Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Mikey
Sweet Heroine
YUNGBLUD
Monday morning comes after a night that never really settled. A small fire in the first-floor apartment. Someone forgot about something in their oven. The alarm blared through the building, sending everyone outside into the cold for over an hour while the fire department cleared it.
We stood there in the dark with everyone else. I kept my arms around her to try and keep her warm, but we didn’t speak much. But we were very aware of one another.
By the time we were let back in, we were both cold and tired. We said goodnight, and then walked into separate doors down the same hallway like nothing had almost happened. Except now, everything feels like it did.
I wake up before my alarm, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment from last night on a loop. Her voice low, so take control.
The way she looked at me when I leaned in. And even though I was tired when we finally got back into the apartment, my dick ached for a solid hour after I shut my door, and it still feels like I’m walking around with live wires under my skin.
I can hear small sounds from the kitchen. Cabinet doors closing softly. The low hum of the coffee maker. I pull on jeans and a shirt and step out, padding softly in my bare feet down the hall and into the kitchen.
Quinn stands at the counter, hair twisted up messily, stirring cream into a mug. She glances over her shoulder when she hears me. Her smile hesitates for half a second before settling. “Morning.”
I nod toward the coffee. “Is this my consolation prize?”
Her brows lift. “Consolation for what?”
“For daring me to do bad things last night and not being able to deliver” I smirk, dragging a hand through my hair, not sure what to do with the nervous energy skittering through my veins.
Color rises faintly in her cheeks. She looks down at her mug, hiding a smile. “I definitely do not think the term, saved by the bell, could be applied to us in any way.”
I chuff my agreement and take a few steps, entering the actual kitchen space. I lean against the counter beside her, close enough to feel the warmth coming off her. “There’s always later.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. The air shifts for a second, quiet but charged, but then a shy smile as she nudges the second mug toward me. “Coffee for now?”
“For now.” I take it, fingers brushing hers briefly. I lift the mug to my mouth, pausing halfway, my eyes darting to hers. “You okay going into the office today? After Friday?”
“I’m good.” She sets her cup in the sink, then turns back to me. “Thank you for asking.” She takes a tentative step closer, presses a quick kiss to my cheek, like she’s unsure if she should, and then strides over to grab her bag from the chair, slipping the strap over her shoulder.
“You want me to drop you off?” I turn and set the coffee down. “I’m heading out in just a minute anyway.”
“I really am good.” She smiles. “I’m officially a public transit person now.”
“Oh right, I forget you’re an original city girl.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s three stops.”
“I’m happy to help you avoid the dangers of the L.”
“I think my office is more dangerous than the L.”
“I can come take care of that kid if you want.” It’s a joke, and she knows it.
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll pass.” She laughs, real and easy, and the leftover confusion from last night finally cracks. At the door she pauses, adjusting the strap. “Have a good day at the studio.”
“Thanks.” I pick up the mug and raise it in a cheers motion. “Have a good day.”
She hesitates like she might say something else, then just smiles and heads out. The apartment feels different when she’s gone. Less alive. And I realize I don’t like it.
The studio is louder than usual. Luc’s energy fills the room before I even sit down.
Dean’s arguing with the producer about guitar tone.
Cables snake across the floor. Empty beer bottles and old coffee cups litter every surface.
It’s the normal chaos of the studio, but it’s making my skin bristle today.
I slide behind the kit, rolling my shoulders loose.
The first take starts clean. The rhythm settles fast, muscle memory carrying me through.
Halfway through, something slips. It’s not my timing.
It’s my focus. My mind drifts to Quinn laughing at something Sadie said yesterday, her hand brushing mine without thinking.
I blow out a breath and roll my shoulders as the track ends to get my head in the game.
“Again.” The producer’s voice crackles through the monitors. I nod, tapping a stick against my knee. Second take goes better. By the third time, I’m finally locked in and feel like I got it right.
By lunch everyone’s sprawled across the couches, food containers open, conversation drifting toward the usual. Luc talks wedding logistics. Dean wants to know when he can plan the bachelor party.
I sit back, listening more than talking. Hayden’s across from me, calm as ever, picking at his food with slow precision. Dean points a fry toward him. “You ever gonna bring someone around or what?”
Hayden glances up, expression neutral. “Bring who around?”
“A woman.” Dean laughs. “You’re like a myth. Nobody’s ever seen you with anyone.”
Luc grins. “Seriously. You secretly gay and afraid to tell us? Cause, you know we’re gonna love you no matter who you like to screw.”
