Booster prompt for inuran

I tried channeling that 90s vibe into the cliché teenage love story drama with this one. It starts rightly corny, then it's smooooth (all while being lame in general, only it's DjWifi, so it's never that lame). I chose both the corniest and most appropriate song I could think of for Alya to sing. Listen to it first to really understand how this goes down, 'cause reading it is a little awkward.

"I Apologize" by Anita Baker (1994)

If Nino weren't a night owl, he'd have missed it.

Look out your window plz?

The text drops down over the title to his track and for the half of a second, Nino is hotly annoyed. His first instinct it to swipe it away without even glancing at the sender— which he does (call it petulant, but he can't stand his music being interrupted, it's why he stays up so late to listen; it's the only time someone won't knock on his door, or call his name, or call his phone while he's trying to vibe). But then he does a double-take, because was that message just asking him to look out his window?

Pursing his lips and frowning slightly, Nino considers pretending he never saw it... then relents with a disdained sigh. He navigates to his messaging app and takes a look at the most recent conversation, his stomach doing a strange little flip when he sees the name at the top of the list: Alya, with her contact still affectionately nomered Habibi. The request to look out his window is just under her name, still bolded and considered unread.

Without thinking, Nino taps on it. His fingers poise over the keyboard to respond with an eloquent wat? before he remembers he's giving her the silent treatment until a proper apology, which she has not come close to giving. Lots of whining and pitiful eyes and snappy remarks, yes (it was the full seven stages of grief with her, on a minor scale, and despite it all Nino found it entertaining to watch), but no apologies. Not that he ever expected her to come around quickly.

The situation being as it may, Nino lingers in the conversation with his mouth pulled into an awkward, conflicted, lopsided smile. He loves Alya, and even though he should be asking himself why the heck she's texting him at 11:32 pm to look out his window, all he can think of is how much it hurts to act like she doesn't exist. She's made it clear how much she misses him, but Nino, by principle of the treatment, hasn't been able to communicate it back, and has just been hoping that she'll understand what he's doing.

Nino's eyes flit over the words again and then a time more, seeing them without reading them as his thoughts swirl uncomfortably. Dancing ellipses suddenly appear at the bottom of the screen near his thumb, and his attention snaps to them. He realizes all at once that Alya is writing another text to him right now and she knows that he read her message. By now his music has faded into the backdrop of his thoughts and all his focus is on those three little dots, arguably too concerned with what she will say next.

Don't ignore me! I wouldn't be bothering you now unless it was important.

She of course is referring to his late-night jam sessions with himself, and his bitterness at being interrupted. Nino is made to recall that despite being a night owl herself, Alya mostly never called or texted him at this time of night because she knows how much the time with his music means to him. At the thought, Nino decides she deserves a show of listening, or faith, or something, and sends a little response.

that's debatable

She's quick replying, Just look.

After another moment's hesitation, Nino texts back, what's out there?

This one takes Alya a little longer. The time Nino spends watching the dots move makes him surprisingly anxious.

An apology.

Nino stares at the words on the screen, rereads them a couple times. Does she mean...? Dude. Blinking a little too fast, Nino pulls down his headphones so they rest around his neck, and gets out of his chair. He paces over to the window, pauses to glance at his phone one last time, then presses his forehead against the glass. He squints through the droplets on the pane and the low street-lighting to see... Alya?

Once Alya sees his face appear in the window, she waves her arm back and forth in a wide arc over her head until Nino slides the glass up and sticks his head out.

It's raining gentle and slow outside. It's the kind of rain that teases at a shower, but never makes it even that far, just sprinkling for hours. The light drops glow in the lamplight from the corner and Alya's left side is painted in a hush of its warmth, just helping Nino make out her form from the dark grass of the front yard. After Alya, Nino notices the bona-fide boombox on the ground by her feet and finds himself slowly leaning further out toward her, leaning against the windowsill with his chin in his palm, and entertaining a hint of a smirk; this should be good.

