Twenty-Three

You've Got Me All To Yourself Now, Girl.

Wesley had called Annie just after 6:30 this morning, and while a call that early would normally pull her out of bed, she hadn't slept a wink last night.

Apparently, Keaton had locked himself up tight in his room just after she left the party. He refused to talk to anyone and when Wes had finally managed to pick the lock to his bedroom he was face down, arms tucked under his pillow and the only answer he cared to give was a loud, coarse grunt.

Admittedly, she wasn't sure why Wes had called her, because she was pretty sure she was the last person Keaton wanted to see.

Pushing her purse up further on her shoulder as she balanced the full drink carrier (doing everything in her power not to spill anything) she knocked gently on the door.

Wesley answered, which, didn't surprise her one bit.

He was shirtless, he had ditched his hat, instead flaunting his beachy waves as his shorts rested low on his hips revealing that dreaded "V" and the band to his Ethika boxers, and he looked as tired as she felt.

"Do you own a fucking shirt?" she seethed as he plucked his passion tea from the cardboard holder before taking a long sip.

She probably should have made an effort to be a little more quiet- Tyler was asleep on the couch, but she had seen him sleep through sound check on more than one occasion, so her growling at Wes was unlikely to stir him.

"Come on Annie, enjoy the view-" Wes flexed, offering his shit-eating grin.

She swung her empty hand, letting it 'thud' across his chiseled stomach. "Eat me, Stromberg."

But she instantly regretted it the moment those words left her mouth, because his smile went even wider making him look like a Cheshire cat. "I would but uh-" he rubbed at his stubble-laden chin, "I don't think my brother would appreciate that. We always thought Keater-Pan would be the first to eat you if ya' get my drift-"

Her eyes went wide as he cheeks flushed a dark crimson, "Wesley Trent, I literally hate you so much."

Wes took another sip of his tea before wrapping his arm around Annie's neck, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You know I'm just fucking with you, Annie!"

A flush sounded through the apartment before the door swung open, suddenly clearing the tension. "Oh Jesus H. Christ," Annie growled as Drew flipped off the bathroom light, "do any of you shits own clothes?"

Drew offered a lazy smile, glancing down at his tiny black boxers before shrugging and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Morning Annie," She rolled her eyes, pulling the green tea frappucino from the holder handing it to Drew. He smiled, kissing at her temple, "you are a goddess."

"I know, and Drew Michael Chadwick, did you wash your hands?" Drew glanced down at his hands before glaring at Annie, stomping back into the bathroom. "And wash under your nails!" she called behind him, laughing as his left hand snaked out of the bathroom, his middle finger held high.

But a more serious air fell over the messy apartment as she caught a glimpse of Keaton's door. "How is he?" Wes swallowed hard, his hands roughly scratching their way through his hair.

"Devastated."

"Don't tell me that Wes-"

"I'm not going to fuckin' lie to you Annie. He's torn up. You are everything to him and seeing you walk away just about killed him. He's been waiting for this day for years and it all just fell apart. He's never imagined a future with anyone else-"

"Wes-" he held up a hand, stopping her.

"No, you are the girl he writes every song about." he fell silent, Keaton's heartbreak alive in his brothers eyes. "He's all in, Annie, and if you're not-"

"It's not that I don't feel the same-"

"Then get the fuck in there and tell him that!" Wes stood firm, his feet planted shoulders width apart on the hardwood, one arm held straight out as he pointed firmly at Keaton's door.

"Wes, you don't understand." she stomped, her hushed tone still managing to show just how irritated she was with Wes.
Wes' brows wound together, his body going rigid, "What? What can't I possibly understand? That you two love each other? What's so fuckin' hard about it?"

"What if I let him down?" Wes' face fell, his arms going limp as he watched her eyes cloud over with tears, "Wes, what if it's all wrong? What if he decides one day it's not okay? What if I'm too old? What if someone prettier or skinnier comes along? Then what? He's gone and I'm out a best friend and the guy I love."

Wes grabbed the cardboard carrier from her, setting it down on the marble counter before taking her into his arms. His chin nestled into her chestnut hair as his arms wrapped tight around her shoulders. "Annie, if he gets you, Keaton will not let you go."

“You don’t know that,” she mumbled into his bare chest, her body shaking as Wes chuckled.

The hell I don’t. Keaton has waited for this day, and I’m pretty sure once he gets you, it’s a done deal.

"Wes-" she grumbled, her breath tickling his skin as her arms grasped tighter around his waist.

He just pressed a kiss to her forehead before letting her rest her face in the crook of his neck.

"Just...trust me on this one, okay?"

She pulled herself from his grip, nodding hesitantly as she chewed at her bottom lip. Wes waved her towards Keaton's room, making her scowl.

Annie let out a deep breath, her fingers winding around the knob, her eyes scanning over the white door one last time before she pushed down, letting the door slide open ever so gently. She stepped in, the white carpet tickling at the bottoms of her bare feet.

