Pt. 2
Nico

The alarm rang sharp against the pillow. Nico groaned, running a hand over his face, fingers twisting into his hair for a moment before forcing himself upright. The blanket slid down as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His body ached to stay in bed, but he’d made a promise to himself, and he wasn’t going to break it. His mom's door was still closed, no movement behind it, when he walked past it. At the counter, Nico tore a scrap of paper from an old envelope and scribbled a note:

I'm sorry about yesterday. Hope work goes okay. Love you.

His bag was slung over his shoulder as he reached the hallway. He stretched out a hand for his jacket, but met nothing but empty space. It wasn't there. It hit him that he must've left it at Jordan's place. He grabbed another one from the rack, a faded denim one that was barely warm enough, but better than nothing. He shrugged it on, adjusted the strap of his bag, and slipped out the door. When he reached school, he was running on barely any sleep, but he made it. 

The morning dragged. In class, the usual hum of voices filled the room as people settled in. Nico slid into his seat, pulling out his books. He noticed the glances after a while. People turning their heads, eyes flicking toward him a little longer. At first, he thought maybe his shirt was inside out, or maybe he looked as exhausted as he felt. He tried to brush it off but it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious. 

During break, he stayed in the classroom with Theo sprawled sideways in his chair, half-eating the sandwich he’d smuggled in and Joel flipping through Nico’s notebook. 

Nico leaned over, snatching it back. “You’re gonna crease the pages.”

“Relax. I’m not sabotaging your genius lyrics.”

Theo snorted around a mouthful of bread. “What genius? You saw that math homework.”

Nico rolled his eyes, but before he could fire back, a group of girls from another class approached them, one of them already holding her phone out, screen tilted toward him. 

“Hey,” she said, smiling. “This is you, right?”

Nico’s eyes dropped to the screen. His song sounded softly from the tiny phone speaker, quiet piano, the simple kind of melody that left space for the words to breathe. It wasn’t the usual heartbreak stuff or some sappy love song. It was hopeful. A song about wanting the world to be better, about how people tear each other down, but they don’t have to. About how maybe words, or music, or even something as small as trying, could change something, even if it felt stupid.

“Yeah,” he said, the word coming out easier than expected. “That’s me.”

“Someone shared it from your MySpace,” she said. “It’s been going around since last night. You're really good.” The girl's friends stood behind her, exchanging quick looks between them, barely hiding their grins. 

Nico rubbed the back of his neck, warmth creeping up beneath his collar. “Thanks.”

The girl tucked her phone into her pocket. “You should message me sometime.”

Nico didn't connect the dots initially. “On MySpace?”

“Obviously,” she teased, her friends laughing behind her. “Or Facebook. Unless you're too cool to talk to your fans.”

“Uh… Yeah, sure.”

The girls walked off, still laughing to themselves, and before they were even out of range, Theo let out a dramatic sigh and clapped a hand over his heart. “What a waste. Jenna Hale. She's so hot too. The universe is cruel, man.”

Nico wasn’t surprised Theo knew her name. 

“To you or to her?” Joel asked. 

“Both,” Theo declared, like it physically pained him. “A tragic loss for straight potential.”

Nico shrugged nonchalantly. “You never had a chance anyway. She’s got good taste.”

Theo gaped at him, scandalized. “The fame’s already rotting your brain.” He turned to Joel, stage-whispering loud enough for half the hallway to hear, “I told you he’d change.”

Joel snorted. “Famous by lunch though? Kinda impressive.”

Focusing after that was impossible. Nico tried, but it didn’t matter how many times he told himself to concentrate, to keep his head down and actually try to care about whatever the teacher was rambling on about. It felt insignificant. The only thing that really settled in was his songs, out there now, crawling off that MySpace page and landing in people's hands.

As the day went on, more people stopped him. Faces he barely recognized. Classmates who usually passed by without a glance. At lunch, it kept going. A couple of them sat down next to him, right there at the table with Theo and Joel, asking about his music. How long he'd been playing. What instruments. If the other songs on his page were his too. Nico told them about The Rookery and they said they might come by to hear him play.

The feeling stuck with him the whole afternoon, carried him straight to the front door of his apartment. It only faltered when he grabbed the handle and realized it was locked, and his keys were nowhere on him. He patted down his jeans, then yanked his backpack off his shoulder and rummaged through every pocket. His brain scrambled through the morning, only to remember the keys were in the jacket he had left at Jordan's. 

He called his mom first, listening to it ring, already guessing she wouldn’t answer. She didn’t. He had no idea which hotel she was working at today, her shifts jumped all over the city. He hung up and called Theo next. Maybe he could crash there for a while. Theo picked up, but it didn’t help much. He was stuck at basketball practice for the next few hours. With nothing else to do, he opened his phone again, searching for Jordan’s name. He shouldn’t even bother. Still, he typed out a quick text anyway:

“Hey. Forgot my jacket and keys at yours.”

Before even hitting send, he already knew there wouldn’t be an answer. While he waited for something he knew wouldn't come, he sat down on the front steps, tapping his foot against the concrete, watching cars roll past, neighbors coming and going. 

Five minutes passed. 

Ten. 

He checked his phone again. Nothing.

Finally, he gave in and called. No answer. He tried his mom again. No answer. 

