a/n: Some of you might not reconize me; It's xXSarcasmAndCakeXx, I've changed my penname and avatar :P
A huge thanks to Mad (limegreenrocks) for BETAing this for me!
for KeepDreamingLily's Love Interest Challenge on Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges
Prompts: Pain, Building
something like fate
You're ten. It's your birthday and you specifically asked for a paint set from your mum and dad. It's the one with all the really pretty colors and different sized and shaped paint brushes. It even comes with a canvas.
You are so sure he's bought you it. You've even cleared a spot in your room for it, between your bed and dresser, by the window. You want to paint a city sky line at night one day, with buildings and city lights, and with this set, you could.
Of course he did, you tell yourself when you worry he forgot. You've told him a thousand times, you want that paint set. You cannot be an artist without it. You just can't. He knows that, because you've told him.
The day speeds by. Your younger sister, Lucy, forces some of the cousins and some family friends, Lysander and Lorcan, to help put on a play for you. You eat cake with your cousins, and you all end up in a huge cake fight.
Your dad doesn't yell at you for once, because it's your birthday and you walk around with chocolate cake all over your face, hair, and clothes. For the first time, you don't even care.
You run around and play with your family and friends, instead of reading like you normally would.
Finally, it's time for presents.
You're bouncing on your toes as you examine your gifts, searching for something the size if the paint set you want.
When you see nothing, you assume it's buried by your other gifts. You put on a huge smile and open gift after gift, none of them ever the paint set. Your smile starts to get tighter as you open each present.
That's alright, you tell yourself. He's just hidden it really well underneath there. That's all.
Soon, you've only got two presents left and it's getting hard to fake the smile. Your cheeks hurt and you want to cry.
You aren't an optimist, not like your younger sister, Lucy. No, you're a pessimist. It's not natural for you to try and look on the brightside. But, today, looking on the brightside is all you've got.
You really want that paint set.
In your newly-ten-year-old eyes, it's the key to your future, to your success. That paint set determines your whole life.
You're about to open your last gift now. It's kind of small and square, but it's heavy.
It's not a paint set, you think as you tear the paper open slowly, trying to avoid this. Hoping someone will do something, anything, to keep you from having to open this present.
You open it.
It's a book. A book entitled 'Ten Foolproof Ways to Ensure a Job at the Ministry'.
Without thinking, you chuck the book at your dads head. As he ducks, you yell, "I wanted a paint set, dad! A paint set! Not a book!" somehow, you don't even care that your whole family and all of your friends are watching you, as you throw your tantrum.
Tears stream down your face and your mum and dad are frozen with shock, along with the rest of your family.
You've always been 'good girl Molly'.
This isn't you, and yet, you don't care. Why should you?
So you run out of the room, your long, red hair flying behind you. The next thing you know, you're sitting under the tree in the back yard of the Burrow, where you've always had your birthday parties.
There goes your future, you think bitterly.
You told him. You told him you wanted that paint set. But, like always, he only heard what he wanted to hear. He didn't hear a single word you told him.
And somehow, you aren't shocked. Why should you be? You knew, in the back of your mind, he paid you no attention, the thousands of times you nagged him for the set. He'd always tell you he was busy, to come back later.
Too bad later never came, huh?
And now you're sitting here alone, under the apple tree in the backyard of your grandmum's house, moping over a paint set you didn't get. You're sure you'll be grounded for a long time, and probably get a spanking, when you go back in, but right now, you don't care.
Suddenly, someone drops down beside you.
Your face burns bright red with shame and you sneak a peek to your left, only to find Lorcan Scamander. You don't really know him that well, as you've never had that much in common.
"Here to call me a baby for throwing that tantrum?" you ask, without looking at him.
He doesn't reply. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly, much to your shock.
"I'm sorry," he whispers in your ear. You lay your head on his shoulder and try to keep the tears in your eyes, where they belong. "I'm so sorry. I know you really wanted that paint set, Molly."
You feelsoembarrassed and angry.
Suddenly, it's not even about the stupid paint set. It's about the fact that you told your dad what you wanted for your tenth birthday; thousands of times, you've told him. He knew the last thing you wanted this year was a book about the stupid Ministry.
It was your day, not his. He should have gotten you something you'd like.
Without even realizing it, you're sobbing all over Lorcan's nice white shirt, getting snot and tears everywhere.
