Chapter Text
I.
"My mommy is the best one."
Nicholas Neldrans can still perfectly recall the faces of the other women in the room, 25 years ago, when he said something so natural, so honest. The coos and awes that followed the innocent statement, the smiles that crinkled their eyes, the worn yet thin hands that clasped over their hearts.
He additionally remembers how little he thought they understood. The woman he spoke of was more than they'd ever be, respectfully, she was a mountain among human hands- she was what constellations felt like to sailors, or some days as simple as the sun. Always warm, always wanted, and always shining on him.
Nicky only ever had the one mother, and how else can a kid compare really? Its likely all kids think their parents are truly the best there is, and for him, she really felt that way.
With this in mind,
There will never be a verison of this story where Nicky dosen't follow his mother. Anywhere, any time, despite any challenge. Moreover, when he was about 7 years old he neared a very rude awakening about that fact.
There'd been a man with an extra mouth on his neck, rows of teeth darted out sharply, accompanied by a dark shadowy tongue. It traveled down a shirt collar barely attempted at being buttoned. A tiefling.
But the part he remembers are the shoulders. Wide and broad, connected to large biceps, muscular forearms, and calloused hands.
This man walked with his shoulders, one would move like a boulder before the other sprung him foward. There was so much prescence, 'he's so much, so big' Nicky very plainly condensed.
The tiefling is built like a fortress and looms over everyone he towers passed. Nicky knew it just like every other person in that hallway. And he knew they knew, because most of their eyes went blank, their breaths hitched, and their arms stacked defensively before, manually, opening with invitation.
His mother tells him to rest in the closet with the clothes (that smell like her when she's gone), to get comfortable. Like Elene always told her boy before she saw clients. But instead- very dumbly, he follows.
Through the walls, visible through cracks,
This man seems like the night sky creeping over the world. But the night is a force that does not have impulse, its predictable, this man is not. Large hands move down her waist, he sees how this man grabs her breast- agressive, and he's not too sure what to make of it, other than he wants him to go away so that his mother can hear about the rest of his day. So that he can eat dinner with her, the woman that told Nicky she wished the sun rose up forever so people had more time. So they could take walks together in its light, plant seeds that can grow into the clouds, and this way- they'd never need to worry about bed times again. (Not that they ever did, they never saw the light around the brothel, nor did they ever leave.)
Nicky is 9 years old when this man is someone he can easily recognize, not by a face or extra mouths, but by those shoulders. By the way his back muscles flex passed those shoulders, by the way he breathes broken up and rough-
By the way his mother's left shoulder hangs funny when the man is leaving down the back stairway toward the exit.
This is also the age Nicky attempts to stop a business transaction, at a place where that sort of thing isn't allowed.
The exact events are mostly lost to his youth, as time prevails less and less of the details are as vivid. But he knows the key points:
A small boy opens a door he isn't allowed to and shouts from the hall, "You'll kill her!" "She's my mommy!". The small boy is beaten so bloody, so violently, as if he himself were a grown man that could hold his own. He nearily losses his hearing with how violently his heart beats in his ears, and knows his mother is not strong enough to stop it.
That was a bad couple of days. Nicky recalls very little of them, but hazily knows he'd almost gotten them kicked out all together. His mother rarely screamed, she rarely rose her voice- but she did then. And even worse, she gave a simple stare. One that he never fully understood, even as he got older, but always assumed it meant: 'stay silent, walk away, and go unnoticed'.
From then on, he really did try to stay in the closet when she asked. He tried his best to steal gold from these guys on the gamble if a big scene needed to be made for his mother again, Nicky could pay the owner.
Because honestly, the man with large shoulders dislocating his jaw did not stick with Nicky because of his own pain. It stuck with him due to the fact his mother couldn't stop it, couldn't help at all. If it had been her this man chose to assault that night, fully and unbridled- and not Nicky, she'd have struggled the same. She could've died.
These were the things Nicky considered when trying to recover that month, instead of playing hide and seek, or sneaking into the streets to hear travelers play songs. He thought about his mom not being able to move her jaw, while he was rocked in arms far too thin yet endlessly loving.
