Tw: double penetration, shower sex, foursome, poly, overstimulation, p in v, oral, fingering, multiple creampies, angst, fluff, smut, probably more
SYNOPSIS:
You just had the worst day at work and came home to your 3 boyfriends. You're not in the mood to talk and it's obviously clear.
Barely engaging in conversation, you head straight for the shower.
The front door clicked shut a little harder than usual, making two boys look up from the sofa.
It was Nicholas and EJ. Nicholas was sat across EJ's lap as the both of them were watching TV.
You didn't even spare them a glance.
"Hey, you're home—" Nicholas started, but you were already slipping off your shoes.
"I'm really not in the mood," you muttered.
Your voice was flat with exhaustion. "Please... just give me a few minutes."
EJ and Nicholas slowly looked at eachother before bringing their gaze back to you.
You could feel the concern on their faces which only made the weight on your shoulders feel heavier.
Without another word, you walked straight past the living room, disappeared down the hallway, and closed the bathroom door behind you.
A moment later, the shower hissed to life, the steady rush of water drowning out everything else.
"Is she okay?" EJ asked.
"Clearly not." Nicholas said. "Did she text you anything today?"
EJ shook his head.
Just then, Yuma came out from his room with his gaming headset around his neck.
"What was that sound?" He asked.
"It was y/n. She slammed the door when she came in?" Nicholas replied.
"She's back? Where is she?"
Nicholas nodded towards the bathroom.
"Is she okay?"
EJ and Nicholas both shrugged their shoulders.
"She said we should give her a few minutes though." EJ added.
Yuma turned away from them and began walking towards the bathroom where you were.
Knock knock
"Y/n? Is everything okay?"
He got no reply.
On the other side of the door, you were sat on the edge of the bathroom with your head in your hands.
The shower was running behind you, but you didn't even have the energy to undress.
You could hear Yuma calling your name over the sound of the water, so you responded just to make him go away.
"I'm fine."
On the other side of the door, Yuma didn't believe you.
He walked back to the living room and gestured for both boys to get up and follow him.
All three of them made their way back over to the bathroom and whispered between eachother.
"What did she say?" Ej whispered.
"I asked her if she's okay and she said she's fine." Yuma replied.
"Ok. Let me try."
EJ knocked on the bathroom door. "Y/n? Can you open the door for a second please?"
You contemplated for a minute before you turned off the shower and opened the door. You didnt look up at them, you just stood there.
Nicholas and Yuma both turned to look at EJ.
He took a step inside and hugged you.
"What's wrong hmmm?"
Between all boys, EJ was the one that you could be the most vulnerable with. He always knew exactly what to say and whatever you needed.
You burried your face in his chest and sighed.
"Nothing's going my way today. I'm just tired."
He rubbed your back and rested his chin on your head. "It's okay."
Yuma stepped inside the bathroom and took a hold of your arms, softly pulling you into a joint hug with him and Nicholas.
In that moment, you felt at peace.
"Were you about to shower?" Yuma asked you.
You nodded.
"Should we join you." Nicholas asked.
Immediately both Yuma and EJ hit him.
"Stop joking around." EJ hissed
"Owwww." Nicholas whined. "I was just asking."
"Shut up."
You let out a soft laugh.
Between all boys, Nicholas was the one that was always doing something stupid and he was 90% of the reason behind your laughter.
Seeing you laugh, the boys smiled at eachother.
"Soooooo.....should we join you?"
Yuma rolled his eyes.
You looked up at the two you were hugging, and smiled. "Okay."
"Are you sure?" EJ asked.
"Yes."
---
Yuma locked the door behind him, trapping all 4 of you inside.
EJ began taking off his shirt aswell as Nicholas.
Before you could undo the buttons of your shirt, Yuma helped.
Lastly, between all boys, Yuma was the one that always put you first. If you needed help with anything or even if you didnt need help, he was there.
Nicholas was the first to finish undressing, so he drew the shower curtain, stepped inside and began to run the water.
After EJ finished undressing, he grabbed your shower cap and started tucking your hair inside before he went to join Nicholas.
He put his hands on Nicholas' shoulders and the two began to kiss under the water.
Outside, you finished taking off your underwear as did Yuma.
He held your hand as you both stepped into the shower.
Nicholas and EJ stopped kissing and made their way over to you both.
"We'll make you feel better okay, hmmm?" EJ said as he kissed your cheek.
You smiled.
Nicholas got a bottle of body wash and squeezed it into his hand. He passed the bottle over to Yuma and EJ who did the same ,and all three rubbed their hands together and began to wash all over you.
Nicholas bent down and began washing your legs and feet, EJ washed your tummy and chest, while Yuma did your arms, neck and face.
It felt like heaven. Six soft hands slowly moving all over your body made you feel at ease.
When your entire body was covered in soap, EJ disconnected the shower head started to rinse you off.
Nicholas, being the monster he is, turned down the hot water and replaced it with the cold water.
"OH MY GOSH!" You screamed as you felt the cold water on your chest.
EJ was confused. "What? What's wrong?"
"THE WATER'S SO COLD!"
Both Yuma and EJ turned to Nicholas who was standing by the temperature with a wide grin on his face.
EJ immediately turned the shower head to face the floor .
"Are you mad." He asked Nicholas.
"Come on, that was funny."
While shivering, you couldn't help but laugh.
"Just turn it back to hot. I'm shaking."
He turned it back to hot and EJ tested it with his hand before he finished rinsing you off.
---
When you were warm and soapless, EJ kissed your shoulder before he began to step out of the bath tub. Nicholas and Yuma followed behind.
You grabbed Yuma's arm to stop him.
"Wait."
All three boys looked at you.
"Can you stay? Can all of you stay?"
Yuma stepped back in the shower, cupped your face and began to kiss you.
You felt a pair of lips kiss the back of your neck and felt a tongue lick the side of your shoulder.
Yuma held onto your hips and gave you sharp body kisses all the way down to your lower stomach. He took his hand and began messaging your clit.
Behind you, EJ was kissing your neck while grabbing onto both of your tits. You could feel his cock getting hard against your back.
Nicholas joined Yuma on his knees and lifted up your left leg. Right next to Yuma's hand, he licked your inner thigh and sucked the side of your pussy.
You gasped.
EJ took his hands of your boobs and began stroking his dick with one hand as he turned your face towards his with the other, and wrapped his mouth around yours.
He put his hand right next to Nicholas' hand (that was holding your leg up) and grabbed your thigh. After a few more strokes of his dick, he bent down and slid it up the back of your pussy.
You took your mouth of his and grabbed onto the bathtub wall to steady yourself.
"Oh my gosh." You gasped.
EJ grabbed your neck with the hand that wasn't holding your leg up, causing your head to fall on his shoulder.
Nicholas and Yuma stood up infront of you and wrapped their mouths around one nipple each and sucked hard.
They held onto your lower back while jerking off with their other hand.
You could feel EJ's pace grow faster by the second.
Unprompted, you felt another dick slide up the front of your pussy and your head shot up from EJ's shoulder.
It was Nicholas.
Before you knew it, Yuma lifted your other leg up from the floor, and you were getting double fucked in the pussy by EJ and Nicholas in the air.
Now, Nicholas was holding both your legs up while slowly thrusting into you.
You brought your face closer to his and he kissed you with passion.
On your side, Yuma sucked harshly on the side of your neck while fiddling with your nipple.
Behind you, EJ's moans became louder and you could tell he was about to cum.
"Should I cum in you." He groaned in your ear.
You hummed. "Mmmhmm."
He slapped into you a few more times, and you felt his cock twitch inside of you, releasing his cum.
"Ughhhhh."
He came.
He fucked you for a few more minutes before he finally pulled out.
He took his hand off of you and squeezed his way past your body, so he could kiss Yuma.
The two of them kissed and licked eachother before Yuma made his way over to your back.
He rubbed his tip on your pussy before he slammed himself right into you.
His cock was rubbing against Nicholas' inside you.
"Oh........shit." you squealed.
You were getting stretched beyond repair but you couldn't be happier.
Still going slow, (as he usually does) Nicholas thrusted into you as he came. His loads were much more plentiful then EJ's.
When he pulled out, thick lumps of his cum dripped onto the bathroom floor.
By now, you were getting fucked senseless and Yuma could tell.
"You there?" He asked you while still fucking you.
You couldn't speak, but you shifted your body on his, implying you were still okay.
Nicholas and EJ held onto eachother as they watched Yuma fuck you.
"I'm cumming." You whined softly.
"Cum on me y/n."
Nicholas and EJ took one of your hands each and you squeezed them tightly as you came on Yuma's cock.
Feeling your warm cum, Yuma immediately came inside you.
He stayed inside you for a few more seconds after he came, and put you back on your feet.
He gave you a few soft strokes and pulled out.
"You good there?" You heard Nicholas laugh.
EJ slapped the back of his head.
"You guys go ahead." Nicholas said. "I'll clean her up."
EJ and Yuma kissed you one after the other before they dried themselves off with a towel and went to the shared bedroom.
Nicholas ran the warm water and rinsed everyones' cum off your lower half and dried you up.
---
After you got changed into your pj's, you and Nicholas joined Yuma and EJ in bed.
EJ was on the left, then Yuma, then you and then Nicholas.
"Are you ready to tell us what happened today?" EJ asked.
Feeling better, you nodded.
"So.....basically....."
-----
Author's note: Ok so I need this to happen to me right now. This was so fun to write ahhhhhh. Read my series ALL EYES ON YOU for more Yuma x Nicholas x Ej x fem reader 🫶😜🙈
✧ after weeks of pretending he could survive the breakup, nicholas finally shows up at your door with flowers in his hands and too many things left unsaid. the conversation hurts, loving each other still hurts more, and somehow neither of you really learned how to stop.
✧ part 1 | part 2
✧ nicholas x reader | exes to lovers, angst, reconciliation, hurt/comfort, emotional confrontation, idol au | wc: ~1.3k
✧ author’s note: PART 2 PART 2 PART 2 AHHH (thank you guys so much for all the support! so so happy you all loved part 1 hehe)
✧ keep reading if you want to stay a while ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
the drive over felt endless.
every red light lasted too long.
every second made him think maybe this was stupid. maybe he was already too late. maybe you wouldn’t even open the door.
nicholas gripped the steering wheel tighter.
his heartbeat hadn’t slowed once since leaving the dorm.
rain dotted weakly against the windshield, city lights smearing across the glass in blurred streaks while memories kept hitting him one after another like punishment.
your laugh in the passenger seat.
your hand stealing fries from his bag at stoplights.
the way you used to sing wrong lyrics confidently just to annoy him.
three years.
three years, and he almost let silence become the ending.
his phone buzzed again through the cupholder.
this time he looked.
ej.
he answered on speaker without taking his eyes off the road.
“did you seriously leave?”
“yes.”
a pause.
then, “okay. good.”
nicholas let out a breathy laugh despite himself.
“bring flowers,” ej added immediately.
“i’m literally driving right now.”
“then apologize extra hard.”
the call disconnected before he could answer.
nicholas stared ahead again.
then quieter, mostly to himself—
“i know.”
—
your apartment building looked exactly the same.
and somehow that made it worse.
the same dim hallway lights.
the same crooked number plate beside your door.
the same stupid welcome mat you refused to throw away because “it had personality.”
his stomach twisted violently as he stood there.
for the first time since getting out of the car, fear finally caught up to him properly.
what if you’d moved on?
what if you were happier now?
what if he was only showing up because he couldn’t handle losing you, not because he deserved another chance?
nicholas swallowed hard.
then knocked anyway.
once.
twice.
movement sounded faintly inside.
and suddenly every nerve in his body lit on fire.
the lock clicked.
the door opened.
you froze.
so did he.
for a second neither of you spoke at all.
you looked tired.
not dramatically.
not heartbreak-movie devastated.
just… tired in the way people become after carrying sadness quietly for too long.
nicholas thought that somehow hurt worse.
your eyes flicked over him carefully, like you weren’t sure if he was real.
“...nicholas?”
his throat tightened instantly at hearing his name in your voice again.
“hi.”
you stared at him.
then at the late hour behind him.
then back at him again.
“i don’t—” you started softly, confused. “what are you doing here?”
everything he rehearsed in the car disappeared immediately.
every sentence.
every explanation.
gone.
because standing in front of you again after weeks apart didn’t feel like heartbreak or resentment.
it felt like finally breathing after drowning.
nicholas looked at you for one long second before saying honestly,
“i think i made the worst mistake of my life.”
your expression cracked slightly.
just slightly.
but he saw it.
you looked down immediately afterward like you hated that he saw it.
the hallway stayed painfully quiet.
rain tapped softly against the building windows somewhere farther away.
nicholas rubbed both hands nervously against his jeans before speaking again.
“i know i probably don’t deserve you opening this door right now,” he said carefully. “and i know i can’t fix everything in one conversation, but i need you to know that losing you feels wrong. like—”
he stopped, jaw tightening.
“like i’ve spent three weeks existing without anything actually reaching me.”
your eyes lifted back to his slowly.
he kept going before courage disappeared.
“i kept trying to tell myself maybe this was for the best. maybe we just grew apart or maybe love isn’t always enough or whatever people say to survive breakups.” he laughed weakly. “but then i found the scrapbook.”
your breath caught faintly.
“and i realized something.”
nicholas stepped a little closer.
“every single memory in that thing still feels like home to me.”
silence.
heavy.
dangerous.
your fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the door.
“nicholas…”
“i’m not here because i’m lonely,” he said quickly. “and i’m not here because i suddenly forgot the reasons we broke up. i know i hurt you.”
that one almost broke him to admit out loud.
“i know i did.”
you looked away again.
and that hurt too.
because he knew exactly why.
the missed calls.
the postponed dates.
the exhaustion that slowly turned into distance.
the way love had started getting buried underneath schedules and stress and silence neither of you knew how to fix properly.
he took another breath.
“but i still love you,” he said quietly. “stupidly. completely. in the terrifying way that makes every future i imagined still have you in it automatically.”
your eyes watered immediately.
nicholas felt his own vision blur.
“i don’t need everything to go back to normal tonight,” he continued softly. “i just… i need to know if there’s still something here worth fighting for.”
for a long moment, you said nothing.
then finally—
“you really hurt me.”
the words came out small.
not angry.
which somehow made them infinitely worse.
nicholas nodded instantly. “i know.”
“there were days i felt like i was begging you to notice me.”
his chest caved inward.
“i know.”
“you stopped talking to me when things got hard.”
“i know.”
your voice shook now despite your obvious attempts to steady it.