He opens his mouth to say something, but Lucy, timid, tiny Lucy comes outside, Lysander following her like a lost puppy. "Mol? Are you alright?" her voice is that of a dreamer, of a young and naive girl.
It breaks your heart that one day, eight year old Lucy might become a cynic like you. But this world is cruel, and it's no place for a dreamer; she'd be chewed up and spit out in a second. But she's still young, she doesn't know. And you don't want to be the one to tell her.
"Yes, Lucy. I'm alright," you say, wiping your face free of tears and standing up. You walk over to her, grab her hand, and pull her away from the Scamander twins and inside, without looking back.
That night, you cry yourself to sleep. Dreams of a paint set you never got haunt you and you get almost no sleep.
It's three years later, and you've given up painting, since the day you turned ten. You can't paint, not without that set. So you don't.
Instead, like every female Weasley cousin before you, you turn thirteen and go through that infamous stage where you decide you're in love with poor, poor Teddy Lupin.
He's one of the more attractive guys you know that's mature and not related to you. Sure, he's at least five or six years older than you, but that's alright. You can live with the age gap.
You tell your best friend, Lorcan, all about your plan. He's the only one who knows of your crush on Teddy, after all.
You don't see the looks of envy on Lorcan's face, as you go on and on about red lippy and pink blush and short jean skirts. Your eyes are glazed over and you're imagining your wedding day. Teddy's the groom and you're the bride.
In your mind, everything is perfect.
You are so confident he'll feel the same about you. You've talked to him everyday since you turned twelve, about anything and everything. You were a child when you first started talking to him. Now, your thirteen; a teenager.
At the family dinner your family has every Friday, at your grandmum Molly's house, you make sure to snatch a seat beside him. You pay no mind to your older cousin, Victoire, who's seated on the other side of him. She giggles every five minutes, it seems like, as you eat dinner, but you don't think anything of it.
You're too busy imagining how you'll get Teddy outside by himself, to tell him how you feel.
You've never been an optimist, sure, but youarea go-getter. When you know what you want, you don't stop until you've got it. In this case, Teddy's the prize you're aiming to win.
Too bad you don't realize, someone else has already won that game.
Dessert comes, and suddenly eighteen-year-old Teddy and sixteen-year-old Victoire stand up together, after sharing a look you're sure you've only noticed.
"Ehem," Teddy clears his throat. His hair turns a deep red, along with his face, like blood, when all of the family turns to look at him. "We've got something we'd like to tell everyone," he says, grabbing Victoire's hand.
Suddenly, you are hyper-sensitive to everything. Your heart pounds in your ears loudly, like a drum, just beating away, without hope of stopping. You can feel the weight of Lorcan's stare on you, but your too busy having your heart broken to really notice.
Your eyes seemingly glare a hole through their conjoined hands as Victoire finishes for Teddy.
Her voice is perfect, like the sound of some kind of heavenly bells, for one second, just a second, for the first time in your life, you are jealous of her. She's got the one thing you don't; Teddy.
"Teddy and I are together," she says, but you all knew that, didn't you?
Suddenly, it's all too much. You stand quickly, with a hurried 'excuse me.' At least, you think you said that. You aren't too sure. All you know is one minute, your staring at Teddy, heartbreak written all over your face, and the next, your outside.
Under that same apple tree. The one you cried under when you turned ten and your father didn't get you that paint set. You got grounded for a month for throwing that fit, but you were thankful.
Lorcan couldn't bring the incident, as you've labeled it, up after a month. He just couldn't.
Now, You drop down on a wet patch of cold grass numbly, bringing your knees up to your chest, you rock yourself, back and forth, as tears pour down your cheeks. It's the first time you've experienced heart break.
You hate it.
(Too bad you don't realize, you put your best friend through it every day.)
Arms wrap around you from behind you and pull you to his chest. You know, without a doubt, it's Lorcan. You don't fight his hug, instead, you lean your head back and cry quietly.
Love really sucks, you decide.
"Molly," Greg MacMillon stutters as he grabs your arm in the middle of the crowed hallway, freezing your movements; you were headed to the library to help your younger sister study.
You're fifteen now, a fifth year.
"Greg," you nod, trying to be polite. All around you, students rush around, heading to class, messing around with friends, some even snog in corners, until Professor Longbottom stops them.
"Molly," he says again.
"Yes?" you ask, arching one bright red eyebrow expectantly. You really need to get to the library. You haven't seen Lucy in a week, and it'll be nice to spend some time with her.
