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mikkomacko · 19 days ago

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Him and I-Do it with a broken heart

Mob Nico Hischier x reader blurb

Warnings: blood, tears, mentions of violence and wounds, alcohol, angst

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June

Nico can’t look away from you.

Ever since you showed up at his apartment on Saturday night, teary eyed and scared. You told him it was done, that you said goodbye to your family. You’d picked him. And even though you were teary eyed and scared, you were also so confident in your decision.

You picked him.

The decision has sat heavy on his shoulders ever since. Why the fuck would you do that? The people that raised you, the people that put a house over your head and love into your soul, and you just walked away?

For him? What can he offer you? He can’t be your boyfriend, can’t step in as your family. Nico knows for certain that he can’t be what you need right now. There's no way he can take care of you, be there for you. Not now, when he can barely take care of himself.

It’s all ruined. He should’ve told you to go back and apologize to them, to agree to your parents terms and stop seeing him. And then when the two of you couldn’t hold that promise, he’d just be a fun little secret.

That was the plan, wasn’t it? When he met you? To just be the guy you came to when you didn’t want to sleep alone, when school was too much, when you both needed the world to just slow down for a moment.

Because it’s always been like with you. Time standing still, everything fading away until it’s just you and him. He should’ve known then what he was doing. What that feeling meant.

He’s going to love you. Not in a fleeting way, where he loves that you’re always a call away, or that you always fall into bed with him so effortlessly, or that you ignore the fact he's running one of the largest growing businesses in the US. But that he’ll love you with everything he’s got. When he’s laying on his deathbed he’ll have the taste of your lips on his tongue, your name on his breath.

He’s going to love you in the kind of way that changes everything.

And he’s not ready for that.

He pictures you walking across the stage at graduation, the way your smile took over your whole face. You didn’t look back towards your family, didn’t turn to wave at them. No, you somehow found him, found his eyes even through the obnoxiously dark sunglasses he was wearing. Your smile turning shy, the hand not holding your degree lifting to wiggle your fingers at him and the boys that were hooting and hollering louder than everyone else.

You should’ve been looking for your family in a moment like that, not at him. He knew it then too, that you’re going to love him one day. Maybe you’re already there, or at least on your way to being there. You’ll love him the way he’ll love you, endlessly. Dangerously.

Nico needs to be ready for that. He needs to be someone capable of loving, deserving of it. Especially if it’s going to come at the expense of your family.

Softly, you giggle at something on your phone, scrolling momentarily. Nico glances at you again, looking over when the stop light’s red or lapse in traffic allow him too. He wants to see the details of your face for as long as he can, commit it to memory. Not that he'll ever forget it. He'll just need it to keep him going, to keep working towards you when life starts to get tough.

Sooner than he'd like he's pulling up in front of your apartment complex, eyeing the window on the fourth floor that he knows is yours. You lock your phone, gathering your bag from the floor of his car when he looks at you.

Will he ever step foot in that apartment again? Ignore the cold looks of your roommates? Sneak in after they've gone to bed because neither of you wanted to deal with them that night? He hopes so, but deep down he knows he probably won't.

"Meeting with the boys tonight?" You ask, tilting your head curiously. He wants to touch the strand of hair that falls away from your face. Instead he nods, clearing the dry lump in his throat.

Right, it's Wednesday. Meet day for the Devils, and you know that. The fact that you know that squeezes his chest, painfully constricts his lungs. "Yeah," he tries to say. It comes out as more a whisper.

You frown, eyes squinting in thought as you look at him. He wants to look away, knows he needs to because you'll see right through him like you always do. He can't though. He wants to see you, aches to have his eyes on you and that fucking hurts.

"What's wrong Nico?"

He shakes his head, throat burning and he thinks he might cry. God he hasn't cried in probably years, but then again he hasn't let himself indulge in sweet things like you in years either.

Knowingly, you sit up straight and sigh "Say it Nico." Of course you know, you know him better than he knows himself. In the few months he's let himself have you, you've read him like a book from the very beginning. Perfect, you've always been perfect for him.

He can't say the same thing about himself, though.

"If you already know it, why should I-"

"Because I want to hear it," you interrupt, and for the first time ever he can't tell if your angry or sad, or both. You sound like you've already known this was coming. Numb to it. "If you're going to do this to us Nico at least have the guts to actually say it out loud."

It hurts to hear but you're right. He inhales, bites at his bottom lip as he tries to get the words to form on his tongue. All he can feel are those stupid cries hiding in the back of his throat.

"I don't think we should see each other any more," he finally voices, and this time he does look away. Staring out the windshield as the neighbor that lives above you walks those monstrosities they call dogs.

He can't help but think of you and your Moose, hopes that one day he gets to see you with a big and snuggly St. Bernard, just how you wanted. Even if he's not the one walking the dog with you.

"That's it?" you ask, bored. "No excuses, no 'it's-not-you-it's-me' or anything?"

"It is me," he winces when you laugh, unamused and cold.

"Of course it's you Nico. I'm not stupid, I know that."

"I know you're not stupid!" He defends, outraged and insulted that you'd even insinuate he think that. "You're the smartest fucking person I know and that's why you should know this isn't good. You can't throw everything away for me and the Devils."