“and the worst part is i kept understanding why you were overwhelmed, so i felt guilty for being upset at all.”
nicholas closed his eyes briefly.
every sentence landed exactly where it deserved to.
you wiped at your face quickly, frustrated tears slipping out anyway.
“i hated missing you even while we were still together.”
that one nearly destroyed him.
nicholas looked at you helplessly.
then quietly—
“i hated myself for becoming someone who could make you feel alone.”
silence again.
but different this time.
softer.
you stared at him for a long moment like you were trying to decide whether trusting him again would heal you or ruin you completely.
nicholas let you.
he didn't rush to fill the silence.
didn't try to convince you.
didn't make promises he couldn't keep.
for the first time, he just stood there and let you see everything.
the fear.
the regret.
the hope.
all of it.
then he took a shaky breath.
“i don't know what happens after this,” he admitted quietly.
your eyes flickered.
“i don't know if you're ready to forgive me. i don't know if i deserve it.”
his throat tightened.
“but if there’s even the smallest chance... i'll do this right this time.”
the words came out rough.
honest.
“i'll show up.”
your expression faltered.
“every day if i have to.”
nicholas swallowed.
“because losing you made me realize something.”
his voice softened.
“you were never something i wanted to fit into my life.”
your eyes watered immediately.
“you’re the person i want to spend my life with.”
for a second neither of you moved.
then your gaze dropped suddenly toward his hands.
“nicholas?”
he blinked. “what?”
“you brought flowers?”
he looked down like he forgot he was holding them at all.
a laugh escaped you unexpectedly through your tears.
small.
watery.
real.
and nicholas swore his heart almost gave out on the spot.
“they were ej’s idea,” he admitted weakly.
you laughed again.
actually laughed this time.
god.
he missed that sound so much.
nicholas smiled before he could stop himself.
and seeing that seemed to affect you too, because your expression softened in a way he hadn’t seen in weeks.
carefully, uncertainly, you opened the door wider.
“…do you wanna come inside?”
—
𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 taglist: @ivelvette , @bloomedberry , @dedlexte , @kayceeeeeeeeee , @swansea090702 , (love u all so so much <3)
Synopsis: Wildfire Academy is a renowned institution for talented individuals with a penchant for mischief. The environment is intense and often harsh, but it's all in the name of discipline. Y/N serves as a librarian assistant, guiding the unruly students towards better behavior. Meanwhile, Nicholas Wang, infamous for his antics, is supposed to be her latest project. Unfortunately for her, he seems far more interested in teaching her how to break the rules—and interested to enjoy it as well.
Pairing: Librarian!Reader x BadBoy!Nicholas
Genre: Academy AU, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Slow Burn, Slice of Life, Opposites Attract.
Warnings/Disclaimers: Nicholas is pretty much a bitch in the beginning, you're probably gonna hate him. Mentions of blood (fights and etc) Corruption Kink, oral (f. & m.), cum play, marking, biting, raw sex (don't be silly wrap your willy). Drugs are mentioned too, as well as the use of 'em.
The vibrant flashes of yellow and red lights mingled to form a hint of orange in the heart of the night club. I felt somewhat adrift in a sea of imaginary blues and greens. They didn't exist in there. Frozen in place, my gaze fixed on the haunting scene: the man I admired most, my dear tutor who had taught me about the rules of the institute, stood there, compelling a girl in the VIP area to consume drugs directly from his filthy mouth.
"This can't be..." The music ebbed softly in the background as a surge of shock coursed through my veins, feeding my blood. My eyes remained wide open, almost refusing to blink, yet no tears came to release the flood within. This unfamiliar sensation was stark, arid, and oddly disorienting.
"And it is." Nicholas's voice hovered just millimeters from my earlobe, a tantalizing whisper in the midst of the club's pulsating energy. Through the mirror across the room, in the VIP area, his gaze locked onto mine, a wicked smile curling at his lips. One hand, like a slow, deliberate serpent, slid toward the left side of my waist, while the other traced a similarly languid path to my neck. "He's right there, Y/N. Breaking all the rules of the place he called home."
With each passing second, Wangs' fingertips began to press more insistently against my skin. My heart raced, matching the lively music that surrounded us.
"Teach me the wrong way." I asked.
In the end, I was still correct. Adhering to the rules undoubtedly guides a student toward the right path, leading to victory. However, for the first time in my life, it felt wrong to be right. They say hope is the last thing to die, and I can't help but agree. But revenge lurked in the shadows, patiently waiting to make its presence known in my mind. "Teach me the wrong way, Nicholas."
His expression radiated a deeper satisfaction now. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on my cheek, then he withdrew his hands from my body. With a confident stride, he shed his jacket and made his way towards the VIP area, exuding an air of confidence.
ꨄ︎ author’s note : this was a req but also written for izzy. both physical and emotional energy was put into this and BOY i’m tired.. this is genuinely the first fic that i’ve actually cried whilst writing. like. actual tears were on my face guys. i bawled. hope u enjoy jokitties 🪽
you were the light of his life, keeping him afloat when he felt like drowning - especially when he was stressed about monthly evaluations, those endless hours of critiqued practice. when he needed as much support as he could get, you were there to give it to him and more. always.
his parents adored you, constantly questioning the two of you about future weddings, light-hearted jokes on what they’d want the grandkids to be called, offering financial support for when you would buy your own place for just the two of you. nicholas would simply smile at their suggestions, eyes fixed on you, mind drifting to what his future with you would look like. the two of you together forever.
with nicholas being a trainee, he was stressed 24/7, but you were there for him when he came home late into the night, limbs sore, throat dry and body exhausted. you’d hold him with all the warmth in your being, whispering encouragement into his hair whilst he dozed off. most of your nights were spent like this.
life with nicholas was absolutely perfect, and neither of you wanted to change it for the world.
---
the comfortable, steady rhythm of life hit a speed bump when nicholas was selected to partake in an overseas audition show. a one-way flight to south korea to pursue his dream of being an idol meant he had to leave his home country behind. he had to leave his family behind. he had to leave you behind.
and when he was put into the final lineup, his debut confirmed and sealed, you knew that your story with nicholas was starting to be cut short. a long, heartbreaking facetime call heavy with tears was the last of your relationship, but it was seemingly for the best. nicholas would be far too busy, and long-distance was too unfair on you, too painful. the two of you promised to stay in contact however, nicholas wanting to make you proud in return for your support. so that’s what happened.
“i’ll love you, always.” he whispered over the phone that night, voice shaky as he held back his tears.
“always?” you whispered back, desperate, quiet sobs escaping before you could hold them back.
“and forever.” nicholas said, his tone pained but honest. his phone went blank after that.
neither of you slept that night.
---
for the first few months it was smooth sailing. nicholas’ debut was a success, gaining a lot of traction from around the world. you were so proud of him, how he shined alongside his 8 members. the two of you would text practically everyday, with nicholas sending you behind the scene pictures of photoshoots he wasn’t supposed to share, snippets from unreleased tracks he was working on. cuts of your paycheck would go towards his albums, posters, everything. anything that convinced you he was closer than he really was.
slowly but surely, texts became shorter and less frequent, nicholas no longer sending his pictures and songs, and you stopped buying the band’s merchandise. eventually, there was no contact between you at all. it hurt you. deeply.
nicholas, the love of your life who had promised to marry you, promised to be the best father to your children, was gone - and he’d left a crack in your heart that nothing else had the shape to fill.
you no longer kept up with his music, instead focusing on your own career as a substitute teacher. shifts were long and tiring anyway, and there was no energy left in your body to search up his name, his band, dig online about what he’s up to. you blamed the exhaustion, but deep down you knew it was the heartache that truly held you back.
---
years later, your mind barely ever wandered to nicholas, too busy with work and life to stop and check in. you’d been promoted recently, so your pay had a hefty increase, but so did the work load. piles upon piles of tests to mark, assignments to set for your students.
you had no clue what nicholas was up to, if he was even still active in his band, what country he was in, nothing. frankly it didn’t matter to you anymore. nicholas was once a huge part of your life, but things changed so quickly for both of you, and life moves faster than you can keep up with. you were older now, you didn’t have time to mope about past feelings, past memories. even if, deep down, you missed it. missed him. admittance would be pathetic, immature. so you ignored the ache, as much as it hurt.
---
it was another late finish to work today, and you had trudged through town to the convenience store by your street, the iridescent lights of the ‘open’ sign glowing overhead as you step inside. the owner greets you briefly and you walk down the aisles, searching for cheap, filling snacks.
unbeknownst to you, nicholas’ band had actually landed in his hometown a few hours ago, a quick visit before heading to the concert venue the next day. his schedule was hectic, but him and his members had managed to convince the staff for just one night.
you hear a group of people walk in, obnoxiously loud for 9PM, and you roll your eyes. probably tourists or stupid teenagers, you thought. you adjust your grip on the items and head to the next row of shelves.
even with your head pointed down, you could see in your peripheral a man was stood in the aisle just a few feet away. your eyes don’t flicker to him, instead looking at the discounted prices of the drinks. you could feel the cool breeze of the air conditioning on the back of your neck.
“y/n?”
a voice calls out. a voice you recognised anywhere. a voice you’d heard hundreds of times before.
your head darts up immediately, and there he was, stood in front of you - nicholas.
he looked different from the last time you saw him, which was on your phone screen years ago. he looked more grown now, more mature. and more buff, but that’s not relevant right now.
nicholas was here. in front of you. home.
“hyung, what does this say-” his bandmate, who you recognised to be maki, began to ask as he held up a snack covered in mandarin text. he was cut off quickly by nicholas nudging him back out of the aisle.
“sorry about him. i, um.. i haven’t seen you in a while.” he says, awkwardly, as if you were meeting for the first time. you were practically speechless at the sight of him.
“yeah, me too.” you managed to mutter, nodding. the unspoken tension due to the lack of communication these past few years was heavy, and you could tell that nicholas felt it too. you could see it in his face, hear it in the way he spoke.
“i’m really sorry about ghosting you, i just…i got crazy busy with work.” he began, taking another step towards you. he lets out a sigh. “can we.. go somewhere a little quieter? i need to explain myself.”
you accepted before you fully processed what was happening.
---
carrying your small plastic bag of snacks, the two of you walk down the park walkway; a familiar path you’ve walked with nicholas hundreds of times before, hand in hand. but it was different this time. very different.
“remember when i tripped on this?” he says, foot tapping an exposed tree root on the side of the path. you giggle as you recalled the memory. the two of you had drank a lot that evening. it was one of your favourite memories with nicholas.
“and you almost cried because you scraped your knee.” you add, and the two of you laugh again. “you were pouting and everything.”
an eruption of laughter reduced the awkwardness.
eventually, you slip into a comfortable silence, simply walking beside each other, arms occasionally brushing. you ignored the buzz that the contact gave you.
a few minutes of walking, and nicholas slows to a stop, next to the lake’s dock. you stop too, just watching him with quiet curiosity.
“this is where we had our first kiss. do you.. do you remember that?” he asks, his voice less alive now. like the memory hurt him.
“…yeah, i remember. of course i do.”
nicholas seems to relax at your remembrance, gesturing for you to follow him as he walks onto the dock, sitting down with his legs hanging off the edge.
“come, let’s sit for a while.”
---
sitting side by side, the cool air from the water hitting your legs, you felt the tension between you building again. like you knew he was about to bring it up.
“y/n.. i just wanna start with how sorry i am.” nicholas finally says, his voice solemn and serious. “i’m sorry that i disappeared out of nowhere, that i stopped calling, that i forgot about you.”
his words stung, hitting you rather hard. you recall how sad you were, how angry you felt. nicholas, the once love of your life, forgot about you. taking a deep, slow breath, you could feel your emotions simmering at the surface. a part of you wanted to cry, scream, shout at him. the other half also wanted to cry, but in his arms, with both his scent and arms surrounding you.
nicholas being the great observer he is, noticed, of course. his hand founds yours, palm resting on top of yours tentatively. you flinch at the contact, but don’t pull away. not like you could anyway.
“you should know that i regretted it everyday. breaking up with you. it hurt me so much.” he admitted, his gaze stuck on the moon’s reflection in the water. “so much.”
he let out a small scoff, the type of scoff he makes when he’s holding back tears. he’d made that noise over the phone when he broke up with you.
“i missed you a lot. especially after we stopped talking. but i was just..” nicholas glances away from you briefly, and you hear him sniffle. he turns back a moment later. “i was afraid you hated me for what i did.”
your head shake was almost instant, small hand squeezing his.
“i didn’t hate you, nicho. i was angry, yes, but i didn’t hate you.”
hearing your soft voice calling him ‘nicho’ pulled on his heartstrings. he hadn’t heard you say that in years.
“fuck… i missed you so bad, y/n.” he whispered, his hand gripped yours tightly, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. because last time he let go, you did.
your eyes welled with tears at his admittance, how raw and real it felt.
“i missed you too, nicholas. so much.” you whispered back, your eyes connecting with his. a few seconds pass, and his arms wrapped around you, face buried in your shoulder.
the two of you held each other, quiet sobs escaping both of you. it felt like a huge, built-up dam had finally been broken, and the floodgates of relief, hurt, and heartbreak had crashed over you.
time had seemingly stopped as you had nicholas in your arms, and you didn’t want to let go ever again.
you were both pulled from the moment when nicholas’ pocket buzzed. he pulls back, grabbing his phone. he sighs, and glances up at you.
“it’s euijoo. says i have to head back to the hotel.” he says, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his tears.
“i don’t want you to go,” you whisper, hand finding his. this couldn’t be the end. not when it had barely started. you couldn’t lose him again so easily. nicholas could see the panic building in your expression.
“i know, baby. i don’t wanna go either. but i have to.”
“please don’t leave me.”
nicholas frowns, guilt and regret washing over him. he didn’t want to leave you. not when he’d just found you again.
he picks up your phone from your lap, unlocking it with the passcode he knew you still had - his birthday - 20020708.
nicholas types something onto your phone, before turning it off and placing it in your hands.
“i put my new phone number in, alright? call me. please.” he says, standing up and offering his hands to help you up. you stand too.
“you won’t forget me again, right?”
“never again. i’ll always remember.”
nicholas steps off the dock, eyes still glued to yours.
“always?” you ask.
“and forever.” nicholas answers. and with that, he was gone.
you stand on the dock, alone, your thoughts running a million miles a minute. one thought was bigger than the rest.
nicholas and you were once perfect.
could this be your chance to rekindle? to reach those dreams you once had wished for? you desperately hoped so.
content: suicide?, angst, smoking, bsf!yunjin, bsf!nicholas (lmk if there's more)
notes: SO i dont know what to add as the pairing cause they're not in a relationship but got feelings for eachother yk.
not proofread
🎧consume- chase atlantic (they made this song for me guys trust)
You woke up to the dull sound of your alarm, silencing it with an irritated tsk before it could ring again. The room was washed in muted morning light, seeping through the grey curtains that hung over your window.
