i am unhinged.

for jess.

Life is just a massive collection of moments. But there are certain moments in life, special, magical moments, that you know mean a little more than the others. They're like a time traveler's fork in the road, where the current timeline ends and what you do in that moment will hurtle you into a new timeline, deciding your future before you even get the chance to second-guess your decision.

He's not so fond of forks in the road, especially not when they have so much power over his future, but he finds himself running into them a lot. And, if he's being honest, he runs into most of them with her.

Or, if he's really thinking about it, he just continually runs into the same fork in the road, over and over and over again, each time with slightly different circumstances but still with the same person and essentially faced with the same decision. He's not sure what the cosmic rules are for these life-changing moments, but he's fairly certain that the Universe isn't supposed to keep Groundhog Day-ing you with the same moment until you make the decision it wants you to.

Still, he can think of worse moments to be stuck reliving in a time loop. And, to be perfectly honest, these are the only moments where he isn't entirely sure he's made the right choice. Although it doesn't help much to know that apparently the Universe isn't sure he's made the right choice either—so unsure that it keeps giving him more chances to get it right. Logically, he knows that in its simplest form, the choice really isn't that complicated—to try, or not to try—and since he ends up making the same choice every single time, the opposite of that must be the right choice. But the Universe has no idea what it's doing, because his decisions are about as simple as quantum physics when he's actually in the moment.

Because it's not just about trying. Maybe it was in the beginning, when they were fifteen and no one cared one way or the other except them, but every time this moment comes around again it just gets more and more complicated—which, if you ask him, is a pretty stupid way for the Universe to try to get him to make the right decision.

But fuck the Universe, because the Universe has never had a best friend, much less fallen in love with her before it really even understood what love was, so it has no right doing this to him with the expectation that he'll do what it wants. In those moments, he isn't even really sure what he wants (well, okay, that's not entirely true, because he knows exactly what—or who—he wants, but he never knows how to go about it), and it's not like the Universe has given him any instructions. Not to mention that a small, spiteful, self-destructive part of him always feels like he has to push every boundary, see just how many chances he'll get before the Universe, or she, herself, gives up on him.

Their first moment was at the wrap party for season one. There was a photo booth there, and they had gone in to take pictures just the two of them. It was a small, cramped space, and her in that dress with the feeling of her shoulder pressed to his and the sound of her laugh at something dumb he said had his fifteen-year-old brain turning to mush.

They had another moment while they were shooting season two. He misread a situation and tried to kiss her, and she had blushed and leaned away from him and he thought he was going to die. But she just laughed it off and pretended it didn't happen, so he did the same.

Then they went to Australia, and he truly started to understand how in over his head he really was. They shared his earbuds on the plane and showed each other new music, and she fell asleep on his shoulder and it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And then in Australia, they got to go sightseeing together and experience so much for the first time together.

On the second-to-last night of the trip, the two of them went out to eat and then ended up hanging out in her hotel room while their parents were out for a nice dinner. All week, she had been a little closer to him than usual, a little flirtier and touchier, and now as they sat in her bed watching a movie she was snuggled into his side with his arm around her and her head on his chest. He had tried his best to keep his heartbeat from betraying him, but he was sure she could feel it going out of control.

Almost like she was reading his mind, she shifted a little and looked up at him, her deep, big brown eyes sparkling and her lips curved in a small smile. He felt like he should say something, but he was a little speechless and afraid to ruin the moment. Before he could ruin said moment, she sat up, and he immediately missed her warmth. But then she scooted closer, her eyes never leaving his, and leaned in until her breath just barely ghosted his lips. He inhaled sharply, and his heart was threatening to pound out of his chest as he stayed frozen, too terrified to move.

He heard her swallow, and her nose bumped against his with the movement. Her face was so close to his that her eyes were blurry as he looked down at her, the arm he still had around her practically twitching with the urge to pull her into him and close the tiny gap between them.

And just as he was almost positive his heart was either going to break his breastbone or give out entirely, she had kissed him. It was short and soft and sweet, and even though his brain short-circuited he still remembered to kiss her back.

She pulled away and looked at him, and he could've said it all then—this was his moment to lay it all on the table and try, the biggest life-changing decision moment of his life to date where it was all up to him.

But he didn't say anything.

