Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nicholas was crammed into the backseat of Meryl’s car, crowded up against Vash and staring at a building that was, in his honest opinion, just as ugly as the ones surrounding it.

“You’re going to have to get out at some point,” Meryl said, impatiently tapping her fingers against her fluffy white steering wheel cover.

“Gimme a second,” Nicholas hissed, keeping his eyes on the building.

Meryl turned around, waving a hand in front of his face. “If we give you any more seconds, you’re going to be late.”

Nicholas clicked his tongue, finally looking away to glare at Meryl.

It had been six months since his release from the hospital, and he hadn’t gone within a mile radius of any psychiatric institutions in the city. Whether they were inpatient, outpatient, group or couples counselling facilities, it didn’t matter. They were to be avoided. Nicholas couldn’t even remember talking to a psychologist in the last ten years. He knew that he had. Everyone at the hospital was apparently required to, but he couldn’t seem to find the memories. It may as well have never happened, and that was more than fine by him.

But now, here he was. Sitting in front of Julai Behavioral Health Hospital—the same place he’d promised himself he’d never go back to—and stalling for time before his first outpatient therapy appointment since he was a teenager. 

He’d agreed to this months ago, convinced he’d be fine by now, that the wait for such a prestigious hospital would be long anyway. He’d been right about the latter, at least, but a couple of months ended up passing much faster than he would’ve liked. Now all he felt was panic.

It was too late to back out now. Nicholas took a deep breath, turned his back on the rest of the car’s inhabitants, and opened the door. 

He held up a hand when he noticed Vash unbuckling his seatbelt in order to follow. “I’ll be fine on my own, Blondie. You just enjoy your time with the girls.”

Vash blinked, a frown on his face. “But—”

“Don’t worry, Nick,” Milly interrupted, flashing a comforting smile. “We’ll make sure he has the time of his life! He won’t even notice you’re gone.”

Nicholas chuckled while an offended Vash stuttered. “I don’t know about all that, Big Girl, but I appreciate the effort.”

After a few more goodbyes and a couple of worried looks from Vash, Nicholas closed the car door and walked into the building without looking back.

The interior was the same as it was in the few flashes of memories he had: the colors were restricted to earthy tones, with the walls painted a deep shade of brown and the shelves kept sage green, and lovingly crocheted plants were displayed on every surface. A mahogany desk was placed at the center of the room and an assistant was seated there, ready to answer questions and hand out documents. 

Nicholas’ steps were heavy as he walked to the front desk, anxiety flooding him and quickly receding over and over again in waves.

He could do this. He’d told Vash that he was ready to do this. He was ready to do this, and he was going to prove it no matter—

“How can I help you, sir?” 

Nicholas froze. He couldn’t remember what he was supposed to say. The longer he tried to think about it, the less he came up with.

The woman looked at him with concern. “Sir?”

“Sorry, I—” Nicholas stammered. “I have a…um…an appointment?” 

“Okay,” she said, clacking away at her computer’s keyboard. “Do you know who it’s with?” 

“Dr. McFly.”

She typed in the information while Nicholas stood there awkwardly.

“Here you go.” She handed him a light stack of papers. “The doctor will be with you in a moment. Please fill this out while you wait. It will ask you for your information. Name, date of birth, insurance, that sort of thing. The third sheet will be a survey. It will help us get a sense of where you are mentally at the moment. Nothing in that section is mandatory, so feel free to leave questions blank if you need to.”

Nicholas nodded along, the words going in one ear and out the next and took his seat in the waiting area. 

He got through the personal information well enough and turned to the survey. The questions were familiar. He vaguely remembered answering similar ones when he was 15, trembling in fear as Chapel sat next to him, watching over his shoulder with an icy expression and grunting with disapproval at every mark Nicholas put down.

He read the first question. How often in the past two weeks have you felt hopeless? 

Easy. He bubbled in a 3 on the 1-5 scale. Better than usual.

Next: How often in the past two weeks have you felt the desire to harm yourself?

That one was a bit harder. If he were being completely honest, he’d say it was a 5, very often, but maybe that was a little too dramatic. If he marked that question too high, would they lock him up again? It asked about self-harm, not suicide, but Nicholas knew how often people conflated the two. He shifted his pencil over to 4 and moved on.

How often have you thought about ending your life in the past two weeks?

There it was. The question he’d been waiting for. The one that Nicholas had been trained to spot.

When he was first taken to see someone about his “unfortunate disposition,” Chapel had made his rules very clear. There were only two: don’t talk about what goes on at home and never, never, tell anyone that you want to kill yourself.

“They’ll try to trick you, Nicholas. Ask you all sorts of leading questions. But those two rules are not to be broken.”

Nicholas bubbled in a 2 and continued further down the list until he came to a true or false section.

True or false: I have been made to engage in sexual contact with another person against my will or without my consent.

Nicholas paused, the pencil shaking in his hand. He didn’t know how to answer. Had he been touched sexually when he hadn’t wanted it? Sure, but he’d agreed to it, eventually. Had he been touched after saying no? After struggling? Yeah, but he wouldn’t call it sexual. Not exactly. Had anyone ever performed a sex act on him without asking if he wanted it? Yes, but it was in the heat of the moment. How could he blame someone for that? There were too many variables, too many mitigating factors, and the people involved weren’t evil or bad. They had been nice to him, at least for a while.

He hadn’t been raped. He hadn’t been sexually assaulted. He wasn’t going to diminish the meaning of those words by saying that he had when he hadn’t, and he wasn’t going to make anyone out to be the kind of person that would do something like that to him when they hadn’t . But this wasn’t asking him that. That’s not how it was phrased, but Nicholas felt like that’s what it was supposed to mean, which only made him more confused. He just didn’t know.

He spent a while staring at the question, trying to figure it out. He’d been told that he could skip any of these if he wanted to, but what would that say about him? What would it imply? He continued staring until he finally heard his name.

“Nicholas D. Wolfwood?”

When he looked up, he saw a woman looking around the room with a clipboard in hand. She had vibrant red hair, left loose underneath a frankly impressive cowboy hat. Her clothes certainly matched the hat but seemed frankly out of place in a medical setting such as this.

Nicholas stood, gathering his papers and raising his hand slightly so that the woman knew he’d heard, before quickly making his way over.

The woman glanced at him. “Mr. Wolfwood?”

“That’s me.” Nicholas said, shifting awkwardly.

She nodded and turned, leading him down a hallway. “I’m Dr. McFly, but I’d prefer it if you simply called me Amelia.”

“Ah,” Nicholas said, unsure of how to respond. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

She was…different from the therapists Nicholas was used to having. For one, her clothes had much more personality, strongly deviating from the coldly professional attire that he’d come to expect. He’d also never been asked to call a therapist by their first name, but maybe that was just because the last time he’d actually been in therapy was when he was a teen. It still felt weird.

But even as he listed off Dr. McFly’s— Amelia’s differences, he was taking note of her similarities. Nicholas had only had one other therapist who was a woman, and her approach was almost the same as Amelia’s seemed to be. Brash and to the point. No nonsense. The men he’d had always seemed to put on a mask of soft-spoken friendliness that had only managed to put Nicholas on guard. His last therapist, though—the woman—had been much more straightforward. Maybe it was something that came naturally with being a woman in a male-dominated field. 

Nicholas couldn’t say that it had worked, but it had been the closest thing to breaking that shell he’d insisted on at the time. It had been uncomfortable. It had forced him into a situation where his bullshit was called out. It had only lasted 6 weeks.