With a slow groan, you pushed yourself upright. The movement made your head throb instantly- a painful reminder of last night's drinking.
You pushed yourself to your feet, every step sluggish as you made your way toward the study table by the wall. The surface was cluttered with almost nothing except some tablets, a small reminder your doctor had spoken carefully: depression.
A dry chuckle slipped from your lips as you stared at them, then a sharp tickle rose in your throat. You brought a hand to your mouth, shoulders tensing as the urge to cough crept up suddenly.
You doubled over as the coughing fit felt harsher. Each cough scraped through your throat leaving a painful ache in your chest. You clutched yourself the edge of the desk, trying to gasp for air between the coughs.
When it finally eased, you pulled your hand away from your mouth. There were small crimson spots decorating your palm and the sight made you laugh. You turned and made your way toward the washroom, flicking on the light that felt too bright for the hour.
You washed your hands carefully, red washing down the drain. You rinsed your mouth, spat out the last of the water, then lifted your gaze to the mirror. Dark eye bags shadowed your face. Your skin looked tired, lips dried, expression worn down by too many sleepless nights.
"damn i look hot, huh?"
The joke left your mouth with another cough, followed by a crooked grin.
You stepped back into your room, rubbing your damp hands over your face as if you could wipe away the exhaustion along with the water. Reaching for your phone, you turned off DND, and the notifications rushed in instantly.
nick
u up for today
yu
hi baby you coming to the classes today?
You stared at the messages for a second, thumb hovering over the screen.
The world was already moving, and its expecting you to do the same thing...ridiculous
You tapped on Nicholas's chat and sent a quick "yea" and almost instantly, like he was waiting for her, "alright bet" popped up.
stupid boy...
Then your thumb hovered over yunjin's message. A small sigh left you as you typed a quick "no" and you stared at it for a second before hitting send.
She'd be fine. She always was. Your absence didnt make much difference for her considering her talent to talk, laugh with everyone, move from one group to another like it was effortless.
You locked your phone and threw it on the bed, pushing it out of your mind as you moved toward your routine.
___
You walked down the street with your hands buried deep in your pockets, shoulders slightly hunched in the morning air. A cigarette rested between your red lips, the faint glow at the tip flickering every time you took a drag. Your hair was thrown up into a messy bun, strands falling loose.
One thing about nicholas was that he was your best friend. But there was always that blurred line, something unspoken that neither of you crossed, but never really stepped away from either.
He was your smoke buddy, but the difference is he could live without it, but you couldn't. And still even on the days he didnt bother lighting up, he showed up. Just for you.
He knew how the voices in your head got loud sometimes. He knew your thoughts didn't always stay in safe places. And he knew that he didn't trust leaving you alone in that mess. And you were grateful for it.
Cause most of the time its him who held you up, even though you wanted to give up.
You reached your usual spot a few minutes later, the familiar corner feeling almost like a second home at this point. And like always, he was already there.
Nicholas leaned against the wall, one foot propped up behind him, cigarette resting between his lips. His dark red hair was hidden under a cap today, a few strands peeking out. The black t-shirt hung loosely on him, paired with the pastel cargo he stole from his roommate, euijoo, again.
"Morning, baby" his voice, raspy from the smoke pulled you out of zoning out.
Nicholas tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, and the cigarette between his fingers burned down slowly, ash falling to the ground. He pushed off the wall a little.
"You okay?" he asked casually, exhaling a thin trial of smoke to the side so it wouldn't come to you.
Kind of funny considering the fact that you already had one in your mouth.
"I'm good, Nick. what about you?"
You leaned in and snatched his cap right off his head before he could react, slipping in onto yours. Nicholas let out a laugh,
And oh, how you loved his laugh, how his laugh made you feel high than the useless weed you depended on, how his laugh made you feel giddy even without the smoke.
"Oi, give that back." he said through his laugh, without making any action to reach for it.
Instead, he ran a hand through his messy hair, fixing it lazily. His eyes flicked back to you, shaking his head slightly.
"We won't smoke for today, by the way." he said, taking a final drag from his cigarette before flicking what was left to the ground. The ember died out as it hit the pavement.
"What? why?" you asked, genuinely confused, pausing mid-motion.
Without looking away from you, he lifted two fingers slightly in a small, silent signal. You exhaled through your nose, then handed over your cigarette anyway.
He took it and, "Because you already had one, angel," he said, tone flat. he took a drag from yours, then leaned his head back slightly as he exhaled. "Told you. one cig per day."
You rolled your eyes a little, but there was no real bite in it. "Don't call me angel. I hate that name."
He glanced at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he handed the cigarette back. "As if I care...... angel."
You let out a grunt and hit his arm light, making Nicholas burst into laughter immediately.
"Oi," he wheezed between breaths, rubbing his arm exaggeratedly, "you're so aggressive today."
"And whose fault is that?" you said, smirking. The words hung there for a second, and you turned your head cause of the absence of any reply. and you met with his eyes.
Nicholas loved your eyes. He never really said it the way it sat in his head, but it was there every time he looked at you.
How your eyes looked so washed out, plain at first glance, so grey. but then he saw how desperate you were, how your eyes cried for help. And when you were with him, something in your eyes softened, like your eyes lit up just slightly. and he hated how much he noticed the difference because it made him want to keep it there.
Your eyes were the grey sky above his restless dark ocean, that he couldn't live without.
Nicholas blinked once, then he exhaled quietly. "Mine." he said softly.
Yeah...maybe it was his fault.
For letting something so quiet grow into something that made his chest feel so warm. for loving someone who never looked at him the same way his lovesick eyes did. He knew it, he knew that whatever lived inside him when he looked at you didn't exist in you.
And God, it hurt him. To watch the love of his life wear herself down piece by piece. It hurt him how you didn't see the beauty of the world like he does, it hurt him how the cruel world made you this numb and it made him feel guilty cause he couldn't do anything to change your mind.
He wanted to love you out loud. going on dates like the normal university students, take you out somewhere and to sit across from you, to hear you laugh without smoke between you.
But he found happiness in these small meetups, he found happiness in this hidden spot that no one knew except you two. The way you passed things without being uncomfortable, the way you always came to him when the world was too hard for you to keep up with.
Those tiny things felt huge and that was enough for him.
And somewhere along the blurred lines, unknowingly to him, you had already made him yours.
He looked away, tightening his jaw slightly. He let out a quiet shaky sigh, fingers fidgeting with nothing in particular. "Uh..."
He glanced back at you, not fully meeting your eyes.
"You wanna go to the beach?" he asked, trying to keep it casual. "Since we're not smoking today...y'know?"
please say yes please say yes please say-
"Yeah, sure. Why not?" you said.
"Alright." he muttered, a faint smile breaking through despite himself.
And thats how, the two of you ended up at the beach, an hour later.
The morning was still young, considering the fact that it was barely 10 a.m. and the usual crowds hadn't arrived yet. The air smelled like salt and the waves rolled in steadily, the sound low and rhythmic. You both settled down on the sand, side by side. Nicholas leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his hands behind him, eyes fixed on the horizon.
You turned your head to look at him, and his side profile was... unfair.
His face was effortlessly beautiful. The line of his jaw was defined, catching the soft morning light making him look sculpted. His dark red hair moved slightly with the breeze. His lips slightly parted, still kind of tinted from the cigarette you shared earlier but soft. He looked so calm, and that made him look so beautiful.
You tore your gaze away from him, turning back toward the sea. Slowly, you leaned into him. Your head found its place on his shoulder, soft at first and then heavier as you let yourself settle. Half your weight pressed into him; you were too tired to hold it up on your own anyway.
For a split second, Nicholas went still. And then you felt the subtle shift of him adjusting his shoulder to hold you better.
"Angel?" he asked quietly. His voice dropped softer than before, out of concern.
"I'm so tired, nick...it's getting so hard to breathe now," you murmured. "Like, even when I'm just sitting, it feels like there's something pressing on my chest all the time." your voice came out quieter than you expected, voice almost blending into the sound of the waves.
"Everyone hates me." you let out a humorless laugh. "Or maybe they don't, i don't even know anymore...it just feels like they do. like I'm too much, or not enough or I'm just annoying, except you and Yunjin, you guys are the only ones who don't make me feel like I'm a problem."
The waves filled the silence for a moment before you spoke again.
"And the voices in my head..." You whispered, "They're getting louder, Nick. like I can't make them stop, they don't stop. even when I try to sleep, even when I'm trying to distract myself...they just repeat the same thing over and over again."
"I wake up tired. I go to sleep tired. I exist tired." you said, words spilling out. "I don't even remember the last time I felt okay.im so exhausted from everything Nick." you admitted, voice cracking slightly.
Your words settled into him heavily and he hated how he could feel every part of it. His jaw tightened slightly. Slowly, he shifted, one hand coming up to rest against your arm like he was anchoring you there.
"You don't get to say everyone hates you like that." he murmured, voice low but firm. "I'm right here, aren't I?"
His thumb moved slightly against your sleeve. He exhaled quietly; eyes fixed on the ocean.
"I know it feels loud. I know it feels like it doesn't stop. But that doesn't mean it's telling you the truth, right?"
"You're not too much, You're not a problem. And you're definitely not nothing angel... and yeah maybe I don't get it. but I'm not leaving you alone with it."
His hand tightened slightly on your arm. "I've got you. Even on the days you don't feel like you got yourself."
___
The sky had already dark by the time Nicholas walked you up to your apartment building. streetlights flickered tiredly through the cold night air. You stood outside the entrance, the familiar cold building towering behind you.
Nicholas shifted slightly beside you, glancing up at the building and then back at you. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to hold your hand but stopped himself.
"You sure you're gonna be, okay?" He asked, voice soft and small.
You let out a quiet empty chuckle and reached up to pull his cap off your head. your fingers lingered on it, like you were holding onto something more than just fabric.
Then you placed it back on his head.
"Good night, Nicholas"
Before he could respond, you turned and pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Nicholas stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, jaw tight, the night air settling heavier around him.
"Night" He muttered under his breath, too late for you to hear. Nicholas let out a quiet breath before finally turning away. His hands slipped into his pockets as he started walking down the dimly lit street, the flickering lights stretching his shadow long behind him.
___
He'd been walking for almost half an hour now, the quiet stretching longer with every step, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out, glancing at the screen.
juju
A small chuckle slipped past his lips before he answered. "Hello?"
"Where you at, Nicho? isn't it too late?" Euijoo's voice came through, a mix of concern and casual annoyance. Nicholas let out a breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair as he kept walking.
"I'm on my way." he said, "Why, what's up?"
"Nah, I just made dinner. Come before it gets cold." Euijoo said.
Nicholas hummed, the sound low in his throat as he kicked a small stone off the pavement.
"How's your girl, huh?"
Nicholas let out a quiet shy smile to himself, eyes dropping to the ground as he walked.
"I'm literally on my way, juju. you can't wait?"
"Eyy, come on now. I'm bored too Nicho." Euijoo shot back.
Nicholas huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Well just the usual, you know." he started, tone casual. "Smoked- well, not really. I stopped her after one. then we went to the beach."
"Oooh-" Euijoo dragged it out immediately, voice dripping with teasing.
"Stop it~~~" Nicholas whined, dragging the word, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.
"And then I dropped her at her place, she said, 'Good night, Nicholas' and I said 'night' and yeah..."
There was a small pause on the other end.
"Nicholas?" Euijoo's voice came back, sound serious.
Nicholas slowed, then stopped completely, brows furrowed at the sudden shift.
"Yeah?"
"No- she called you by your name?"
Good night, Nicholas
His stomach dropped.
"Shit-" He muttered under his breath, the realization snapping into place so fast it made his chest tighten.
Feet hitting the pavement harder, his breath picking up as the street blurred past him. the cold air burned his lungs.
please be okay
The sirens were already slicing through the night by the time Nicholas reached the street near your building. Red and blue lights painted everything, people stood clustered together, whispering.
"No....no, no-" slipped out under his breath before he even realized he was speaking.
His chest tightened painfully as he pushed forward, weaving through people, his breathing already uneven.
"Let me through." he said, voice cracking halfway through as he tried to push past someone blocking his way. "Please, move."
He reached the edge of the crowd, eyes scanning wildly, heart pounding so hard it felt like-
"...Angel"
___________
A month had passed, the world outside your apartment kept moving. But inside your space, everything had settled into a strange kind of stillness.
He had moved in without any hesitation. He couldn't just forget you. You felt like a memory he couldn't walk away from.
That day, Nicholas was at your study table. His hands moved slowly, cleaning the messy table. empty tablets stacked into uneven piles. Medical reports half folded, discarded coke cans.
He exhaled through his nose, rubbing his palm over his face for a second, dragging himself back into focus.
Then his fingers brushed something soft. A soft wrinkled paper.
His fingers stayed hovering over it, then slowly he picked it up. It was neatly folded once, and that detail alone made something shift inside his chest. Because nothing else on that table had been careful.
His thumb brushed along the crease and then he unfolded it.
—
dear nicholas,
damn it feels so weird to tell your full name. oh wait. write your full name sorry. but yeah. honestly i dont even know why im writing this, bear with me lmao.
nicho, i didn't think of this just overnight. it hurts so much. it pains me so much that i could feel my bones break. i could feel my blood slowly turn dry.
and i know that sounds dramatic. but im only a human nicho. i tried i really did. i tried to find peace from those useless drugs and that sting from the needle is the only thing that made my pain fade.
and those voices are really loud, i know you said that they're not correct, but them being louder than whats correct made me think that they're correct. like if something repeats itself enough, it has to mean something... right?
well, thank god they did.
i tried to believe you but i was tired of arguing with my own head every single day.
i dont know what im trying to say anymore.
im worried about you and yunjin. well...not yunjin. she'll be sad for a day or two, and then she'll find her back into other people's lives like she always did. i think thats why i never really understood why she wanted to be friends with me in the first place. eh i dont know.
im worried about you nicho. i dont wanna leave you.
thats the weird part, i guess. everything in me feels loud and messy and out of control most days, but when i think about you, its like something goes still for a second.
and i dont think you ever realized how you look when you're not trying to be anything. when you're just sitting there, cap low, hair messy. when you laugh and it comes out before you can stop it. when you look at me like you're actually listening instead of just waiting for your turn to speak.
you're really beautiful. it doesn't feel fair sometimes, how easy it is for you to exist like that. i like you. i dont think i ever said it properly but i do. and i think thats why this is so hard to write. but yeah.
please understand nicho. i tried my best. my head was a mess but i still tried. and there's gonna be a time where we stop trying yeah?
i cant just keep latching onto you everytime. well sometimes latching onto you might be a disturbance for myself for what im gonna do hm?
but i also know that its not fair. to you. or to me. or to whatever this is.
im sorry for everything i made heavier without meaning to. for not knowing how to be okay. for making you worry. you didnt deserve that but still you stayed with me and thank you for that.
i dont really know what comes after this. i dont think im good at promises, and i dont want to lie to you by making one i cant keep.
so i guess this is just me saying.... i care about you, more than i ever said properly when i was right infront of you.
and i hope, even if things change, you don't forget that there was someone who felt safe because you were there.
take care of yourself nicho. please.
love,
y/n.
