Pt. 1
Nico

Nico didn’t hear the door at first. The headphones covered his ears, layers of piano and soft vocals looping through the track he’d been recording all afternoon. His hands moved over the keyboard, adjusting the levels. The sharp slap of paper hitting his desk jolted him. He yanked the headphones off just in time to hear his mom’s voice slice through the apartment.

“Do you want to explain this to me?”

She stood over him, her work jacket still on like she hadn’t even stopped to breathe before confronting him. The letter she’d just slammed onto his desk lay there like a threat, the school’s logo glaring up at him in bold print. He didn’t need to read the whole thing to know what it was. Attendance concerns. Missed assignments. Unexcused absences.

“I work every hour God gives me so you can go to school.” Her voice carried down the hallway, probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “I break my back so you can do one thing. One thing, Nico.”

Nico stayed quiet, eyes on the paper. His music still played softly from the headphones.

“You wanna tell me why I'm getting a letter like this?” 

Nico didn’t know what to say. Because ‘I’m barely holding it together over a man who won’t even text me back’ wasn’t going to fly. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I just… I’ve been tired, I guess. It’s not like I’m failing anything.”

His mom shot him a look, the kind that flattened weak excuses before they could land. “Tired?” she echoed, switching to English, like the word itself was an insult. The disbelief in her voice pressed down on him, heavy and sharp. “You think I’m not tired? I don’t ask you for anything, Nico. Nothing. Just go to school. Do well. That’s your only job. If you can’t do that, forget about music. Forget about all of this.” She waved toward the keyboard, the computer, the headphones around his neck. “No more songs. No more distractions. You go to school, or you don’t do this. And you're not staying over at Theo's anymore.” Her tone sharpened, final like she’d already made the decision long before this conversation started. She didn’t wait for him to argue. She turned and left, the door swinging shut behind her with more force than necessary. It didn’t slam, but it might as well have.

Despite his mother’s warning, the next time he found himself at Jordan’s was that same night. The thought of saying no when Jordan’s text came through flickered through his mind for maybe half a second, but it was drowned out by the pull of just seeing Jordan’s name on the screen. The guilt settled in after. Not the heavy kind, but an uncomfortable weight in the back of his head, the leftover shadow of his mom’s voice from earlier. The disappointment and frustration. That was what he felt guilty for. For her yelling.

He'd make up for it in the morning. He’d go to school, sit through every class,  pay extra attention. He’d hand in his assignments, and do everything right, hoping it would somehow balance it out. 

“I can get you someone to help with your homework, if you want,” Jordan offered, eyes following Nico as he pulled his shirt over his head. 

Nico smiled, fingers pushing through the curls that stuck out beneath the fabric. “Can you find me a twin instead, so I don’t have to go to school at all?”

Jordan was stretched out on the bed, still naked under the rumpled covers, one arm resting behind his head. The sheets were pulled low on his hips, barely preserving modesty. “She does have a point though.” 

“What do you mean?” Nico grabbed his jeans off the floor, pulling them up over his hips and fumbling with the button.

“If your music doesn’t work out,” Jordan said simply, “you’ll need something to fall back on. Study. Go to university. Or you might end up flipping burgers for the rest of your life.”

“It's gonna work out.” he walked back to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it, beside Jordan, his feet planted on the floor.

“I mean if it doesn't.” 

“It's gonna.” He didn't sound defensive, because he wasn't. It wasn’t about confidence. It was because doubt wasn’t an option. Nico couldn’t afford to think like that. If this didn’t work, if the music didn’t happen, then what was left? There wasn’t a version of him that existed without it. No backup, no plan B, no ‘maybe someday.’ Just this, all of it, or nothing. He’d never known how to explain that to people. He’d heard it before, from teachers, from people who said they liked his music but still thought he should be realistic. That he was good, but the world was hard, and most people didn’t make it. 

He wanted to believe Jordan's words came from kindness rather than doubt. That he thought Nico needed a safety net, because he cared. 

