Pt. 1
Nico

Nico knocked before he could lose his nerve.

He’d told his mom he was going to Theo’s to help with homework, maybe crash there for the night. She hadn’t questioned it, just raised a brow at the late hour and mumbled something about being careful. He could tell she thought it was strange but she trusted him. 

And she had reason to. Nico had always been the good kid. He didn’t sneak out. He called when he said he would. Even at parties, he never drank more than he could handle. If he ever stepped out of line, it was over small things, like handing in a school form too late or missing curfew by half an hour. It felt good to be trusted. Safer, like if he just stayed good, the world would be gentler with him. 

That made lying feel worse.

Nico shifted from foot to foot, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. Just as he was beginning to wonder if he’d knocked too softly, the door opened.

Jordan stood in the doorway like he hadn’t rushed at all, one hand braced against the frame.

“Come in,” he said, stepping back to let Nico pass. “Alfred got you here without incident?”

Nico took a second before it clicked. Alfred had to be the driver. “Yeah,” he said, the image of the man slotting into place. Neatly combed white hair, a face lined enough to guess his age, eyes that didn’t linger long. “He didn’t really say much.” The man hadn’t been unfriendly, just quiet. 

“He’s not supposed to.” Jordan was already turning away, heading towards the kitchen. 

Nico stepped inside, slipping off his shoes and backpack. The apartment was lit only by a single lamp in the corner. The TV was off, there was no music playing, no radio. He saw a few empty beer bottles sitting clustered on the coffee table. Not enough to suggest a bender, but enough to notice. He also noticed Jordan had changed the rug. 

“You want something to drink?” 

From the couch, Nico could see everything. The kitchen stretched across the back wall. Cabinets in soft matte gray lined the space. The countertops were a slightly lighter shade, cool stone veined with faint streaks of white. Not a single appliance cluttered the surface. Even the sink gleamed, like it had never been used.

“Water’s fine, thanks.”

Jordan returned with a glass of water in one hand and a fresh beer in the other, even though the one on the table wasn’t empty. He handed Nico the water and sat down beside him.

“You look nervous,” he said while reaching for the bottle on the table to drain the last of it.

Nico let out a quiet breath of a laugh. “I’m trying not to be. I didn’t really expect you to call after… you know.”

“The public ambush?”

“Please don’t call it that.”

“What would you prefer?”

“A spontaneous gesture,” Nico said. “With poor execution.”

Jordan twisted the cap off the beer he just fetched from the kitchen. “Mm. Bold choice.”

Nico’s gaze drifted toward the table in front of them again. He counted the bottles. 

Five, all of them empty, standing like quiet proof of time already passed. No extra glasses, no signs of company, just the deliberate arrangement of someone drinking alone. Next to them was a pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter, placed with the absentminded neatness of someone who used them often. 

Still, Jordan didn’t look drunk. A little tired maybe, but not messy. 

Nico’s fingers tapped against the glass in his hands. He forced them still. “How are you?” he asked, surprising even himself.

A tiny crease touched Jordan's brow, gone as fast as it came, but Nico caught it. The question clearly wasn’t one he’d expected.

“Fine,” Jordan answered. Then, as if remembering manners or balance, he added, “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

Jordan took another drink, eyes fixed on the dark TV screen like it might blink to life if he stared hard enough. 

Nico shifted slightly, the glass of water still cold in his hands. He’d pictured this going differently. Something warmer, maybe. A smile, at least. But Jordan sat there like Nico had shown up uninvited to his own invitation.

“How did the book signing go?” 

Nico hadn’t meant to sound like he was grasping for conversation, but he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do. 

“Fine.”

Nico waited, thinking maybe there would be more. A detail, a complaint, anything. 

But Jordan didn’t elaborate. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dragging both hands slowly down his face like he was trying to wake himself up or scrub something off that wouldn’t come clean. The gesture made him look older, or maybe just more human. Nico watched him, the sting of regret creeping in under his skin like cold air through a cracked window. He shouldn't have come.

Jordan exhaled, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m gonna get in the jacuzzi,” he said. “You can stay here or join me. Up to you.” He stood up without waiting for an answer, grabbing his beer as he moved. 

Nico watched him cross the living room and unlock the glass door like inviting someone over and then wandering off mid-conversation was perfectly reasonable. He sat there, blinking at the now-empty space beside him, unsure if he was meant to follow or take the hint and leave. This strange limbo was so weird, of being invited over only to be left sitting in a half-lit room like a guest Jordan didn’t quite remember asking for.