Nico shoved his phone back into his pocket and let his head fall back against the wall behind him. Biting the inside of his cheek, he weighed his options. He could wait for his mom, but that could take hours. Theo wasn’t home. Joel lived too far away. Jordan wasn’t answering. 

His pulse kicked up a little. He could just go get them. That made sense. Normal, even. People forgot stuff all the time, it wasn’t a big deal. But showing up without saying anything? That part tangled his stomach. It wasn’t like Jordan had invited him to stop by. It wasn’t like they had… whatever people were supposed to have when it was okay to just show up. But he didn’t have a choice, did he? It was just keys. That’s all it was. He wasn’t planning on staying or hanging around or disrupting Jordan’s day. He’d be in and out. Barely a blip on the radar. And yet, as he stood up and brushed his hands off on his jeans, his heart kept racing like this was something bigger than a forgotten jacket.

By the time he reached Jordan’s building, his nerves had only intensified. He had spent the ride there calling and texting Jordan, trying to give him a heads-up that he was coming. Nico slowed as he stepped onto the sidewalk, eyes drifting along the curb, scanning for the familiar black car, but saw none. No Alfred either. Maybe this was a waste of time, Jordan might not even be home. But he’d already come all this way. 

The elevator doors slid open, and Nico stepped out onto Jordan’s floor, fingers curling and uncurling. He knocked with light taps of his knuckles and listened. He couldn't hear anything indicating anyone was approaching the door. He reached up and pressed the doorbell. The soft chime echoed from inside the apartment. Nico glanced at the elevator, like maybe he should just leave. But then he heard the lock turn, and Jordan opened the door.

The expression on Jordan’s face wasn’t the usual blank calm or the guarded half-smile. It was real surprise, eyebrows lifted, mouth parting slightly as he took in who was standing there. Nico almost mirrored it, blinking at him, caught off guard by how thrown Jordan actually looked.

“I’m—” His voice stumbled over itself. “I’m sorry, I tried calling. I, uh… left my jacket. And keys. I’m locked out...” It wasn’t until the words were out that he actually registered the rest. Jordan’s hair was tousled. His bare chest was flushed faintly, the sharp lines of his torso on full display. His pants hung low on his hips, unbuttoned, bare feet against the polished floor. Nico’s words died off, the awkwardness coiling tighter between them.

“I didn’t hear you call.” Jordan reached past the doorframe, hand sliding along the row of coats hanging by the wall. Nico’s jacket was there, but it wasn’t the only new addition. Next to it hung a different one, slim and cropped, pale cream with faint stitching down the sleeves. It wasn’t heavy enough for the cold outside, the kind of sleek, tailored cut that clung to the body. A small gold logo shimmered on the zipper. Below, by the door, a pair of heels rested neatly on the mat. Thin straps, narrow pointed toe, pale beige leather still spotless, like they’d barely touched the street.

Sour heat crawled up the back of Nico’s throat. The urge to throw up crept in fast, settling just beneath his tongue. Jordan must have seen it, the way Nico's face had gone pale. 

“You gonna take it?” The words were stripped of anything warm. It took Nico a second to realize what Jordan meant. His gaze jerked up, and only then did he notice Jordan still holding his jacket out toward him, like this was just some regular, forgettable exchange. 

Nico took it. The fabric brushed his palm, familiar, ordinary, completely at odds with the tight, hollow feeling gnawing at him from the inside out. Jordan let go.

“Take care.”

The door clicked shut before Nico could even process the words properly. He stayed there, staring at the polished wood, jacket limp in his hand, the haunting take care playing over and over in his mind. It was such a weird thing to say, like they’d just bumped into each other at a grocery store or passed on the street. Like Jordan wasn't leaving him choking on two words that meant nothing and somehow still ruined everything. As if he had handed Nico a jacket and a goodbye in the same breath. 

The hallway felt weirdly still, lights humming too bright. His heartbeat thudded somewhere deep, sluggish and off-rhythm. It took longer than it should’ve to convince his legs to move. 

The journey home passed in fragments. Streetlights, traffic, the shuffle of his shoes on concrete, none of it stayed in his head. Nico's limbs kept moving, but the rest of him dragged behind, stuck in the hallway outside Jordan’s door. When he stepped into his apartment, it felt unfamiliar. 

Take care. Take care of what — himself? His feelings? You didn't say take care after pulling someone apart. Not even half a day. That’s all it had taken to mean nothing. A different coat, heels by the door. A look that sliced right through him, like he’d never been there at all, as if his skin didn't remember Jordan's hands from just a few hours ago. The memory of it made him feel small. 

The longer Nico sat there in his room, the worse it got. His head wouldn’t stop picking through it, rewinding every unanswered message, every time Jordan had gone quiet for days, every late-night call that only came when it suited him. How many others did he have to make room for? How many others had he told take care before moving on to the next? 

Nico's mind tripped over the image of Jordan in bed with someone else. Was she his girlfriend? Did Jordan even have a girlfriend? She’d been there during the day. Daytime wasn’t casual. Daytime meant comfort. Normal and belonging, something Nico never got. His hours came tucked into shadows. He wasn’t allowed to take up space in the sunlight. 

The ache never eased and Nico's phone stayed still on the nightstand. No glowing screen, no name appearing. Jordan never called. Never texted.

And the worst part was, Nico wasn’t even surprised.