Instead, he searched her dark eyes and then tightened his arm around her to reconnect their lips, bringing his other hand into her hair, and she wrapped her arms around his neck like she never planned on letting go. This kiss was harder and more intense, because he wasn't sure if he would ever get this chance again. But she didn't seem to mind, only pulling away to laugh a little when she pulled on him too hard in an attempt to get closer and he ended up falling forward, managing to catch himself on his elbows while she fell to her back on the mattress. Then she plunged her fingers into his hair and leaned up to kiss him again.

They almost got caught making out in that hotel room, too, but luckily she heard the lock click a while later and pushed him off just before their moms walked into the room. He would never tell her this, but he was pretty sure they could tell from their flushed faces and wild hair alone that something had gone on.

Either way, that moment passed and he had made his decision yet again. It turned out a little better than the last few times, but he still didn't tell her he actually wanted to be with her and she didn't volunteer any feelings either. So instead of deciding his future in the way he knew he wanted, he ended up in a twisted timeline where they spent every second they could get alone together making out and never once talked about their feelings.

Those six weeks they spent sneaking around were about a million of those important moments, where he could've and probably should've told her how he felt, but he didn't. Maybe he was afraid she would reject him and end whatever friends-with-benefits thing they did have, or maybe he was just terrified of saying it out loud for the first time and making it real.

Either way, when she told him they needed to stop, he still hadn't told her. And that was another moment that could've changed everything if he had just said something, and another moment he made the wrong choice, decided not to try, and let her go. He didn't even try to fight to keep going the way they were, and he thought he saw a flash of hurt in her eyes when he just nodded in acceptance.

Things have been weird between them since then. Now that they no longer have an outlet for all their tension, it's just been building and building for the past six months so that now they're practically a ticking timebomb. And then.

And then.

He goes backstage after a show with the band, buzzing with adrenaline and high on the cheers of the still-screaming crowd, and she's there. In a tight, strapless red dress, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders, grinning and out of breath like she's been cheering for him too.

He hands his guitar off to someone, his eyes trained on her, and he approaches her slowly, in a daze.

"Ross!" she squeals, throwing her arms around his neck. "You were amazing!"

He hugs her back on instinct. "I didn't know you were coming," he says. And then he clears his throat, pulling away to look at her, his cheeks heating. "I mean, thank you. I'm glad you came. You look…good."

She smiles, her cheeks tinting pink. "I felt like dressing up."

He clears his throat again and meets her eyes, and he can hardly breathe under all the subtext he's trying to decipher. But she's looking up at him through her lashes and she's wearing that dress and it's too much for him. He grabs her wrist and drags her behind a big pile of equipment, into a dark corner where they can't be seen, and pins her to the wall, his fingertips digging into her hips.

"You felt like dressing up?" he asks her, hearing his own voice come out rougher than usual as he stares down at her flushed face.

She bites her lip and he thinks he might die. "People dress up for concerts all the time." But she hooks her fingers through the belt loops of his ripped jeans and pulls him closer, until his body is pressing hers into the wall.

"Not like this."

She searches his face and gives him a conspiratorial smile. "Okay, so maybe I knew exactly what I was doing," she says quietly.

He swallows. "Why?"

She snakes her arms around his neck, playing with his hair in that way she knows makes him essentially braindead. "I know how you get after shows. And I figured, it's been a while, and we didn't really know the last time was the last time, so we kinda deserve an actual last time where we can really live in the moment, you know?"

He should tell her now, say that he doesn't want them to ever have a last time and that he wants them to be more than this. But he doesn't. Instead, he kisses her, and it's like the entire world around them lets out a breath it's been holding for the past six months.

But then he has to pull away, because he hears his mom calling for them, and Laura looks as disappointed as he feels. But they go and talk to his mom and take a couple pictures, and then his entire family decides to go out for the night and keep the party going.

Which gives him the house to himself.

He looks at Laura, who looks at him, and the look in her eyes turns his insides into fire. So they walk to his car, and now they have time to anticipate what's coming and he really should tell her.

She mutters some variation of "This is a bad idea" or "We shouldn't be doing this" or "What the hell are we doing?" about twelve times in between when they get in his car and when they're standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Every time, he says they don't have to or asks if she's sure she wants to do this or reiterates that there's absolutely no pressure and he doesn't want to do anything if she's not sure about it. And every time, she looks at him and tells him she didn't wear this uncomfortable dress with the intention of keeping it on.

When they get to his room, he asks her one more time if she's sure about this, and she responds by kissing him. So the dress comes off, along with the rest of their clothes, and by the time they're finished with each other, panting and sweaty and speechless in his bed, he can't even remember his own name, much less whatever it was he was supposed to tell her.