Amelia led him to a room at the end of the hall, to the right. 

“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to two cushioned chairs that were facing each other on opposite sides of a circular rug. One was near a desk with an open area behind it. The other was placed against a wall, a coffee table full of neatly arranged pamphlets and stress toys situated on its left. Nicholas chose the one on the wall.

As he sat, he took in the room. It was small, smaller than any he’d been in before. The walls were mostly bare, with only a couple of pictures of what Nicholas assumed were Amelia’s family. One featured a little girl with bright red hair and a missing front tooth dangling from the shoulders of an intimidatingly large man. Another showed that same girl, probably in her teens now, wearing a simple black dress and holding an award. The pictures went on like that, with the red-headed girl getting older and older. The intimidating man wasn’t in any other photo.

Some of the frames didn’t hold pictures, but children’s drawings, scribbled messily in crayon or painted in watercolor. There were no degrees on the walls. No bookshelves full of boring psychological textbooks that he could look at to avoid eye contact. 

“So, Nicholas.” Amelia settled into the cushioned chair across from him and crossed her legs. “Since this is our first session, I’d like to gain a better understanding about your situation. Is this your first time in therapy?”

“No. I went for a little bit when I was a kid. High school.”

“And you haven’t been since?” she asked. Nicholas shook his head. “Can you tell me why you decided to come here today?”

“I, um.” Nicholas cleared his throat. “I tried to kill myself.”

Nicholas expected the same reaction he always got, pitying eyes and a meaningless “I’m sorry,” but Amelia simply hummed and nodded her head like attempting suicide was completely normal. Maybe in her line of work it was.

“And this was recent?” she asked.

“Not really,” Nicholas said, staring at a crayon picture of a misshapen purple sailboat. “It was ‘bout half a year ago.”

Amelia raised her eyebrow. “What made you decide that now was the time to go to therapy?”

“I…” Nicholas hesitated, considering just how much he was willing to reveal to this stranger. “I’m supposed to be goin’ back to work soon.”

“Did your job make therapy mandatory for you?”

“No.” Nicholas shook his head slightly. “No, this was my choice.”

“I see.” Amelia looked away for a second, eyes faraway in thought, before focusing in on Nicholas again. “What is it that you do for work?”

“I’m a teacher. Over at the Hopeland Orphanage.”

“A teacher at the orphanage,” she repeated. “I don’t imagine that’s a job that pays very well.”

“Not at all,” Nicholas scoffed.

“So then, why?”

Nicholas frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“Why did you choose this job?” Amelia asked. 

Nicholas clenched his jaw. “It’s where I grew up. For a while.”

Amelia gently tapped her pen. “A while?”

“A man took me in when I was 14. With my little brother.”

“Little brother?”

“Not by blood. His name’s Livio. He’s about a year younger than me.”

“How fortunate. You two being fostered together.”

Nicholas’ eye twitched. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“No?” Amelia said, the rhythm of her tapping pen pausing slightly. “And why is that?”

Nicholas glared at the little purple sailboat, his throat constricting. He managed to grit out the words “Didn’t go well,” before snapping his mouth shut. Amelia nodded, moving the conversation back to where it had started.

“So, you’re about to get back to teaching at the orphanage,” Amelia recapped. “Are you here because you want to set a good example? Or is it something else?”

“I just…” Nicholas hesitated. “I wanna do better. For the kids. And the rest of my family, of course, but those kids…they call me their big brother. Some of them have known me since I was there. I don’t wanna let ‘em down.”

Amelia placed her pen down, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward. “You mentioned the rest of your family. Do you mean Livio, or are there others?”

“My partner.” Nicholas swallowed. “Vash. He was the one that found me.”

“That must have scared him.” Amelia said without blame, just stating the facts.

Nicholas nodded. “I’ve put him through a lot over the years. I don’t wanna keep doin’ that.”

“You’ve put him through a lot?” Amelia tilted her head. “Have there been other suicide attempts?”

Nicholas sighed, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to answer her question, so he didn’t. “College was…difficult. For both of us. We…did things. That we probably shouldn’t have.”

“And he supported you through all of it?”

Nicholas nodded. “Every time.”

“And you supported him?”

“I did what I could.”

He could hear the sound of her tapping pen start up again. 

“It sounds to me, Nicholas, like you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Nicholas opened his eyes, focusing in on Amelia’s face, and frowned. He didn’t speak. 

“I see you’ve filled out the paperwork,” Amelia said, looking down at the stack of papers in Nicholas’ hands.

Nicholas gripped the stack a little harder. “I didn’t finish.”

“That’s alright,” she said, holding out her hand. “You can just give me what you have.”

Nicholas handed over the papers. If his hand shook while he did, neither of them saw it fit to comment on it.

“Here’s what I’d like for us to do, Nicholas.” Amelia placed the papers into her clipboard and set it behind her. “I want you to think about your goals. What do you want to get out of therapy? You don’t need to write anything down if you don’t want to, I just want you to think about it. Okay?”

Nicholas hesitated before nodding. 

“Good. I’d like to see you weekly, if possible. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, we’re all set then. Is there anything you’d like to say or ask before I end the session? It can be anything at all.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Pretty much,” Amelia said, shrugging. “First meetings are mostly introductions.” She smirked. “Did you think I’d ask you about your deepest, darkest secrets right off the bat?”

“Uh…kinda?”

Amelia chuckled, not unkindly. “Most people do. Even people who’ve been to therapy, like yourself. I’d rather we get comfortable with each other first.”

Nicholas hummed. “That makes sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Amelia stood from her chair. “Now, if there’s nothing else, Mr. Wolfwood, then you are free to go.”

Nicholas stood and followed her down the hallway. After a quick goodbye, he left the building. He took a moment for himself before calling the girls to pick him up, sitting on the curb and breathing in the Julai air.

Going back to therapy hadn’t been the grand, memorable event he’d thought it would be. He hadn’t broken down under the weight of the traumatic memories, and he hadn’t had some grand revelation about how beautiful life truly was. It was a bit anticlimactic, but then again, wasn’t that a good outcome in and of itself? He told himself that it was.

After a few minutes, Nicholas decided that the polluted city air wasn’t enough. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket, placed it between his lips, and dialed Milly’s number.

Chapter Text

Nicholas sat on the couch, watching as a small lump of black fur swayed left and right, stalking the feathery cat toy that Livio was waving in front of her face.

They were waiting for Vash. It was Nicholas’ first day back to work, and he had insisted on tagging along. Unfortunately for them, Vash took forever to get ready in the mornings. Nicholas blamed the hair gel.

Livio didn’t seem to mind; he always did enjoy playing with small animals, but he’d never actually gotten a pet of his own. He said that it was because he didn’t know if any of the kids at Hopeland were allergic, but Nicholas knew what it really was. Livio never did forgive himself for what happened to that dog when they were younger. It wasn’t like Nicholas didn’t have scars of his own, though, so who was he to go picking at anyone else’s?

Nicholas glanced anxiously at the clock on the apartment wall. There was still more than enough time, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He’d missed something or he’d done something or maybe the world had been waiting patiently for the moment when he thought he was okay so that it would hurt more when it finally decided to crush him for good. 

“Nico.”

Nicholas bit the dry skin on his lips. “Hm?”

“You’re bleedin’.”