"You can't choose that for me! What if it's what I want?"

"It's not," he insists, finally looking at you. You’re not crying, but you’re close to it. Your nose has gotten all read, eyes glassy and furious. Nico’s not sure what he looks like, but he hopes he too looks more angry than sad. You can’t know he’s sad, that he doesn’t want to do this.

“And it’s not what I want either.”

He can see the way the words hit you, the way you flinch back from him. Nico’s chest cracks, stinging with every shaky inhale he forces himself to take. You’ve never been scared of him, he doesn’t want you to be either. But if that’s the only way he’s going to get you to listen to him…well then flinch away.

“I can’t believe you,” you mutter in disbelief, more to yourself than him. Teary eyes look him over, calculating, like you don’t even recognize him anymore. He fights against the urge to cry, blinking furiously and staring out the front windshield as you gather your things. He hears your seatbelt in click, hears the door open. He still doesn’t look at you.

Not until you’ve gotten out of the car, pausing as you tell him the one thing he’s most afraid of.

“I hope that one day you’ll finally let someone love you, Nico.”

The door slams shut and Nico winces, not sure if he’s shying away from you or from the loud bang of the door. He’s not an asshole, as much as he’d like you to think, so he waits until he’s certain you’ve gotten inside safe. Checks just to make sure.

You’re not on the sidewalk, the door to your building sealed shut. All that lingers is the faint smell of you, of your vanilla perfume and shea butter condition. Nico sniffles, wipes at his eyes before the tears that have leaked out can get too far down his face.

Then he put the car in drive, doesn’t look in his mirrors as he heads back towards Hoboken. Alarm bells go off in his head.

You’re forgetting something.

You can’t leave without her.

Turn the car around.

He ignores them, biting his cheek and pressing on the gas harder. Nico doesn’t cry, not until he’s far enough away, panicking enough for his mind to finally scream at him.

You’re in love with her.

He doesn’t go home that night. He heads straight to the bar.

~~~~

July

The Rock is loud, even all the way in the back office where Nico’s been hiding. Muffled chatter, glass hitting the bar top, bottles clinking together. He can hear it all, even through the wall shaking music.

Nico groans, thankful he can’t be heard as he presses the disinfecting cloth to his ribs. He doesn’t know what hit him there, a knife, brass knuckles, maybe a key tucked between someone’s fingers.

Doesn’t matter. The wound is still gaping and messy, a mush of torn skin and blood. Gritting his teeth, Nico presses in tighter. His shirt lay in front him, dirty and torn, stained with blood. His, theirs, everyone’s probably.

That doesn’t matter either. He can get a new one whenever. Nico pulls the cloth away, dropping it into a wet and bloody mess on the desk top. He’s never been particularly good at stitching, especially not on himself, so he grabs for more gauze, planning to just wrap the stupid thing and hope it holds.

But by the time he’s got the gauze on and is starting to wrap the bandage around his torso, it’s already soaked with blood, sagging and drooping away from the wound.

“Fuck,” he curses, throwing it all to the floor in a soggy mess. He’s reaching for more gauze when they door to the office opens, the sounds of the bar hitting him clearly. Then it shuts, muffling it all again and Nico looks up to find Jesper there.

“Where have you been,” his friend asks, arms crossed over his chest. He’s looking Nico over, eyeing the fresh and old bruises on his torso, the scrapes. And of course, the gaping hole in his side.

“Had a job.” Nico grunts, attempting his bandaging again.

“I don’t remember you ever doing jobs alone before.” Jesper says pointedly, and Nico knows what he’s really trying to say. He’s being scolded for being reckless, for getting hurt, for not including them.

“Was a one man job,” he lies, but his fingers and the bandages have gotten messy and soaked again. “Fuck me!”

He throws them to the ground, grabbing his ruined shirt and holding it to his side. Squeezing his eyes shut, Nico starves off the wooziness, trying to take calming breathes.

“That’s gonna need stitches.” Jesper says and Nico stays silent, listens to Jesper putter around the office. He’s collecting thread and a needle, disinfecting and prepping everything. All while Nico sits there, grinding his teeth so hard he thinks they might crack and shatter.

He might crack and shatter.

“What was this about?” Jesper swats his hand away, Nico leaning back in the chair and letting his friend takeover.

“Those guys running around the Heights won’t be bothering us anymore,” is all Nico says. It was a small group, more a posse than anything else but they needed to be put down before they thought themselves competitors with the Devs.

“Thought we said we’d let it run its course?” Jesper pinches the raw skin together, Nico jolting in pain as his friend stabs through the untouched skin and begins knitting him together again.

“It wasn’t safe,” Nico grunts, white spots sparkling behind closed eyelids. “I have to-it couldn’t wait.”

It goes without saying what he means, what he’s been doing. Tearing himself apart at least once a week trying to clean up Jersey. The more power, the more dominance he has over the city, the less threat there is.

And when that happens, he can put the prinzessin laws in place. He can go get you. If you’re still there, that is.

“What’s she gonna say?” Jesper mumbles quietly, “when she comes back and sees you like this?”

Nico swallows heavily, wishes he had a bottle of whiskey or something back here to drink. “If she comes back.”

Jesper snorts humorlessly. “I hope you have a plan,” he says, tying off the stitches. Nico winces at the tug, blinking his eyes open to look down at the patched up work. “And I hope you’re still in one fucking piece by the time it’s over.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nico deflects, and Jesper wipes away the blood staining his skin with an alcohol wipe. “The plan is that she’s safe.”

“You’re crazy if you think she’d be ok with this.” Jesper laughs, applying a bandage over the stitches. Maybe it’s Nico’s imagination but it feels like he presses it on unnecessarily rough. Nico doesn’t know what to say, so he just sits there, body aching, heart aching.

Almost a month later and he doesn’t feel any better about what he did. But growth hurts sometimes, even if it’s needed.

“Put a shirt on.” Jesper sighs, getting up and moving towards the door. “I’ll have a pint waiting for you at the table.”

Nico grunts, shifting to get up. “Get all the fucking girls out of there,” he demands before his friend can leave. “I don’t want them in my booth.”