His knees gave out. And he stared at the paper and his fingers curled around the edges of it, crumpling it slightly.
".... Angel" He whispered, and his voice broke halfway. His grip tightened, desperately pulling the letter against his chest, the closest you will ever be to his heart. His shoulders shook small and uneven, body resisting what his mind already understood. His breath fractured and then he broke down.
Sobbing into the silence of your room, curling around the only thing you left behind him... and it wasn't enough. Not even close.
yep not it idk i feel like this is not that sad i wanted it to be eh idk
୨ৎ synopsis: In a world where everyone has some kind of soulmate mark, there are two people who swear to their friends that they don’t have one. Little did they know the universe will guide them to each other by scent.
୨ৎ pairing: nicholas x reader
୨ৎ genre: social media!au, fluff, angst, crack, soulmate!au
୨ৎ warnings: any specific warnings will be added in the chapter.
ᯓ WHEREIN : you were never meant to meet another soul on this bridge you made your own—yet that reality was long broken. (wc; 5k)
ᯓ CONTAINS : Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family pressure, Kissing, Em-dashes and semicolons, university au, self-doubt, f!reader, etc.
ᯓ A/N : She's finally here + happy weno day!!! I was struggling with the pacing here I hope it's not too iffy jiffy but thankyou for all the love for the first part; I loved writing this 11k bad boy I hope you love it as much as I do (´ω｀)
111 | 222 | mlist.𖥔 ݁ ˖
As per usual, before heading back to your feather light pillows on your bed, and feeling the warmth of your blanket touch your skin, the checking routine returns every night.
Open your phone's calendar to see if there's a deadline waiting for your demise, or if there's another two hour meeting this week with your study group, or if there's someone's birthday coming up. Then, messages—not that you'd reply to things your mind registers as unimportant. And lastly, e-mails.
Four assignments, one meet up in two days. You were sitting on your bedroom floor, laptop open on your knees. The glow of the screen lit up your face as you scrolled through emails. Mostly spam “Win a free vacation!”, uni announcements about library closures… nothing important but this one email about you getting a scholarship—wait what.
“Scholarship Opportunity – Academic Excellence + Artistic Merit” Clicking it open revealed an official-looking email from Kyoto University. They’d reviewed art exhibits submitted to regional galleries — including yours at Nicholas’ friend’s show and cross-referenced academic records with transfer applications for international students.
It covered tuition entirely, down to housing stipend. You rub your eyes vigorously trying to reread what you're seeing right now. Yet your name still stood there frozen in time, not caring about whether or not you've scrubbed off your eyes or not. They specifically mentioned your name after seeing sketches titled under gallery submissions.
“Holy shit,” both hands now covering your mouth, “Holy shit.”
You rechecked everything; the website, the university, the funds, everything. They even received a confirmation ask from you on the same day, that basically translates to “Don't toy with my heartstrings”.
It was real. It was a real chance for you. A chance to take a break from all of this. To experience the life you should've experienced all this time.
The sun woke up before you did. All thanks to your body keeping you awake way past 3AM after opening one e-mail, and suddenly life crept back up to your eyelids, every joint decided they needed movement, and the thought of seeing birds chirping out of your window to wake you up instead of the chirps of your parents telling you to do things you don't look forward to jolted a little more energy in you.
You got out of your bed, took a shower, reverified the email to break the news to your parents before finally heading downstairs towards where everybody was having their morning sandwiches they made on their own from yesterday's leftovers. Unsurprisingly, you saw your younger brother putting together last night's fried rice with a slice of cheese in his sandwich.
“Mom… dad…” you sat down on a stool in front of them, “I have something to tell you guys,”
Their attention now fully on you, “You got a boyfriend?” your mom joked. “Haha—no,” you replied, deadpan.
“Remember that art show I went to a couple months ago?”
“What art show?” your dad looked at your mom,
“The one where I had this huge canvas sitting in our garage so it blocked the powerbox??
“Oh right. The venue was near your brother's school, right?”
You nodded in approval, “Well… one of the people who saw it was apparently someone who could offer students a full coverage scholarship abroad,” and when that sentence left your mouth, one of your dad's eyebrows lifted.
“Are you saying…” his tone looking for an answer for a rhetorical. Both corners of your mouth lifted into a grin that eventually turned into you nodding like a peckingbird, “I got in!”
“Oh my god!” both of your parents are now standing up, “are you serious?”
You showed them the e-mail, and they read it out loud, just under their breath, line by line—eyes widening every new sentence, “oh y/n this is amazing!” your dad excitedly exclaimed, giving you a small squeeze from the side with his free hand while the other was holding your laptop. For a second, it felt good. Like they were proud of you for getting noticed like this after all those late nights drawing when no one asked or cared about art before.
Then came the shift. Their smiles softened into something quieter. Not quite sad yet, but not far from the gloom sadness usually brought. Your mom suddenly said, “So… two years?”. Nothing accusatory but this hard to unnoticed tone heavy with implication underneath simple words. And your dad added calmly while sipping tea, “We’ll have to figure things out around here if you’re gone.”
Then came the other you dread, “then you'll have to learn how to take care of yourself,” then another, “you know it won’t be easy,” then another, "What will you even do there? Study and draw all day?" then another, “What if things don’t work out over there?” already assuming failure would happen “You’re always busy with art or school… now you’re leaving too?" So your ambition is at fault here?, "We didn’t even know you were submitting art anywhere."
“Okay i get it,” you finally broke their string of comments and remarks, both hands on the table yet you're still looking down, “but ill figure it out… like i always do,”
Hesitantly, they smiled.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
You haven't slept properly since Monday night. Maybe even longer than that. The world was spinning a little too fast for your liking.
University deadlines piled up: three essays due in two weeks, a midterm exam on Thursday that you hadn’t studied for yet because every free minute had been stolen by your family or you're just too emotionally exhausted and the only thing accompanying you was executive dysfunction. Your inbox was flooded with emails. Nicholas would pop into your notifications every now and then, and you would do the same if given the time—despite it being limited. Lecturers reminding students of submission dates, your notebooks were covered in sticky notes with scribbled reminders that looked more like panic than planning. The kind of scribbles only you would understand.
At home, tension lived in the pauses between sentences, settled into the walls like humidity. Dinner became less about eating and more about saying the right things in the right order. It felt like a performance review where every bite could be misinterpreted as attitude if you didn’t smile right or answer questions quickly enough about grades and future plans and "what are you doing with your life?” Eventually, every meal circled back to the same old familiar: grades, university, the future, and the question that always seemed too large for the dining table "What are you doing with your life?" As if you didn't have a life of your own. As if you were given the time to think about your future.
Not to mention how much you needed to prepare before transferring
The clock ticked, you just got home—leaning against the doorframe, slouching for support. Your siblings were still at school, your father was somewhere between work and more work. Your mother was tidying herself up to go somewhere, purse lightly hung on her right shoulder, “Don't forget to do the laundry! gotta go!” as she left the door.
Without wasting another minute immersed in your thoughts, you ran to your cupboard to grab your coat, bag, and a pair of socks before dashing to the front door to put on your evidently loved, worn-down boots.
The walk there was easy—apart from the mandated detours you had to take; dropping down to the town market where you met the lovely lady who would always give you a small discount off your vegetables in honor of your loyalty to keep her stand alive. Then a reroute to your local supermarket finishing the rest of your grocery shopping list. Then another visit to the bank to handle account issues.
Unfortunately, you had two hours killed for you because the person behind the bank counter took their sweet sweet time. You're about half an hour late to pick up your youngest sibling and bring him home. Don't forget about the pile of assignments waiting at your desk.
Fortunately, you knew a shortcut: the bridge.
Shopping bags in both of your hands, and your bag lazily slung around your shoulder. You made your way through the woods and into the familiar pathway towards the bridge. Crunching leaves underfoot, sunlight dappled in gold and shadow from the bare trees.
You walked while checking inside the bags, two cartons of milk since your mom had sent another text about “forgetting milk again” typical, some stationary supplies you'd been meaning to buy, and a new scarf you’d splurged on impulsively. Your shoulders ached just slightly from carrying everything at once as it bounces every step you take.
The air smelled like damp earth and pine. Quiet—peaceful. A rare moment of not being pulled in five different directions all at once. A shortcut that was not only practical, but therapeutic, or in other words: needed.
In your steps you stop right in the middle of the bridge, “wait did I miss something,” you muttered to yourself. You were halfway across the bridge, adjusting one of the grocery bags in your arm when you heard footsteps approaching from behind.
Then a voice, “Hey.” He sounded warm and calm. You turned slightly and there he was, in his usual hoodie with sleeves rolled up. The slight rush in his breathing showed he had been walking the other way, coming from campus, backpack slung over one shoulder. Without waiting for a reply—or even saying another word—he stepped forward and gently took two heavy bags right out of your arms before you could protest.
"Here," he said simply. Then added after seeing how full you still were, “And give me another one too.” He wasn’t even asking permission anymore, just acting.
“Nico it's fine-” you responded. Nico only pursed his lips into that cat-like smile of his in disagreement as he shakes his head.
Until he stopped to look at you—really look at you. How your eyelids flinched when the sun pulsed brighter, how they're unfocused and shadowed, your lips dry and cracked crimson, hair slightly unkempt. Then unpromptedly, “Can I hug you?”
You didn't give a clear answer but a slight nod, nothing makes a lot of sense to you right now, but he wouldn't take that as a no.
Nicholas dropped the bags gently on the ground and wrapped you in his arms—you could hear his heartbeat growing louder, feel how soft his hoodie was, how much warmth of his he's letting you have. You froze for a second—yet your body betrayed you when you instantly sunk into the hug, your arms now clinging to his back under his arms, face completely buried. Your fingers curled into the back of his hoodie, clutching him closer without thinking. The soft fabric of his hoodie absorbed the faint tremble in your shoulders—the one you hadn’t even realized was there.
His chest rising and falling against yours, rhythmic as tide against shore. You melted completely into him. Arms locking around his back like an anchor finding its mooring; face pressed deep into the curve of his shoulder where it smelled faintly of laundry soap.
At this point you knew nothing could stop your eyes from welling up. You didn't say anything. You couldn't say anything.
It was nothing but a muffled sniffle—almost inaudible if it weren't for the silence the forest gave—that broke him. “I'm here,” he felt your fingers resisting itself from gnawing for closure, “You're okay.”
You were too busy trying not to completely shatter in front of somebody, in front of Nicholas; that held you like a shelter in a storm—to notice it. If you hadn't been so wrapped up in your own exhaustion, if it hadn't been for the blur in your eyes, that you would notice it sooner.
He pressed his cheek gently against the top of your hair without thinking. A small gesture full of tenderness and stayed there longer than necessary. His chest rose slower now; deeper breaths than before, as if absorbing every bit of comfort this hug offered him too, because yes,
He needed it as much as you did.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
It was a normal evening, just like any other week. But the deep, heavy snows melted into muddy puddles along the roads and sidewalks. The ice on tree branches cracked under morning sun, falling in delicate shards like broken glass glittering on pavement. Daffodils poked through the earth near your house; tiny green shoots pushing up through frozen soil despite everything trying to keep them down. You'd walk your way to the stone bridge to wait for him, each step towards the place feels a little lighter and lighter.
Nicholas was already sitting there waiting for you. A tiny dainty flower he picked up along the way at the tips of his fingers, pirouette-ing about. Then, you sat next to him.
He glanced upwards to look at you. Somehow he noticed something. Your smile lines leaving evidence of being in use, your eyes batting more than usual, your eyebrows untwisted, and a tint of rose along your cheeks—a glimmer of something he'd only seen in you when you're laughing with him.
He also noticed you brought a separate bag with you, carried between your fingers. “Here’s your sweater,” you pulled out a sweater from said bag; already clean and ironed, yet his scent still remains. He took the sweater while you thanked him. Since yesterday Nicholas had insisted you take his sweater after he knew your hands were cold when you were randomly arm wrestling him. The flower twirled another time in his grasp before he gave it to you. Just a wild little thing he’d probably spotted growing by the side of the road on his walk here, maybe a cherry blossom sapling gone rogue? Or something else equally fragile and pretty?
“It kinda looks like you,” he simpered.
“Like a roadside plant? Yeah I don't think so,”
"Yeah," he insisted, still holding the flower out stubbornly. "It's delicate but kinda strong? Like… it literally grew through concrete." he shrugged, then with zero shame he added: "It’s also pink. You’re pink when you blush."
He took the flower from your hands and gently tucked the flower behind your ear—the petals resting softly against messy hair—and stepped back to admire his work. You snorted despite yourself, "Okay okay," you waved him off playfully, "Thanks for this random plant I’ll probably kill by tomorrow."
“Anywho,” you reach inside the bag once again, now pulling out a small bento box that’s usually used to store leftovers. “Here’s something from this morning,” you open the container as it exhales steam, the smell taking over the space; it was still warm and ridiculously tasty-smelling for something that was made hours ago.
“Am I, Nicholas Wang, finally worthy of tasting y/n’s infamous cooking?”
“Infamous?! What rumours have you heard about them?” you audibly fake-gasped.
“So this is why you texted me if I had allergies or not.” He lifted an eyebrow.
Homemade sauce with tomatoes, onions, herbs from your windowsill… and a sprinkle of chili flakes because you remembered him liking spice—-despite the meal being made for your family. With your chopsticks, you told him to open his mouth as you fed him the pasta. His eyebrows dropped, like looking for something to say about what’s currently making his mouth salivate. “You’re amazing,” he looked at you, “This- this is amazing.”