Nicholas jumped, grabbing at his wrists and staring, wide-eyed, at Livio. Livio, for his part, looked completely unfazed. He shook Kuroneko’s cat toy with one hand and pointed at Nicholas’ hand with his other. When Nicholas cautiously looked down, he saw that his wrists were fine, still covered by the cuffed sleeves of his button down. His right thumb, however, was sluggishly bleeding. He must’ve been picking at it again.

“Shit,” Nicholas sighed, standing to grab a paper towel from the kitchen.

Livio went back to watching Kuro viciously attack the bundle of feathers on a string. “You really need to figure out how to curb that habit. It’s been what? Like 15 years?”

“17,” Nicholas said, pressing the towel over his thumb. “I hid it from Melanie for 2 of ‘em.”

Livio clicked his tongue in disapproval, but didn’t comment.

Not long after the bleeding stopped and Nicholas threw away the towel, Vash appeared. His hair had way more gel than Nicholas could imagine was comfortable, but he was smiling, genuinely smiling, so Nicholas decided to overlook it for today. He could go back to teasing him about it tomorrow.

“Finally,” Nicholas complained, but his tone was light.

“You say that like I’m late,” Vash pouted, leaning closer. “I’m perfectly on time.”

“To be early is to be on time, and to be on time is to be late.” Nicholas recited the words just as he’d been taught while Livio rolled his eyes and mouthed the words with him. 

Vash laughed—a loud, unrestrained sound—and placed a quick kiss on Nicholas’ cheek. “That’s a stupid phrase.”

“Don’t let Melanie hear you say that.”

“Oh, I would never,” Vash said, smirking as he tossed Livio the keys to his truck from where he’d left them on the coffee table. “Ready?”

Nicholas took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

Livio patted Nicholas on the back on his way to the front door, nearly knocking him off his feet. “I’m sure it'll be fine. And if it’s not, I’ll be there to pull you out.”

Nicholas smiled. It was a weak thing, but it was real. “Thanks Liv.”

“No problem at all.” Livio swung his keys around his finger and opened the door before abruptly pushing Nicholas across the threshold. “Now go. We’re wastin’ time.”

“Asshole,” Nicholas grumbled after he’d found his footing again.

They took their usual spots in the truck: Livio driving, Vash in the passenger seat, and Nicholas comfortably stretched out across the back seat. Nicholas watched through the window as the houses became less fancy, less cookie-cutter and suburban. He relished it. The small houses, made of slowly rotting materials and surrounded by mostly dead grass, never failed to remind him of a different time. Not a better time, he wasn’t so blinded by nostalgia that he’d believe that, but an important one nonetheless. A safe one.

Eventually they reached the old building at the top of the cliff, and Nicholas was out of the truck before Livio had the chance to turn it off, breathing in the not-so-fresh air. 

“Don’t jump out of the car before it stops moving,” Vash said, rushing to catch up. “It’s dangerous.”

“Far from the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done, Blondie,” Nicholas mumbled.

“Maybe, but you don’t want to set a bad example for your fan club, do you?” Vash nodded toward the house, and Nicholas saw tiny little eyes peering out of the windows. The moment they caught him looking, they quickly pulled the moth-eaten curtains closed, their giggles drifting out of the house.  

The trio made their way into the orphanage, pretending to be oblivious to the stares, and were immediately attacked by a group of rabid children. Maylene and Kaite, the oldest of the bunch, tried their best to keep everyone orderly, but they were woefully outnumbered.

“Nico!” they yelled, clinging to Nicholas and climbing over Vash and Livio. Kaite had started cursing, frustrated with the slippery nature of the kids. Miss Melanie wouldn’t approve of his language, but Nicholas wasn’t going to snitch. He’d been there before, after all.

“Wow,” Nicholas said, voice full of faux awe. “I’ve never seen everyone so happy to learn their times tables before.”

That got the group to disperse. Most of them ran to their rooms, but some of the littles managed to slip past Livio and escape outside. They’d have to find them later before classes started. It was a good thing Nicholas and Livio knew all of the good hiding spots.

Eventually, only Maylene and Kaite were left, shifting awkwardly like they didn’t know if they were allowed to touch him. Like they were scared that it might set him off. The thought alone broke something inside of Nicholas, but he plastered on a smile anyway.

“What’re you standin’ over there for?” Nicholas teased. “What, you can’t hug your big brother Nico anymore?”

Maylene ran, tackling Nicholas with a force that didn’t match with her small frame, but Kaite just rolled his eyes and tried for a side hug. A well timed push from Livio put an end to that, forcing Kaite to stumble into a group hug.

“Welcome back,” Kaite mumbled.

“I missed you,” Maylene cried, her face buried in Nicholas’ shoulder.

Nicholas patted her back. “You saw me a month ago.”

“Not the same.” Maylene sniffled, backing up as Kaite quickly pushed them away. Nicholas was reminded of just how tall she’d gotten. To think, he used to change her diapers. “We’re used to seein’ you everyday.”

“Every weekday at least,” Kaite amended.

Nicholas grinned. “Aw, the twins ain’t enough for ya?”

“I’m hurt,” Vash said, wiping away fake tears. “I thought we bonded.”

Kaite rolled his eyes again—Nicholas really needed to break that little habit of his—and pointed to the kitchen. “Melanie’s making breakfast. She said she wanted you three to help when the littles were done using you as a jungle gym. Her words.”

Nicholas nodded and walked in the direction he was pointing, ruffling Kaite’s hair as he went. The kid had only been with them for a little under two years, but he fit in like he’d been there since birth. He’d been brought in by police, found abandoned during a raid on a local gang. His father had died a couple years before that and he’d done what he needed to do to survive, but that had left him more hardened and paranoid than a 12 year old had any right to be. In a way, he’d reminded Nicholas of himself as a kid. He hoped Kaite didn’t turn out like he did.

The closer he got to the kitchen, the more he could hear the familiar sound of a record player, music drifting into the living room. Melanie was standing in front of a skillet, the happy-face apron that Nicholas had long before claimed as his own hanging off of her frame as she danced, skillfully scrambling some eggs.

For a moment, Nicholas simply watched, not wanting to disturb the moment.

“Mind the bacon for me, Nico,” Melanie called over her shoulder, never breaking her rhythm. “Livio, make enough toast for the kids. Vash…well, just stay out of trouble for me, yeah?”

Vash pouted. “I can handle tasks. I’m not completely useless.”

“I know, honey,” Melanie said placatingly. “Why don’t you set the table?”

“I can do that!” Vash said, perking up and scrambling into the dining room.

Breakfast didn’t take long to make. Nicholas, Livio, and Miss Melanie were used to cooking together. They’d done it for years. And Vash had completed his task with more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary. By the time the youngest of the kids made their way back in, the last of the meal had been set upon the table.

Itl went like it always did, with the children talking across the table in between—and sometimes in the middle of—bites of food. It was all so familiar, but Nicholas couldn’t shake his nerves. He was here, sitting with his family, and yet all he could think about was whether or not someone would ask him about—

“Are you okay now, Nico?”

Jasmine had asked the question, her mouth full of half chewed scrambled eggs. Nicholas sighed internally. Maylene, Kaite, and the rest of the kids who were older than 11 knew not to ask about his…situation. Even if they didn’t know all of the details, they had enough social experience to recognize when a topic was taboo. They turned their heads away, pretending to be focused on anything else. But Jasmine and the rest of the littles? They were listening intently, waiting for Nicholas’ reply.

“I’m perfectly fine now, Jasmine,” Nicholas lied. “You don’t need to worry your cute little head about a thing.”