"Alya," he calls a little sing-song-y out of bemusement, "what are you doing?"

"Just stay right there!" she shouts back, almost pleading, hands raised toward him. Nino can see hope shine in her eyes when he actually acknowledges her with his voice, for the first time in weeks, and she seems fearful he'll think better of doing it again.

Despite himself, Nino winces at the pain in her voice embalmed with relief; he still feels Alya deserved every bit of his cold shoulder these past two weeks, but he hadn't wanted to hurt her— not wanting her hurt was the point of all this. Straightening out his back, Nino watches Alya attentively. He can't help a soft smile as she fiddles with the music machine; this is going to be good.

Alya leans over and clicks a button on the boombox. First there's just some quiet noise, then the intro to a smooth American song from the 90s blasts from the box. Nino flinches, not expecting her to bump it so loud at— he glances at the clock on his dresser— far too late. Or maybe it just feels real loud because the rest of the world is so quiet.

To his surprise, Alya starts singing after the intro, "Operator, get my baby on the line. Just the other night, we had a horrible fight,"

"I admit that I, I was out of control, but I still love my man with my body and soul. When the road gets rough, you say things you should not say. I never meant to treat my baby that way."

She's actually... really okay. There's a note or two she doesn't quite hit and her voice shakes on several occasions, but strictly speaking, Alya's singing voice is unreasonably nice.

"I apologize. Oh, believe me I do. I apologize honest and true. Because I know I was wrong. So I sing you this song. And I'm tryin' to get through, to make it up to you, yeah."

Nino enjoys every second, but he can't help noticing that it's waking the neighborhood. Some lights turn on across the street, and though possibly getting in trouble is part of the fun of it, he has to save her, if not himself.

It hurts— truly hurts, so much— that he has to cut her short.

"Operator—"

"Alya— Alya!" He whisper-yells uselessly, unwilling to raise his voice and alert his parents. "Shush! Turn it off!"

Alya can't understand him, but she hears his voice and sees his lips moving. She furrows her brows, not understanding him at first, but an 'X' with his arms gets the message across. Reluctantly, Alya clicks the boombox off. She runs up to the wall under his window, splays her hands against the stone and cranes her head back. Rain gathers on her glasses, but she squints to see him through it.

"What's wrong?"

"You gotta stop," he starts, but then Alya cuts in with a wince.

"That bad unh?"

"No, no!" Nino rushes to insist— maybe a little too rushed, because Alya's frown sours unpleasantly. "It's just, it's disturbing everyone—"

Alya sighs heavily. "Nino, I just wanted—"

"Alya, really, it was—"

"Look! I just wanted to say I'm sorry. You were right," she says, then bobs her head to the side, "Not about everything, but about a lot and—"

Nino hears shuffling down the hall; his parents murmuring as they investigate what's gotten Chris all fussy. Nino realizes: it's now or never. As soon as the door to Chris' room clicks shut, Nino is cutting Alya off again. "Sorry, I can't— just hang on!" Nino shout-whispers, then slides into some shoes, bolts out of his bedroom, sneaks downstairs and out the front door, then is flying across the lawn. Alya looks unsure of him as he sprints toward her.

"Nino— oh!"

Alya yelps as Nino takes her up in his arms, barely slowing down. He grins into her shoulder and spins once, then puts her down, and Alya is a bit dizzy when she squints up at him in the dark trying to make out his expression. Seeing the white of his teeth and eyes, she assumes he's grinning at her.

"I cannot believe you actually came out in the rain to sing to me." His hands are on his head, in his hair; his cap is missing.

"I tried to wait it out, but the rain wasn't going anywhere," Alya gladly lets Nino bring her close. Shamelessly, she buries her face in his neck as he holds her in a firm hug. "At eleven, I didn't want to wait any longer."

"I—"

"Nino!" a voice bellows, and the boy himself winces so tightly Alya, for a second, thinks he's been hurt.