"I needed to talk to you about the patrol schedules," he says, his face flushing a bright red.
"Umm, alright?" you say, but it comes out as a question.
You wonder why he's blushing, as he grabs your arm and pulls you through the crowed corridors and into an empty class room, and shuts the door.
"So, what about the schedules?" you ask, causally leaning on the desk behind you. In the back of your mind, you are freaking out. You were suppose to met Lucy ten minutes ago and you just wish he would get on with it.
When Greg turns around to face you, his face is, if possible, even redder than before. He walks slowly up to you. "Molly," he says, coming to a stop, right in front of you.
You go to move back some, but the desk your leaning on prevents you from moving.
"Greg? You didn't answer my-" you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss. His lips assault yours and you can feel bruises forming. It's your first kiss, but you are pretty sure that's not what a kiss is supposed to be.
"What was that?" you ask. You're sure your face resembles a fish, with your eyes wide and your mouth agape.
"A kiss," he says simply, leaning in again. Just the thought of his slimy lips and smelly breath coming anywhere near your mouth is enough for you to shove at him before he can steal anymore kisses.
Just then, the door opens.
"I'm sor- Molly?" Lorcan asks in shock. You've never been 'that girl'. You know, the one that's notorious for snogging withanyonein an empty classroom; the one you catch mid-shag in a cup board. But, the way Lorcan's looking at you now, you'd think that you were.
He shakes his head at you once, before turning and letting the door fall shut. You call his name, but he's already gone.
Greg shakes his head. "Man, that bloke is pathetic," he says to you, but you are not listening. You run after Lorcan, without a backwards glance at Greg.
"Lorcan!" you call as you run outside. It's snowing, but you pay no mind as you search the grounds, looking for your best friend.
"Lorcan!" you call again, squinting. The snows falling thickly, and you can barely see two feet ahead of you. "Lorcan!" you scream at the top of your lungs. Suddenly, you trip over something and fall face first into the snow.
"Ouch," you mutter as you sit up. When you look to see what you've tripped over, you see Lorcan scowling at the snow.
"Lor?" you ask quietly, touching his arm when he shows no notice that you're there. "Lor?" you ask again.
"Why were you snoggingGreg?"he says Greg's name with such hate; it's not like him. You've never heard him talk about anything or anyone like that, no matter what.
"He kissed me," you say defensively. "I shoved him away, alright."
"No, not alright. You were snogging Greg!" he explodes at you. You've never seen this side of Lorcan before; he seems almost... jealous. But that can't be, you tell yourself. Lorcan is your bestfriendnot your boyfriend.
"I was not, Lorcan. Merlin, why don't you believe me?" you yell back as you stand up, of the cold snow.
He stands up too. "Why should I?" He yells back.
Your faces are only inches apart, but you are too angry to blush and back down.
"Because! I'm your best friend, Lorcan!" you yell. "I'm your best friend," you say again, quieter this time. "And I'd never lie to you."
"That was my first kiss," you admit quietly, looking down at your shoes. "He stole my first kiss from me," you pout, your eyes still trained to the floor. You had all of these fantasies built up in your head about what your first kiss would be like, who it would be with.
Would it be perfect? A total disaster? All you thought you knew was, that it would be with someone special. Not some random guy you didn't even want to kiss.
When you risk a glance up, you swear he's moved even closer than he was before.
"Close your eyes," he whispers, but his voice seems to catch in his throat a little bit.
You raise an eyebrow at him, but you do what he asked you to, anyway.
A split second after your eyes have fluttered close, you feel something feather light on your lips. It takes you another second to realize it is his lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back.
Now, that's what a first kiss is supposed to be like, you think, and suddenly, you've forgotten all about the study session with Lucy, you were supposed to have been at almost an hour ago.
"Head Girl, Head Girl, Head Girl," you repeat with your fingers crossed.
"You're going to jinx that, you know," your fifteen year old sister, Lucy says to you airily. She's always some-what reminded you of your best friend, Lorcan's, mum, Luna.
Of course, Lucy isn't as... out there, as Luna is.
"I am not," you snap, then at the flinch on her face, you regret it. "Oh, I'm sorry, Lucy. I'm just so nervous. I really want Head Girl, you know?" you say, pushing a lock of your over-grown red fringe out of your face.
"It's alright," she says, shrugging as if it didn't even bother her.