Jasmine, ever the curious child, didn’t stop there. 

“Why were you gone?” she asked. Nicholas went quiet. How do you tell an eight-year-old that you were gone so long because you tried to kill yourself?

“You came back a few times,” Jasmine continued, “but you wouldn’t teach us anymore. Miss Melanie said you were sick, but you looked fine to me. Did we do somethin’? Were you—”

“Jasmine,” Melanie interrupted. 

Jasmine looked around, confused. “What? I want to know why Nico left us for so long.”

“There are times when you have to consider whether or not another person is willin’ to give you the answers you want. You can ask, but you have to respect their choice.”

“This is one of those times?” Melanie nodded. Jasmine turned in her seat, looking directly at Nicholas. “Do you want to tell us, Nico?”

Nicholas took a breath and considered his answer. Did he want them to know? Not really. Did he see the value in telling them? Of course. Keeping events like this a secret only made things worse. Did he want to tell them? Well…

“I do,” Nicholas said, looking Jasmine in the eyes. His answer got the attention of everyone at the table. “And I will, eventually. Just not right now. I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

Jasmine tilted her head before nodding. “Okay. When will you be ready?”

“I don’t know,” Nicholas replied. “But you’ll be the first to know when I am.”

Jasmine gave him a wide, toothy smile and returned to devouring her eggs. With her questions out of the way, it was like the rest of the table finally took a breath and they managed to finish breakfast with no more problems. 

When everyone was done, Nicholas went about clearing the table, paying extra attention to Vash’s plate. Surprisingly enough, he’d eaten everything, which was pretty rare even on good days. After all of the dishes were thoroughly cleaned, Nicholas grabbed his lesson plan and walked into the orphanage’s makeshift classroom.

The children were waiting in groups at three large, round tables separated by age. They watched him as he made his way to the front. All of them were quiet. They were never quiet.

“Okay everybody,” Nicholas started. “First up today is math. And don’t worry, Nai gave me all of his notes. We wouldn’t want to fall behind, would we?”

The kids groaned. It brought a smile to his face.

Falling back into teaching after so long was easier than Nicholas had thought it would be. It certainly helped that most of the children had grown up around him in one way or another and liked him enough to behave. Most of the time at least.

He breezed through math and science well enough. They were the two subjects he'd been the most worried about, but the twins had done a frankly impressive job teaching in Nicholas’ absence. Not only were the kids caught up, they were ahead of the material Nicholas had expected to be covering around this time of year. It made him happy to know that they had substitutes that actually cared while he was gone, but when he thought about it, there was a bit of lingering sadness. How hard had Vash and Nai been working while Nicholas did nothing except lie around all day? How much had he inconvenienced them?

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind for as long as he could, and when free time came, Nicholas excused himself, heading outside for a smoke break. He went to his usual spot behind one of the tomas coops and carefully leaned against the rickety old structure. That’s where Maylene found him.

“Nico,” she said as a greeting.

Nicholas furrowed his eyebrows. “How’d you know where I was?”

Maylene took the spot next to Nicholas, leaning against the coop. “This is always where you go when you need to stress smoke.”

“Who said I was stressed?” 

Maylene raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think you’re foolin’? Puttin’ on that tough guy act of yours.”

Nicholas sighed. Besides Livio and Melanie, Maylene had known him for longer than anyone else at the orphanage. He’d been the one who’d rocked her to sleep. He’d been the one she toddled after when she’d finally learned how to walk. And somehow, in all the years since then, she’d grown. She was almost an adult. And she was old enough to call out his bullshit.

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t’ve followed me,” Nicholas said, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Second-hand smoke is bad for you, ya know?”

Maylene snorted. “So is first-hand. But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Nicholas smiled. “Smart ass.”

They stood together for a while, not making a sound, until Maylene took a deep breath and quietly asked, “Are you really okay, Nico?”

“I—” Nicholas considered telling her that he was perfectly fine, like he did with Jasmine. That this whole thing was just a fluke. An impulsive decision that would never happen again. But she’d approached him genuinely, trusting that he’d give a sincere answer. It wouldn’t be fair to lie to her like that. “I don’t know.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I don’t want you to die,” she whispered.

Nicholas didn’t know what to say to that. A good man might comfort his little sister, say a quick “I won’t” and end the conversation with a hug, but Nicholas wasn’t a good man. He could only be an honest one.

“I’ll try not to.”

Maylene nodded twice and sniffled. “Okay.”

After a few minutes, Nicholas noticed her playing with her necklace, a simple ring on a chain. It was the only thing that she’d arrived at the orphanage with, left on the doorstep in a makeshift cradle. She only ever fiddled with it like that when she was nervous.

“There somethin’  else you want to say?” Nicholas asked, stubbing his cigarette on the side of the tomas coop. Miss Melanie would yell at him about it later.

“Just—” Maylene started. “Kaite doesn’t like to show his emotions. You know that. He’s gonna act all normal and stubborn around you, but he was pretty shaken up about it all.”

Nicholas frowned. “Is that so?” He hadn’t noticed.

“He wasn’t there when you were in college, so he doesn’t get it like I do. I’m not sayin’ I blame you or anythin’, because I don’t. I promise you, Nico, I don’t. I’m just a little worried is all. He’s already so closed off, ya know? I don’t want him to start isolating himself again.”

“Somethin’ happen to get you this nervous?”

Maylene glanced away, just for a fraction of a second, but Nicholas noticed.

“Maylene,” he pressed.

She sighed. “You know how his birthday’s comin’ up?” Nicholas nodded. “He doesn’t wanna do anythin’ for it.”

“That’s not all that odd for him—”

Maylene cut him off. “You don’t understand. He always says he doesn’t wanna do anythin’, but he’s happy when we celebrate. He says he’s not, but I can tell. This time, though? It’s different. It feels…worse.”

Nicholas nodded. “Okay. I’ll look into it.” He looked at his watch. “You’ve still got about five more minutes of free time. Why don’t you go enjoy it instead of hangin’ out with a boring old man like me?”

Maylene shook her head. “I’m fine where I am.”

And so, they stood there, leaning against the unstable tomas coop and watching the black birds that came by looking to steal some of the leftover tomas feed. Neither of them spoke. When they walked into the classroom three minutes late, no one saw the need to mention it.

Chapter Text

“I’m going to ask you a few questions from your incomplete survey. You might feel a bit uncomfortable, but I want you to know that we can stop at any time. You don't have to answer anything that you don’t want to, okay?”

Nicholas shifted in his seat. He still wasn’t used to being back in a therapist's office, but he tried to remind himself to calm down.

“Sure.”

Amelia nodded, grabbing her clipboard and reading from the attached paper. “Do you have feelings of harming others?”

“No.”

“Do you feel out of control when you eat?”

“No.”

“Do you have difficulty controlling your anger?”

“Not anymore.”

“Have you been made to engage in sexual contact with another person against your will or without your consent?”

So much for calming down.

Nicholas looked away from the picture he’d been staring at, bringing his eyes back to Amelia’s before quickly looking down. He picked at his cuticles.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Is that so?” Amelia said. “Let me simplify it then. Have you ever been sexually assaulted?”

“Sexually assaulted,” Nicholas repeated. His thumb began to bleed. He kept picking anyway. “Can you give me examples?”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever been raped?”

“No.” Nicholas shook his head, staring at the blood that was starting to coat his fingers. He kept picking.

“Have you ever been fondled?”

“Fondled?”

