his warm and brown. He had immediately taken a shine to you, constantly following you round, merely because he was intrigued. you never minded because he was so young and so little, so innocent. You would always stay in his room, often being the babysitter of choice, you would sit up until way past his bedtime, him curled into your side, the nurturing, motherly side of you making an appearance as you tucked him in, then got into the makeshift bed in his room. It wasn't unusual for you to find him in your bed, one tiny hand gripping the material of your night clothing when you woke. You would smile and wake him, when it was morning, carrying him downstairs, his head on your shoulder as he sleepily chattered away to you, never quite waking up until he'd eaten.

When you were 18, and found out you couldn't have kids, he turned up at your house, 7 years old and not really understanding what it meant. The small boy climbed the stairs up to your room to find you, and crawled into your bed, just looking up at you, his features in a small frown of confusion, gently stroking your face with his little hand, wiping away the dried tears on your cheeks. He played with your long hair, not saying anything, partially because he simply didn't know what to say, partially because he knew nothing really needed to be said for you to understand. He moved his head to rest on your shoulder, the two of you falling asleep, holding onto each other tightly.

When he was 10, his parents died, on the way home from a night out, hit by a drunken driver. You were there when the police arrived, Mike at only 8, clung to your leg as he started to cry softly, while Vic held onto your hand, gripping tightly as he held back the tears, trying to be strong for his brother. Mike fell asleep fairly early, curled into your side, you carried him upstairs, and put him in his parents bed, having decided it was the only way the three of you would comfortably sleep in the same bed. When you got downstairs, Vic hadn't moved an inch, you went over and pulled him close, so he was sat sideways on your lap, head on your chest
"It's okay to cry," you told him softly, gently rubbing his arm. He turned to look at you, unshed tears glistening in his eyes
"Why did it have to be them?" He had asked, you pulled him closer, so his head was on your shoulder "I don't know," you replied truthfully "sometimes the world is cruel that way," you added, allowing him to cry into your chest, hands gripping your top as he cried himself to sleep.

You had been chosen as their legal guardian, despite your young age, you insisted you were responsible and old enough to look after them. You were, the two boys, though full of mischief were always good when it was needed. Your job was well paid enough for you to look after them and yourself. You worked as a tattoo artist, sometimes taking Vic and Mike with you, letting them watch if they promised to be good, Vic would watch you working with a soft smile, while Mike would stare at the tattoos, intrigued by the art.

Then there were the teen years, he was a little awkward around most people, and became somewhat secluded, though his infatuation with you never ended, and through the bullying and shitty years of school, never once did he shut you out, though he got somewhat jealous when he first met your boyfriend. It wasn't long until the four of you were like a family.

It was when he was 13 that you gave him his first guitar for Christmas. He looked at the smooth wood in awe, lightly stroking the instrument, and looking up at you in confusion when he saw the engraving on the back on a silver plaque 'Victor Fuentes'
"It was your dads," you told him with a smile. He bit his lip and carefully placed the guitar down so he could hug you
"I love you," he murmured, and though it was always almost a given that the two of you loved each other, it was the first time he had voiced it, you held him somewhat tighter
"I love you too," you smiled, gently stroking his hair.

There was one memory you had from Vic's teen years, your boyfriend and you were getting serious and he had moved in just after Vic turned 14. At 16, he had bullied quite a bit at school for he past few years, though he refused to give names or allow you to do anything. One evening, you could hear him crying softly in his room. You knocked gently and went in, immediately going to his bed, where he was sat with his guitar
"Vic, sweetie what's wrong?" You asked, bringing his chin up to look at you. The bruise on his cheek shocked you "oh baby, what happened?" You asked, inspecting it, there was a small cut that almost suggested he had been hit by someone wearing a ring
"Some guys at school," he mumbled, you frowned, immediately knowing it was a lie, he always referred to them as 'assholes' or something along those lines.
"Okay, now can you tell me who it really was? Your asked, glancing up as he sighed in defeat, knowing it was useless trying to lie.
"Cameron," he muttered, looking away. You stared at him in shock
"He did that?" You asked, lightly brushing your finger over the bruise "has he done anything worse?" You asked, dreading the answer. Vic sighed and lifted his top to show you the bruises on his stomach, the one that caught your eye most being the one on his ribs "is that from a boot?" You asked quietly. He nodded. You covered your mouth with a hand and immediately pulled him into a hug, trying not to let any tears fall yet. You pulled back and kissed his forehead "stay here...you did the right thing by telling me," you told him softly, standing up and going to get Cameron
"Pack your things, I won't have you treating him like shit, you don't get any chances, this is a warning, you touch either of them or come near me again and I'll call the police," you told him harshly, not even giving him a chance to answer, you went back to Vic, kissing his head
"He's leaving," you told him, kissing his head "I told him I'll call the police if he doesn't, and believe me a fucking will," you told him, kissing his cheek and drying his eyes, much like he had to you 9 years earlier "I love you," you told him, he smiled
"I love you too."

Now, you couldn't be prouder of the two as they played on their tour, you watched with the girlfriends from the sidelines. Alysha and Danielle were more perfect than you could put into words for your two boys. You had ended up getting married, to a guy who loved the boys almost as much as you, and they him.

This is one of my favourite things I've ever written I'm so happy