pairing.. dealer!chris x innocent!reader
warnings: angst, weed, emotions, hurt
i exhaled slowly, the smoke leaving my lungs in a thin stream before dissolving into the dark. the weed rested between my fingers, ember glowing faintly, steady like a heartbeat. my head leaned against chris’s shoulder as we sat in the grass, legs stretched out, bodies close enough that i could feel the warmth of him even through layers of clothes.
not empty quiet—the kind that presses in on you, but soft. the kind that lets your thoughts breathe.
after these weeks, i needed this.
my body felt tired in a different way than it used to. not from staying up late or running away from responsibility, but from effort. from studying until my eyes burned, from rewriting notes until my wrist ached, from choosing to stay in instead of going out.
i didn’t know what flipped inside me. i didn’t know when i stopped wanting to be careless.
maybe it was graduation looming closer every day, the word future starting to feel heavier in my chest. maybe it was the way i didn’t want to wake up one day and feel like i had wasted something important. or maybe it was just me, finally deciding i wanted more.
i thought chris would be mad.
i thought he’d tease me, tell me i was changing, tell me i was acting like everyone else. maybe even pull away. that’s what he always did when things got too real.
he didn’t push. didn’t complain when i said i couldn’t stay out late. didn’t roll his eyes when i chose textbooks over parties. instead, he did this—took me out on nights like this, quiet nights, where the world felt far away and manageable.
it helped. it really did.
the weed burned down between my fingers, and i passed it to him without looking. his arm tightened around my shoulders as he took it, lips brushing my hair by accident. or maybe not by accident at all.
minutes passed like that.
then he broke the silence.
“you know…” he started, voice low, casual, like he wasn’t testing the water. “there’s a big beach party on saturday.”
i did know. everyone did. it had been all over socials for days. bonfires, loud music, people coming in from nearby towns. the kind of party that didn’t end until the sun came up and left you feeling hollow the next day.
“we should go,” he added. i sighed quietly, already shaking my head. “i can’t.” he glanced down at me. “why not?” “i have to study,” i said seriously. no joking. no apology.
he clicked his tongue softly. “come on. take it as a reward.” i leaned my head back against him, staring up at the sky. “chris.” he smirked, like he knew exactly how to wear me down. “you’ve been good. too good.”
i closed my eyes for a moment. maybe i did deserve something. maybe one night wouldn’t ruin everything, right?
“when?” i asked finally. his smile was instant. “pick you up at seven. saturday.” i nodded. “fine.”
saturday came faster than i expected.
i stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection like i was looking at someone else. the dress hugged me in a way i wasn’t used to anymore—long, dark red, soft fabric catching the light when i moved. my curls were perfectly done, falling over my shoulders, framing my face.
i didn’t look like someone who stayed in on weekends. i looked like someone who belonged at a party. that thought made my stomach twist.
headlights flashed outside, and the low rumble of an engine reached me through the open window. i grabbed my bag and stepped outside, the night air cool against my bare arms.
chris leaned against his car, one foot crossed over the other, weed in hand like always. the streetlight cast shadows across his face, sharp and familiar.
he looked up when he saw me. “wow,” he breathed out.
i smiled, small and nervous. “yeah?” he straightened immediately, eyes dragging over me slowly, openly. “yeah.”
the drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. the road stretched out ahead of us, streetlights passing rhythmically, music playing low in the background. his hand rested on the steering wheel, relaxed.
when we reached the beach, the sound hit us first. music blasting. laughter. people shouting over each other. the sand was alive with movement.
we took off our shoes near the edge, and without thinking, his hand found mine. he gave it a small squeeze, grounding, familiar. my chest tightened at the simple intimacy of it.
we walked together, weaving through people, bodies brushing past us. the air smelled like salt, smoke, alcohol.
when we finally reached the shoreline, away from the crowd, i laughed softly.
“i thought you wanted to party.” he shrugged. “we have time.”
i looked at him, then back at the ocean. waves rolled in steadily, reflecting the moonlight. something about it felt too calm compared to what was coming.
“so…” i started quietly. “how is it gonna be?” he frowned slightly. “gonna be what?”
i hesitated. “like… you’ll visit me? or we’ll—” he stopped walking. “visit you where?” he asked.
“college,” i said. “obviously.” i laughed
he stared at me for a second like i’d spoken a different language. “why would i visit?” he said slowly like he didn’t understand. “we’ll text sometimes.”
my stomach dropped. “what?” my voice came out smaller than i meant it to.
he shrugged. “y/n, you know i don’t do these dating things.”something snapped inside me. “but you had no problem doing that with ava, right?” i shot back.
his jaw tightened. “don’t bring that up.” “why?” i demanded. “because it proves my point?”
he ran a hand through his hair, already annoyed. “because it was never that deep. you knew what this was.”
he scoffed. “we’re casual. we’ve always been casual. i don’t do futures, i don’t do plans, i don’t do promises. i thought that was clear.”
“it was,” i said, swallowing hard. “i just didn’t think it meant you didn’t care at all.”
his jaw tightened. “don’t twist this.” he said clearly annoyed. “i’m not,” i said. “i just thought… maybe i mattered to you more than a good time.”
he sighed, frustrated. “i care about you. just not in the way you’re asking for.”
“then why does it feel like you only want me when it’s convenient?” i asked quietly. “when it fits into your life and nothing else.”
“because that’s how this works,” he said. “that’s how it’s always worked.”
his hand reached for mine again. “baby, come on—”
“don’t,” i said immediately, pulling away. “don’t call me like that.”
he froze. “what’s your problem right now?”
my chest burned. “my problem is that i let myself believe this was more. that you were more.”
he shook his head. “that’s on you.”
the words hurt more than i expected.
“maybe,” i said softly. “but i don’t want to keep pretending i’m okay with being optional.” he stared at me, eyes sharp. “so what, you’re done now?” i laughed bitterly. “i don’t know. i just know i can’t stand here listening to you explain why i don’t fit into your future.”
silence stretched between us, thick with everything unsaid.
“i never promised you one,” he said finally. i nodded, blinking back tears. “yeah. i know.”
i turned before he could say anything else, walking back toward the glow of the party. the music grew louder with every step, bass thudding against my chest, drowning out the sound of my thoughts.
people laughed. danced. lived like nothing had just cracked open inside me. i disappeared into the crowd, letting the noise swallow me whole.
because standing still with him hurt more than losing myself for a moment.
- chris being dickhead again 🙉