Still, he stood. When he reached the door, the rush of cool air hit first.

The balcony was massive. It stretched along the full length of the apartment, wide enough to feel like an entirely separate room. A few pieces of furniture were arranged in quiet clusters. There was a lounger with cushions that hadn’t been sat on much, a low table with a candle burned down to the stub, and near the far edge, the jacuzzi, softly steaming in the night air. Its surface glowed faintly from the built-in light beneath the water. 

Jordan didn’t say anything as he set his beer down on the edge of the jacuzzi, or when he reached for the buttons of his shirt and began undoing them. One by one, the buttons slipped open. He shrugged out of the fabric and let it fall over the lounger behind him. 

Nico turned, pretending to look out at the city beyond the railing. When he glanced back, Jordan was stepping out of his pants. And then, the rest.

Nico stared hard at the horizon, though his gaze threatened to slip.

“You coming in?” Jordan asked, as if this wasn’t weird. As if this wasn’t the most bizarre version of a second date Nico had ever stumbled into. 

His hands fidgeted at the hem of his hoodie, twisting the fabric between his fingers. He didn’t know where to look, didn’t know what the rules were here, if there were any at all.

His brain was trying to come up with some reasonable plan for how to handle this. There wasn’t one. 

Screw it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he stripped off his clothes with clumsy fingers. He stopped at his underwear, deciding to leave them on.

The heat of the water hit him all at once, wrapping around his legs and chest in a way that made him shiver from the sudden contrast. Goosebumps prickled along his arms even as the water worked to melt them away. He lowered himself slowly, careful not to splash, until he was seated across from Jordan. The bubbles rose in steady, lazy intervals, fizzing against his skin like static. His foot bumped into Jordan’s under the surface, but neither of them acknowledged it.

Nico kept his hands beneath the water, gripping the smooth bench at his sides. His heart was beating a little too fast for how still he was sitting. He tried not to look awkward. 

“So, you do radio now?”

Nico attempted a half-smile. “Apparently. Not sure I’ve got the face for it, though.” He said it lightly, hoping to pull even the smallest smile from Jordan’s face. 

None came. 

“Did you have a rough day?” Nico hated how it came out, like a mother checking in. He didn’t want to nag. He just… wanted to understand. “You don’t have to tell me,” he added. “It’s just— You seem different tonight.”

“Long day. That’s all.”

Nico didn’t buy it. But he had already asked twice, and Jordan had dodged it both times. 

Under the waterline, he tapped his fingers against his knee. The words slipped out before he had time to choke them down: “Are you happy I came here?” 

The second it left his mouth, he wished he could take it back. It sounded small the moment it left his mouth. Like a stupid, needy confession wrapped in a question. As if he needed to hear something warm just to keep himself from sinking.

Jordan finally looked at him, like he was seeing Nico for the first time tonight.

He set the bottle down with a quiet thunk on the ledge behind him, then stretched his hand out across the bubbling space between them, his palm open. “Come here,” he said, softer than anything he’d said all evening.

The words hit Nico like a match to dry grass. Come here. Not barked, not demanded, not tossed out like a favor to be returned later. But gentle, like Jordan actually wanted him there.

For weeks, Nico had been dreaming of this. For hours, he’d waited, wondering if the call would ever come after the mess at the bookstore. And now this simple thing, a look, a hand, an invitation, completely unraveled him.

Nico moved without thinking. He took Jordan’s hand when it was offered, like stepping off a ledge he’d been circling all night.

Jordan’s hand didn’t let go. He gave a gentle tug, and Nico let himself be pulled forward, tentative at first, unsure where to place his knees in the narrow space. Jordan didn’t seem to mind. He guided Nico in with quiet certainty until Nico’s legs slid to either side of Jordan’s hips. His arms circled around him, holding Nico there.

He leaned in, tucking his face into the crook of Nico’s neck. It was quiet and heavy, like a sigh Jordan couldn’t exhale. The scent of beer clung faintly to Jordan’s breath. 

The sudden closeness made Nico feel like something inside him cracked. Everything felt hushed, the kind of moment that wasn’t meant to be interrupted. The warmth of Jordan’s skin, the shape of his hands resting against him, sent a quiet ache blooming through him. There was something steady in the closeness, something that filled up the space where all the doubt had been. He wasn’t sure what this was. All Nico knew was that he wanted to stay right there, just like that, for as long as he was allowed.