Nicholas kept eating, taking another bite without pause like he wasn’t just being polite when you suddenly darted the chopsticks at his mouth every time he tried to speak. The pasta was simple, maybe a little messy in texture, but warm and comforting. Exactly the kind of food you make when you’re tired but still want to do something nice for someone. He sat cross-legged on the stone railing now, the container balanced carefully on his lap, as he ate quietly beside you after you gave up and let him eat by himself instead. Every few bites, he’d glance at your face like checking if you were okay, because this was new.
Your legs were bouncing against the cold hard cobble contacting your skin. Attentively, you tucked in a stray hair that was then dancing around your field of vision. You swallowed, throat tightening as the words caught. “Nico, I can finally get out.” you mentioned, catching him off guard.
“What do you mean get out?”
“Move out,”
He blinked, stiffly leaning closer to you, “Where to?”
“Kyoto,” you paused to look at him.
“Let me guess, you got an e-mail with the word scholarship plastered on it?”
You jolted, shoulders jumping with your head, “How'd–” he cuts you off, “Relax, my friend almost got it too, I wouldn't be too surprised to find out you got in as well.” He explained,“almost?” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “It's a long story.” Then a chuckle came out of him.
The water under the bridge caught your gaze again when a sharp exhale quit your mouth. Your eyelashes flutter, and before he gives you the chance to tease him until he explains what ‘almost' means—“took you long enough to tell me,” he paused, “you deserved it, really deserved it.”
A slight close lipped smile reached his eyes when he looked at you again, a tiny piece of joy that started deep in his chest and radiated outward; eyes crinkling at the corners, cheeks lifting, even the way he sat straightening himself.
He slowly reached out and gently took both your hands into his warm ones. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles once, twice, making sure this moment was real.
“Kyoto,” he repeated softly, savoring it on his tongue like something sweet and important had just landed right here between you two under the blue sky above cold bridge stones. Suddenly the leaves looked noticeably greener, the air a little warmer, and the sun a little friendlier.
“Wait, you're not pranking me are you?” he laughed. “What if I am?”
“You wouldn't,”
“Maybe I would,”
“Sure.” His tone sarcastic.
He pulled you into him from the side without warning and wrapped his arm around your shoulders tightly, both of you still sitting side by side but this time the distance never existed. Pulling you close until your forehead rested against his collarbone as warmth from him enveloped everything cold around. Then under your breath you muttered, “Thank you.”
But he wouldn't lie to himself about this, wouldn't he? About the fact that under how much he's proud of you, a gnawing feeling climbing and eating him up from the inside. You're leaving, and there's nothing he can do about it. The rings around his fingers turn around as he fidgets with it. A quiet ache had settled in, a dull throb behind ribs where love lived alongside loss.
But he knew you were content. Your smile was back. That in itself was enough. “Just… be safe, alright?”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Two months after the news was broken, the air hugged your body a little warmer. Cocktail-blue skies, the heat shimmering and dancing on asphalt roads, blinding midday glares bouncing off of greenhouses, and the downy warm grass moving along.
In this case, the grass wasn't the only thing moving around. You were swamped with errand-filled afternoons. From afar, your room was cluttered; cardboard lint sticking to every surface, tape residue left on your walls, along with ripped out sticky notes that used to remind you of what the internet tells you to buy before departure, hairfall gripped against the carpet in your room.
But giving it a closer look, no breeze dared to enter, golden slats of afternoon sunlight sliced through the bay window, illuminating a solitary dead houseplant on an otherwise messy floor. The room was a hollow shell, but the air still held the faint, sweet ghost of vanilla, belying the abandonment of the space. You could count the things inhabiting your room with just your fingers.
And now the days you lean onto each other's shoulders seem to go by faster. You didn’t talk about the world’s sharp edges. You talked about music he played too loud in his car, about painting you hid underneath another layer of a fresh painting because the nose didn't look right, about constellations you couldn't name but liked pretending to know.
Nicholas showed up earlier now—no more waiting for sunset, he arrived when the sky was still pale with afternoon light. His eyes darted to you differently—sharper, like he sensed the clock ticking and ticking. Yet on the other side, he was the perfect way to slow down, to feel the breeze in the air once again.
Afternoons dissolved into evenings without either of you noticing. Some days you drove with every window rolled down, letting warm air whip through the car until conversation became impossible and silence felt sufficient. Other days you wandered aimlessly through neighborhoods neither of you had reason to be in, convincing yourselves that unfamiliar streets somehow stretched the hours longer.
And hey, sometimes, he helped you pack. He'd fold a sweater terribly on purpose, earning an exasperated laugh before you'd snatch it away and redo it yourself. He'd pick up an old trinket—a movie ticket, a dried flower pressed between notebook pages, a fraying bracelet, and ask for the story behind it as though he hadn't lived through most of them beside you.
Each object disappeared into another cardboard box and each box made your room echo a little louder. One evening, you found yourselves lying on the dry cold stone of the bridge. The moss scratched against your sleeves while cicadas stitched the silence together. Below, the streets slowly awakened into ribbons of amber light.
“I still can't find Orion,” he murmured.
You smiled without looking over. “That's because you're looking in the wrong season.”
“Oh.”
“...Can you still see it over there?” You knew he wasn't talking about the stars anymore. "I don't know."
Neither of you tried to fill the silence after that. The wind did it for you instead, carrying the scent of sun-warmed earth and someone's distant late-day barbecue, rustling through the trees with the careless certainty that seasons would change whether people were ready or not. When you finally glanced sideways, his profile was outlined in the last gold of daylight. Familiar enough that you could have traced it from memory. Familiar enough that you wondered if memory alone would someday have to suffice.
The sun slipped beneath the horizon almost apologetically. Tomorrow would come. Then another. Then another. Until one morning, tomorrow would become nothing.
For now, though, the evening held its breath, and so did you. Because sometimes solace wasn't measured by promises made beneath the stars. Sometimes, it was measured by how quietly two people sat beside each other while the sky changed colors. Trying, for just a little longer to convince the daylight not to leave first.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
fine silver mist, water beaded on glass, hazy outlines of distant trees. You were pushing heavy boxes that were scattered around your room, now snuggling comfortably in a corner beside your desk. Checking everything to make sure you only have less than ten items to purchase. Sitting at the ledge of your bed, “An adapter… check,” you muttered. Before—
The door rambled a knock loud enough to wake a whole neighborhood, “y/n! get the door!” your mom screamed from upstairs, you closed your eyes and sighed, “who the fuck is knocking like I have an extra door,” your brows now furrowed. You ran and headed downstairs to get the door only for the banging to get louder and louder, even the deadbolts started shaking. “Calm down!” you spoke behind the door before opening it.
It was Nicholas.
Beads of sweat and light misty rainfall on his forehead, his breathing audible and uncontrolled, along with how rapid his shoulders were moving beneath his unbuttoned flannel revealing a white shirt underneath. “y/n i need to talk to—” you grabbed his wrist and sprinted further outside pulling him with you, now behind the tall wooden fences surrounding your home.
“You can't just knock on my door out of nowhere uninvited, especially when my parents are home—are you nuts?!”
“Look, okay, please just let me talk and explain everything,”
“You can't do it on the phone? text me you're coming at least!?”
“y/n.” he paused, “let me talk.”
His eyes searched yours frantically, switching from left to right. Everything around you breathing faster; the bushes trembled, the songbirds quiet, the rainfall slowly finding its pace.
He looked down and fidgeted with his rings that moved from one finger to the other. You tilt your head, “Nicholas, what's wrong?”.
His head snapped forward to look at you again, his hair now a little flatter and shinier from the rain. He licked his lips in nervousness, still looking for the right words to say in the midst of a hurricane in him. Stirring in his chest, loud in his head.
With hesitation, his palms found the sides of your arms, grounding you—grounding himself from breaking apart. “It's you,” his gaze locked onto yours, “it had always been you.”
“I thought the only way I could find myself again in this world was to work on myself—by myself. I- I had to fix myself; fix my emotions, drown in them on our bridge before I could swim back up again.” Shallow breaths, “But the bridge couldn't heal me the way you did.”
Silence fell heavy, the rain grew heavier and louder. “And now… now we only have two weeks left — I can't fathom the idea of my life without you in it.”
The words laid heavily on your chest, clinging onto something unnamed. It didn’t feel like you stepped on a live wire, shocking every cell in your core—it whispered more of a gentle spark, dancing across their skin with the same grace of a ballet dancer. Your heart groaned upon seeing him in a time where he’s visibly tender and unguarded. Rain fell in slow, silver threads; soft and endless like the sky was crying memories it held in its water.
Drops clung to his lashes when he looked at you, his face bare of defenses for once. Everything but the quiet drumming on wood and water below stopped talking. The air smelled of wet earth and memory; cold copper coins kissed by storm clouds, as if time had paused to listen. Nothing else existed. Not the distant hum of city lights beyond trees, not the cars passing far away, not time either. Minutes blurred into seconds that stretched too long to count. A single droplet traced down his temple as he looked at you. The rain became sacred.
If only you knew how loud his heart pounded, trying to break out of the confinements of his body when the storm drowned its volume. And if only he knew how much yours were cracking your ribs. Butterfly’s wings fluttering its wings on the inner lining of your stomach—if you were to open their mouth, one might escape.
The damp air held its breath once again, “Please say something,” he murmured.
“Nicholas,” your fingers now finding its way to cradle his face, “It was never the bridge for me either.”
His eyes flickered to your lips before crashing to yours. Nothing yet everything left unsaid and never voiced poured into it. Every sleepless night spent alone on that bridge dissolving between shared breaths. Every quiet pain they never named but somehow understood without words. A kind of healing no medicine or poem could give.
Years of being misunderstood dissolving into this single point where your mouths met under falling water and fading light. He held your jaw closer, your hands now interlocked behind his neck as the kiss grew deeper between exchanged exhales. His hand gently tightened at your back, pulling you a little closer until there was barely any space left between the two of you when the kiss finally broke apart.
Neither of you opened your eyes—foreheads now touching like the moment was too precious to not savor. A moment where each second was more valuable than diamonds who glistened under the moonlight. His breath piercing yours lightly amidst the rainpour. Your lips brushed each other again before meeting once more; momentarily tender like you're scared that it'll be the last time.
You opened your eyes when he noticed them blooming like midnight flowers in the dim light. Loneliness healed by presence alone, just looking at each other in each other’s hold were enough to warm up what the rainwater continued to soak in your clothes. Nicholas exhaled shakily—a tiny sound full of disbelief and relief—and you didn’t let go. His hands slid from your face down to your waist, then one arm curled loosely around you as if checking if this was really happening. Holding each other quietly while rain washed everything else clean.
Something from the way the water fell down your cheeks prompted him to take off his flannel and hover it above you, “Can I steal you for tonight?” he breathed. The corners of your mouth curled before you gave a soft nod. “And let me do this properly tomorrow.” he beamed before a laugh escaped your mouth. And now you were walking back with him away from your house with a wet flannel shielding the both of you. Because you knew now, he felt more like home than yours ever did; unguarded and welcoming.
Home, you realized, wasn’t the place you spent most of your living hours in, wasn’t the place where you find yourself waking up in, wasn’t the place promised to you by someone else. Home was where you had no fear letting your guard down, to breathe again when the world didn't.
And somehow? Without either realizing it yet? Your hearts were mending each other.
Maybe love was never meant to be understood at all. Maybe it was simply the strange miracle of becoming someone’s quiet place. Someone’s shoulder to lean on — to rely on. And love wasn't the thunder that announced itself to the world and demanded it, but the warmth that lingered long after the storm had passed; the certainty that even if tomorrow arrived too quickly, this moment had existed completely.
The rain continued to fall, soft enough to blur the edges of the world until there was only the sound of water, two steady breaths, and fluttering hearts that had long forgotten where one heartbeat ended and the other began.
A/N: its 1AM when i finished this but we're finally back!!! it was supposed to be a bday release too but life finds a way to postpone it when you couldnt (ᴗ_ᴗ͈) reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated and let me say this again #spreadchalantnicoagenda 🗣️🗣️🗣️
synopsis ➳ After the unfortunate passing of a family friend, you’ve been dragged back to a town that once meant everything to you. There, you’re faced with someone you wish you had never left all those years ago.
pairing ➳ townboy!nicholas x f!reader
genre/tags ➳ ANGST, hurt comfort, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, reconciliation, fluff, (implied) midwest americana
warnings ➳ cussing, tension, emotional vulnerability, mentions of verbal abuse, depression, grief, guns and hunting, smoking (very minor), daddy issues, there’s some other side characters that are ocs, suggestive content, “——“ to replace y/n
wc ➳ 10.1k+
a/n ➳ okay so i’ve been delaying this fic for like 6 months and i’m finally finished omfg. this fic was heavily inspired by the lyrics of Royal Blue Walls by Jane Remover and a lot of Ethel Cain. anyway, hope you enjoy this, if there’s anymore warnings i should add lmk
Your face is planted on the car window, eyes watching the passing streetlights through raindrop-stained glass. The heavy rain muffles the sounds of revving engines and blaring car horns from the traffic around you.
The city.
You’ve lived there for many years, nearly a decade. Long ago did you move there, from when you were just about old enough to enter high school.
Having spent your teen years in the city, you’ve had your fair share of relationships and friendships, with people from a more modernistic world. People that are used to seeing tall skyscrapers, blinding city lights, and densely packed public spheres.
You’ve gotten used to it, being around cityfolk. You feel like you’ve finally managed to “fit in” no matter how hard it was for you to digest a new way of life, far too different from the one you were used to.
And even then, there's always that lingering feeling of being… misplaced.
As if you were a toy, put into the wrong dollhouse. Barely passing as someone that belonged, in a domain that was never meant to hold you.
You couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made you feel like that. The people? Or your surroundings? You didn’t know. Into every room, every gathering, and every community you were ever a part of in the city — that feeling followed.
But lately, you’ve been trying not to dwell on it for too long. Especially now that you’re in a car, driving away from said city. You watch the city’s silhouette disappear into obscurity as the distance grows.
“are you alright, sweetie? you seem awfully quiet” your mother asks you, her hands still gripped onto the steering wheel, gaze set on the road.
You give a quiet hum in response.
“i know this trip was sudden, but you know exactly how much we owe dahlia,” she reminds you, “and honestly… i’d never forgive myself if we didn’t at least try to repay her”
“i know mom, it’s alright” you reassure her.
Dahlia was a long time family friend. A kind soul with a heart that only sought to give, especially to the people that needed it the most. When your father passed, you and your mother were on the receiving end of her charity.
She helped provide financial support. House bills, daily necessities, standard education — anything that your family couldn’t pay for with the money your father had left behind. Without her, you wouldn’t have been able to move to the city.
Without her, you wouldn’t have been able to survive.