"So, do you want to be a Prefect this year, then?" you ask her, but your mind is on Lorcan. You've been friends forever. You two have always been close, but ever since fifth year, when he kissed you, you've wanted to be more.
Of course, right after he kissed you, he told you that it meant nothing and that you two were just really good friends. Not exactly like that, but he might as well have. Because, sensitive or not, he still broke your heart.
Too bad he doesn't even know.
"Look, the owls!" Lucy says suddenly, pointing out the window. You look too, pushing your thoughts of Lorcan to the back of your mind. You spot a dark-colored owl heading towards your house and you're suddenly a bundle of nerves again.
"Mum! Dad! The owls are here!" you call, before focusing your attention on your sister, "what if I don't make Head Girl?" you ask, resisting the urge to bite your nails; a habit you only recently kicked.
"You will, so why does it matter, Molly?" Lucy says, just as the two owls land on the window seal and your parents come into the kitchen.
"Oh, to think, next year, we will only be receiving one letter," your mum says, sniffling slightly. She pulls you and Lucy into a really tight hug. "Oh, my little girls, all grown up."
Lucy pats her head awkwardly, "There, there, Mum," but you are not in the mood to humor your mum. Instead, you pull out of her grip and snatch your letter, ripping it open in record time.
A badge falls to the ground and things are silent as you stare in shock at the badge on the floor. The next thing you know, you are jumping around, your hair flying everywhere, as you squeal. "I got Head Girl! I got Head Girl! Ahh!" you yell, pulling everyone of your family members into a hug.
Later that day, you're laying around at your grandmum Molly's house. Your whole family's there. It's about six o'clock, and you are going to eat dinner soon. You hadn't eaten a thing all day, so you could eat as much of your grandmum's food as you could fit in your stomach.
You smile when you spot Lorcan across the room, with his twin brother, Lysander, and your younger cousin, Lily Luna. You suspect she has a crush on Lysander, which is too bad, considering Lucy has had him wrapped around her little finger since she was five and he was seven.
Lorcan looks over at you, before saying something to the other two and turning, heading towards the back porch. He stops by the back door, and gestures for you to following him, so you do.
"What's up?" you ask as you come to a stop on the porch.
He doesn't say anything right away, instead, he just sits down on the porch swing and rocks it slowly, back and forth, with his feet. His eyes are glazed over slightly, and he's chewing on his bottom lip. You can easily tell he's thinking hard about something.
"Do you ever wonder what's going to happen to us after we graduate this year?" he asks you, as you take a seat beside him, closer than you should.
"Sometimes," you admit. "But I want to be a Healer, and you want to be an Auror, and I believe if we focus on those goals, we'll achieve them," you say, slipping into your bookish persona.
Suddenly, Lorcan's staring at you with those blue-green eyes and you forget how to breathe. Your hearts racing and your breath is shallow, and before you know it, his lips are on yours again.
It's different this time, less shy and awkward than it was back in fifth year. One of his hands tangle up in your hair and the other cups your cheek. Your left arm is wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him closer, even though you're already as close as humanly possible, and your other hand is trailing down is chest, touching the abs you never thought you'd be able to like this.
Even though you and him are snogging in almost every cupboard available, everyday, at Hogwarts, you're still not sure exactly what you two are. Are you boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends with benefits? All you know is that, suddenly, you two aren't talking as much as making out.
You hate that. Sure, it's fun to snog him every once in a while, but you still want to talk to him, a feat that has seemed impossible your first few weeks at Hogwarts as a Seventh Year and Head Girl.
You're laying on a couch in your common room studying one afternoon for a pop quiz Professor Longbottom hinted about during class today, when he comes in. He's Head Boy, and you share your own common room, apart from the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.
"What are we?" you ask, shoving your books aside and sitting up. He stops and just stares at you.
"What do you mean, what are we?" he asks, moving to sit beside you. "You're my girlfriend."
"Oh," you say, blushing. You feel like an idiot for even asking. You should've just kept your mouth shut.
He kisses your cheek, which turns into a snog session.
You push him away.
"Lorcan, we always snog. Why can't we just talk?" you ask frowning.
"Alright," he says as he moves away from you. "What do you want to talk about?" he asks.
You open your mouth, and that's when you realize, you really don't know what to say to him. What can you say? You've said it all.
"I-I don't know."
Instead of things getting better, they only get worse, and suddenly, instead of sitting quietly beside each other, you're fighting constantly about anything and everything; the patrol schedules', where you want to go for dinner, even how he's wearing his tie.
