Paper Trails 2 | Draft

46.

*Can I just say...I am on a roll with updates lately.

"Revel in chaos. Then bend it to your will."

*****

"You really want to get the fuck away from my front door, right now."

He ran a hand down his face. "Just listen."

"No." I scoffed and went to close the door. He stopped me, pushing the door back roughly and brushing past me.

"I'm on the verge of getting a kitchen knife."

"I have nothing to apologize for," he said gruffly.

"Is that a joke?"

Niccolò shook his head and pulled a cigarette from his suit pocket. He stuck it in his mouth, lit it, and inhaled.

"I did what I had to. You need to move past this."

My hands balled into fists. There he goes again, telling me what I need to do. Once again, Niccolò Di Vio fucks up and tells me to get over it.

"I don't need to do anything."

"Get over yourself for a minute, Neila." He sounded angry, and it didn't make sense because he had no right to be pissed.

"Get the fuck out."

"Not everything is about you. Believe it or not, baby, the world doesn't fucking revolve around you and your issues. Mommy's dead, daddy's gone. The abandonment issues? It's getting tiring."

"Get. The fuck. Out of my house."

"And Tyler? He's dead, Neila. You know what your issue is? It's your sick need to feel attached to something." He ran his fingers through his hair frustratedly. "There's a difference between love and an obsessive need to not be alone. Your sick obsession with Tyler—and that's what it is, obsession—is tiring. He's gone. You lost him the minute you watched me kill his boyfriend, and you just can't fucking get over it."

"Shut up."

"What is it about him? He was a poor excuse of a man—of a friend—who let you fight his battles. He didn't fight, he didn't try, and he left you the second he had the chance. He wasn't your fucking anchor, or your rock. And if he really was your best friend, then I pity you, because he was a shitty friend. Guess what, Neila? People die. He's dead."

"He was good. Amd he was not a shitty friend."

"Nice doesn't equal good, Neila. Helpless doesn't equal good. No one is simply good. You're not stupid—or, at least, I hope you're not stupid enough to think that your friendship was anything other than unhealthy." He scoffed. "He relied on you to solve all his problems. He let you take the blame for his boyfriend's death. He left you the minute shit got hard. He was weak. He was pathetic. I'm sorry you lost someone you cared about, but that's life. We all lose people. You're not the exception to that."

"You want to know what's unhealthy? Whatever the fuck it is we had going on. I was so fucking stupid to think you--"

"This isn't about us," he sighed. And suddenly, he looked different from when he came in here. He looked tired, he looked exasperated. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but here, and I couldn't help but feel the same.