Now that dahlia’s passed, your mother is determined to make it up to her, even if she’s gone. And so, she chose to become one of the funeral organizers. This meant going to where dahlia lived — hence, the road-trip.
To a place you grew up knowing. To a town that you haven’t been to since you left all those years ago.
It’s small and rural, bearing a name most won’t recognize.
The kind people would read once in a lifetime whilst skimming through old pamphlets and newspapers. A town miles away from the nearest city, taking hours to drive to no matter which direction you come from.
Unlike most cities, the town is mildly inhabited. And in a lot of ways, traditional.
None of those flashy billboards displayed on any of the buildings, or metallic rumbling from constant on-road traffic.
You enjoyed how sparingly they used lights there too. The town’s dim lighting allowed the stars to shine clearly in the night sky, which was a sight you’ve longed to see again after spending so many years away.
Everything there was un-overwhelming, is how you’d describe it. Not boring, just calm, which is something you were fond of. It makes you think that maybe, one of the things you missed the most was the tranquility of it all.
“we’re here” your mother announces. After several hours on the road, you arrive. Your mother’s car slows down as it drives through the town’s rougher roads.
Watching each old building go by, you begin to feel a warmth blooming in your heart.
This is home.
Or was.
It feels just as it did back then. You can envision your younger self strolling through every street that you pass, almost like watching a memory in third-person.
Just seeing the town center was enough to leave you fulfilled. And yet, you haven’t even gotten to your childhood house.
The house you grew up in is on the town’s outermost part — quieter than the rest.
A small dirt path leads to it, barely distinguishable. It’s within walking distance, but it’d a bit more difficult to navigate if you’ve never been there.
The path ends at a row of old houses, all lined up along a lake’s shore. And there, your childhood home stood — unchanged.
Well, somewhat unchanged.
Although cared for, the wooden planks that were once sturdy creak a lot more compared to when you’d last been there. And, you don’t remember the paint being that worn out.
But besides the obvious signs of aging in the house, it was liveable, homey even. You’d have to thank dahlia for taking care of the house so well while she was still there.
“hey, ——” your mothers voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “yeah?”
“just leave your bags here, we can unpack later tonight, i know you’re tired too” you nod and lay your belongings down.
With your newfound free time, you take a minute to look around the place. Noticing the floorboards tainted by a faint light from the sky outside.
You look out the window, it’s getting dark. You’re about to turn away, but something else catches your eye.
The lake.
Without much thought, you make your way to the large body of water in front of your home. Only takes a short walk going downhill and there it’s at.
As you walk, you take in the scene, feel the breeze trail across your skin, and watch the sun disappear into the tree line, far off across the lake.
Your eyes wander down to the shore of the lake. And you spot it — the dock. The dock that you used to hang around as a child.
Despite being such an insignificant structure to most people, it means everything to you. Carrying many of your early memories, like the first time your father taught you how to reel in a fish, or the countless times you’ve played along the shallow waters around the dock itself.
Those are the times you miss the most. When things were simpler, when the innocent joys of life hadn’t been taken away from you, and when living didn’t feel like much of a burden to carry, but a gift to cherish.
You snap out of it when the silence is interrupted by the sound of a door creaking behind you. From the house right next to yours. A man taking out trash.
You don’t recognize him at first.
That’s until you make eye contact — you know exactly who he is by then.
His eyes widen, like he’s seen something impossible. You expect him to say something, do something at least — only for him to turn right back into his home, leaving you all alone.
The door shuts loudly, making you flinch.
Silence beckons once again.
It was nicholas. You haven’t seen him in years.
A man you have a novel’s worth of history with, yet all you could do was look at him.
When you were younger, he was pretty much your only friend. The only one around your age really, but you were closer to him more than anyone else.
Ever since the wang’s introduced him to you, you and nicholas were stuck by the hip. It helped that he was your next-door neighbour, making it much easier for the two of you to stay close.
The highs, the lows, no matter what, you were together, inseparable.
And the one thing you’ll always distinctly remember about him is how he helped you cope with your father’s condition.
For as long as you could remember, seeing your father bed-ridden, devastatingly ill, and barely moving was nothing new. He wasn’t that sick earlier on in your life, still being able to work and spend quality time with you and your mother.
But as time went on, and as you grew older, he fell more and more ill.
In those times, more than ever, did you feel grief. Not when he passed away, no — instead you grieved more when he was alive, yet incapable of speaking to you. When all he could do was hold your hands and stay in bed, barely clinging on to his life. It was devastating.
Whenever the illness took a toll on him, whenever your heart couldn’t bear to see or hear his cries, the only person that kept your mind at ease was nicholas. He stayed by your side when you were crying, he sat with you by the dock when you were alone, and he held onto your hands tightly when all you wanted to do was let go.
He was just there, and that itself meant the world to you.
Nicholas kept your head up when your family was going through its darkest times. He was the kindest person you’d ever met and you wouldn’t have ever been able to get through it without him.
Despite all of that, behind his bright demeanor, you knew he didn’t have it easy. You knew the look on his face whenever he left his home. And you heard the voices from next door, the shouting, the clashing, everything.
Deep down, you knew. For nicholas, home didn’t feel safe — home didn’t feel like home.
With the way his father treated him. With how ruthless his father’s standards were. You knew that no matter how hard nicholas tried for him, it meant nothing.
Nicholas would tell you how difficult it was to satisfy him. How much he didn’t want to be like him. How much he disliked him and his habits.
He would often drag nicholas into his personal interests — hunting, to be exact. You remember how nicholas’s father would take him on routine hunting trips to “toughen him up”. Teaching him to use rifles, skin game, and butcher meat.
Nicholas grew to hate hunting. Not because he couldn’t handle anything squeamish or unpleasant to the eyes, but because it was the one thing that reminded him of his father the most. The one activity he couldn’t escape under his father’s care.
And you knew it overwhelmed him. He just wanted to get away from it all, but you knew his father wouldn’t listen. So you stood by him, because the one thing you didn’t want was for nicholas to feel unheard, or worse, alone.
Simply put, you cared for him and he cared for you. Which made you, undoubtedly, love him. Not necessarily in a romantic way, you were just really grateful that someone wanted to be there for you — that someone actually made you feel like you belonged.
However, everything seemed to have changed when your father passed.
The world you’d known your entire life just crumbled right in front of your eyes and you couldn’t do anything about it.
His passing burdened your family in every way possible, both mentally and financially. You and your mother were in shambles.
Since the family’s source of income had always been from your father, his passing had left an undeniable fate. You and your mother were going to lose everything. Every dollar and possible opportunity for the future was bound to go down the drain.
So you thought.
Thankfully, an angel in the form of a family friend, dahlia, decided to swoop in and offer your mother a well-paying job. It was like a miracle for your family.
But there was a huge catch — you had to move away to the city.
When your mother told you, your heart dropped. Not only did you lose your father, but you had to lose the one place that actually knew you.
Leaving meant losing everything you cared for, including nicholas.
Back then, you had no clue how to break the news to him. You were stuck in a whirlwind of contemplation. Constantly asking yourself, how should i tell him? repeatedly. Staying awake overnight, going over every outcome for hours on end.
Despite days of deciding, the choice you settled with was to simply — not tell him.
Cruel, you knew that, but nothing could’ve prepared you to face him, so you just... left.
You still remember that day. It was raining. Loud rumbling from the sky and dark clouds slowly covering the town from above. Glowing a beautiful blue with every burst of lightning.
You remember a forecaster mentioning through the car’s radio that a “once in a decade” storm was brewing over where you were.
It’s a detail you’ll never forget.
Even with the thundering storm, your mother pushed through and drove out of town to the city. There was no looking back. All you had was your mother, the feeling of grief, and the guilt of leaving nicholas.
You’re afraid to think that he’s grown to hate you for leaving. Just the possibility of it has been eating you up ever since you stepped out of town.
Until today, you didn’t have a clue on how he felt about you. Your mother didn’t keep contact with the wang’s either, and so you were left with no answers.
Except now, with the reaction he had when he saw you before, you have a feeling it isn’t anything good.
The next day comes fast. Down the staircase in tired steps, you wipe your eyes as you go. Your mother is already sitting by the window downstairs, going through her schedule.
“morning, mom” you say, still fighting back a yawn. “morning, sweetie” as she pulls out a chair for you.
“come sit, i need a bit of your help” she pats the empty seat. You take a seat as she shows you a sheet of paper.
“this is a list of supplies we’re still missing, you don't have to buy them today though, just make sure we have them in time” she explains.
You take the list and read through it, mind still hazy from just waking up.
“oh and tonight, we’re going to be eating dinner with the wang’s” your entire body shoots up.
“we’re… what?” you peer at your mother. “come on, i’m sure it’ll be nice to catch up with them, and you’ll get to meet nicholas too” she says, not aware of the complicated situation between the two of you.
“yeah, right” you give her an awkward smile and continue reading the list. You’re spiralling at the thought of meeting him face to face again, let alone talking to him.
And now, you’re standing right in front of the wang’s door. Time goes by way too quickly when you’re dreading something, you think.
You hear footsteps shuffling on the wooden floors. The door finally opens, letting out a warm light, contrasting the dark night outside.
“welcome back!” mrs wang invites you both in. The house is just as it used to be, but maybe a bit more furnished. You make your way to the dining table.
No nicholas, alright.
You greet nicholas’s father and take a seat across from your mother. You can’t help but notice that the only empty seat left is right beside you.
“so, how’ve you been ——?” mr wang asks. “i’ve been great, i graduated recently and i’m currently looking for a job” you tell them.
Thinking of your latest life upbringings, you share many of the new experiences you and your mother have had in the city
Like how your mother was able to afford her first car and how you’ve been admitted into a high-ranking university.
And most importantly, how both of you have learned to excel, even in grief.
So far, nobody’s brought up the elephant in the room, which is making you even more nervous. You often catch yourself taking peeks at the staircase and anxiously bouncing your leg.
You’re trying your best to control your unease, but it’s getting harder and harder as time goes by.
It’s been about half an hour since you’ve sat down for dinner. You’ve given up on waiting for nicholas. Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t come down, that’s what you tell yourself.
But just as you let your guard down, lo and behold, nicholas appears.
He stops for a moment when he sees you. His face is plastered with all sorts of emotions you can’t even decipher. He greets your mother before walking towards the chair conveniently placed right next to you.
Now you are sitting inches away from him, way too close. The air feels so thick you could probably cut a hole through it.
“ah, it’s so nice seeing the two of you together again, you’re like each other's halves afterall” nicholas’s mother says endearingly.
You give an awkward smile and nod in response. It’s surprising how they haven’t caught on yet, seriously.
Whilst the conversation goes fairly well between your parents, both of you are dead silent. He’s just hunched and quietly eating, not even sparing a glance at you. And you’re leaning against your chair, looking at his back.
He's different, really different.
Not just his looks, but his demeanor, his mannerisms, so much about him has changed. He used to look more… content. Now, it’s almost as if it has been replaced with something darker. A change that you think can only stem from hardship and difficult times.
Despite that, you’re sure he’s still in there. This nicholas might feel unfamiliar, but it’s not at the point that he’s become a complete stranger to you.
He’s like a new song, and it just happens to have a melody you used to know. Different, of course, but you still know how it goes.
At times, you see him twisting the rings on his fingers, a habit he used to have whenever he was anxious. Or how frequently he runs his hands through his hair, like he used to whenever he didn’t know how to act while feeling fidgety. Some things never change.
An hour into the dinner, he’s still just as closed off as he was in the beginning. Sometimes, you catch him stealing looks at you. Most of the time however, he just sits there, listening. Both of you still answer questions like nothing’s wrong, but you’re pretty sure they’ve already noticed how tense it is between the two of you.
When both of your parents finish up, you get up from your seat. With your body already faced away from him, you turn back one last time. “see you, nicho” is all you say, before turning back and walking out the door. He had this subtle surprised look, maybe he didn’t expect you to say anything – but you did.
Even as the door slowly closes shut, he’s looking at you, still unreadable.
You begin walking back to your house with your mother. “what’s up with you two?” she asks, a question laced in concern. You stay silent and look away towards the lake. “nicholas and i,” you let out a long breath, “it just hasn’t been the same between us since we left” you look back at her. She stays quiet for a moment.
“you should talk to him” giving a simple and concrete answer as you both approach the doorstep.
“clear up all the misunderstandings while you still have the time,” she pauses, “you might never have the chance again” her eyes meet yours. She gives you a pat on your back before entering the house.
The dinner wasn’t bad. Quite the contrary actually, you felt a bit thrilled. You’re glad he was willing to see you. With your mother’s words in mind, you hold on to the hope that reconciliation is possible between you and nicholas.
Next morning, you’re instructed to buy supplies for the funeral. Mostly minor needs, like stationary for the guest book. As well as a picture frame
You head to a local store in the town circle. Still in the same location it used to be when you were younger, but it’s without a doubt grown and changed with time.
The shop was renovated whilst you were gone. Its old wooden front was changed into polished bricks and white stone, which cleaned up the entrance.
The sound of bells chime in when you open the door. The layout isn’t as different as you thought. Bigger though, more aisles and intricate sectioning. The shelves have been replaced with taller ones. Ones you can’t look over anymore.
It’s nice seeing how much this store has grown since you’ve left.
At times, you wonder what else has changed since you’ve been gone. Truth be told, you know exactly what has – who has, even.
You navigate your way through the packed aisles and scan for the stationary area. As you pick out the pens you need, you hear the door bells chime again, but you don’t put much thought into it. There are new steps coming in, but you can’t be bothered anyway, the racks are blocking your vision.
Your shopping continues to the back of the store, where small furniture items are displayed. You see wooden trays, salt shakers, and coffee mugs with quirky quotes written on them that are very obviously outdated.
It should be easy to find picture frames in a place like this. And yet, your search so far has been unfruitful. You probably look like an idiot right now, looking at the same spots over and over again in hopes that you just missed it.
Suddenly, you hear a voice from behind you. A very familiar voice.
“are you… looking for something?” he questions with a hesitant tone.
Before you even turn your head, you already know who it is.
“oh- uh, hi nicholas,” you stutter, “i’m looking for picture frames for dahlia’s… you know” your speech is more stuttery than usual.
You can barely make eye contact with him. You’re shocked he even wanted to help you to begin with.
He looks off towards the shelves for a bit and finally points — upwards?
“it’s up there” he says. Oh. No wonder you couldn’t find it. It’s literally in an upper compartment you would’ve never even looked at.
“thanks, nicho” you say. You tiptoe and reach for one of the frames. Your entire body is stretched out at this point, but your fingers can barely even graze it.
