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“I can’t be what you need,

I am stuck in a dream.”

Synopsis…! You and Johnny are best friends. You’ve been there for each other through thick and thin. But what happens when you have an undeniable love for him, and he just doesn’t seem to notice?

a/n…! Made this based off an ask I did but couldn’t get out of my head🙏 can’t tell if I like it tho…. Also begging for literally anyone who sees this to req smth im in desperate need of writing inspo

w/c…! 1800+

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You need to look perfect.

That’s what you tell yourself over and over, the sentence repeating like a broken record.

Buck’s hosting a party tonight. Johnny will be there; the same Johnny you’ve been trying to get the attention of for months now. And yet, each time you cast him an extra glance, make a flirty comment, dress up extra pretty, he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t even seem to look.

It breaks your heart.

Which is exactly why tonight you’re going to this party. Tonight is the night, the one where he has to notice you. You’ll march up to him, bat your eyelashes and be forward.

“Hey, Johnnycakes, wanna go out to the drive-in sometime?” You’ll state. He’ll have to say yes.

But to make that work, you’ll have to look extra pretty. Not just normal pretty, special pretty. Sure, it feels silly trying so hard for a boy, but you can’t help it. This needs to go right.

However, you currently find yourself in a bit of a dilemma.

You’ve spent probably the past two hours trying to find an outfit.

“Ugh! I have nothing to wear!” You wail, hands carding through already messy hair.

“Just wear what makes you feel confident! That’s what will really make you ‘special’ pretty!” Your friend Lindsey replies, quoting the statement you’d made earlier.

“How do you know that’ll work? What if he sees me and thinks, “wow, she’s really wearing that?” I’ll ruin my chances!”

“I can almost guarantee Johnny won’t think that. Here, let me try to find something up to your standards.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. So, you sit at your vanity, sulking as she searches your closet.

After only ten minutes she’s coming back out with an outfit draped over her arm. She shoves it into your hands, grinning as she shoves you into your bathroom, saying that “it’s perfect!’

You sigh as you close the door. Is it really perfect? You know Lindsey is very big on fashion, but can you truly trust her? The only way to find out is to try the outfit on, and when you do, you decide you’ll never doubt her again.

First you pull on the lace tank top. It’s one with spaghetti straps that hugs your body just right – but you bought it so long ago it somehow still has the tag. Then comes the blouse, pale green and gingham, with a low enough neck to show off the lace of the shirt beneath. And last, on bottom, is a white pleated skirt that reaches your mid-thigh. You’ve worn it more times than you can count, but that’s what you love about it; it’s simple but effective.

You step out of your bathroom, feeling prettier than you have in a while. Lindsey can’t help grinning, clapping her hands together as you give her a bashful smile.

“It is perfect,”

“I know, right! Never doubt me again, girlfriend!” Her voice is giddy, as are her movements, as she sits you down at your vanity.

A handful of hours later, you’re walking up to Buck’s – hair styled, makeup done, outfit flawless. Lindsey and Cherry are at your sides, for emotional support, they’d said. Despite the confidence in your step, nerves eat away at your stomach. Your thoughts are filled with nothing but the worst-case scenarios of tonight.

The moment you step foot into the house, your senses are violated by your surroundings – the smell of smoke and beer, the loud yells and even louder music, the bright lights.

But your eyes don't take long to find him.

Black hair. Tan skin. Big brown eyes. Leaning against a wall with a red solo cup in his calloused hands, a grin spread across his lips.

And a girl standing before him.

Hand touching his arm. Laughing unbearably loud at a dumb joke. Eyes full of lust.

Your heart drops. Your ears ring. Your throat grows dry.

You’re moving before your brain even registers it, feet carrying you over to where Johnny’s standing. He doesn’t notice you. Not until you’ve started speaking.

“Are you kidding me?”

He immediately turns to you, an expression of bewilderment falling upon his features.

“What?” His tone is laced with confusion. He glances over at the blonde chick, watching as she approaches her next victim like Johnny never existed.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Johnny?” You repeat, taking a step closer to him – voice heavy with emotion as you continue your rambling.

“I got dressed up. I bought new mary janes. I spent hours on my hair.”

He’s too confused to respond, his mouth stupidly hanging open. As if he has a right to be shocked.

“I did all this for you, and I don't get so much as a spared glance. Not a ‘hi’ or a wave or even a glance. Nothing.”

Your eyes are brimming with salty tears, but you hold them back. He doesn't get to see you cry. Not now.

“I tried so goddamn hard, Johnny. I always did. But you just don’t see it, do you?” This is what makes him speak up, voice poisoned with uncalled for frustration.

“What do you mean I don’t notice? Of course I do!”

“No, you don't!" You immediately retort. “Not like how you’re supposed to. You don't see me and think, ‘I wish she were mine.’ You see me and all you think is that I’m your good friend.” Your heart sits heavy in your throat, your words choked out as you hold back tears.