“Groped,” Amelia clarified. “Touched sexually when you didn’t want to be.” 

Nicholas flinched. His fingers paused halfway through peeling back a hangnail. What he wouldn’t give for a shot of whiskey right about now. He tried to keep his eyes focused, to stay present, but his efforts didn’t really matter. 

His mind kept bringing up bits and pieces of memories. Flashes of an office filled with too many books and boring degrees, a man who was trying too hard to be friendly. A therapist.

Can I touch your scars, Nicholas? Just so I can understand things better?

“Yes,” Nicholas said, without thinking. Once he realized what he’d admitted to, he tried to clarify. “But that was my fault. Not theirs.”

“Your fault?”

Nicholas nodded. “I said yes to it. At the time.”

Amelia frowned. “You said yes even though you didn’t want to?”

Nicholas hesitated. Amelia noticed. “I did.”

“The first time?”

“Well…no.” Nicholas scrunched his brows in thought. “But nothin’ happened ‘til I said yes. It was consensual.”

Amelia blinked, looked at her clipboard, then returned her gaze to Nicholas. “How old were you when this happened?”

“Started when I was about fifteen,” Nicholas muttered. “Ended when I was nineteen.”

“And how old was the other person?”

“I don’t know…late forties maybe?”

“How did you know them?”

“He was my therapist.”

Amelia tapped her foot twice and leaned forward. “Do you remember his name?”

“Conrad,” Nicholas replied. “He doesn’t practice anymore though. Stopped around the time I left home with Livio.”

“Okay.” Amelia placed her clipboard on her desk, her attention fully on Nicholas. “Here’s what I’m thinking. You’re a smart man. You know what sexual assault is. You knew what the question was asking. You’re trying to block it out.”

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “I’m not blockin’ anythin’ out. I told you what happened, I told you it was consensual.”

“You said no the first time,” Amelia countered. “If you have to be persuaded into saying yes, then it wasn’t consensual. You were molested, Nicholas.”

Nicholas shook his head. “I wasn’t a kid the whole time.”

“The fact that you were a kid for some of it is a problem. I think you know that,” Amelia said, picking her clipboard back up and marking something onto the paper. 

“Well then maybe you think wrong,” Nicholas snarled, glaring at the therapist in front of him. His fists were clenched. He didn’t know why he was angry, but he was. It was an uncontrollable and irrational anger.

Amelia tilted her head, looking away in thought. “Perhaps I was too blunt with you. For that I apologize.” She turned back to Nicholas. “Our time for this session is almost over, but I’d like to extend it so that we can work through this together, if that’s okay with you—”

“It’s not,” Nicholas interrupted, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and standing. He’d almost made it to the door when he heard her speak again.

“Will I be seeing you next week?” Amelia asked from behind him, her voice frustratingly calm. 

He wanted nothing more than to tell her to fuck off, that he’d never step foot into her office again, but then he thought of Vash. He thought of that hopeful look in his eyes when Nicholas had told him he was willing to try therapy again, and he nodded instead. 

“Same time I assume?”

Nicholas walked out of the room without answering.

Vash was sitting in the waiting area, a random magazine in his hand, when Nicholas entered.

“How did it go?” Vash asked when he saw Nicholas, a look of worry on his face.

“Fine,” Nicholas grunted, walking toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

“Nick?” Vash rushed to catch up with him, tripping over his own feet, but Nicholas didn’t slow down. When he made it outside, Vash grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Nick, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Nicholas kept his eyes on the concrete. “Nothin’. Just…it was a hard session. I needed a breather is all.”

“Okay.” Vash let go of Nicholas’ arm. “Do you want to sit down somewhere? Get something to eat?”

Nicholas shook his head. “I just wanna go home.” 

He hated how pathetic he sounded.

Vash stared at him for a moment, but Nicholas wouldn’t meet his eyes. After what felt like forever, Vash started to walk. “Let’s get going then.”

He didn’t ask any more questions as they made their way back to the apartment, he just swung their entwined hands in the space between them and chattered away about whatever topics popped into his blond head. Nicholas loved him more than he’d ever loved anything. 

Later that night, as they sat on the couch after dinner watching whatever random movie Vash had decided to put on, Nicholas slid his hand over Vash’s thigh and leaned in. Vash caught his lips, and Nicholas closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Vash’s hand came up to his cheek, moving his head just enough to deepen the kiss. Nicholas let him take control.

Don’t move. Just five more minutes, Nicholas.

The memory ripped through his mind, making him flinch. Vash froze, moving away just enough to see his face, but Nicholas had already wiped away any evidence of discomfort. He grabbed Vash’s flesh hand, gently pulling it toward him, and whispered, “Bedroom?”

Vash had a small frown on his face, almost like a pout. It was cute, but it wasn’t the expression Nicholas wanted from him at the moment. “Are you sure?”

Nicholas nodded, softly kissing the corner of his mouth and pulling on the hand a bit more insistently, but Vash didn’t move. 

“I need you say it,” Vash said, his worried face inches away from Nicholas’ own. 

The response frustrated Nicholas, but he couldn’t say why. It wasn’t like this was the first time that Vash had insisted on verbal consent. In fact, Vash had never done anything without making absolutely sure that Nicholas wanted it, completely and totally. But Nicholas didn’t feel like thinking about what he wanted right now. He didn’t feel like thinking about anything.

Nicholas sighed. “Wouldn’t’ve said it if I wasn’t sure, Blondie.”

Vash hesitated before speaking. “Okay.”

Nicholas tugged on the hand still in his grasp and stood, leading the way. Once the two made it to the bedroom—and after Nicholas managed to kick Kuro out—he continued what he’d started, throwing his arms around Vash’s neck and kissing him roughly. Vash was much more careful. He kept the pace slow as he walked Nicholas backwards. Soon, Nicholas’ legs hit the bed and he fell, sprawling onto his back and breaking the kiss. He watched with interest as Vash climbed onto the bed after him, pressing their bodies together. The pressure of him was comforting. His lips caught Nicholas’ throat, and he brought a hand up to gently turn Nicholas’ head, giving himself more space. His fingertips brushed the stretch of skin where Nicholas’ jaw met his neck and—

The hand moved away from the scars on Nicholas’ shoulders, slowly creeping over until they reached his neck. It traced the line of his throat as if contemplating whether or not it wanted to squeeze, to choke. 

Later on, at the end of Nicholas’ teenage years, the hand would do just that.

Nicholas didn’t like it. He’d told him that. He’d tell other partners later on, but everyone insisted it was fine. That he’d like it with them. That they’d take care of him. His feelings on it never did change, no matter how many times he let it happen. The only one who didn’t insist was—

Vash moved down, his hand holding the back of Nicholas’ neck gently as he trailed kisses down his sternum. Both of their shirts had been discarded, but Nicholas didn’t have the mind to care where they’d landed. He moaned as Vash’s lips closed around his nipple, his hand tracing over one of the scars on his ribs—

The man had asked Nicholas to take off his shirt. Nicholas, newly 16, had agreed. 

He’d asked to touch the scars on his ribs, his hips. Nicholas had agreed. 

The touch made his skin crawl. He wanted to push the hands away from his chest, his hips, and run, but he didn’t. This was a professional, it was his therapist, and he needed to be good. If he wasn’t, Chapel might punish him again. They were old friends, after all. They talked.

“I’d like to try something new, Nicholas.”

The hand on his hip trailed lower—

Vash hooked a finger into the waistband of Nicholas’ boxers and looked up, waiting. 