~~~~

“Come on, that one’s cute!”

The man isn’t cute. Not even close. He’s got wavy golden hair, long and messy but in an intentional way. Even from here you can tell he’s got dark eyes, probably tragic and beautiful, just how you like.

But he’s not cute.

You shake your head, taking a drink from your vodka soda. The girls groan in protest, most of the noise overpowered by the music.

“Getting over and getting under, remember?” One of them says, leaning in close to your ear. For a month it’s been getting under to get over. But you’ve yet to get under anyone.

You can’t even look at anyone, no matter how much vodka you take in to try to blur the image in front of you. Because it does blur them, but it also sharpens the image of someone else.

And you don’t need that sharpened at all, don’t need any help to make that one hurt.

“Yeah,” you agree, “I just don’t feel like getting under anyone tonight.”

“So get on top.” One of them laughs and you try to do it too, giggle lifelessly like it’s actually funny. It’s not funny though, and you think if you had any water in you at all right now you might cry.

“At least get his number so when you do feel like getting under, it’s there.”

It’s not a terrible idea and it’ll get them off your back for the night. A step forward, away from where you’d been before, where you’re stuck right now. Away from him.

So you get up from the table, stumbling slightly in your knee high boots and the girls holler. You cheers them, downing the rest of your drink before making your way across the bar. Dazed, everything slightly blurring. But this guy spotted you the minute you got up, was already turned and waiting for you when you get there.

“Hey,” he greets and you repeat it back, gripping his arm when you stumble and his hand finds your waist. Not your hip, not like he used to do. Wordlessly, he’s gesturing to your phone in your hand and you unlock it, hand it over. He types in his number and you swallow down the urge to vomit.

He texts himself, his own phone buzzing as he hands yours back. The name on his contact reads Jack and your stomach twists uncomfortably.

You know a Jack. You miss Jack. You miss…

Swallowing heavily, you flutter your eyelashes at him, too drunk and sad to know what else to say. He does have dark eyes, almost black as they look at you with interest. Not warmth, not protectiveness, not…

“What’s your name?” He asks, thumb hovering over his phone where he’s saving your contact. You tell him, trying your best to smile all cute and flirty.

It must work because he smiles back, shy and maybe in another world cute. His eyes don’t crinkle though, not how you like. And his cheeks don’t dimple, not like…

“You’ve got a pretty smile.”

It knocks the wind out of you, makes you suck in a breath and suddenly you can’t look at him. Because different eyes are looking at you over his shoulder, sad and brown and beautiful. And he’s not smiling either, not even saying a word but you can read him.

I always told you that.

You can hear his voice in your head, feel it in his gaze. That’s his line, one of the first sweet things he’s ever said to you.

“I’m sorry,” you say with faux politeness, “I think my ride is leaving but uh yeah you’ve got my number.”

He says something back but you’re already moving towards the exit, turning away from that stupid face watching you so knowingly. Except now he’s behind you too, hovering and watching from just out of reach. Just like he is every time you drink this much.

You blink, try to will him away but his features get clearer and clearer every time you open your eyes again. A friend intercepts you, asks if you’re ok.

“Yeah,” you blow-off, “we’re gonna meet up later. I just need to go home and freshen up.” You lie, motioning to the blonde behind you.

He’s over her shoulder now, listening intently. Dark and thick eyebrows raise with amusement, a teasing smirk on his face. Dimples and all.

So you’re lying now too?

“Ok, you need help getting a ride?”

You shake her off, declining. You’ll order an uber outside, outside where you can breathe and cry and hopefully not see him anymore. “No I’m ok, promise.”

You’re not ok, baby.

She lets you go, and you push through bodies and around tables to get to the door. He follows you, moving slow and effortlessly but always there. Just like how he is in real life, presence looming and dominant.

You fight him, ignore him until your sat in the backseat of a Honda with the window cracked, sucking in ragged breathes.

He’s right, you’re not ok at all.

Your phone buzzes, and you look down, expecting to see a text from what’s his face at the bar. Instead it’s one you know, one you should probably call and ask to come over before you do something stupid.