Almost as if the Universe wants to punish him for wasting all the chances he's gotten to be with Laura, things get worse. Because—here's a shocker—sleeping with your best friend can make things a little…complicated. And as he realizes that if she returned his feelings or had any intention of being with him she would've told him that night, he decides it's probably time to move on.

The funny thing about moving on is that it's a little difficult when you still see the person you're in love with every single day—and worse when you have to act in love with her for most of that time. But he does try, joining dating apps and everything.

Each time he goes out with a girl, though, she asks him what his deal is with Laura. And each time, he lies through his teeth and says that there never was and never will be a deal with her. But if he gets to around the third or fourth date, every girl stops believing him, something about it being obvious his mind is on someone else—on her.

So, unable to be with Laura but unable to move on from her, he starts to resent her. And that resentment turns into a twisted sort of hatred, where every time he sees her on set he gets angry and he can't even talk to her in between scenes. Or at all. Because every time he sees her or hears her voice he gets the traitorous flutter in his heart and butterflies in his stomach that have trapped him in his own mind. He turns the flutter into a painful pounding and the butterflies into boulders, twisting the warm blaze she sets in him into an angry, destructive wildfire.

She only adds fuel to the fire by seeming to accept the growing distance between them, and he pretends not to notice the sad glances she casts him every once in a while when she thinks he isn't looking. It's easier this way, he tells himself, and he was probably going to lose her anyway no matter what he did, so he's just getting ahead of it while he can.

But then they wrap season three and, with no renewal, it's looking like this will be the end of the show. He buries the sadness deep inside and tries to convince himself that he's glad it's over, because now he never has to see her again. He just has to get through the wrap party, have some fun with Raini and Calum and the crew, and then he can push her out of his life forever.

But she corners him in his dressing room as soon as he breaks off from the party to be alone for a minute. She barges in without knocking and slams the door shut, and he knows that this is not a conversation he's about to enjoy. He glares at her from his seat on the couch, and she glares right back, crossing her arms in that stupid purple dress.

"I've been trying to talk to you all night," she says. "You've been avoiding me."

"Maybe you should take the hint," he says, standing up.

"What is going on with you, Ross? You haven't really talked to me in over a month! What did I do?"

He clenches his jaw and looks away from her, not saying anything.

"Are you mad at me or something?" she acts. "One second, we're best friends, and then the next you can't even look at me!"

He can practically feel her sad, doe eyes piercing a hole through his soul. "You're ruining my life," he tells her through gritted teeth.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He glares at her. "It means, any time I date a girl, she breaks it off because of you."

"What the fuck? That's not my fault! I'm not doing anything! I've never even met any of these girls!"

"That doesn't really matter," he says. "Even when I try to keep you out of my life, you still somehow find a way to ruin it, and I'm fucking sick of it, Laura."

"How are they dumping you because of me?!"

He looks away again. "It doesn't matter. They are."

"Well, that's not something you have any right being mad at me for."

"You don't get to fucking tell me how to feel."

"You don't get to hate me for something I didn't do!" she exclaims, poking his chest.

"You're the one who ruined things!" he shouts at her. "You're the one who wanted to fuck for the hell of it—"

"You did too!"

"You were the one who wore that fucking dress and practically begged me to fuck you—"

"Oh, do not start—"

"And then you were the one who said we had to pretend it never happened, and what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?!"

"Not shut me out of your life!"

He glares at her, breathing heavily, and notices two glistening streaks on her cheeks as she glares back at him with her stupid, big brown eyes.

"You don't get to just decide that you hate me without even fucking talking to me about what's wrong!" she yells, fists clenching at her sides. "I could've told those girls there was nothing going on between us, and we could've talked all this shit out without you ditching me!" More tears spill from her eyes. "You left me! I hate you!" She steps closer and pounds her fists against his chest. "Why did you fucking leave me?!"

Despite how much he's been trying to hate her, he knows he never really did, and his heart breaks. She keeps punching his chest until he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, and she breaks down crying in his arms.

"Why did you leave me?" she asks again through her tears, her voice muffled by his shirt but still shattered. He's not entirely sure she's really looking for an answer, so he tightens his arms around her and buries his face in her neck.

"It was easier," he finally tells her, his own voice thick and betraying him with cracks.

She pulls away a little and looks at him, wiping her face with the back of her hand and smearing her makeup in the process. "Easier than what? And you better have a fucking good answer."

He swallows. "I don't."