“Yes,” Nicholas mumbled. He could handle it. He could be a good boyfriend. Vash slowly pulled the boxers down, the fabric slipping over long healed scars—

A camera flashed. Nicholas stood in his underwear, posed with the waistband slightly lowered, as Conrad took pictures of his scars. They were for his records, he’d said when he’d asked if Nicholas was okay with it, to document their progress. Nicholas had agreed. 

Once he finished with his first batch of pictures, he asked for something. He asked if Nicholas could take some pictures for him when he was home. He wanted pictures of the next time Nicholas opened himself up, the next time he made himself bleed. He didn’t want to see pictures of that, of course, but it helped him to understand. That was all. Nicholas had agreed.

The next time Nicholas came in, bringing pictures of himself bloodied and crying, Dr. Conrad’s eyes lit up with an odd excitement. But he was a professional. He was his therapist. He knew things Nicholas didn’t, did things to help him. Even if he said some things that felt off.

A soothing voice was whispering softly, but Nicholas couldn’t make out the words.

Even if sometimes his touch burned.

The touch started to burn.

Even if he—

“Stop,” Nicholas muttered. It was too quiet for the person touching him to hear, so Nicholas kicked. His foot hit the body above him, and the person jerked away with a groan. He started slapping at the hands on his hips and thighs. He needed them off. Now. 

“Please stop.”

The hands let him go. The moment he was free, Nicholas curled up against the headboard, making himself as small as possible.

“Nicholas.”

He didn’t want to be back in that office. He’d agreed to things back then, but he couldn’t do it now. Why couldn’t he do it now?

“Nick?”

Someone was calling to him. It was familiar, but maybe that was a trick. Maybe Conrad had told Chapel that he’d been uncooperative and now he was going to be punished.

“Nico!”

Nicholas recoiled further into the cold wooden headboard at the nickname. Only Livio and the other kids called him that. Livio, the kids, and…

“Nico,” the voice pleaded. “Please, I need you to breathe, okay?”

Livio, the kids, and…

“Vash,” Nicholas croaked between gasps of breath.

“Yeah,” Vash said. “Yeah, it’s me. It’s Vash. Can you breathe with me?”

Nicholas nodded, listening for Vash’s breaths. He was purposely overexaggerating them, using a familiar pattern. Nicholas followed it. In for 4 seconds, hold for 7, exhale for 8. He repeated this over and over again, until he wasn’t hyperventilating quite as much as before.

“Good. That’s good.” Vash reached a hand out, hovering a few inches away from Nicholas. “Can I touch you?”

“Please don’t.”

“Okay,” Vash said, retracting his hand. “Okay, just…just tell me what you need right now.”

Nicholas’ breathing stuttered. “I don’t know!”

“That’s fine,” Vash cooed. “We can just sit here for a bit. Maybe I can get you some water?”

Nicholas thought about it and nodded. He listened to Vash’s footsteps as the man left, keeping to the pattern. In for 4, hold 7, exhale for 8. Vash quickly returned, placing a glass of water on the nightstand and sitting on the bed. He didn’t touch Nicholas once.

Nicholas continued to focus on breathing. After a while, he finally uncurled his body, his joints popping, and reached for the glass. He didn’t drink. He just held it, keeping his eyes on the water.

“I’m sorry,” Vash whispered. Nicholas’ head snapped up. “I should’ve—I should’ve checked in. I knew you were upset. I shouldn’t have let you get to this point. I’m sorry.”

Nicholas sighed, taking a sip from the glass of water and placing it back on the nightstand. “You’re not the one who should be sorry, Blondie.”

“But I—” 

Nicholas cut him off with a raised hand. “Therapy today. It went…bad. And I tried to distract myself using sex—using you— and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

Vash frowned. Nicholas could tell by the twitching of his hand that he was struggling to not reach out and physically comfort him. “Can I ask what happened?”

Nicholas swallowed. “The doctor, she said—” He took a breath. 4-7-8. “She said I was assaulted. Sexually.”

Vash made an expression that Nicholas hoped to never see on him again, but he didn’t speak. He gave Nicholas the space to continue.

“I’d agreed to it, though. Sure, I was young, but I knew what I was saying yes to. I was never forced to do anythin’. It didn’t even go…all the way. So—”

“How old were you?”

Nicholas froze, pausing his ramblings. “...Fifteen to nineteen.”

“Who were they to you?”

“My therapist.”

Vash’s face crumpled. He looked away for a second, his jaw clenching, before turning back to Nicholas, completely composed. “If you’re okay with talking about it, I’d like to know what happened.”

“There’s no reason for me to be upset about it, anyway,” Nicholas mumbled. “Like I said, it was—”

“Nicholas,” Vash interrupted. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Nicholas looked away. He started to pick at his fingers. “He, um, he liked to touch my scars.” He glanced at Vash. “Especially the ones on my ribs. And my hips. Sometimes he’d, uh, go a little…further down. But he always asked! Nothin’ happened until I said yes.”

“Until you said yes,” Vash repeated.

“What?”

“You said that nothing happened until you said yes. Not ‘unless I said yes,’ but ‘until I said yes.’ Like you didn’t actually have a choice.”

“That’s not…” Nicholas trailed off, the words stuck.

The silence stretched on.

“I interrupted you,” Vash finally said. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.”

“Right.” Nicholas cleared his throat. “When I got older, we started…experimentin’. Like I said, we never went all the way, but we still did things. He liked some stuff more than others. Chokin’ me. Slappin’ me. That sort of thing.”

Nicholas heard it when Vash took a deep breath, but he kept talking. Now that he had someone to tell, he didn’t want to stop.

“He liked to take pictures. Of my scars. It all ended when I became Livio’s legal guardian, though. Last I heard he doesn’t even practice anymore.”

Vash was quiet for a long time. When he finally did speak, he only said two words.

“I’m sorry.”

Nicholas frowned. “I already told you, you didn’t do anything. I was just too wound up—”

“Not about that, Nicholas,” Vash said, quietly. “Not about that.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry, Vash. It’s not that serious.”

“Nicholas—”

“Everyone’s makin’ this bigger than it needs to be. If you’d been there, you’d understand that—”

“Nico.” Vash’s tone was soft, but firm enough to broker no argument. “You know that’s not true.”

“I—” Nicholas faltered. “I don’t—”

“Yes, you do.”

Throughout the entire ordeal, from his panic attack to now, Nicholas hadn’t shed a single tear, but for some reason that sentence was the one that finally broke him. He closed his eyes, reaching for Vash as he did. He didn’t have to wait long before Vash took him into his arms, whispering platitudes.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I said yes,” he argued, speaking through the tears. “I agreed to it. It was my—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Vash said. His voice was hard, but his anger wasn’t directed at Nicholas. “He shouldn’t have asked you that in the first place. He shouldn’t have put you in that position. It wasn’t your fault.”

Nicholas had never been told that before. He couldn’t say he felt the same, and at the moment, he didn’t have the energy to change his mind. He’d thought of this as nothing more than a yes or no situation for eleven years. Admitting that Vash was right meant admitting that he’d wasted so much time hating himself for nothing, and that couldn’t be the case. Could it? What did that say about his life if it was?

Nicholas closed his eyes. He could debate himself about it when he woke up.

Chapter Text

Saturday was double date night with the girls. Milly and Meryl were exhausted from chasing a lead for their story and Nicholas was still pretty down, so they’d all decided that it would be best if they stayed in and watched a movie instead of going out. Or rather, Vash, Milly, and Meryl had decided that on the phone while Nicholas laid in bed staring at nothing.

