S C H M I C O || A collection of short stories

when somebody loved me

Nico sighs deeply, head in his hands, fingers curled into his hair. 

Frustration, anger, heartbreak, guilt. It's all he feels, and more. It burns, aches deep in his chest, as if it's eating him from the inside out. Well, it really had been, for over a year. 

And he let it all slip out in an irrational moment of irritation.

How could he be so damn thoughtless?

He leans back against the couch, letting his head rest against the back of it. He stares up at the ceiling, at the darkness, hoping that this is all some sort of crazy fucked up dream in which he will wake up from any moment. 

The texts he sent Levi stay unread, or he's turned off his phone, or read receipts. Nico doesn't want to give up, doesn't want to give in, or lose the man he adores. 

He's scared. Terrified, even. 

There isn't a part of him that doesn't loathe his entire being at this very moment in time. 

He blinks back the tears he can feel pricking at his eyes and sucks in a shaky breath, turning his attention to the phone placed beside him. It stays dark, and his heart sinks in his chest. Half of him wishes to see it light up, to hear it chime, though he knows he would be too scared to look at it. 

Too scared to lose Levi. 

The man he adores with every fibre of his being. There hasn't been one other person in his life that he's adored quite as much as he has Levi. No one even comes close. It's already nearly happened once and quite honestly, Nico doesn't know if he could cope with that again.

Nico really expected Levi to be in his apartment when he got back, but it was empty when he arrived. That hurt more than he cares to admit. It feels empty without Levi's presence, the constant talking or humming, the odd bits of his things left lying around. It feels barren, bare, cold. 

Nico knows it's his fault. He knows it's what he said, about wanting Levi to get his own place. He didn't mean it in such a way, but it's not as if he could explain that. He didn't know how. 

A muffled buzz comes from beside him and it snatches his attention immediately. His phone lights up, illuminating that small space for a period of time. He stares and waits for the screen to return to black, before he eventually reaches out and takes it. 

Nico can hear his heartbeat in his ears, and it's almost deafening. His breath catches in his chest as he taps the screen, seeing the notification front and center on the screen, staring at him, mocking him. 

Everything feels like it's on fire around him, despite the fact there is a cold breeze in his apartment and he's shivering. He can feel it in his cheeks, his chest, his stomach. A burning sensation he can't seem to rid himself of. 

When he finally focuses his eyes on the text, he almost feels dizzy. 

I get you're sorry. I just don't understand why, Nico. I trusted you. I really did. You just keep pulling these things out from nowhere and I don't know what to do anymore. 

He reads it over a couple of times, and again, and once more to make sure he has read it correctly. He expected that response, almost thinking he deserves it. 

His thumbs hover over the screen as he wracks his mind for something to respond. A couple of seconds pass by and he starts typing, pressing the send button moments later. He feels his eyes straining at the bright light of the screen, contrast to the dark room around him.

Come home. 

A sense of regret fills him as soon as he sees the message change from delivered to read, and he almost wants to shut off his phone and move country. All he's ever done is run from his problems instead of facing them, and he decides in that moment it needs to stop.