The bustle of parties halted after he met you.

Trevor didn’t think he would enjoy the quiet life, he thought he was destined to be a player, to be a partygoer, to relish in random pills and alcohol.

But for some reason he was happier lying on your chest, watching iconic 80s movies, your hand in his hair. This quietness- no drinks (except a glass of lemonade on the coffee table) in sight, no colourful pills and no random women.

Just you.

Just his darling. His one and only.

“I love you.” Trevor whispered, his arms tightening around your waist as he said so, as if those words would scare you off— they had in the past. Loving someone came with the risk of them not returning the feelings, and it ran the risk of losing them forever. But Trevor felt you needed to know. He wanted you to know.

He pressed a kiss to your collarbone, gentle compared to the usually fervent kisses he bestowed on your skin. It was meaningful. “I really do.”