Timo

Hey sweets, how was your night out? Home safe?

You’ll text him when you get home, you tell yourself. Let him know you’re ok, even if he doesn’t believe it. Eventually it has to be true.

Right?

~~~~

August

Timo and him haven’t been the same. Not in a while, no matter how much his friend likes to pretend everything is normal.

Nico can feel it though, in the silences Timo won’t fill, the questions and comments he ignores when they’re working. He’s stopped sitting with Nico at the bar, stopped drinking with him as much. Even if Timo acts like they’re ok, Nico knows better.

“Think Jack needs a sober weekend,” Nico says, conversationally “put him on security next weekend.” Timo hums, unlocking his phone and typing it into the schedule.

They’re not drunk, not even buzzed really. They’d been too busy making sure Jack didn’t bust his head open running around the bar tonight, feeding girls drink after drink and trying to send them Nico’s way.

He appreciates the kid, he does. But he was tired of his shit. So they loaded him into the car and dropped his skinny butt off at the loft. Then they decided to just head home, too late to want to go back and drink in peace.

Truth be told though, Nico doesn’t think Timo would have a beer with him anyway.

“Got it.” Timo says glumly, locking his phone. They drive in silence for another moment, Nico’s throat itching to say what he should say.

That he’s sorry, that he shouldn’t even have fucked with you in the first place. You were Timo’s friend first, and now he doesn’t see you, doesn’t talk to you. Because of Nico.

But he doesn’t, because he knows he did what was right. And if Timo’s gonna be mad at him for that well he can handle it.

Nico reaches to turn up the music, but the screen in the car flashes and Nico’s heart jumps into his throat.

Speak of the devil.

Your name is on the screen. For a moment he thinks it’s him you’re calling, that it’s him you need. But Timo’s phone is connected, he’s the one that was playing music. He’s the one you’re calling.

Before Timo can answer it privately Nico is tapping the green button, answering it for him.

Muffled music comes through the speakers, indistinguishable voices yelling and partying in the background. You’re out. You’re out and having fun at a bar or a club or something. Probably looking just as good as you did in his bar and he’s not there to see it. To see you.

His blood rushes, anger burning under his skin and he grips the wheel tighter, jaw ticking. He did this, this is his fault.

“Hey,” Timo answers, cautiously. Nico can feel his friend eyeing him, scared and tentative. “What’s up sweets?”

Nico waits with baited breath for the sound of your voice, to hear you drunk and happy as you slur to Timo in that sweet voice of yours.

He gets the exact opposite.

“Timo?” You sniffle, and it’s like all the air in the car gets sucked out. You’re crying, you’re out somewhere and something is wrong and you’re crying.

Nico bites his tongue to stay quiet.

“Yeah it’s me, what’s wrong?” Timo asks, calm and steady. “Where are you?”

He sounds…knowing. Like he’s done this before, has this conversation with you before. Nico wonders how many times you’ve actually called Timo, if you two still talk even after everything.

“I’m at a party,” you hiccup, and for a moment everything goes quiet, the party muffled. Nico wonders where you went, who you’re with. Even if it’s not his right to know. “I-will you come get me? Please?”

“Yes of course.” Timo agrees, “just tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know,” you cry, sniffling even more. “I-it isn’t my-Timo.”

Nico’s panicking, ears ringing as your cries fill the car. Timo’s already on his phone, pulling up his Find My app. You’ve given him your location.

Smart girl, Nico thinks proudly and bitterly. You’ve always been so smart.

“It’s ok I’ve got you,” his friend promises, “I found you. Gonna come get you right now, ok?”

You make a whimpered sound, like you’re choking on whatever you were trying to say. Nico is helpless, driving numbly as Timo shows him the address silently. He turns, changing directions to head to Jersey City.

“Y/n,” Timo says sternly. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, a hushed whisper. Like you’re hiding from something.

“I need you to breathe,” Timo instructs, and Nico steps harder on the gas. Imagines you hurt and scared, in a house you don’t know with a bunch of fucks that shouldn’t be anywhere near you.

“Ok,” you reply, but neither of them actually hear you trying. Nico just hears the party, muffled and far away.

“Are you somewhere safe?” Timo asks, glancing at Nico again.

“Yeah,” you agree, just as quiet.

“Are you ok?”

It silent for too long, long enough for Nico to know that you’re thinking about it. Trying to decide what to say.

Instead you say, “I love you T.”

Nico sucks in a sharp breath, hopes you can’t hear it. Then he imagines you saying it to him, hates Timo a little bit because he never got to hear that from you.

“I love you too kid.” Timo says, gentle and comforting. “Just hang on for a bit, I’ll be there soon ok?”

“I’m upstairs,” you say, “the last door on the right. Because he’s downstairs.”

Nico doesn’t know who he is. Doesn’t know if he wants to know. Maybe you did move on, maybe you tried and it didn’t work out. Maybe this guy is a fucking asshole. That’s who you’re hiding from. Someone who hurt you.

And from the looks of it, has been doing it for a bit. Because Timo seems to get it, knows who you’re talking about. He looks at Nico sadly, a tormented look in his eyes before answering.

“I know sweets, just hang on for me.”

“My phone is gonna die.” You say, the drunkenness in your voice coming through for the first time tonight. Not in that fun and flirty way Nico’s used to hearing, but in a pained way. Guilt gnaws at his stomach. “I’m gonna hang up.”

He doesn’t want you to. He wants to hear you, to listen to you until he knows you’re safe. But this isn’t his conversation.

“Ok, I’ll see you in a sec.”

“See you.”

Then the line goes dead. Music filters into the car again, not that Nico is listening to it. Timo shifts uncomfortably in his seat, turns to watch Nico’s profile curiously.

“Who is he?” Nico finally asks, certain that even if it hurts, he has to know. He can’t just ignore the fact that you and Timo have been hiding this asshole from Nico for who knows how long.

Timo sighs. “It’s you,” he admits, “she gets drunk and she sees you. Everywhere.”

Nico’s been shot before. Not fully, just nicks and grazes that bleed and burn, need stitches. But he imagines it’d feel like this if he were to fully get hit, if a bullet dug its way into his chest and settled there, breaking his ribs and shattering everything inside.

Him. He’s the asshole. He’s the one that hurt you, that’s been torturing and scaring you. You’re hiding from him, crying because of him.

It’s poetic, Nico thinks, that he was ready to run in there and get you, save you from whoever wasn’t treating you right. Whoever was taking advantage of you. And this whole time it was him.

“How often,” Nico asks, voice breaking and he has to clear his throat, steady himself. “How often does she call?”

Timo shrugs. “We talk almost everyday. She’s only like this a few nights out of the week, when she’s with her friends.”

A few night. Nico’s never known you to drink like that, to get wasted almost every night. Aren’t you working? Doing something with that degree you were so proud of? He was so proud of?

You’re supposed to be working and be happy, doing something you love. Not partying, drinking yourself into hallucinations of him hurting you.

“I-I didn’t know, Timo.” Nico admits, pained. “I didn’t know it’d end up like this, I never thought she’d…”

“Who cares,” Timo huffs, annoyed and bitter. “She drinks herself stupid and calls me. You go out and get your ass kicked, and call no one. So who cares?”

Nico doesn’t know what to say. He just keeps driving.