Rigid as a pole, Nino turns around to face the man emerging from the front door of his house. Watching from over his shoulder, Alya assumes its his father. Despite the real fear in his body, Nino takes Alya's hand in his and keeps her close.

When he's within earshot for a more reasonable volume, the man starts rattling off what sounds like questions and reprimands in what Alya is fairly certain to be Arabic. It's a little intimidating, to be honest. And interesting to hear Nino speak it right back, albeit with a couple unsure pauses and guilty glances in her direction. Truly, Alya has no business feeling as glib as she does, watching the exchange, but she somehow doesn't care; nothing could ruin the warm and fuzzy high she's riding from successfully reconciling with her boyfriend in the most romantic way possible— more or less.

"And you, young lady: do your parents know where you are?" Nino's father asks her in French, considerably kinder than he'd been asking Nino, and it instantly banishes the smirk she hadn't realized had been forming on her face. He peers over her head to scan the street. "Surely they're around?"

The (very) late visit would have been irregular with anyone, but Nino's family has an actual house with land and everything and that means they are a good few miles away from the heart of Paris where Alya's family lives. It's a forty-five minute drive by car, and she's still (barely, but still) underage to be driving. Surely, her parents or big sister agreed to drive her out here.

Or she ran here in twenty minutes as Rena Rouge.

Nino looks in her eyes and he immediately knows how she got to his house, but they can't tell his dad how she got to his house. His eyes anxiously flick back and forth between her eyes, and Alya thinks quickly.

"I took the last metro and... ran the rest of the way." she supplies.

Nino's dad's eyebrows rise to his hairline. "The last stop is three miles from here."

Alya represses a cringe. "I run a lot?"

His expression stiffens. "And do your parents know that you ran out here?"

"Uuueeehhh..."

Monsieur Lahiffe, for reasons Alya can't imagine, casts a look at his son as he crosses his arms over his tight chest. "Contact your parents," he tells Alya with a hint of that special brand of parental derision, "Let them know you can stay the night, if it's agreeable to you all."

"Yes, sir."

Alya gives a salute that's only slightly nervous and then is quickly sending a message to her parents, who don't even know she's gone... wait. This could work...

She waits a few moments, awkwardly looking between boy and father, noting the similarities in their faces, before looking back down at her phone and sending herself a text. She pretends to read it, then meets Nino's father's eyes— well, nose.

"They said I can stay the night and go with Nino to school in the morning— if you don't mind taking me?" Nino's father nod-shrugs, indicating it really makes no difference to him, and unfolds his arms from over his chest.

"Let's get inside," he waves them towards the house.

When they reach the front door a woman is standing in the doorway. She looks Alya over once, a bit analytically, but not long enough to be rude, and then hushes something to her husband in Arabic. The father responds and then they are all in the foyer of their house looking at each other awkwardly. Chris bounces on his toes at all the excitement, over his interrupted sleep and oblivious to the tense undertones.

The parents quickly separate the teens. Nino is sent to his room promptly, followed up by his father with Chris in his arms, and Alya is accommodated by Nino's mother, who continues to watch her with something like curiosity. Alya would be offended if she hadn't given the woman good reason to wonder if she's a troublemaker or not.

One hell of a first impression.

"Were you... serenading my son?" asks Nino's mom.

Alya isn't sure how to decipher her tone, but sticks with honesty— it's the best policy. "Yes. Well, I was trying to, anyway. I don't know if he felt very... serenaded." Nino managed to express being touched that she'd sang in the rain, but didn't mention whether she'd done a good job of singing or not. He can be objective (albeit a little sassy) when critiquing music or other arts, but he's grown a soft spot for her recently and avoids commenting on her work explicitly, maybe because he can't trust himself to be objective anymore. It's cute, but mostly annoying.

"Are you his girlfriend? Alya?"

Why does that sound like a trick question? And how is it that this is her first time meeting this woman? "Yes?" Alya answers.

The woman's gaze softens a bit, though she remains— understandably— muy observant. "I'm afraid our couch doesn't convert," she says, "Will a futon be alright?"