Your feet give out and lay flat after a few tries. You slowly turn your head to nicholas already with a stature that can only be read as waiting. Patiently waiting for you to let him help.
He steps closer and reaches up to grab it for you. “here” as he passes it into your hand.
You look at the frame, then up at him. No less awkward than before, but you muster up the courage to give a small “thank you” before heading to the cashier.
After checking out, you and nicholas end up walking back home together. Mostly because you were both headed in the same direction.
Throughout the walk, he stays as closed off as ever, and you’re not sure if you should try to start a conversation at all.
But you try anyway.
“has everything been okay since i left?” he turns his head towards you, slightly caught off-guard. At first, he looks down as if thinking.
“yeah, we’ve been… fine” he answers, his voice grows quieter for each word. He looks somewhat uninterested? avoidant? You’re not sure exactly, and you don’t want to find out.
“that’s good, i’m glad you’re okay” you tell him, abruptly ending the conversation. Mostly out of fear that you’re bothering him.
The rest of the walk is in absolute silence all the way to your doorstep. You wave him off with a goodbye. He only gives you a small smile. The type of smile people give only to be polite.
It looks ingenuine.
Your hands find the doorknob. Every step to your room is heavy. Jaw clenched. Eyes starting to swell, barely even realising it.
You want him to open up, you really do. In the back of your mind, you know that prying might lead to a situation much worse than how it already is.
Things could be better, but his acknowledgement of you today is already enough to leave you satisfied.
It makes you think that not all’s lost. Even if deep down, you’re afraid. Afraid that you’ve already screwed this up before even trying to have a meaningful conversation with him.
Still, you’re clinging onto the glimmer of hope that he’ll let you into his life again. That maybe, he’ll be willing to give your friendship another shot.
Golden rays shine through your window. A vibrant glow is cast upon your face as the sun rises. The light seeping through your eyelids wakes you.
Sleeping hasn’t been easy ever since you came back. You’ve never really been an insomniac, but lately too much has been on your mind. Every time you close your eyes a thought manifests.
And of course, you cry.
You don’t particularly remember how much you cried last night, it’s just evidently clear you did.
The root of it all?
Well, you’re not sure if it’s the same feeling that followed you from the city, or if it’s the newfound guilt from seeing nicholas these past few days.
One thing’s for sure, anybody with working eyes can tell that something’s been bothering you. Your tired and swollen eyes are a sign in itself. Which is exactly why you plan on not meeting with anyone at all for the day.
Well, that’s what you wanted.
Three knocks. Three knocks on the front door is all it takes for your planned isolation to fall into pieces. With slight hesitation, you reach out to open the door.
“hi, can i help-“ you pause. Seriously?
“-nicholas, what are you doing here?” you’re in complete disbelief. Of all people to see you in your current state, it just had to be him.
And now he’s looking you dead in the eyes — examining it, even.
Yeah, he knows you’ve been crying.
He presses his lips into a line before eventually speaking. “your mother, she told me to have breakfast with you cause she wants us to, well — talk” he deadpans.
Maybe if it were someone else, you would be questioning why they’d even listen to someone else's mother to this extent. But knowing nicholas, you know very well how compliant he can be.
“…breakfast, where exactly?” you ask dumbfounded. “anywhere you want, i guess” his voice trailing off. You take a moment to jog your memory. It’s been so long since you’ve eaten out in town.
And really, there’s only one place that really comes to mind.
“how about the diner?” you suggest.
Nicholas’s eyes shoot up the moment he hears you. You know that he used to like eating at the diner. Especially, with how often the both of you used to go there, so you think it’s quite fitting.
Both of you start making your way to the diner. It’s a tad farther than most of the other establishments in town, but definitely worth the walk.
You come to a halt at the diner’s doorstep. Different, is your immediate thought. Freshly painted walls, modern decor, and newly set up hanging lights. Not nearly as dingy as it used to be.
Walking in, you’re greeted with a familiar face. “well if it isn’t ——!“ the woman calls out. You audibly gasp.
“mrs moreau, long time no see!” you greet her. Mrs moreau is someone you didn’t expect to reunite with ever again, knowing she was already of old age when you last met her.
But here she is, living and breathing with the same kind and caring smile you grew up seeing.
You’re guided to the booth you used to sit at with nicholas. Right next to the glass wall facing the street. The seats have been refurbished with a fresh maroon leather, new and eye-catching. Brand new art pieces are splayed across the diner’s walls, which you remember being emptier than it is now.
“you’ve really done wonders with the place while i was gone” as you took a seat across from nicholas.
“y’think so? i’m glad to hear that” she lays down the menu on your table. You give her a smile.
Mrs moreau takes a look at nicholas, then back at you. “i’m quite delighted to see you two together again,” you and nicholas share an awkward look, “you’ve missed a lot, you know?” she says.
“i’m aware” you let out a short laugh.
“have you told her about all the things you’ve done, nicho, dear?” she asks. “uh, like what?” he replies, with slight confusion in his tone.
“like when you landed your first job, or… when you learned how to cook with me” she says, recalling nicholas’s experiences. He laughs.
“you mean, when i worked here part-time for a few weeks? i wouldn’t really call that my first job” he laughs. You look at nicholas with raised brow. “you’ve worked here?” it’s quite a simple question, but enough to signify how much you’ve missed out on his life.
“uh, sort of…” a short pause as he shifts into a comfortable position. “honestly, it was more like a punishment for accidentally scraping the side of my dad’s car” he admits.
“hey, at least you got to have fun making dishes with me, no?” she gives him a playful nudge. Nicholas lets out a sincere laugh.
It’s great hearing him all happy and full of joy like this again. This might be the first time you’ve seen his younger self really shine through that facade he’s been hiding behind.
After catching up, mrs moreau takes your orders and leaves the two of you alone.
Nicholas is busy fiddling with the salt shakers while waiting, cute. He isn’t paying much attention to you, but you know he feels your gaze.
He’s pretty when focused. In a way that can only be described as pure, like the world he seems to despise is far and out of reach, unable to bother him.
You snap out of it when he finally looks up at you, realizing that you’ve been staring. Abruptly, your body straightens as you clear your throat.
“uhm- so, nicho, what other things have you done that I don't know of?” you ask, clumsily.
He ponders for a while. “well, i got my driver’s license,” he answers, ”which was after the car scraping incident if you were wondering” he adds. You hum in response.
“so… rest assured we won’t get into any trouble if you drive me somewhere?” you try to joke. He grins. “trust me, my slightly reckless driving days are over, ——” he laughs.
Butterflies immediately fill your stomach. You made him laugh. You give yourself a mental pat in the back, he’s finally opening up and you’re all for it.
“besides, where would you even want me to drive you? there’s literally nothing for miles around town” he asks.
“i don’t know either honestly, i guess being your passenger princess just crossed my mind” you reply sarcastically. Nicholas’s eyes go wide.
Oops. You didn’t mean for that to come out as flirty as it did.
Thankfully, comes mrs moreau with your orders in hand. You don’t know how you would’ve survived that silence if it weren’t for her.
“here y’go kids, enjoy!” she lays your food down with a sweet smile before leaving again.
Although the rest of the breakfast is quiet, it is comfortable. Which is a nice change, knowing that the interactions leading up to now have been nothing but stiff.
Both of you finish up and get ready to leave the diner. You wave your goodbye to mrs moreau and follow nicholas out. Breathing in the fresh air, you begin your walk back home with nicholas in silence, yet again.
Except this time, he’s the one that breaks the silence. “are you going to be doing anything later?” he asks softly, as if he’s afraid of startling you.
You shrug before responding.
“not much i can do here, really” which is the honest truth about town. With its tranquility, also comes its lack of any recreational entertainment.
He replies with a small hum. “what about you?” you return the question. He opens his mouth as if wanting to speak, but holds back. Your head tilts subconsciously.
“it’s nothing, i guess” he stutters.
That’s a bit strange. You’re definitely curious as to what’s bothering him, but you choose not to pry. You don’t even have to, cause after a few steps, nicholas tells you himself.
“actually, i’m going to be…” he draws out his answer, “…hunting” whilst he’s giving you a look.
A look that screams i know exactly what you’re thinking.
“don’t you… hate hunting?” you ask, with slight caution in your voice. The nicholas you grew up knowing despised hunting. So hearing this was quite the news to you.
“i do, but i’m going with my dad — and you know how he is” his voice is laced with bitterness. You don’t blame him.
Eventually, the distance to his house narrows, and you come up to its front lawn. His truck is parked right on the side of the road.
You hear a voice calling you from behind the truck. It’s mr wang, nicholas’s father. “——! it’s great timing that you’re here,” his hand lands on nicholas’s shoulder “we’re about to go out for a hunt” he says.
“yeah, he mentioned it to me already” you answer with a half-assed smile to mask the unease.
“really? i was thinking, why don’t you come with us?” he asks. In that very moment, you could see nicholas’s bewildered expression.
“oh- i mean,” you give nicholas a panicked look, then turn back at his father, “i guess… i could come, if that’s okay with you two” you reply hesitantly, slightly taken aback by the sudden invite.
“perfect! we’ll be going in thirty — in the meantime, you can go get ready, okay?” he exclaims. You nod in agreement.
“right, come on help me out with the gear, nicho” he then gives nicholas a hard pat in the back and drags him off, leaving you as they went inside.
Hunting wasn’t really how you expected to spend the afternoon. But you could be there for nicholas, which is the only thing that really matters to you right now.
After half an hour, you head towards nicholas’s house in attire somewhat suitable for a trip like this. You see the garage opened up and decide to take a peek. Inside, you see nicholas with his back facing you by the workbench.
You slowly approach him. The garage was dark, only one lightbulb hanging by a wire in the center of the room, giving off a dim light that’s barely enough to see clearly inside. Your eyes stray towards the ash wooded walls that were highly decorated with plaques, shed tools, and flags all around.
But at the farthest side, where nicholas was faced, stood the treasured gun rack. Rifles placed in every slot across the wall, each visibly well-taken care of. Almost as if they were displayed like trophies, instead of firearms.
And right above it all, like the jewel in a crown, is a shoulder mount that you haven’t seen in ages. It used to creep you out as a child, and the impression it gives you now really isn’t that far off.
Having a taxidermied deer head just hung around is quite odd, no? Well that’s what you think.
With several steps, you’re now just a few feet away from nicholas. And somehow, he still hasn’t noticed you. You peak over his shoulder and see him prepping his gun.
“i like your rifle” your voice breaks the silence, making him flinch. His eyes immediately dart to your face.
“geez, you scared the living shit out of me” his tense demeanor slowly softens as he processes your presence. Quickly, his gaze goes right back to the rifle in his hands. “my bad, didn’t mean to scare you” you take a step beside him.
“just curious on what you were so focused on” you say, especially when it was to the point he hadn’t even registered your presence until you spoke.
“i’m just checking the components on my rifle, remington 700, standard procedure” he explains. You hum. It might be the first time you’ve ever seen him handle a gun like this — with the utmost care and gentleness.
Moments pass, and all you’ve done is look at him as he’s inspecting the firearm. And maybe you stared at him a bit too intently, cause he’s been stealing glances at you like he’s worried.
“look,” nicholas lays his rifle on the table before turning towards you, “i honestly don’t know why you agreed to joining, cause i know for sure that you’re not into the whole shooting animals charade” he confronts.
“so tell me, why do you want to come with us?” he asks with his hand rested on the table, looking straight into you.
You stay still for a second, taken aback that he’d be so upfront about it. But eventually, you gather yourself and reply.
“i just want to keep you company, nicho,” you look away from his sharp gaze, “you know, now that i actually can” it is a solemn confession of your intentions, you’re not sure how he’ll take it, but all you hope for is that he’ll understand.
He keeps his eyes on you for a short moment, before turning back towards t he work table.
“i just don’t want you getting uncomfortable, ——, it’s really not worth the harm” his voice is laced with care and worry. It warms your heart.
“it’s okay, seriously, i’d come anyway even if it does make me uncomfortable” placing your hand on his shoulder, “trust me” you plead.
He looks at you for a moment, before placing his hand right over yours. “okay, i’ll trust you” you feel it, a familiar warmth you’ve longed to experience again.
You’re starting to see cracks on his hardened shell, that unrecognizable exterior is slowly melting away as you reconnect with him. It lights a fire in you seeing him reveal his true nature again.
You’re grateful.
Ending the moment, you hear mr wang calling the two of you out of the garage to start the drive. “you kids ready? let’s get on the road before it gets late”
You give eachother a knowing glance before making your way towards the front of his house.
Nicholas opens the backseat door for you, before boarding the truck himself. He’s on the driver’s seat and his father is sitting beside him.
You sit at an angle that allows you to see nicholas’s face through the rear-view mirror, which may or may not have been intentional.
The ride begins, you see off the main area of town as the road takes you to the outskirts. You can see nicholas’s hands confidently gripped on the steering wheel, an arm slightly slung over the window.
This season’s weather is cold, but the sun’s blazing heat balances it out, making the temperature cool and refreshing. It’s a great day to be out.
It’ll take a few hours to get to the hunting grounds, so you’ve made yourself comfortable in the backseat.
Not many words are spoken throughout the drive, maybe one or two small conversations, but that’s about it. You take note of the frequent wooshing sounds surrounding the truck as it cuts through strong wind currents.
As well as the occasional cold gust coming through the windows that leave your skin riddled in goosebumps. All this accompanied with the faint burnt smell of ash and nicotine seeping into the air as nicholas’s father smokes a cigarette.
Hours slip by, you start to drift off. The last thing you see is nicholas’s eyes through the mirror before you fall asleep.
The next thing you know, a hand is nudging at your shoulder. You lift your head of the car seat. Rubbing your eyes as you look around.
“—— wake up, we’re here” nicholas stands right beside you with his hand rested on the truck’s roof, waiting for you to get up. He draws his hand out to help you off the truck. Giving you a look that’s basically saying wow, she was knocked out. Can’t blame him though, you were beyond drowsy from the lack of sleep the night prior.
You finally come out of the truck. Compared to the worn out roads of the town, the ground is uneven, under a blanket of green thicket. Your legs are met with dense foliage with even the slightest movement.
“you alright?” nicholas asks with his rifle already strapped to his back. “yeah, yeah, just getting used to the terrain” you answer.
“okay good, just follow me,” he takes a step before looking back, “and stay close” he adds. You nod and start walking as all three of you enter the woods.
Walking past tree after tree , nicholas and his father lead you to their usual hunting tower. A structure built on strong wooden pillars to see the forest floor from a higher view.
You climb up the ladder first, followed by nicholas and his father. They set up their gear and seats to wait on oncoming deers. You watch them attentively look out for any buck that may be wandering through what looks like never-ending woods.