~~~~

Nico shouldn’t be here. He knows he shouldn’t, knows you’re going to go berserk when you see him, but he’s a dumb man and he can’t stay away.

Even if it hurts you and him.

He’s pacing on the sidewalk outside the stupid house Timo had disappeared into ten minutes ago. Anxious, Nico’s fighting to not go into the house himself and find you.

He can’t though, you’re not his to be rescuing.

Truth be told, he’s scared too. The last time he saw you was a little over a month ago, a Wednesday afternoon when he realized that he was falling in love with you. Even worse, he realized you might be falling in love with him.

So he broke off whatever it was you guys were doing, not dating, not friends with benefits, but something in between.

“I hope that one day you’ll finally let someone love you, Nico.”

Your final words replay in his head as he slumps against his car, checking his phone for the umpteenth time. Still nothing.

After what feels like years, the front door of the house opens and Timo emerges, gently guiding you by the elbow with him.

Nico feels like he’s been hit in the gut. Even when you’re a drunken, college party mess you look beautiful. He’s frozen, just staring at you with wide eyes until you spot him.

Eyes glossy from crying on the phone, you stop walking and hold his gaze for a moment. Frantically, you’re tugging out of Timo’s hold and backing up towards the house again.

Nico can’t stop you, what’s he supposed to say? That he’s sorry? That he’s changed his mind? That maybe you two can be friends?

Timo follows you, harsh whispers and hushed arguing as he shields you from Nico’s view. Then you fall silent, Timo stepping aside so he can see you again.

“Y/n…” Nico sighs, stepping forward and half reaching out for you. You’re crying again, silent tears slipping down your cheeks and the tip of your sniffling nose red.

“I don’t want to see you,” you say, voice wobbling. “I didn’t call you, I didn’t ask you to come here.”

Despite the wave of emotion in your words, Nico would have no indication of how much you’re hurting. Your gaze is firm and angry, so compelling that he feels two feet tall even though he’s the one towering over you.

“You can’t honestly think that I’d hear that call and not come,” Nico explains, sighing in disbelief. He pauses, thinks about how his heart fell into his stomach when Timo answered your call on the car bluetooth and you were crying. You sounded so small, so scared and nothing could ever keep Nico from you after hearing that.

Not even his own stupid decisions in the past.

“It’s not you’re right to come here,” you argue, glancing over at Timo who’s decided to give you two space. “You didn’t want me Nico, you made that very clear. You can’t just decide to finally be my hero again because you feel guilty.”

Nico likes to think he’s good at keeping his emotions in check. He can keep his calm, cool demeanor in the face of almost anything.

He can’t right now. Not when all these new and raw feelings were eating at him from the inside out, constantly. And you were acting like he didn’t feel anything for you, like this is fun for him.

“Of course I want you!” He shouts, “You’re the only one I’ve ever want, but I can’t have you!” His outburst catches the attention of some of the college kids milling around the front porch. You huff, taking ahold of his wrist and dragging him back towards the car.

