The Way We Almost Were ✓

22| monsters

⚠ warning: slight gore/violence ahead. Not explicit. Not graphic.

| Chapter 22 |

| monsters |

Nick realised he didn't want to wait till Monday to see Bree. Not really.

And he stood there, watching the familiar mop of dark blonde hair walk away from him and towards the way out of this awful building instead.

Nick watched her tall, willowy figure shrink with each step that put more distance between them, with each step that seemed to tug at something in his gut, wordlessly asking him to follow her.

And he almost did. Nick almost did.

Nick Fraser almost followed Bree Salvare out that door.

And maybe Nick would have -- if he was some nineteen year old with a normal childhood, who'd grown up in the cities of Manhattan with the smell of fast food and grease and vehicle fumes, who'd had breakfast with his family every Saturday morning in their front lawn with a round white table and matching white chairs, who had moved to South Carolina only because he wanted a change of environment, who had left all that he knew behind out of free will instead of force.

But that was some alternate version of reality, some other world that he didn't exist in and knew nothing of. A life he never experienced and never would.

Nick had lived for almost two decades now, and he was yet to know what home was. What peace was. He'd grown up in the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, yes. But it had been the smell of smoke, blood and fear that he'd choked on. There'd been no freedom, just suffocation. There had been no choice -- not really -- when it came to him getting away from that place. That wasn't a life he wanted to fall into.

Nick had already risked it once, for Bree. That afternoon in college when Dale and him had noticed some guy shove Melody Campbell into a corridor. Nick had hesitated, of course he had. But he'd eventually stepped in, even went as far as shoving the guy away and putting himself in front of Bree, giving a wordless but crystal-clear message.

He hadn't known then, had he? Whether the guy was going to walk away quietly or throw a punch? Nick hadn't known if fists were going to collide, if kicks were going to be whipping through the air -- he hadn't known, but he'd chosen to throw himself into that mess anyway. Something that could've stirred trouble, could've ended up with the lot of them getting called into the dean's office, could've even got them suspended for a few days.

Nick didn't want to risk anymore. It wasn't worth it, not when he gave it actual thought. He had enough on his shoulders, enough of his own share of problems to be dealing with someone else's too. He wasn't a saviour. A hero. This simply wasn't his problem. He needed to keep his head down, finish his probation period with a squeaky clean report, get through few more years of college, then figure out some way to get his mother out and cut away from that messed up place once and for all.