She clenches her jaw and shoves him away from her. "Then fuck you, Ross." She turns to leave, but he grabs her wrist with a sudden sense of urgency.

Somehow, he knows that this moment, more than all the others, will take him on a permanent path to his future. He won't get any more chances after this, and his heart pounds with the finality of this moment.

"Please," he whispers. She gives him a withering look and yanks her hand away, turning to leave again.

"I love you!" he blurts, his heart taking control before his brain can make another wrong choice. But now that the words are sitting between them, he feels like he can't breathe.

She hesitates, turns back around. Blinks a few times and searches his eyes, her lip quivering, as if she's not sure whether she believes him or this is just another thing to hate him for. "Are you lying?"

He hates himself for doing anything to make her think he would lie to her, especially about this. He swallows and shakes his head.

"How long?" she whispers.

He chuckles without much humor, his heart pounding painfully. "How long have I been in love with you?" He runs a hand through his hair, looking away from her and trying to think. "God, Laura, I don't know." He meets her eyes again. "I think I've loved you for as long as I've known you."

She swallows, her eyes wide, but she doesn't look skeptical anymore. "What about the other girls who you said have been breaking it off because of me?"

"I've been trying to move on. But…apparently it's pretty easy to tell that when I was with them, I was thinking about someone else."

Laura chews on her lower lip, her eyes far away as she gets lost in thought. He waits, his hands shaking at his sides.

"You pushed me out of your life and made me think you hated me because it was easier than being my best friend and loving me?"

He hesitates. "I was more pissed at myself for not being able to move on, and I kinda took it out on you to see if maybe I could convince myself I didn't feel that way about you anymore."

"That's…"

"A super shitty thing to do? I know. Worst best friend ever."

"Idiotic. I was gonna say idiotic."

He swallows. "Okay. That, too. I'm really sorry, Laura."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" she asks.

"I didn't want you to reject me. Or to ruin our friendship."

"So you ruined our friendship anyway."

"I'm not a smart man."

She frowns up at him. "You didn't even give me the option. You rejected yourself and then blamed me for it."

"I'd do anything to fix this," he says. "I'm so sorry. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do."

She searches his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You can start fixing it by giving me the option."

He blinks. "What?"

"Ask me the question and give me the option to reject you or not."

He swallows, knitting his eyebrows together. "Laura, will you be my girlfriend…?" he asks, hesitant and uncertain.

But she takes his hands, a small smile on her face. "Yes, as long as you never try to pull any shit like this again. I love you too, you idiot."

He blinks a few times, trying to process her words. "You…what?"

"If you had given me the fucking option, I would've told you that you were a dumbass for being so scared and thinking I wouldn't feel the same way, and that there is no one on earth I'd rather be with."

He smiles a little. "Really?"

"Yes, you dork," she says, letting go of one of his hands to whack his arm. "But you had to go and self-sabotage, and now we're starting our relationship in a fucking fight."

His smile fades. "We're still in a fight?"

"I'm still pretty fucking pissed at you."

"I said I was really sorry, right?" She nods, and he sighs. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

She pulls on his hands so his arms wrap around her waist and rests her hands on his shoulders. "I have to fix my makeup and look a little less like I've been crying for twenty minutes, but if, after that, you actually have fun with me at this party—I'm talking dancing, photo booth, and public humiliation via announcing to the whole party that you're hopelessly in love with me Austin Moon-style—I will consider forgiving you."

He grins. She may still be mad at him, but they'll be okay. "I'll see what I can do." He tightens his arms around her. "And you still look beautiful. Even with raccoon eyes."

She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling too, and for the first time ever he doesn't try to hide his adoration when he looks at her. She kisses him, moving one hand to rest on his chest over his pounding heart and the other getting tangled in his hair. It's slow and full of hope and promises of the future.

"I love you," he whispers against her lips.

"I love you, too."

He could swear he hears the Universe sigh with relief.

happy april fools day i wrote this as a bit of an inside joke and also nostalgia and also just to see if i could still write them. please don't come for my neck i support and respect and love their current relationships and once again this is a nostalgic inside joke inspired by ye raura fics of olde

it was v weird writing a shitty raura fic w all the trashy clichés in 2021 but to be honest i had a lot of fun doing it. not saying i'll ever do it again but it was a fun lil trip down memory lane and also me and jess are unstable.

anyway one more time please don't attack me thanks for reading and if you leave a review tell me your favorite old trashy raura fic! (mine is probably "burning flames or paradise" by rj bc i'm a toxic ass bitch who's a slut for hate-fucking)