“What do you mean?” You sniffle, wiping at your cheeks and crossing your arms over your chest. “I tried Nico, I was ready to give up everything for you and you sent me packing. You told me what it takes and when I said I could do it, that I wanted to do it, you took it all back.

“The only one who’s kept us apart is you.”

You’re right. And it hurts. Even drunk and upset, it’s clear in your mind what he’s done. He’s turned you away, after asking you for everything, he said no. He’s a hypocrite. A hypocrite that has hurt you so badly he doesn’t even deserve to be standing here in front of you.

But he’s selfish. And he loves you.

“Timo wasn’t supposed to bring you,” you spit, “so leave.”

It’s mean, you’re mean. Nico has no right to be offended by it, but he is. So he smiles, tilts his head all mockingly and pulls open the back door.

“Tough shit baby, this is my car so get in.” He motions for you to move. The pet name stirred something in you, knocked you off your axis because you’re blinking at him with a fresh wave of tears in your eyes.

“Don’t call me that,” you shake your head, eyes fluttering closed and he can see the way your chest rises and falls heavily, the red splotches on your throat.

Guilty, he reaches out for your elbow, wants to touch you, to make it better. His fingers graze your skin, but you move away from him, hugging yourself.

“I hate you,” you whimper, stepping back again and Nico follows. You’ve locked onto that though, crying and wailing that you hate him, you hate him, you hate him. And you’re pushing at his chest and hands, manic as you cry and hit him.

Nico can’t do anything but stand there and take it. He doesn’t even try to catch your swinging fists, lets you hit his chest and shoulders with a strength that’s shocking for how drunk you are.

Timo eventually comes over, when your words have turned to heartbreaking cries and then the hitting stops. He opens his eyes, blurry with tears as his friend wraps you up in his arms, muttering something into your ear. You cry quietly, leaning into Timo as he gets you into the backseat of the car.

Pausing at the door, Timo turns to him, blue eyes ablaze with anger. He’s never looked at Nico like that before. “You were supposed to say sorry or something nice, you fucking idiot. Not mock her.”

“Timo I-“

“Just shut up and drive the fucking car.”

Nico shuts up, goes around to the drivers side. He’s silent as he gets in, silent as he buckles up, silent as he starts it and puts it in drive. You’re all silent, except for the low sounds of you still crying.

Nico glances back, sees you lying in Timo’s lap with a shine of tears over your eyes. Your cheeks are wet and ruddy, bottom lip trembling and Timo strokes through your hair.

“Should I take you home?” Timo asks gently, and Nico looks forward again. He can’t stand looking at you, looking at the mess he made.

“No,” you whimper, “I can’t go home.”

“Why not?” Timo’s so good at this, at being soft and comforting, at speaking to you like you’re the most precious thing. Nico always thought he could be good at that, but he guesses tonight proved that he’s not.

“They’re not my friends.” Your voice cracks, and he can picture the tears rolling down your temples again.

“Sure they are, why wouldn’t they be?”

“Friends don’t say things like that to people they care about.”

Nico thinks maybe you’ve forgotten him, drunk brain too jumbled and hurt to remember he’s the one driving the car. He can’t imagine you’d want to say these things around him.

“What did they say?” Timo asks and you must shake your head or something because he repeats the question, more stern this time.

“They said I was stupid,” you sniffle, embarrassed. Nico wants to turn around, to stomp into that house and show them just how stupid they for saying anything about you. “That I was stupid and naive for following Nico when they told me to run.”

Ouch, Nico winces. He knew they never liked him, pretty much only tolerated him for free drinks at the Rock. He had no idea how many people in your life were saying to leave him.

“They said I deserve to feel like this for giving up everything for him. It’s what I get for being stupid.”

Deserve this? No one deserves this, especially not you. Nico thought you’d thrive without him, that when he found you again you’d have your dream job and a nice apartment and Moose and you’d be happy. That maybe you’d be happy with him again.

Not this. If he knew at all that it’d be like this he never would’ve done it. He can’t even begin to imagine how this happened, how you got like this. He was this important to you?

“You’re not stupid,” Timo assures, “remember we said that? It’s not stupid to give up something for something better?”

Better, you thought he was better than everything you had before. Nico swallows heavily, wiping at his own cheeks because he’s started crying too.

“It’s not a sacrifice if what you got in return is worth more.”

You sniffle, a whimpered noise coming from deep in your chest. “Yeah well now I don’t have him either.”

Timo goes quiet, meets Nico’s crying eyes through the mirror and in that glance Nico knows his friend is about to say the worst thing possible.

“You love him though, and that’s worth it, right?”