Alya's in no position to refuse, even if a futon wouldn't be alright. "That'll be perfect," she says, very graciously, and waits patiently for the woman to retrieve the futon from somewhere deeper in the house. She returns shortly, then goes and returns again with her armspan filled to the brim with pillows. Alya helps her set them down, and very soon she's provided with a plush place on the floor to sleep that honestly looks exquisite. Alya almost says as much, but doesn't want to lay it on too thick. She extends her thanks again for the hospitality.

"I'm sorry for imposing so late at night, I— I just wanted Nino to see— well he's been ignoring me and— this is coming out wrong," Alya sighs with a shake of her head. Normally, she's great with words, and even when she's not she speaks with quickness and commitment as if she is. Something about really liking this boy and wanting his parents to like her, too, is messing with her usual frankness. Fortunately, Nino's mother just watches as she takes a breath.

"Nino and I had an argument and I was apologizing tonight," she gets out, "I didn't mean to make any trouble."

"A little trouble was made, but I can forgive it." There is laughter in the subtle crinkles at the corners of her eyes, letting Alya know everything will be alright.

Once Madame Lahiffe has made sure her unexpected guest is taken care of, she shuts off the lights with a kind smile, bids the teenager good-night, and disappears upstairs. Alya is left alone.

Alya lays on her back and stares up at the ceiling and just... exists and fathoms existing in Nino's house smelling like jasmine on an almost excessive ring of cush pillows. It's soft, firm, cozy— comfortable— and Alya eases into sleep almost too easily, dashing her intentions of talking to Nino alone. It's very inconvenient, honestly.

Her eyes fly open with a start at the sound of a chime in her ear.

Blinking some of the sleep out of her eyes, Alya reaches up for her phone. She squints at the screen. She doesn't know how long it's been. She has a text message from... Nino? She opens it up.

u awake?

Alya types back groggily, Am now.

can i see you?

She huffs affectionately. She'd wanted to talk, but now...Tomorrow.

you can't expect me to wait that long

But 'm tirrrred.

Besides, don wanna get n truble.

my parents are sleep by now, we won't get caught

i'll come to you, he says, as if that changes things, and if Alya knows him— which she does— as if that settles them, too. She blinks some of the tired moisture out of her eyes with a smile and doesn't fight it.

Okay

Alya drops the phone beside her. With a slow yawn, she rises up onto her elbows, then her hands, and sits there waiting. It's dark and quiet and foreign all around her, but it isn't until she hears soft footsteps approaching from the stairs that she thinks to put her glasses back on. Glancing up, she sees Nino's silhouette draped in a soft light from overhead as he carefully navigates the stairs; there must be a skylight over the steps. It really isn't fair. Any butterflies or bubbles from Alya's nerves that'd managed to be pacified by sleep are returning, creeping gently up her core into her gut. She's suddenly more awake.

Nino touches down on the ground floor and creeps across it to the living room area where Alya sits waiting. When they see each other, there's a brief pause induced by the new environment, but it passes as quickly as it comes. Alya retracts her legs, and Nino sits next to her. Naturally, he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side without any words. Unlike their hug outside that was fast and dizzying and interrupted, the embrace is easy, sweet, and lingering. Alya realizes just how much she's craved his touch, not only his words, these past two weeks.

Her words, albeit playful, don't reflect this sentiment. "You just couldn't wait till the morning?" she drawls sleepily.

Nino squeezes her briefly, whispers with a note of sunshine, "I had to prove it wasn't a dream."

"I suppose that's fair," Alya yawns softly, fighting not to fawn at his confession. "I am rather dreamy."

"Oh, shut up," grins Nino, before he abruptly attacks her sides with tickles. Alya chokes on her surprise to keep from being discovered, but does sputter a bit loudly, and can only cringe as Nino continues his onslaught. He doesn't stop until she squirms a little too close to a decadent looking vase he all but hurriedly yeets her away from.

