softly clairo ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

"Have I lost you to another man?" Elvis says, on the screen, to which Priscilla responds, "You're losing me to a life of my own." Slumped beside you, Dominic snorts, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth. You were having a movie night with him, watching Priscilla together. He, obviously, wasn't taking it seriously.

Sometimes, you wondered when Dom did take things seriously. He definitely didn't take his fame seriously, and soon enough, your thoughts drifted from Sofia Coppola to the day you had met him.

It was just another Tuesday, working as a barista at a local NYC coffee shop. The cafe was mostly empty when Dominic walked in that day, head tucked under a baseball cap and shoulders hunched like he could fold himself into anonymity.

Dominic Fike, practically worshipped by teenage girls and indie magazines. As soon as he entered, he exhaled, maybe surprised he’d managed to escape the paparazzi storm trailing him all day in New York, you figured.

You didn't make a big deal of his presence there, which had him on his knees immediately, he said. Fast forward a scribbled note with his number on it, and a few more coffee dates together, you had began dating Dominic fucking Fike.

You wanted to take things slow, especially with him. Dom didn’t mind. He was tired of relationships that blazed and fizzled, that felt like an endless audition.

"You know, I met that dude once, in Euphoria," Dominic brings you back to reality, back to the sofa in your apartment you're curled beside him on. He points to Elvis on the screen, but you assume he means Jacob Elordi. "He's so cool, man."

You settle into silence again, watching the movie in peace. Dominic raises a brow when he feels something tickling his hand. He glances down, only to find just your two fingers on his own, your face flushed and a nervous look in your eyes.

You better know he has the biggest grin at that.