“How old were you when you started writing?”

“Fourteen, maybe fifteen.”

It was hard to imagine Jordan as a teenager. Nico couldn’t picture it properly. Jordan didn’t seem like someone who’d ever stumbled through the awkward, uncomfortable parts; the bad haircuts, the second-guessing, feeling out of place. He carried himself like someone who skipped right past all that. Nico tried to fill in the blanks anyway; a younger version, maybe leaner, messy hair that hadn’t decided what direction to fall in yet. Sitting in a school uniform in the back of some private classroom, with a notebook filled with stories and thoughts. Kind of how Nico had spent the last few years, living mostly in margins and pages.

“How come you started liking it?” 

“I liked deciding the version of things,” Jordan said.

“Controlling the narrative?”

“Something like that.”

“So you’re a control freak then?”

Jordan smiled. “I wouldn’t say control freak. I prefer ‘reliable’.”

Nico’s hand, resting between them on the bed, inched slightly closer. Jordan noticed, and reached across the small space and took Nico’s hand in his. 

“Did you like the movie?” he asked, referring to Even If It Kills Me, the one they’d made from Jordan’s book.

“Parts of it.” 

“Which parts?”

“The parts that felt like the book.”

“I liked it.” Nico didn’t know anyone who didn’t like it. Except for Theo, maybe, but Theo wasn’t exactly known for having good taste in anything. 

“Then you should read the book.”

Nico smiled back at him. “I’m gonna.” 

Jordan had a depth that went beyond what Nico could see or hear. A quiet strength Nico couldn’t quite put into words. To get to where he was, to have everything he had, must have taken more than talent. He figured Jordan earned it all, through relentless hard work, by writing something that resonated with people, something that made them love him without ever having met him. An unyielding drive, that made Nico admire him more than words could ever touch.

“You know you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen?” He wasn't embarrassed to say it out loud. Nico could tell him, every day, every hour, how beautiful he was, if Jordan ever let him. “And that includes every movie I’ve watched. And posters.”

“Thank you for your objective observation.”

“I’m serious. You’re so symmetrical it’s suspicious. Were you engineered?”

“Yes. In a lab. It was terribly expensive.”

“I knew it,” Nico said with a triumphant nod. “Have you ever been voted sexiest man alive? In one of those magazines?”

Jordan shook his head, a playful shrug in his movement. “I don’t think I even made the list.”

Nico’s face fell in mock offense. “It’s rigged.”

“Clearly.”

Jordan pulled Nico closer by his hand. The distance between them vanished in a heartbeat as Jordan's lips found his. Nico let his eyes fall shut, sinking into the kiss completely. 

When Nico pulled back, he did so reluctantly. The stretch through his body felt heavy. He pushed himself up from the bed, fingers lingering on the edge like he wasn’t ready to let go. 

“I should get going.” The words felt more like something he was saying to himself than to Jordan.

“Yeah. I'll see you soon.” 

Nico slipped on his shoes by the door. It never got easier, leaving Jordan’s place. By the doorframe, he savoured the last bit of warmth before stepping out. 

The lobby was empty when Nico came down, footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Through the glass doors, the car was already waiting by the curb. Alfred stood beside it, hands folded neatly in front of him. He opened the door the moment Nico stepped outside. The car eased away from the curb in silence. 

When he reached his home, the door slid open without a sound. He’d left it unlocked on purpose. The last thing he needed was the sound of keys waking his mom. In his room, Nico crawled under the covers. He pressed his face into the pillow, smiling to himself, helpless against it. 

He wasn’t stupid. He knew it was probably reckless to be this happy, to feel like he could float out of his own skin just because Jordan looked at him that way, touched him like that. But none of it mattered right now. Right now, all he could feel was that steady, impossible glow inside him. Sleep would come. A few hours, then school. He’d deal with all of that. But for now… for now, he just let himself be completely, hopelessly happy.