𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀 , 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐲

◈ forty-three ◈

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Forty-three

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BIG THANK YOU TO icryoverfictionalmen FOR EDITING THIS CHAPTER WOOO GO ANA SLAY

"What's up with you?" I asked, falling onto the cushion next to Ranboo on Ollie's couch, squinting suspiciously at him.

"What?" he glanced towards me, being pulled out of a weird lull of silence.

"You're sulking."

"I am not sulking," He denied, "Just thinking."

"You're thinking rather sulkily." I scoffed, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?" I didn't want to force an answer but I would if my concern raised.

"No—well—there's nothing wrong." Ranboo stuttered over his words, trying to find the right way to say what he felt, "I just—dunno."

"Dunno what?" I pushed, knowing he needed to say something.

He sighed deeply, not in any sort of frustration, but more in a sense of resignation, "I like Vee." Ranboo admitted, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater, "A lot."

"What a shocker," I droned, a smile tugging at my lips, "Why don't you tell her?"

He paused, a worried lip between teeth as he thought of an answer, "I don't want to...complicate things."

"Well it's not like you're going to scare her off," I shrugged, "If all else fails, she'll just fall in love with Ollie."

Ranboo stared at me for an unamused moment before moving on quickly, "I've never liked someone as much as I like her."

"Really?" My jaw dropped, sarcasm in my tone as I gasped, "more than me?"

"I liked you in the 5th grade just because I could," He scoffed, rolling his eyes before continuing, "I just didn't know—it was possible to feel this much for one person."

"Feel—how?" I ask, knowing the answer due to brain patterns and other sh*t I've already learned, but I wanted to hear his words, his thoughts and expression, because I knew how much he cared for Vee, I knew how much they cared for each other.

"If no one's perfect, then Vee's the closest someone can possibly get to that." Ranboo stated, leaning his head back against the cushion to stare at Ollie's living room ceiling, "But perfectionism isn't really what matters, it's more or so gratitude for one another and how it's shown."

I nodded, thinking of a certain someone and a certain kiss that I refuse to acknowledge, "Are you in love with her?"

"I don't want to make the commitment of saying it out loud," He mused, voice low even with no one else in the room, "Because I don't want to give love the credit of what I feel, because maybe it's more than that."

"What's greater than love?"

He took a long moment to answer, but I didn't fully realize because I was thinking intensely of my own question, "No idea—I'll have to get back to you on that."

"Alright," I smiled, letting him lean against my shoulder, "please do."

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