You never answer. Nico keeps driving towards Timo place, fighting to see through his own teary eyes. He’s starting to see why Timo’s been so cold lately.

~~~~

Nico didn’t sleep.

He went home and paced. Took a hot shower. Texted Timo to check on you. And then paced some more when he didn’t get an answer.

He laid in bed until the sun came up, stared up at his ceiling and thought of all the nights you slept next to him, that he stared up at the exact same ceiling but you were pressed into his side. Your head on his shoulder, his hand on your hip and he thought “holy fuck, how did I get her here?”

You loved him. That’s how everything got so out of hand. Nico thought he’d caught it sooner, that he called it off before it got that far. But you already loved him and he broke your heart.

He thinks back on it now, if there were signs of you being in love. At the time, he thought you were just like that. Sweet and caring by nature, generous and loving. You weren’t giving him special treatment, you were like that all the time.

Now though, he think maybe he was wrong. He was special to you. And that love he knew was coming for him with impending doom had already settled deep in you.

Idiot, he thinks, knocking on Timo’s door. He’s a fucking idiot and he doesn’t deserve a chance to fix this but he wants one. He wants to fix you. He’s ready to do it.

It’s you that answers the door, eyes still puffy and red. Your hair is tied back in a terribly messy braid, a black shirt and sweats from Timo on your frame. You’ve got no socks on, and Nico internally cringes, knowing how much you hate being barefoot.

“Timo’s asleep,” you say, not looking at him but rather at his chest.

“I came for you,” he says, and then he’s holding out the matcha latte he got for you. One from that cafe under his apartment, the one you love so much because they carry the pistachio flavoring you like in your drinks.

You take the cup, holding it awkwardly in your hand as you stand in the doorway.

“I don’t really want to talk to you.”

Oh, Nico doesn’t really have any argument for that. To be honest, he thought you’d be mad enough for another round to fight with him.

“You were mean last night,” you say quietly, dropping your gaze to his shoes.

“I was scared,” he says in a lame excuse. “You being like, it scared me. I didn’t-I’ve never seen you like that.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He sees the moment you notice the bruise on his jaw, eyes frowning with a guilt you shouldn’t carry. “Did I do that?”

He shakes his head. “No, that was…I’ve been working a lot.”

“Oh.”

“You got me pretty good on the shoulder though.”

Nico tries to smile, hoping it would make you too. Instead you look at him, eyes locking on the dimple in his cheek and you’re looking away again.

“I used to be able to take care of myself,” you mumble, almost ashamed. “I just never thought you’d be on the other end of it.”

Nico swallows, watches the way condensation is building on your fingers from holding your drink. The ice is melting.

“Will you walk with me?” He asks, desperate. “Please y/n?”

Maybe it’s the way his voice shakes, or that he’s using your real name, but you finally look at him. Then you nod just once. “Let me find my shoes.” The door closes on him and he’s left waiting outside, like an idiot in love.

~~~~

You walk next to him along the water front, finally sipping on the latte he got you. He wants to reach out for your hand, wants to wipe away the little bit of foam on your lip but you get it before he can.

It’s awkward, the way you won’t look at him and he can’t stop looking at you. Manhattan stands tall behind you, towering across the river and glinting in the morning sun. Nico wishes he could take a picture of you, with your drink and your messy hair and the pretty background.

He loves you.

Now he just needs to say it out loud.

“I wasn’t lying last night,” he finally says. “When I said that I’ve always wanted you. I’ll always want you.

You don’t miss a beat. “Why’d you lie to me?”

He frowns, wonders what the hell you’re talking about. You look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“When you broke up with me, you said I wasn’t what you want.”

Nico thinks back to that day in the car when he’d dropped you off for the last time, tries to remember everything he said.

“It’s not what I want either.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Nico gasps, mentally kicking himself. You thought he meant he didn’t want you, this whole time. “I meant that I didn’t-I didn’t want you to want me.”

You stop walking, furious as you glare at him in the middle of the sidewalk. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I wanted you,” he begins, soft and careful with his words. He can’t screw this up again, can’t hurt you like before. “I could feel it, the way you fit with me so perfectly. But I was-I was just a fucking kid with a lot of money and no idea how to grow up. I never had a reason to grow up.

“I couldn’t be selfish and drag you into that. What kind of man would I be if I brought you into a life like that? It wasn’t safe, I couldn’t protect you.”

You look him up and down, those pretty lips of yours pulled into a frown and your eyebrows pinched with anger. “So what? You grew up in a month? You’re finally an adult now?”

A lady runs by, scoffing and glaring as she ducks around the two fighting in her path. Nico huffs, flipping her off. She gasps, outraged and before Nico can tell her to fuck off you’re shoving his hand down.

He looks back to you, eyes guilty and pleading. “No, I mean yeah. I just needed time baby, I need to make sure that I could do this with you.”

Another couple is coming by, and he reached for your hand. You don’t shake him off when he pulls you off to the side and into the grass, away from everyone. He lets go of you before you have the satisfaction of rejecting his touch.

“You did all this just because you needed time?” You laugh, humorlessly. Then you’re stalking away, and he follows after you like an idiot, tripping on his feet because he thinks you’ve really given up on him this time.

You’re just throwing your drink away though, turning to find him stumbling after you. His desperation must show because you soften, letting out a careful sigh as he holds his breath.

“I wasn’t asking you to marry me Nico,” you say, “I just wanted to be with you.”

“I know that,” he agrees, ashamed as he looks down at his feet. “But I wasn’t getting in this to be with you for just a bit. I knew once I officially had you that I could never let you go, so yeah I needed to be ready.”

