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The Town, The Storm, and You.

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.

#nicholas x reader

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