Vash came to lie next to him after he’d hung up the phone. “Can I touch you, Nick?”

Since that day, Nicholas had been weird about touch. He was used to pushing through that feeling of discomfort. He was used to wanting to peel off his skin. But now, it was like he couldn’t handle it anymore. Like somehow, one therapy session had made him weak. Vash didn’t blame him when he said no, but Nicholas hated himself for it every time. 

He considered Vash’s question. “Over the cover, please.”

Vash nodded, carefully pulling a fully wrapped Nicholas into his arms. They stayed like that for a while. It was nice, being held without actually being touched. To have his boundaries respected by someone who loved him. Nicholas’ eyes were just starting to drift closed again, when Vash sat up.

“Okay.” Vash gently pushed Nicholas’ shoulder, his hand pressing against the fabric of the comforter. “Time to start the day, Nick!”

“Don’t wanna,” Nicholas whined, turning his back to Vash.

Nicholas heard Vash sigh behind him and felt a stab of guilt. “You haven’t left the house for anything other than work in days. You can’t stay in our bedroom forever, even though I know you want to.”

When Nicholas didn’t respond, Vash tried a different approach.

“Do you remember what you said to me before we started dating? When I’d just gotten out of another abusive relationship and I’d been—” Vash’s breath hitched and he paused. When he continued, it was with a strained voice. “When I’d gone through something similar to what you’re going through now?”

Nicholas closed his eyes and didn’t speak. He didn’t dare to.

“You said, ‘I know you probably feel like withering away, Vash, but I need you.’” Vash leaned over Nicholas, refusing to let him ignore his words. “Well, I need you right now, Nick. I don’t want anything grand, and I won’t ask you to stop being depressed because I’ve been there, but I need you to get out of bed.”

Nicholas opened his eyes and looked at Vash, scowling. Vash simply smiled and said, “Please?” And how could Nicholas resist that?

With a groan, Nicholas made sure his cover was wrapped securely around his shoulders and stood. Vash clapped his hands as if this was something celebration worthy, and Nicholas rolled his eyes, slowly making his way to the living room. 

He sat on the couch, the blanket pulled up and covering the bottom half of his face. When Vash sat down next to him, Nicholas chose to rest his head on Vash’s shoulder.

“Hair?” Vash asked, his hand floating inches above Nicholas’ head.

“You can touch.”

Vash gently carded his fingers through Nicholas’ hair, humming an old song he’d once told Nicholas was his mother’s favorite. It was soothing.

“We don’t have to do date night if you don’t want to,” Vash said after a while. “The girls won’t blame us if we cancel.”

Nicholas shook his head.

“Are you sure?”

Nicholas nodded. “It’s a good distraction.”

“Okay.” Vash gently scratched at Nicholas’ scalp. “Let’s pick a movie before they get here.”

They scrolled through the options for a few hours, finally settling on an early 2010s comedy when there was a knock at the door.

Vash jumped up, jostling Nicholas and yelling, “Coming!”

Nicholas stayed where he was on the couch, bundled up in his blanket and staring at the television while happy greetings drifted into the living room once the door was opened. He tried to push away the creeping thoughts of hands running up and down his hips, a camera flashing as he carefully pulled off his shirt…

“Nick?”

Nicholas startled. At some point, Meryl had come to be standing in front of him, looking at him with concern written all over her face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Depends, Nicholas thought, how much time do you have?

But he didn’t say that. He pulled his blanket tighter, leaned away from Meryl, and said, “Nothin’. Just zoned out a bit.”

“You’re lying to me,” Meryl said with all the force of a nationally acclaimed, award-winning journalist. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ ,” Nicholas hissed. “I already told you, I zoned out.”

“I know what you said,” Meryl insisted. “But I’m asking for the truth.”

“Ask for less next time,” Nicholas growled. He was starting to get annoyed. Or maybe the proper word was agitated.

“I thought you’d stopped avoiding things, Nick. Look, just—” 

Meryl went to reach for him, probably trying to comfort him, but Nicholas flinched away from her hand. Everything that had happened, everything he’d realized, was just too new. He couldn’t handle Vash’s touch, let alone Meryl’s. And she noticed.

“Nick—”

“Okay,” Milly interrupted, pulling her girlfriend away with a hand on her waist. “That’s enough with the third degree. How are you feeling, Nick?”

Nicholas looked away. “Fine.”

“That’s good! Do you want a hug?” She didn’t say it with pity like most people would. Milly just genuinely wanted to hug him. But Nicholas couldn’t do that right now, so he shook his head.

“Fist-bump?” 

“Yeah. Sure.” Nicholas made a fist, reached out, and tapped it against Milly’s. His skin still felt like it was buzzing, but it wasn’t as strong anymore. It was more manageable.

After the rocky start, they decided on pizza. Nicholas tried to stay as present as possible, but he honestly couldn’t say how long it took for the pizza to arrive. When it did, though, Vash, Milly, and Meryl quickly gathered around the boxes. He didn’t bother. He knew Vash would make a plate for him.

But when his twin slices of meat lover's pizza arrived in front of him, it wasn’t in the mismatched hands of his partner, but in much smaller, much daintier ones.

“Here,” Meryl grumbled, sitting down beside Nicholas once he’d taken the plate out of her hands. She avoided eye contact, pretending to listen to Milly and Vash argue over pineapple on pizza. “I’m sorry.”

Nicholas pulled his arm out of his blanket cocoon and took a bite. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I just—I want to make sure you’re okay, you know?” Meryl stared at her own slice of veggie pizza. “But I don’t know how to do that. So I’m sorry.”

Nicholas nodded. 

“ Are you okay, Nick?”

He sighed. He was getting pretty tired of that question. “I’m tryin’ to be.”

Meryl narrowed her eyes, studying him for a moment, before finally taking a bite of her pizza. “Good enough for now.”

They sat like that for a moment, in comfortable silence. Eventually, Vash and Milly ran out of steam and decided to join them. Milly sat on the other side of Meryl, taking her into her arms, while Vash flopped down beside Nicholas and stole a bite of his pizza.

They started the movie, and, just like always, they completely ignored it. Instead, they talked. It was what they did. They caught up and when they were finished catching up, they talked about whatever the hell they wanted to. Nicholas loved it. Nicholas loved them.

They went through Milly and Meryl’s newest article—an exposé on corruption within the local government. They went through Vash’s latest project at the lab which Nai had apparently agreed to collaborate on. And they didn’t talk at all about Nicholas.

If he was being honest with himself, Nicholas wanted to talk about it. He’d spent years being in—what? Denial? And now, he’d had his little revelation and he wanted to talk to someone. He wanted to. But what was he supposed to do? Interrupt the conversation about society improving journalism and brotherly love to say “Oh yeah, did you know I was molested as a kid?” 

“Nick?”

Nicholas jumped. Milly was looking at him expectantly, like she’d been talking to him, but he didn’t know what she’d said. 

“Hm?”

“How are the kids? At Hopeland?”

“Oh.” That was something he knew how to talk about, at least. “They’re doing okay. Jasmine’s as energetic as ever, Maylene was a little teary-eyed, but overall the same as ever. And Kaite…”

“Kaite?”

Nicholas paused before speaking. “Maylene said he’s been a bit off. Ever since my…um…”

“Your suicide attempt?” Milly said it without hesitation, judgement, or pity. When the words came out of her mouth, they were just the truth. Nothing to fear. 