His fingertips brushed along the curve of Jordan’s back slowly, like he was afraid to wake him from something. 

Jordan pulled back, but his arms stayed loosely around Nico’s waist. Encouraged, Nico let his hand drift up to Jordan’s cheek. 

He grinned, testing the waters. “Is this your way of saying you missed me? Even just a tiny bit?”

Jordan huffed a quiet laugh. “‘Missed you’? Jesus.”

Nico couldn’t help it, the sound lit something up in him. His smile was instant, wide and impossible to rein in. “You heard me on the radio too. So who's stalking who, really?”

Jordan reached for his beer, relaxing against the back of the tub, thumb tracing invisible patterns on Nico’s waist. “If I wanted to stalk you, I’d do a better job than you did.”

Nico made a face. “I don’t know, sending a car to my front door feels pretty high effort.”

They fell quiet again, but something was different now. Jordan’s hand drifted upward, fingers brushing against Nico’s cheek, then carefully tucking a damp curl behind his ear. The gesture was almost absentminded, but it knocked the breath from Nico’s lungs all the same. 

When Jordan finally closed the distance, Nico melted into it, startled by how natural it came, how fiercely he wanted this exact kind of closeness. His hand tensed slightly where it rested along Jordan’s shoulder. The kiss deepened, like neither of them wanted to be the first to let go. Nico felt it everywhere, the way Jordan drew him in. And Nico, he let himself fall.

He kissed back like he’d been waiting to breathe again. It was only the second time they'd been like this, and yet it felt like something he’d been building toward forever. As if every glance, every half-conversation had been quietly steering them here without him noticing.

Jordan’s fingers dipped below the water, slow and steady, until they hooked at the edge of Nico’s waistband. He didn’t pull, not yet. His eyes lifted, meeting Nico’s.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said it like everything else he said; as if it wasn’t a big deal, wasn’t already rewriting the rhythm of Nico’s breath.

Nico’s throat squeezed so tight he wasn’t sure he could speak at all. His skin hummed with heat that had nothing to do with the water. He couldn’t tell if it was nerves or anticipation. He nodded, but that didn’t feel like enough. His hand drifted under the water, fingers brushing over Jordan’s, until they covered his completely.

“Don't stop.” His voice barely carried.

Nico’s breath stuttered as the fabric peeled away, the cool air brushing his skin for barely a second before the heat of the water swallowed it. His thoughts tangled, unbearable want twisting tight in him. It wasn’t the first time he’d pictured this, not even close, but nothing he’d imagined came close to how steady Jordan’s hands were, how quietly sure he moved, how his eyes didn’t stray from Nico’s face.

The small space between them vanished, replaced by skin, by warmth, by the dizzying weight of finally, finally being touched like this. Nico’s hands found their way to Jordan’s shoulders, his ribs, anywhere solid. His head tipped forward, resting briefly against Jordan’s temple, breathing him in, all of him. 

He barely registered the shift of movement as Jordan eased them back, barely heard the faint hum of traffic far below, the world narrowing to nothing but Jordan. 

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t the clumsy, heated mess Nico had braced himself for. It was slow. Quiet and gentle. Unfolding like neither of them were in a hurry to outrun this.

It hurt at first, his body resisting even as he focused on staying present. He clenched his jaw, fingers digging into Jordan’s shoulder, trying not to pull away entirely. Jordan paused, steady hands and a murmur of something low and quiet that Nico barely heard.

He breathed through it. The sting didn’t vanish all at once, but it softened, dulled by the rhythm, by the care Jordan moved with. And then it was there, something good unfurling beneath the discomfort, something full and overwhelming in a different way.

At some point, the water wasn’t enough. The air cooled against his limbs as Jordan guided them out of the tub, back inside. The low hum of the city followed them in, distant and forgettable, swallowed by the quiet pull of hands and mouths. 

The bed was perfectly made, sheets smooth and untouched, but that didn’t last long. Nico barely had the sense to breathe as Jordan guided him down, the fabric cool beneath his legs.

The hours stretched thin, folding into each other, the night bending around them like it had no end. Time didn’t feel real anymore, just hands and breath and lips, the rustle of sheets, the softest sounds between them. 

Afterward, wrapped in quiet, Nico stayed curled beside him; their breaths slow, their skin warm, the distance between them gone for now.