As long as you’ve known them, you’ve only heard about their great tales of successful hunting trips. So finally being able to see it with your own eyes is somewhat of a spectacle to you.
Your eyes linger on nicholas’s stature, in the perfect position to take a shot at any roaming deer.
“this might take a while, ——” nicholas’s father says with a low voice. And so, you wait. Seconds turn into minutes, and minutes turn into hours. You were starting to lose patience, honestly. But just as you thought that, nicholas whispers.
“i see one” his eyes lock onto a large buck, his finger hovers the trigger. You watch him, carefully aiming his rifle to get the shot. Everything goes dead silent.
His eyes narrow, his body tenses, and — pop.
The gun goes off. All you could hear at first were countless flocks of birds fleeing and rustling through trees above you.
Everyone stays quiet, until finally, nicholas confirms the kill. He breathes out. “i got it” his body straightens up from his earlier position.
“that looks like a big one too! let’s go check it out” nicholas’s father rushes down towards the corpse faster than any of you.
He seems overly pumped for game that wasn’t even his. Can’t say the same for nicholas though. You’re not sure what emotion he’s feeling at the moment, but it definitely isn’t a good one.
Instead of looking proud, he looks as if a burden was just lifted off of his shoulders, almost as if… relieved.
He faces you with lidded eyes. “come on, let’s get down” he reaches out his hand again, helping you down.
You walk over dead leaves and fallen branches. Just under a hundred yards away from the observation post, there the deer’s body laid.
Nicholas’s father was already looking over it when the both of you got there.
“amazing buck, and what a great shot too” he grins in delight. You and nicholas just stand behind him. He crouches down and continues inspecting it.
“thanks” nicholas says with a monotonous tone. His voice tells you that he is troubled, and his eyes tell you that he is anxious. Is he anticipating something?
A sudden groan leaves mr wang’s mouth.
“ugh, you know how much of a wuss you used to be? thanks to me you’re actually good at making shots,” he laughs sarcastically, “i can’t believe you complain about these trips, i mean look at you now — a true man” he shouts, trying to prove a point.
That’s it. That’s what he was afraid of. You don’t know if it was nicholas’s tone, or if it was how short-hand his reply was. But something he said was bound to set his father off.
He’s mentioned this before. A long time ago, by the dock. How the smallest signs of discomfort would trigger an inevitable passive aggresive response.
Now you’re seeing it unfold in real time.
You take a look at nicholas. His hands are already fisted, his jaw noticeably clenched, and his eyes staring daggers right into his father back.
“i’m bringing —— back first, it’s getting late” nicholas announces. His father barely acknowledges him. Nicholas grabs you by the arm and quickly drags you off back to the truck.
Before you could even say anything, he’s already making you sit in the passenger’s seat. He shuts the door before sitting beside you, and starting the engine.
Nicholas sighs. He grips the steering wheel with both hands, and leans his head down towards them. Covering his face.
“i’m sorry” he says, face still covered. Your hand reaches out to caress his back, but you hesitate — afraid that if you do — he might break.
You gently lay your hand on his back. Being as tender as possible, knowing the last thing he needs right now is a heavy hand.
“you don’t have to be sorry nicho, you did nothing wrong” you reassure him.
He peeks up at you and lets out a heavy breath. Fixing his posture, he finally starts driving back to town.
This time around, the sun has already started to dawn. Everything left tinted by a vibrant orange glow. It’s rather fitting with the mood that the wind currents have picked up, somehow even more violent than the ride before.
The air is thick. It’s impossible to ignore how uncomfortable nicholas looks. He’s still focused on the road, but you have a feeling he’s reliving his father’s words over and over again in his head.
“are you okay?” he looks at you, startled. He was spacing out.
He tightens his grip on the steering wheel before coming loose. “i hate hunting, it makes me feel like i’m still stuck as a child being treated as a tool by my own father,” his voice growing more distraught, “and i’m scared, okay?” he admits, glancing at you for a moment.
“i’m scared that if i let myself be stuck in this cycle, i’ll just end up like him — like my dad” his voice softens in the end.
“nicholas, i’ll let you know right now,” his eyes are still fixed on the road, but you know he’s listening, “you are a kind and strong-willed soul, compassionate about helping others, and the most caring person i’ve ever met in my life” you confess.
“i know you won’t ever be your father, because i know you for who you are” your words come out easily, it’s something you’ve been meaning to tell him since the day you met him. You wish you said this a long time ago, but it’s better late than never.
He glances at you, like something clicked in him, then looks back at the road ahead. He’s thinking.
The town has come into view. You’re just a turn away from the lake houses. You decide to tell him one last thing.
“and if you’re ever feeling stuck, you could always come to the city with me, nicholas” you offer. Just as dahlia did for you, you knew that a new start would help him. It would give him the freedom he always wanted.
As he pulls up in front of your house, you could tell that he was actually contemplating. He was still distraught, but giving him hope is the least you could do.
Nicholas stays silent.
“i’ll get off now, thanks for the ride nicho, see you tomorrow” you step off the truck. The strong winds blowing through your hair as you watch him drive off.
You know he has a lot on his mind. The only thing you want him to know is that despite what he thinks, he has you.
Eventually, you end up in your room, lying in bed, thinking. You feel guilty for leaving him, seeing firsthand how you ended up causing the last thing you’d ever want to bring upon nicholas — loneliness.
He was the only person that you could lean on when you were at your lowest, and for many years, you couldn’t do the same for him.
It makes you feel horrible. You should’ve been there for him, but you weren’t.
Hours pass. You’ve been glued to your bed the whole time. You finally force your body up when you realize your entire room has gotten dark.
It’s nearly night.
You heard nicholas’s truck pull over some time ago, so he and his father are probably back from the trip already.
Making your way downstairs, you look around for your mother, who usually is calmly reading by the window. You soon realize that she is probably resting in her room, tired from arranging tomorrow’s funeral.
You breathe out in a soft sigh.
Looking through the window, your gaze finds its way to the lake. It isn’t nighttime, but it’s a matter of time. With sunlight faintly lingering, the skies are painted in a grayish and dusky blue, albeit dark.
The hinges squeak when you open the door. You walk out of your childhood home, paying no attention to the ground beneath you — gravelly and coarse. Your steps slow as you near the edge of the dock.
You lower yourself and sit with both legs hanging over the body of water. The scent of soil and fresh water gushes through the air, which to you, is a pleasant greeting from nature.
It’s peaceful out here, especially at night. Quiet ambience and calming darkness, doesn’t overwhelm you the way the city did.
Your eyes stare blankly at the currents below you, softly crashing against the shore.
The view is beautiful, but your mind is far from it. It takes you a minute to register the tear that just ran down your face.
Your regrets come back to haunt you every time life gets too quiet. A revelation you’ve recently come to terms with.
You regret taking so long to come back, you regret never making contact with the townspeople — and most of all — you regret hurting nicholas.
It pains you that your mistakes have only dawned you now, when you feel that it’s too late.
You’re back, but nothing feels right, not since you left town all those years ago. Because maybe, leaving the person that meant the most to you and having to be stuck in a place where your very existence felt unfitting has rewired your brain in a way that’s left you in disarray.
Coming back to town meant that you’d find that old spark in you again. Except now, even when you’re here, it feels as if nothing has changed, and whatever you’ve been trying to leave behind has already grown into you like roots.
Your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden sharp clap. Your eyes shoot up to see a ginormous stormcloud rolling in, like a beast roaming the sky. With every flash of lightning, a deafening crack follows.
It looks similar, like the very storm you saw when you were leaving town all those years ago. That same otherworldly glow you’ll never forget.
The sound of dense grasses brushing against each other grows more and more violent. The wind picks up, pushing against any loose fabric on your body.
Then you feel it, a cold tap on your arm, followed by another, and another, until all you can feel are countless droplets on your skin.
You should probably get up and go inside, but something is telling you to just stay put.
So you do.
You sit there, taking it in. You’re still crying — thing is you can't differentiate the tears on your face with the raindrops pouring down anymore.
It feels freeing, letting your emotions out in a raging storm. You’d like to think that this is your way of cleansing your past. Obviously reckless, but at least it’s bringing you some semblance of comfort.
You stay there for a while, about who knows how long. A few minutes? Hours? You can’t tell.
The elements around you feel almost like an embrace — a cold, wet embrace. It soothes you with how the wind howls and how the rain washes away your tears.
To your surprise, an unfamiliar warmth touches your skin. Your eyes dart to your side, a hand is gripped onto your shoulder.
“what the hell are you doing?” nicholas says, shouting through the rain. You tilt your head towards him.
“nicholas?” with it being so late, you’re shocked anyone even thought of stepping outside.
“—— get up” he pulls you up and drags you back to his house. Both of you are absolutely drenched in rain.
You enter his home. His hands are still holding onto your wrist as he shuts the door.
Nicholas looks at you, before darting to his room and quickly coming back. He comes back with neatly folded clothes in hand.
“nicho, i-“ he cuts you off. “look, i don’t know why you were out there to begin with, but you can tell me later, okay?” his voice full of worry.
He holds your wrist softly and leads you to the bathroom. “for now, i need you to wash up, don’t want you getting sick” he hands you the clothes with a new towel. Hesitantly, you walk towards the bathroom.
You turn your back to look at him, leaving both of you standing at the doorframe, facing each other. “are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? aren’t your parents home? i can always just walk back to my place, you know” you whisper, not wanting to make much noise.
“——, trust me, they won’t hear you, besides they won’t mind if you stay over for a night, it’s storming like crazy outside” he reassures you.
“fine, if you say so” you comply in defeat. “now go take a shower, okay?” he slowly pushes you in and closes the bathroom door with a small smile.
The door shuts in your face. You stand there for a second, clothes in hand, some areas getting wet from soaking the rainwater left on your hands.
You’re ashamed that nicholas had to see you like that. You didn’t expect him to be as worried as he really was.
For him to go out and take care of you like this feels like a flash from the past. Like a moment from your childhood being reimagined into a new one.
He used to help you dry off when you were kids. Both sat next to each other, taking turns with a small electrical fan, letting it turn left and right, just to dry each other’s hair after a long day at the lake.
It’s happening again, except this time, with a figurative wall of hidden resentment and apologies built right between you and him. It shouldn’t have been like this.
All you want is for those very walls to come crashing down, and reveal a space that allows your hearts to be true to one another once again, without holding back.
You finish showering. You’re in clothes slightly oversized on your body, nicholas’s clothes. A simple old graphic t-shirt and comfy shorts.
With a towel still wrapped around your shoulders, you walk out of the bathroom. Nicholas is in his room, laying patiently on his bed. The lights are low, so you can barely make out his expression.
He looks and sees you.
“——, you’re done” he sits up as you walk towards him. He’s closer now, he smells of shampoo and freshly-washed clothing. Probably finished showering not long before you.
“yeah, sorry i took a while” you say, rubbing your hair gently with the towel. “no it’s alright, i just finished earlier too” he says.
A short silence follows as you stand face to face without a word. You look out the window beside his bed. The rain’s gotten worse.
“come sit down” he pats the space beside him. You comply, his side presses against you as the mattress dips down from your weight.
“so… why were you in the rain?” he asks.
“i don’t know it- it just felt right, i guess” your voice quieter by the end.
“you okay?” he asks, looking at you with concern.
“i’m sorry” you say.
“about… what?” his question drawn out.
“about everything” you look him in the eyes. “i’d be lying if I told you I didn't know why I left without a word back then — cause truthfully, i knew” your breathing unsteady.
“i knew how much i meant to you, i really did, nicholas — it’s just that, i was so afraid to look you in the eyes and say that i was leaving you behind even though you’d been there for me since forever” you admit, head turned down hiding your tears.
Nicholas opens his mouth to speak, but you stop him.
“and don’t pretend i didn’t hurt you because i know i did, i saw the way you looked at me that day, i knew that look” you peer up to nicholas, eyes pleading for honesty.
He looks away and stays silent for a moment. Letting out a deep sigh, before speaking.
“you’re right, i was hurt” he confesses. “but i should’ve never blamed you,” your eyes meet again, “you were grieving ——, it wasn’t fair for me to just — resent you”
“and maybe you should’ve told me that you were leaving, but i think even then, i should’ve been the one to understand your situation” his hand reaches out and lands over yours. “especially, because i should’ve known you”
He speaks to you with a gaze, soft and caring, like a silent confession — not bound by words, but by the glint of light in his eyes and the tenderness in his hands.
“Since the hunting trip too, it’s like i’ve been reminded of the person you are — you’re a person who cares” he says.
“and fuck, ——, i care about you too” his grip tightens around your hand.
Without much hesitation, your free hand cups his face, and you kiss him. Soft, testing the waters at first. He brings his hand onto the back of your neck and presses deeper into your lips, tilting his head.
Nicholas leans back on the headboard. You follow suit, climbing on top of him, mouths still attached. Your hands hook around his neck.
His hands slowly hover down over your waist. “can i?” he asks, breaking the kiss. “please just hold me, nicholas” you plead, before closing the distance again.
His hands finally lay onto your waist, softly caressing your skin as your body eases onto him.
You both end up resting forehead to forehead, breathless. Eyes still closed, just taking each other’s presence in.
Gradually, you and nicholas lower your bodies onto the mattress. With you laid beside him and your head nuzzled against his chest, his arms around your figure. The blanket pulled over your shoulders, keeping you warm.
“nicholas, i’m glad to have you in my life” you mumble. “me too” nicholas replies as your eyes begin to shut.
As you’re sleeping against his body, under his care, you think that maybe you weren’t missing belonging. The one thing you were missing was someone who knew the world the way you did.
Tomorrow, you’ll wake up in his outfit, and your life will still be the same.
All you know, is that it’ll be a lot less lonely with a person who truly understands.
It’s the funeral day.
You managed to sneak back home before anyone noticed you slept overnight at nicholas’s, thankfully.
Putting on a simple black dress for the occasion, flowers in hand. The ride to the cemetery was swift, and the ceremony ended as fast as it started.
You’re standing quite far from the gathering, looking over the attendees, still saying their goodbyes.
“heard you’re going back tomorrow?” nicholas’s voice suddenly appears beside you, crossing his arm with yours.
“yeah, don’t miss me too much” you joke. “i’ll try” he replies with a soft smile.
“but actually, i was thinking you could just come with me,” your eyes meet his, “ we have room, you know”
“as long as your mom won’t be bothered i’m up for it” he answers.
“of course she won’t, nicho” you let out a small laugh.
“perfect, can’t wait” nicholas leaves a peck on your head.