“Yeah. That.” Okay, maybe there was still some fear. “He doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday.”

Milly tilted her head in confusion. “Isn’t that normal for him?”

“That’s what I thought, but Maylene says it’s different. This time he means it or whatever.” Nicholas frowned. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Everyone went quiet in thought. After a few minutes, Nicholas started to panic. He’d ruined the mood. He’d made it awkward. Everyone had been having so much fun and he’d just had to bring up the elephant in the room.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. “I didn’t mean to ruin date night. Let’s just forget it—”

“Shut up,” Meryl hissed. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Vash leaned his head on Nicholas’ shoulder through the blanket. “Meryl’s right. Even if she was a little brash.”

“I’m not brash!”

“You have an issue and so you talked about it,” Vash continued, ignoring Meryl’s protestations. “No one’s going to fault you for that. We actually want you to do that.”

Nicholas didn’t know what to say, so all he said was, “oh.”

“Have you tried talking to him?” Milly suggested.

Nicholas shook his head. “He’s too stubborn to just tell me.”

Meryl scoffed. “Who does that remind me of?”

Nicholas glared at her, but he didn’t deny it.

“How do you know?” Vash asked.

“Know what?”

“That he won’t tell you?”

“I just told you,” Nicholas huffed, “he’s too stubborn.”

“But you haven’t even tried,” Vash argued. “How fair is that?”

“I—” Nicholas thought about it. It wasn’t fair to the kid to assume. He should’ve known better, working with the kids that he did, than to put them into a box. He deflated, slumping slightly forward. “I’ll talk to him on Monday.”

“Yay!” Milly clapped. “Problem solved! Wasn’t that fun?”

Nicholas could only laugh humorlessly. “I wouldn’t call it fun, Big Girl, but it was…useful.”

Milly smiled, wide as could be. “Close enough.”

The rest of the night was a blur, but, for once, it wasn’t the bad kind. For the first time in a while, Nicholas let himself have fun. The bad thoughts were still there, the memories occasionally leaked through, and there was that familiar fear that everything would fall apart the moment he was alone, but it was manageable. It might not be manageable forever, but Nicholas knew that he had people to support him when it wasn’t.

The girls left a little before midnight, and this time Nicholas saw them to the door. After they left, he collapsed with Vash on the couch. It might’ve been fun, but socializing still took energy.

They were sprawled on opposite sides of the couch, not touching. Nicholas suddenly felt like that wasn’t quite right. He reached out with his foot and gently knocked it against Vash’s. Once he had his attention, Nicholas opened the blanket. It was a clear invitation.

Vash raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Nicholas nodded, kicking against Vash’s leg more insistently.

The corner of Vash’s mouth ticked upward. “I need you to say it.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“About?”

“I wanna cuddle, okay?” Nicholas groaned. “Happy now?”

Vash grinned and pulled Nicholas close, holding him against his chest. “Very.”

It wasn’t perfect. Vash’s touch still burned with the weight of ten-year old memories, but Nicholas wanted this and, by God, he was going to have it.

Then, out of nowhere, Vash took a deep breath and asked, “What was it like?”

“Hm?”

“In the hospital,” Vash clarified. “I never asked, did I?”

Nicholas shook his head. 

“I’d like to know. If you’re okay with talking about it.”

Nicholas moved his head, looking up at Vash. “I can talk about it, but are you sure you wanna hear about it?”

Vash nodded. Nicholas studied his face, looking for any hint of discomfort. Vash hadn’t exactly avoided the topic, but this was the first time he’d so openly asked about it. He didn’t look like he was worried about Nicholas or scared that he’d do anything again. There was no hesitation in him. He just seemed curious.

“Okay,” Nicholas said. “What do you wanna know?”

Vash hummed. “I don’t know…whatever you’re willing to tell me. Like, what did you do? Who did you meet? How did you feel?”

“Not much to do there, Blondie,” Nicholas chuckled. “Their group activities were terrible. Most of it was some variation on ‘live, laugh, love’ and ‘be grateful for what you have.’ Karaoke was nice, though. The food was fine; not great, but not bad. The nurses were a mixed bag. Some of them were horrible. The weekend night shift treated us like zoo animals. They barely even talked to us.”

“Okay,” Vash said. “That sounds awful.”

“There were bright spots.”

“Bright spots?”

“Some people,” Nicholas continued. “Some people weren’t too bad.”

Vash made a ‘go on’ gesture. 

“There were nurses who treated us like actual humans. One of them, Marty. I could never beat him at Connect 4. Another one, Kylie, snuck me a rubber band to tie up my hair when it got too long. The patients were the best, though. The first one I met there was a girl named Malia. A year or two older than me. She was nice—nicer than I expected anyone to be. High-fived me the moment I walked into the common area. She made sure everyone was as happy as they could be.”

“She sounds sweet,” Vash cooed.

“Yeah.” Nicholas turned his face into Vash’s chest. “She was on fentanyl. There for a detox before she was sent to rehab. She left about two days after I got there. I think I gave her my contact information, but she hasn’t gotten back to me. I don’t actually know if she managed to stay clean. I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

Vash didn’t try to give him any empty platitudes. He didn’t say anything at all, just rubbed up and down Nicholas’ back and waited. 

“There was another guy there. Andy. He and I were pretty good friends. Well, as close as you can get to friends in a mental hospital at least. We were both covered in scars. His were different, though. He couldn’t stop himself from peeling off his skin or somethin’. He was fun. We sang together during karaoke.”

Vash gasped. “He got you to sing? How rare.”

“Yeah, well.” Nicholas smiled into Vash’s chest. “It’s not like I was in my right mind.”

Vash moved his prosthetic into Nicholas’ hair. “So…Andy. What was he in for?”

“Tried to kill himself with a shotgun. He flinched so hard the shot grazed the side of his head instead. Said he didn’t know shotguns were so loud.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Still alive, if his Facebook is anything to go off of.”

“That’s good. Anyone else?”

“Yeah,” Nicholas sighed. “A kid named Luca. College student.”

Vash chuckled. “Doesn’t that make you think of the good old days?”

Nicholas snorted. “You could say that. They reminded me a little of you.”

“How so?”

“They wouldn’t eat.”

Vash paused for a fraction of a second. It was enough to make Nicholas look up at him again. 

“Is that why they were in there?” Vash asked.

“No,” Nicholas replied. “They’d stabbed themself in the wrist a week before finals started.”

Vash whistled. “Brutal.”

“An absolute ray of sunshine, though. You wouldn’t believe they’d been suicidal since middle school if you saw ‘em.”

“I’m glad,” Vash whispered, holding Nicholas just a little bit tighter.

Nicholas cocked his head. “You’re glad they’ve been suicidal since middle school?”

“What? No!” Vash stammered. “No, I’m glad that you had people you liked there. I was worried you’d isolated yourself, but it seems like you did the opposite.”

Nicholas waved him off. “It’s hard not to talk to someone when they lock you out of your room for three hours a day.”

“Still. I know you Nicholas. If you didn’t want to talk to anyone, you wouldn’t have. You made an effort, and I’m proud of you for that.”

Nicholas hid his face in Vash’s chest and mumbled, “Whatever.” 

He didn’t think talking to people deserved that much praise, but he knew that if he denied it, Vash would only add more. So he let Vash win this one. Besides, he thought as he drifted off to sleep with his lover’s fingers tangled in his hair, it was a pretty satisfying loss.