Johnny just stands there like an idiot, his brows creased, his expression incredulous.

“But–”

“Don’t.” You don’t want him fighting for you. It’ll only make the aching in your chest worsen. He’s too late, anyway. He’s made his intentions clear.

You turn on your heel and walk away. Never even once do you look back. He doesn’t deserve your heart, not anymore.

You shove your way through the crowd, colliding with sweaty bodies over and over until you reach the door. You’ve practically collapsed the moment you’ve left, sitting down on the curb.

Salty tears stream down your cheeks. You were never a pretty crier, not like the actresses in movies. You sob, sniffle, hiccup; ruined makeup stains your face. Shaky hands come up to swipe at the tears, though not helping much.

It’s official. Your chances with him are smothered out like the flame of a burnt out candle.

Johnny stands there, frozen. Stuck in place like an idiotic looking statue. From across the room, Dallas watches. He saw the whole thing. You strutting in, your pretty outfit, your nervous smile. The argument. The tears. He knew how you tried, it was made clear from the moment you’d started hanging around Johnny. But he boy was a goddamn idiot.

“You’ve royally fucked up, man.” Dally suddenly says.

Johnny’s head snaps over to him, his shock still written all over his face. But he doesn’t say a word.

“She really likes you. No clue why you didn’t notice. Hell, I thought about takin’ her for myself-” Those last words make his heart feel like it’s being carved straight out of his chest.

“I fuckin’ get it! Jeez, don’t gotta make me feel like a bigger asshole..” Johnny barks, the pain in his chest getting worse with every moment you’re gone.

The only reason this makes him feel so shitty isn't because he hurt his best friend, but because he’d been in your position before. Trying so goddamn desperately to get her attention – not in a normal way, in a romantic way. He wanted you to see him, but he gave up long ago. And as it turns out, that’s when you started trying.

It’s just one big fucked up mess, really.

“You should go after her.” Dally suddenly says, nudging him. “Tell her how you feel. It’s rainin’, too. You could make it like one of those stupid ass romance movies she likes.”

Johnny perks up at this, realizing he’s been standing here like a goddamn idiot for the past five minutes while you’ve probably been sobbing.

Without thinking, he starts racing to the front door praying that she’s still out there.

The rain pelts down at his skin hard. But there you are, sitting on the curb, your pretty face in your hands.

When you hear footsteps, you know it’s him. Before he speaks, before he even makes himself known. You’d always recognize him, down to the very last beat of his heart.

“I get it, Johnny. You feel bad for making me cry but you don’t like me like that. You don’t have to like me or apologize.”

You look over your shoulder at him, expecting him to be nodding, but all you see is his confused face.

“What—?! I mean- you’re.. how did you even make that conclusion?”

The two of you stare at each other. For several seconds, all you can do is stare at him.

“You never even noticed me, Johnny. You never–“

“Would you quit saying that I didn’t notice?!”

His snappy tone catches you off guard. Catches himself off guard. But nevertheless, he goes on.

“Of course I noticed! I couldn’t not notice! You looked like the goddamn sun in all those skirts and dresses, and you expect me not to notice you?!”

You stare up at him, slowly rising on shaky legs to face him fully. He noticed? Did he really notice and she just couldn’t see?

“Then why didn’t you say anything? I dropped the most obvious hints and you didn’t even reciprocate!” You allege, your own tone just as accusatory as his own.

“Because I thought you were being nice! I didn’t flirt back because I couldn’t fathom the idea of someone as angelic as you liking me!”

You’re right in front of him now. Faces close, arguing like two scared mutts. Voices raised, rain pelting your skin, mixing with the stray tears on your cheeks.

“So you just gave up? You decided I wasn’t worth fighting for and stopped trying—!”

Calloused hands grasp your cheeks as soft lips cover your own.

Your heart stops.

Your breath catches.

But you don’t pull away.

Not for a single second.

Not until you both can’t take it anymore and need to breathe. Even then, you’re hesitant, chasing his lips until the last second.

You finally look up at him, and you’re met with black lashes framing eyes as dark as the night sky. Your heart nearly stops.

“Johnny, I–” You attempt to stammer out, but he interrupts you once again.

“Don’t.” You pause. His eyes lock onto yours, hands refusing to move from your cheeks. Calloused thumbs caress your cheekbones, the touch gentle despite the storm behind his eyes.

“Please just let me call you mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Is he being serious, you ask yourself, is this really happening?

But before you can fully formulate a response in your mind, you’re nodding your head. And then he’s leaning in again. Your lips collide, the rain pelting your skin only fueling the need behind your kisses.

From the window in Buck’s living room, Dallas cheers to himself. Finally, the stupid kid has his entire world all to himself.

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