Chapter Text
Little shards of white glass strewn across the floor were bypassed by the string of curses flowing from his mouth. He didn’t even notice that a few of them had pierced his foot until he started limping in the kitchen.
Nico sighs and draws a hand over his face, his mind replaying the last twenty minutes without fail. The short walk to the bathroom is excruciating, and when he sits on the sink with the tweezers the glass is lodged in his foot. He has to dig them out with the tweezers and ends up a mess of tears by the time he’s wrapped his foot in gauze. He can’t help but think this whole ordeal is his fault. So, he does the least logical thing ever and decides to get a drink from his cabinet. He can thank Taylor for that one later.
The shitty vodka does the trick and it makes him feel numb and floaty. He decides to clean the glass off the floor and somehow manages to avoid any more cuts, considering he used his hands to pick it all up. He watches Gordon Ramsay yell at adults on his TV before he gets sick of it and calls Taylor.
“Hey man, what’s up,” Taylor answers on the second ring.
Nico forgets what he wanted to say and his throat closes up, leaving him with short puffs of air.
“Woah, are you alright?” There’s rustling on the other line and the unmistakable jingle of keys. “I’m coming over, don’t you dare say no.”
Nico nods dumbly before he realizes he isn’t visible. “Okay.”
-
Taylor stays on the line until he pulls in the parking lot, practically sprinting up the stairs to Nico’s apartment. He slams the door open and finds Nico with his foot poorly wrapped in gauze.
“What the fuck, dude,” he says flatly, but his eyes are filled with concern.
“I… I fucked up,” Nico responds, small. Like a small boy who got caught stealing candy. “Jack came over and he started kissing me and then he stopped all of a sudden, and he said some things and I said some things, and I kicked him out, and then I threw my vase and got drunk, and stepped in the vase, and-”
Taylor claps his hand over Nico’s mouth, silencing him. “Slow down, dude. What did Jack say? And did you get all of the glass out of your foot?”
“He said that he didn’t want a relationship to ruin his reputation,” Nico sniffles, hiding his head in Taylor’s chest. “And yeah, there’s no more glass in my foot.”
Taylor removes the gauze regardless and rewraps it to his liking.
“I don’t think Jack meant what he said,” Taylor says softly. He cards a hand through Nico’s hair. “I think he’s just scared of what that means. He’s only eighteen, and I know that’s not an excuse, but I think you should give it some time, yeah?”
Nico mumbles something either inaudible or in Swiss-German, and Taylor will have to take it for now.
“Let’s get you to bed, we have skate in the morning. And I want the trainer to look at your foot.”
The small, helpless nod he gets in return crushes his heart.
“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” Nico says, eyes wide and pleading.
Taylor nods, maneuvering to get an arm around him. They hobble to the bed without any miscues.
“Thanks for being so great, Taylor,” Nico yawns once he’s situated in the bed. “Love you.”
“I love you too, Nics,” Taylor says, and he means it. “Sleep.”
-
Nico falls asleep in record time, his soft snores echo off the walls and fill the silence. Taylor had placed water and two pain relief pills on the bedside table but he couldn’t bring himself to leave, so he grabbed one of the extra blankets from the closet and situated himself on Nico’s ridiculously comfortable couch.
He knows he won’t sleep much, because both of his rookies hate each other; he knows that they’ll have to fix it themselves eventually. But he’s stumped on how.
But, that’s a thought for the morning, not someone who’s half brain dead and tired beyond belief. He turns off the light and lays there, hoping to get at least a few hours.