𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓜𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓐 𝓦𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷 - 𝒩𝒾𝒸𝑜 𝐻𝒾𝓈𝒸𝒽𝒾𝑒𝓇
You always had a list.
Not because you couldn’t be spontaneous, but because someone had to remember birthdays before the group chat did. Someone had to make restaurant reservations for twelve hockey players who never answered their phones, book flights before prices doubled, remind everyone to renew passports, and somehow fit an entire offseason into a calendar without anyone realizing how much work went into it. And that someone, became you.
The dining table was buried beneath colorful sticky notes, a laptop, half-finished travel itineraries, and a notebook binder you’d dedicated entirely to “Summer Plans.”
Across the room, your boyfriend of five years, Nico, was stretched comfortably across the couch in gray sweats, one ankle resting over his knee. The television replayed the Devils’ latest home game, the volume low enough that only the sound of skates carving across the ice filled the apartment. Every few seconds he’d pause the recording, rewind ten seconds, and watch a shift all over again to see what he can do differently in preparation for not only the next last game, but as well as the next season.
The regular season had one game left.
One more game before the offseason and playoffs, which the devils had failed to make but that’s okay with you because that means, more time with Nico.
You started to tap your pen against the table, a habit you do when deep in thought.
“Love..” you called out to the 6 foot man in the living room.
No response came from him.
“Nico.”
“Hm?”
“You’ve officially been recruited.”
His eyes stayed on the television.
“I didn’t know I had a choice.”
“You don’t.”
You see a small smile appear on his face.
You stood from your spot at the table and walked over to him, carrying the plans in your hand for him to look at.
“I’ve narrowed vacation options.”
This finally caught enough of his attention for him to glance up at you.
“Oh?”
“Switzerland.”
He nodded immediately.
“Oh, Switzerland would be nice. My family would love seeing us. Especially my mom.”
You scribbled a tiny checkmark.
“Canada.”
“I’d love to visit everyone.”
Another checkmark.
“France.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“We could use the new camera there and it is your favorite place.”
You smiled, heart tugging at how he remembered your favorite destination.
“And…” you looked down at the final page, “…London.”
This time he smiled wider.
“I miss your family. We should definitely go.”
Your pen stopped moving.
Silence settled between the two you, broken only by the muffled commentary from the television.
Slowly you look away from the book in your hand over to your annoying boyfriend.
Nico was still watching the game, completely oblivious.
“…Neeks.”
“Hm?”
You stared at him, hoping he felt it.
He noticed the silence this time and paused the replay, finally turning toward you.
“What?”
You blinked at him, “Can you help me pick one?”
“I am.”
“No.” You laughed once, setting the notebook down. “You’re agreeing with every single place I say.”
“They’re all good.”
“That doesn’t help, Hischier.”
“It helps a little.”
“It helps absolutely zero.”
He tilted his head innocently.
“You’ve said yes to every country.”
“Because I like them.”
You laid the book down on the back of the couch and crossed your arms.
“I’ve spent three days comparing flights, hotels, weather, tourist seasons, and how many vacation days we’d actually have.”
“I know.”
“I’ve color-coded everything.”
“I saw.”
“I made spreadsheets.”
“I noticed.”
“I even ranked them.”
“I was very impressed.”
You glared at him after every response.
“And your contribution has been…”
He thought for a second.
“…Moral support?”
You tossed a highlighter at him.
It bounced harmlessly off his chest.
He laughed, the quiet kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
You sighed dramatically, picking up your list and walking back to the kitchen table.
“You are impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
“You could at least pretend to make this difficult.”
He muted the television completely before standing and walking over to where you sat. His hands settled naturally on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles through the fabric of your his sweatshirt.
You looked up at him, still waiting for an actual answer.
“So?” You spoke hoping to get a straight answer from the Swiss Man.
“If you had to choose one…”
He looked down at the notebook filled with your neat handwriting. Every page carried evidence of how much thought you’d put into making sure the both of your summer would be perfect—not just for him, but for everyone you loved.
Then he looked down at you.
“I don’t care where we go.”
You opened your mouth to argue, already preparing another speech about budgets and schedules.
He smiled softly, almost amused.
“As long as you’re with me.”
You didn’t respond for a while, just… stared at him.
“…What?”
He blinked. “What?”
“You—you can’t just say things like that.”
A faint laugh escaped him. “Why not?”
“Because…” you looked down at the notebook as if the pages might rescue you. “…Because I was trying to have a serious conversation.”
“I am serious.”
You could actually feel the warmth creeping into your cheeks.
“Nico…”
He crouched beside you, one of his hands resting on your knee.
“I mean it.”
You refused to look at him.
Instead, you suddenly became incredibly interested in reorganizing the pens scattered across the table.
“This one doesn’t even work anymore,” you mumbled, picking up a random pen.
“Meine Liebe.”
“Hm?”
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I’m warm.”
“You turned red.”
“I did not.”
A grin spread across his face as he bent his neck down just enough to catch your eyes.
“There it is.”
You let out an embarrassed groan, hiding your face behind the notebook.
“Oh my gosh.”
“What?”
“You’re being…” you searched for the word, only to give up. “…You’re being you.”
“And that’s bad?”
“It’s unfair.”
He chuckled quietly before gently lowering the notebook so he could see her again.
“I really don’t need Paris or London or the mountains in Switzerland to have a good summer.”
His thumb brushed lightly over the middle of your thigh.
“I already get my favorite part.”
You looked up at him, your heart betraying you all over again.
“…Stop.”
“I’m just answering your question.”
“You sound like you’re reading from a romance novel.”
He laughed, shaking his head.
“I promise I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m just telling the truth.”
Your cheeks warmed impossibly more.
Finally, you let out one last defeated sigh before moving your hand on top of his.
“I can’t talk to you when you’re this sweet.”
His fingers interlocked with yours without hesitation.
“You don’t have to.”
You smiled slightly so he couldn’t see it.
“…Switzerland first?”
He brought your hand up to kiss the back of it.
“Sounds perfect.”
You smiled a little wider.
Not because you’d finally picked the destination—
But because, somehow, you’d ended up exactly where he said his favorite place was.
