Journey | Yogscast Lewis x Reader

2 - Confessions

(Y/B/F/N) = your best friend's name

"You stayed sober," you say, as Lewis falls into step beside you.

"So I did," Lewis says.

"Grats mate."

"Thanks."

After the stream, you, Lewis and Turps walked into town to get dinner. Now it's getting late - Turps had to leave a little earlier, because he lives further away than you and Lewis do. Now Lewis is walking you back to your flat, despite your telling him not to worry.

"Is your place far from mine?"

"No, it's only a few minutes, I think. I hope." You can just make out Lewis' grin in the gloom that is Bristol at half nine at night in early March. "I could get a taxi if I wanted to."

"This is it," you say, stopping beside your flat door. You turn to face Lewis. You swallow, in a failed attempt to moisten your mouth, and pray he can't see you blushing in the dark. "Thanks for walking me back, Lewis." 

He shrugs. "No problem."

And without any warning, he reaches out with a hand to touch yours. His palm has somehow remained warm despite the cold in the air; you feel compelled to reach out with your other hand to touch his free one as well, but your body seems unable to do it. You feel unable to do it.

Lewis brushes his thumb slowly along your palm, oblivious to the struggle inside you - you feel an abrupt shiver down your spine.

"It's been about a year now, hasn't it?"

"Since..."

"Since I hired you." 

You sigh. "Where's all that time gone?"

Lewis gently withdraws his hand; you try to hide your disappointment.

"Well, I won't leave you standing in the doorway getting cold. I'll see you tomorrow, (Y/N), alright?" he says, smiling at you in the most effortlessly attractive way, with a knowing look in his eyes that seems to say, I know exactly what you're thinking. 

You pray silently that he doesn't.

You swallow. "Yeah, I'll see you later. Thanks again, for -"

"It's nothing, honestly," Lewis says. "Take care." 

"You too."

He steps backward out of the gate, and your eyes follow him as he makes his way back to his flat.

Once he's around the corner, and you're absolutely sure he's out of earshot, you add, "I love you." 

_________________________________________________________

"Guy trouble, you say?"

"Yeah," you reply gloomily. "Guy trouble."

"What's his name?" (Y/B/F/N) asks you.

You swallow, clutching the phone a little tighter as you picture him. "His name's Lewis," you say. "You probably won't know him -"

"Lewis who?"

"Lewis Brindley."

"What does he look like?"

"What does it matter?"

"What does he look like?" (Y/B/F/N) repeats insistently.

You sigh, hoping it's audible on the other end of the call. "He's pretty handsome. Dark hair, quite pale, eyes like..." You pause. "Cinnamon.  More on the skinny side, but not that skinny. About half a head taller than me."