He looks up and to his horror you’re crying again, tears reflecting the morning light and cheeks red. Nico can’t stop himself this time, can’t ignore what his hearts been telling him to do for weeks now. His hand finds your hip, drawing you into him and you go easily, like you’ve been waiting for it too.

It’s perfect, the way you fit into his chest. Your hands tucked between you and him, perfectly in the curve at the base of his ribs, head in the junction of his neck and shoulder. Safe. Protected. You shudder, a sound of content leaving you and then you’re crying again, like all you needed to know was that you’re safe to be vulnerable here.

“I would’ve waited for you,” you hiccup into his hoodie, and he squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back his own tears. His nose presses into the top of your head, breathing in the smell of you and the faint smell of Timo lingering on your clothes. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve waited.”

He shakes his head, holds you tighter. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. What if it took me longer? What if it had taken me years? No I wanted you to be you, to use your degree and that big brain of yours and be happy. And that way when it was our time again, you’d be ready.”

You wail even more, the sound hurting something deep in his chest. “I was ready,” you swear, “I was ready for you Nico. I didn’t want anything else. I’ve been waiting anyway, haven’t I?”

He doesn’t know what to say, what else to do. So he just holds you, shushing you quietly. He waits until you’re sniffling, calming down before speaking again.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know you loved me until last night. Baby you have to know I would’ve done it differently if I knew.”

Much to his dismay, you pull back just enough to look at him, chin pressed into his chest. Your eyelashes are dark and clumped together, lips red and raw. “I still do,” you murmur. “I have for a long time.”

Nico winces, sucking in a breath. You still haven’t said it, not really but he knows that you’re going to. He needs to say it first though.

Licking his lips, he blinks back tears. “I love you,” he whispers, “I love you so much it’s all consuming and it’s dangerous and I’ve been miserable without you.”

“I can’t fix you Nico,” you mumble sadly, “if you decide that you suddenly can’t do this again I won’t- I can’t fix you.”

“You don’t need to fix me,” he promises, “I did it all. I did the work, I fixed me. And I love you.”

Shockingly, you laugh. A beautiful and wet giggle that has you shaking against his chest. You’re smiling at him though, bright and oh so pretty. “I know Nico,” you roll your eyes, teasingly. “I’ve known you loved me since January.”

His birthday, he thinks. You threw him a party, brought him a gift. The only one of them to do so, even his friends since childhood had never done that. They always said it wasn’t something they think he’d like. You knew though, and you wanted to do it for him.

Yeah, he thinks you’re right. Even if he didn’t know it at the time.

“I was really stupid then,” he mumbles, brushing your hair away from your wet cheeks. “Breaking up with you like that when you already knew.”

“Yeah you were a fucking idiot.” You agree, and he frowns, only the tiniest bit offended. But then you’re wiggling an arm out to wrap it around his back, fingers gripping the hem of his hoodie at the small of his back. “But you’re my idiot, right?”

Nico brushes a kiss to your forehead, nodding “I’m your idiot, if you’ll still have me.”

You scoff, like it’s the dumbest thing he’s ever said. Truth is, it’s not. Not by a long shot. “Of course I’ll still have you.”

He hums, laying his cheek on your head and closing his eyes. He wants to soak this in, feel you with him exactly where you’re supposed to be. Your nose ghosts over his cheek, lips right where that bruise on his jaw is.

“You didn’t move on?” You ask him, almost afraid to hear the answer. Nico thinks maybe you’re stupid too, for thinking he could ever move on.

“No,” he assures, “I was only trying to catch up with you.”

You kiss his jaw, just once. A soft little butterfly kiss to the bruise there. Goosebumps raise on his skin, mouth aching to feel yours. He doesn’t dare move a muscle. “Did you? Move on at all?”

Your hand finds his chest, pressing back until you part enough to see him. “Not a single bit,” you say, “even if I wanted to I couldn’t.”

He smiles. “Good.” You rise to your toes, mouth just a breath away from his. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders if you brushed your teeth this morning. If the hangover stopped you, if the heartbreak did. He doesn’t really care though.

“I love you Nico.”

Nico doesn’t know if it’s possible to physically hear how own heart break, opening up for you in a way he’s never done before. It’s hurts in the best way possible, scary but beautiful. He sniffles, leaning in and finally kissing you.

It’s soft and sweet, a short kiss but so worth it after so long of not having you. That crack in his chest throbs, soothed by the feeling of you holding your hand over his heartbeat. You love him.

You’re smiling so wide when he opens his eyes again, falling back to the balls of your feet and beaming up at him. You’ve always looked at him with so much warmth, so much joy. Like he’s the sun and you’re the flower chasing after him, growing in his attention.

“I missed that pretty smile.” He murmurs, and you laugh, wet and broken but happy. “Can’t believe I get to see it again.”

“Yeah well you’re not off the hook that easily.” You murmur, moving to wrap yourself around his arm. Then you’re pulling him back onto the sidewalk, walking back towards Timo’s place. “Get me breakfast. And Timo too please.”

Nico squeezes your hand, looking forward with a smile. “Yes ma’am.”

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