Hayden sets his fork down carefully, eyes moving between us. A quiet pause stretches. “Who I may or may not be fucking isn’t any of your business.”
The room stills for a beat. Dean laughs first, shaking his head. “That sounds way more mysterious than it should.”
“Some things aren’t yours to know.” He takes a drink of his water. “And we don’t know everything about each other, no matter what you may think.”
Hayden’s mouth curves slightly, gaze dropping back to his plate.
We all stare at him, all of us silent, until Dean speaks, bringing up the bachelor party again.
And even though the conversation has shifted, Hayden’s comment sticks with me.
He always feels controlled. Like there’s a door closed somewhere no one else can open. One that he has the only key to.
By late afternoon my shoulders burn. It’s a good day, a productive day. We finished another track and it might be the one we release as our first single off the new album, and that feels huge.
Still, the urge to go home hits harder than usual.
I catch myself checking my phone between takes.
No messages. I almost text her anyway. I tell myself to stop obsessing.
What the hell has happened to me? The thought makes me laugh under my breath.
When did going home start feeling like something I look forward to?
The smell hits me the second I open the door. Pizza. It’s warm, comforting, and an unfairly domestic touch I’m not used to walking in to. The TV glows softly in the living room. Quinn sits cross-legged on the couch, laptop open beside her, a pizza box on the coffee table.
She looks up when I walk in. “You’re late.”
I glance at the box. Still closed. Two plates waiting next to the box. “You didn’t eat?”
She shrugs like it’s nothing, closing the laptop halfway. “Figured I’d eat with you.”
My chest tightens before I can stop it. “You waited?”
A small nod. Casual. Like it doesn’t mean anything, but it does and that hits hard. I drop my bag and move toward the couch, shaking my head. “You know you didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” She says it simply, placing a slice on a plate before handing it to me. Our fingers brush, and our eyes dart up, locking together at the contact. “I wanted to.”
“Thanks.” I mean it. More than I realize.
A movie plays quietly in the background; something old, familiar. It’s comfort noise. I sit beside her, knees bumping as I settle into the couch. We eat in easy silence, trading quiet commentary about the movie, stealing slices from the same side of the box without thinking.
It feels normal. Dangerously normal. Halfway through, she wipes sauce from the corner of her mouth with her thumb. My gaze catches on the movement, and I can’t help but think I wish I could have licked that off her lip. She notices, her eyes staying locked on mine. Her lips twitch. “You okay?”
I take another bite instead of answering. She smiles to herself and turns back toward the screen. The quiet stretches again, warm and unforced. When the pizza’s gone, she tucks her legs up, shifting closer without thinking.
I reach automatically for her ankle, drawing her feet into my lap. She lets me. The movie keeps playing.
“How was the studio?”
“Long.”
A knowing smile. The warmth of her body sinks into my side. She smells like shampoo and whatever lotion she always uses. Something clean and floral that makes me want to lean closer. The movie keeps playing. Neither of us really watches. Her hand rests on the cushion between us.
“Oh, how was work today? Any problems today?” I glance sideways at her.
She exhales slowly, eyes on the TV. “Better than Friday.”
My thumb moves absently along her knee. Slow circles. She doesn’t pull away. “I kept thinking about what you said.” Her voice stays quiet. “About not carrying more than I should.”
I shrug slightly. “Still true.”
Silence settles again. Easy. The movie flickers across the room, casting shifting light over her face. She leans her head back against the couch, shoulder brushing mine more fully now. My heartbeat kicks a little harder. No pressure. No expectation. It’s just closeness, like she feels safe.
Her breathing slows. At some point her head tips sideways, resting lightly against my shoulder. I go still. Because this? This feels more serious than any kiss.
A few minutes later her breathing deepens and I know she’s asleep.
I glance down at her. Strands of hair fall across her cheek.
Her mouth relaxed. Completely unaware of how hard my chest tightens seeing her like this.
She trusts me. Careful, I shift slightly, sliding my arm behind her shoulders.
She instinctively curls closer, hand resting against my stomach.
I stare at the screen without really seeing it.
The apartment feels warm. It’s quiet and safe.
Outside, the city hums softly through the windows.
I should move her. Wake her up. Tell her to go to bed.
But, I don’t. I sit there instead, letting the weight of her settle against me.
Minutes stretch. The movie ends. Credits roll.
Still, I don’t move. Because right now, right here, feels like something fragile I don’t want to break.
And for the first time in a long time, I realize I’m not waiting for the next thrill. I’m just content. And the noise I usually crave, I’m not missing it at all.