She held the knob down, closing the door behind her so carefully it didn't even make a sound.

She had to take a minute- she needed to digest the scene in front of her.

Keaton was lying face down in his bed, still in his boardshorts from the night before. He had his face pressed into the tan pillow, his arms folded tightly under it. He had his stereo on- but it was so low you could barely hear it, the band was undoubtedly the Bad Suns but she couldn't recognize the song.

She could only assume that this was what heartbreak looked like for Keaton Robert Stromberg, and truth be told, the very sight shattered her heart into a million pieces.

"Go away Wes."

"I hope I don't smell as bad as Wes..." Annie watched, pained, as Keaton's entire body tensed at the sound of her voice.

His head lulled slightly to the side, leaving him to stare at the Los Angeles picture hanging on the wall. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you..." She breathed, her arms crossing over her chest as a chill ran down her spine.

"I'm not in the mood to talk, Annabelle."

"Then don't talk," she whispered, finally gathering the courage to crawl into the bed she had spent so many nights in before. "Just listen."

She gathered the mess of tan and navy blankets, pulling them up over her legs as she moved in, nestling against Keaton, resting her head in the warm crook of his neck, her right hand wrapping around his bicep, her fingers mindlessly feathering light circles over his skin.

"I'm so sorry about last night, Keaton. I just-" She faltered, unable to find the words.

"Don't love me. I get it-"

Annie cringed, her eyes burning with fresh tears. "That's not it at all Keaton." she rested her forehead against his shoulder blade, the fresh tears rolling from her cheeks before splashing onto the skin of his shoulder, sending a chill down his spine. "That could not be further from the truth."

He let out a breath, his entire body retreating slightly as he exhaled.

"Keaton it's just-" she hesitated, her thumb mindlessly tracking the vein running up Keaton's forearm. "it's such a big risk, what happens if we don't make it? I can't lose you Keaton."

The laugh that escaped Keaton was a mix of humor and anger. He didn't hesitate, pushing Annie off of his side as he sat up, running his hands through his hair.

"Who said anything about us not making it?"

Annie pulled her knees to her chest, her fingers lacing tightly at her calves as she slumped against the headboard. "It happens Keaton, things get tough-"

"and we're tougher." he huffed. She had never heard this kind of confidence -or perhaps it was anger- in his voice.

"Jesus Annabelle-" he groaned, his head lulling back onto the headboard as he scratched roughly at his scalp. "you're so afraid of taking chances."

"When that chance is you Keaton, yeah. I'm terrified, Keaton, absolutely terrified." Keaton's heart sped up as the ache in his stomach started creeping up, manifesting into a nausea unlike he had ever experienced.

"Does this mean you like me?"

"Keaton-" she scolded, knowing she had so much she wanted to say to Keaton, and a simple I like you just didn't suffice. It didn't even skim the surface of her feelings for Keaton.

He already knew the answer.

"Annie, I just need to hear you say it."

Annie bit at her bottom lip as she reached up gently, brushing one of Keaton's sandy curls from his forehead.

"Keaton, you gave me Neverland when I didn't believe it existed. It's just...you. You...you're my home, no matter where I am in the world, as long as I'm with you, I'm home. You're my safe place- and when you go on tour, this like...sadness hangs with me, it's this sick reminder that you're gone and I can't help but think, what if we didn't work out? Would that sadness ever go away or would I spend my life battling that ache in my chest? Because..." she hesitated, blotting at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, which she had wrapped over the ends of her fingers, "It's you. It has been since I met you. It's you at two in the morning when I can't sleep. It's you every night when I want to bitch about my shitty day at work. It's you when I want to lay in bed and spend all day looking at cats. It's you- you and your stupid smile, and your stupid laugh."

Keaton swallowed hard, the tears rolling down his tanned cheeks.

"Say it..." Keaton prompted, preparing himself as he took her shaking hand into his, intertwining their fingers tightly.

This time, she didn't hesitate. "I love you. I am in love with you, Keaton Robert Stromberg."

He smiled, putting on hand on each of her hips before pulling her over his lap, one leg resting outside each of his before his fingers rubbed into her hip bones. His eyes meeting hers as she pressed her forehead to his.

"I'm in love with you too, Annie." but he cracked an ornery smile, "Even if you are twenty-three."

Annie rolled her eyes before taking his dimpled cheeks into her hands, her warm breath brushing over his anxious lips, "Shut-up and kiss me, Stromberg."
♠ ♠ ♠
So, when I wrote this, I couldn't help but listen to I Wish, which, honestly is why the chapter takes place in his bed.

Anyways, I really hope you guy liked this, it's the first "solo" thing I've done in awhile, so admittedly I'm a bit nervous. I did however, have an awesome time writing about Baby Keats. So who knows...maybe I'll write more.

As always, thank you so much for reading, it means the world. It really honestly does.
I'd love to know what you thought.

Xox Becca