You can't take it anymore.
So you decide to break up with him.
You spend the whole night crying, the day before you plan on telling him it's over. You don't want to end it, it's been almost a year since you've gotten together, and you guys are going to graduate, next month and leave Hogwarts, but you feel like you've got no choice anymore.
You've got to do this.
So at breakfast the next day, you march up to the Hufflepuff table confidently, where he's seated with his twin and your sister, both of whom are also Hufflepuffs, and tap him on the shoulder.
"Hey, Mol," he says cheerfully, the fight you guys had the night before seemingly forgotten. You take one look at his bright face and almost completely melt. But somehow, you manage to keep yourself together and mumble, "come with me," before you turn and leave the Great Hall.
He follows you, and when you guys get outside the Great Hall, you turn around to face him.
"Lorcan," you start. All you want to do is crawl into bed and cry your eyes out. You don't want to end things with him. It's can't be over, you tell yourself. But, you know it is.
You've lost your spark and it's not the same as it was in the beginning, so you take a deep breath and say," Lorcan, we need to break up."
"I knew this was coming," he says quietly. "I guess things just aren't the same as they were before, are they?" he says, adding in a bitter laugh at the end of his sentence.
You shake your head, smiling through the tears that have fallen from your eyes. "No, they haven't, have they?" you say, pulling him in for a long hug.
You pull back and turn to walk away.
You don't look back.
"I can't believe it! My baby sister! All grown up and getting married!" you say, four years later. You're twenty-one now, and at Lucy's wedding. It's no shock who the groom is, Lysander Scamander.
"I know!" she squeals. You haven't seen her smiling this wide since she and Lysander announced their engagement eight months ago. "I can't believe it!"
"Oh, Lucy! Your last name isn't even going to be Weasley anymore!" you say, shaking your head at your nineteen year old sister. You pull her into a long hug.
"Molly," she says, pulling away from the hug. "I'm nervous. What if I trip and fall as I'm walking down the aisle?"
She has always been notoriously clumsy, you think. "That's what dad's there for," you lie. "He walks down the aisle with you to hold you up right, in case you trip and fall," you say.
Lucy isn't exactly stupid, but she is quite gullible and naive. If she trusts you, she'll believe anything you say.
"Oh," she says to you, sighing in relief. "You look gorgeous, by the way," she says, gesturing to the mid-thigh length black dress she made all the Brides Maids and you, her Maid of Honor, wear.
"Thank you, Luce. And you also look amazing," you say, feeling tears prickle at your eyes. Your baby sister isn't a baby anymore.
There's a knock at the door. "It's time," your dad says solemnly, popping his head in the room. He's wearing all black and you can tell he's morning 'the loss' of his youngest daughter. Only he would be so over-dramatic as to wear all black to his daughter's wedding.
"How do I look, Daddy?" Lucy asks, smiling at your dad.
"Beautiful," he says, shaking his head at her.
You leave the room quietly, giving them a moment.
"Here's your flowers," your cousin Lily Luna, one of the brides maids' says, giving you your bouquet of yellow roses, Lucy's favorite flowers, as you exit the room.
"Thanks," you say, taking the flowers from her as you two head towards the back yard of the burrow, where the wedding is taking place.
The music starts playing, and you go down the aisle first, followed by Rose and Scorpius, one the Groom's men.
Your breath catches when you catch sight of Lysander's Best Man and twin, and your ex boyfriend, Lorcan, who you hadn't talked to since after you graduated from Hogwarts. He's still looks as amazing as he always did, if not more so.
He's a little taller and more muscular, and he's let his blonde hair grow out some.
Before you know it, all those feelings you thought had left you in Seventh Year are back and stronger than ever.
You feel like a teenager again, because all you want to do is jump on him and snog him senseless, like you used to.
You miss him, so much.
The wedding flies by quickly and soon enough Lucy Weasley and Lysander Scamander are Mr. and Mrs. Scamander.
"Ladies, get over here!" Lucy calls, standing up in a picnic table with Lysander's help.
You want to roll your eyes at this ridiculous tradition, but you walk over with Lily and Emily Longbottom anyway. All of the girls there are standing together behind the picnic table. Even Rose and Scorpius' two year old daughter is there, with them.
Lucy turns around to face the other side and throws the bouquet in the air.