They look at each other, but their expressions are mostly hidden in the dark. Alya can only imagine his horror and relief. She's sure he's envisioning her awkward cross between tickled and frightened. They break down into poorly covered laughter.

"That was close."

"You're telling me," Alya sighs, melting against his chest and making herself at home there. "Your parents already think I'm crazy."

"They don't think you're crazy," Nino tangles his fingers in her hair.

"I told your dad I ran three miles in the middle of the night,"

"Okay, yeah—"

"And you didn't see your mom's face when you were upstairs," Alya yawns. "Her face: do I need to watch this bitch, or is this a one-time thing?"

"My mom wouldn't think that!"

"Dude. She would and she did, I could see it in her eyes."

"Nah, whatever. You're great. It'll be great."

"I hope so. I wanna come back here, it's nice."

"Wh— 'causa all the pillows?" Nino gently tosses one at her.

Alya bats it away. "'Cause you're in it."

"Look at you all sappy. You really must've missed me."

Alya blows air past her lips. It turns into a pout against her wishes. "Actually yeah."

"Oh—" Nino gasps with a criminal grin, "she admits it?"

"Yes, didn't you hear the song?"

"I heard it," Nino says, voice softening meaningfully. "It was good."

"Was it though?"

"It's a shame you didn't get to finish."

"Well whose fault is that?"

Nino shoots her a look. "Would you have rathered my dad stop you?"

"Point."

"Look," he says, "it's good— you can always sing it for me later."

"Oh," Alya pushes herself up slightly, "so now I'm singing for you?"

"Weren't you already?"

"Singing to you and singing for you are two different things," Alya brings her face to hover over Nino's, trying to find his gaze. Nino swallows under her stare.

"You know what I meant."

"Yes, you meant what you said," Alya smirks at Nino knowingly (unknowingly sending a flash of warmth down his body). "But that's okay."

Alya doesn't know what her face looks like or if Nino can see it, but he blinks so many times.

"You mean..." Nino leans forward.

"I mean," Alya pulls back, maintaining the short distance between them, then reluctantly peels away from him entirely, creating room for them to breathe and think, "I might wanna sing for you."

She lets it hang in the air. Lays on her back and watches him silently. After a couple moments of quiet, Nino moves. He crosses the space between them to drape his arm over her middle. He says close to her ear, "You mean it?"

"Yeah." Alya nods.

Nino's voice gets softer, somehow. "Yeah? Why?"

"'Cause I'm sorry, and I want to apologize without getting interrupted."

"Hey," Nino nudges her cheek with his nose, prompting her to turn her face towards his. "You know I don't really care, right? You apologized."

Alya nods. Their noses brush. "I know," She grins. "I also kinda like having you in debt."

Nino leans a fraction closer. "Well I don't handle being in debt well," When he speaks, their lips brush. "So we got a problem."

They kiss once, gentle and sleepy. Alya raises a hand to hold Nino's face.

"Worse problems," she slurs against Nino's mouth.

The one kiss lighting sparks, they can't resist the temptation for one more. And another, this one longer. And being drawn back together for a few more that guide their hands to places it takes everything Alya has left to pull away from.

"Mm, as much as I'm enjoying this," Alya breathlessly whispers against Nino's mouth, voice thick with pleasure and fingers still snaking up his sides, "I've embarrassed myself enough tonight."

"You're not embarrassing," Nino presses another kiss to her lips, to her jaw, to her neck.

Alya lifts him away by a centimeter, making him pout. "I will be if I look like I was making-out with you all night in the morning."

"Fair." Nino agrees. He steals one last kiss though, chuckling. "If it wasn't already clear, I totally forgive you." He separates himself from her with a boyish grin and stands up. "Goodnight, Beautiful."

"Night, handsome." Alya smiles back. She watches him halfway up the stairs then quietly adds, "Don't wake up Chris or it's all over."

Nino grumbles something like, "Don't I know," under his breath, and Alya giggles intermittently to herself until she falls asleep.