Without even trying, you catch the stupid thing. Your face turns red as the guys cheer and wolf-whistle, and a lot of the single girls glare at you in jealousy.
"I need a drink," you mutter, shoving the flowers at Rose.
Four hours later, you're wasted and dancing clumsily with your cousins, Lily Luna, Victoire, and Rose, who are all as drunk as you are.
"Molly? I was hoping to talk to you," Lorcan says from behind you, tapping your shoulder. When you turn around, almost falling on your bum as you do, he sighs. "And you're drunk. Great," he sighs, turning to walk away. "I'll talk to you later then, I guess."
"Wait!" you call, your words slurring. "I need to say something to you, mister," you walk clumsily up to him and poke him on his chest.
"And that is?" he asks, raising his eyebrows in amusement.
You open your mouth to speak, but instead of words coming out, you throw up all over his shoes.
"I am so sorr-" you start, but another wave of nausea hits you. You manage to turn your head this time, though. "I don't feel so good, Lor," you mutter, leaning against him to keep from falling over.
You wake up in an unfamiliar bed, without a memory of last night. Your head is pounding and all you want to do is go back to sleep. You panic and check under the covers, sighing in relief when you find your clothes still on your body.
"You drunk a lot last night," Lorcan says from somewhere above you. "You even threw up on my shoes," he says, handing you a hang-over potion, which you take gratefully, wincing at its horrible taste as you swallow its contents.
"Yuck," you say, trying to keep yourself from spitting its contents out. "Sorry about your shoes," you add as an after thought.
"I'm not worried about my shoes," he says, sitting down gently beside you on his bed. There's an awkward silence, before he speaks up again. "You said you needed to say something to me last night," he smirks at you.
You feel your face heat up, and what with the feelings that came rushing back last night, you're pretty sure you know what that something is.
"Oh?" you say, pretending as if you have no idea what he's talking about.
"Yeah," he says, his voice a whisper. "You did. Any idea what?" he'ssoclose.
Suddenly, your mind flashes back to when you guys first became close. It was all over some stupid paint set you wanted that your dad didn't get you.
The thought flashes through your mind quickly, before it's gone, but you're still shaken up by it.
You've never believed in fate. It always seemed so impossible. But now, you're not so sure.
All you know is his face is right there and you just want to kiss him. So you do.
And he kisses you back.
And suddenly, you decide you have to believe in fate. After all, it's fate that keeps bringing you two together.
Two hours later, you two are laying together in his bed. His shirt was thrown across the room somewhere during your little snog session, and now you two are just laying there. He's playing with a strand of your hair and your thumb is running across the back of his hand repeatedly.
You feel like a shy and timid teenager again, as you glance up at him through your eyelashes. "So... what does this make us?"
His hand laces through yours. "Well, I'm willing to try us again, if you are."
"I am," you say.
You realize, all you needed was time, before. Lorcan is the only guy you could ever see yourself with, and without him, you're just a shell of yourself.
Sure you guys fight sometimes, and sure the last time you dated, you ran out of things to talk about, but you know things are different now. You're older, more mature. And you need Lorcan, like a fish needs water.
"Great," he smiles, before suddenly jumping up. "Oh! I saw something at this Muggle shop the other day! I thought of you and thought maybe you'd like it." he said, heading towards his closet.
"You bought me something?" you ask, dumbstruck.
"I was going to give it to you at the wedding, but you got so drunk, I figured I should wait," he says, rummaging around in his crowded closet, before pulling out a rather large square, wrapped in red shiny wrapping paper. "Open it," he says, shoving it at you.
"Okay?" you say, but it comes out as a question. You unwrap it slowly, partly just to mess with Lorcan, who's practically bouncing with excitement, even though it's your gift.
When you get it completely unwrapped, you can't believe your eyes.
It's the paint set you wanted, eleven years ago.
"Lorcan." you breathe, your eyes trained on the set. "I-I don't even know what to say."
"How about a thank you?" he asks jokingly, smirking.
You carefully place it beside you on his bed, before jumping up and kissing him passionately. "I love you," you gasp out when you pull away.
"And I love you," he whispered, dragging his thumb across your cheek in a way that drives you wild.
You fall back onto the bed, with him on top of you, the paint set you once wanted forgotten in a hazy of kisses and touches and clothes-shedding.
Maybe I will be the next one to get married, you think vaguely. After all, you are Lorcan and Molly and you're meant to be.
It's something like fate.