These are not the sort of things a pimp cares about, but he did his best to pay him enough to. He begged, he bled, and fought for the right to pull men out of the rooms if she stopped breathing.
Which meant listening, hoping, and noticing all of their many features.
Men with wings could wrap them around her and make it harder to know if she was screaming,
Men with scales could be harder to grab onto, and likely harder to bludgeon,
Men with horns and tusks could gore her, faster than a knife would,
Men with talons may press too deep in her throat, they wouldn't care enough to stop,
Men with tails could trip her if she ran,
Men that were, well-
Just any sort of man that could, likely would.
Throughout the years, Nicky learned how to fight, extremely dirty and efficiently unseen. He'd sneak into bars to watch fights and understand how to join in to throw a punch or two, and even bet on who would win.
He'd spend his days finding places to hide, places to practice his coordination, and old scrap metals in the trash to lift- hoping he'd have more strength by the end of it.
He grew taller, faster, and more clever each year. He watched the beautiful women he grew up around became aged, emptied, and dead. He watched their eyes grow sunken in, while younger women piled in the brothel with a refreshed glint. Light that his mother had once, if he tries to think back enough.
Time passes, and things grow worse, but he truly knows it will be worth something.
Because suffering can't be pointless.
~~~
The night before Nayeli is born,
In the broken mirrors of the women's changing rooms (where he'd always been welcomed before his voice betrayed him with a deepening) he'd encountered a monster.
A genuine, real life, monster.
He was looking for towels, materials people were calling for him to bring to her room. As he looked around the worn wooden drawers- it spots him.
The dim lanterns showcase it's form, but this monster's eyes shine aggressively enough to reveal its nature.
It towers over the chairs and tables, its hands so strong and rough they may as well be scales, this creature is horrific.
Nicky cannot breath, he is petrified.
This monster stands still, like it won't move until he does, so it becomes a waiting game.
He has a sister he needs to protect now, and a mother he needs to get out of this place. He thought he could kill a monster, but looking one down, he realizes he is afraid of monsters like everyone else.
Paralyzed with fear, thoughts swarm his head. Do something.
He needs to run, but what if it trips him? What if its hiding tusks behind its lips that could break apart his face? What if it sprouts wings and he cannot be heard down the hall?
He is alone in here with a threat he instinctively knows will hurt anything that moves.
I want someone to kill my monsters for me, but I dont want anyone stronger than me near my family.
Nicky Neldrans stands in front of a broken mirror.
He sees his own shoulders get larger every few years, and he guesses, his mother does too.
~~~
II.
23 years later, he's still certain he'd follow his mother anywhere, despite her being dead, and a small secret part of him thinks he may still be following her.
Whatever he's chasing is gone, and he barely can tell he's running after it until the mornings over.
He would be fine with dying if it meant starting over with her. Its not nice, its not very responsible, and he tries not to think it if possible.
He knows that must make him a bad person, he'd argue that himself. Late at night when he's traveling for work, looking towards the stars- mapping out their enormity, he argues it. People say stars mean things and he really dosen't care if they do, they just remind him there are things you can't touch, and things you can. And some things you can't touch don't change while you do.
Never willingly would he utter these words, but really, he wishes he'd died in her arms when she was sick. Things would make more sense that way. They were a team, they were partners in crime, and they weren't meant to be seperate so long.
The trouble with this, outside of the obvious, is Nicky selfishly wants another wish. He wants nothing more than to have Nayeli in his arms for the rest of his life, as short as that deserves to be.
Both cannot be possible. So to tell the truth, Nicky is uncertain about what he wants.
There are very few certainties he knows in this world. In regards to himself, others, and the world. But there's one belief he has never been more firm on.
He really does not believe in "miracles".
When the medic santized his eye, after begging him to allow the help- and explaining everyone is already helping his sister as much as they can, so its really no hassle, and he could die if he dosent-
This medic says,
"Its a miracle she suffered all that and survived, most people wouldn't have made it to our doors before..you know. She's one lucky girl, she's going to be-" with a pause, a horrid pause, "stable."
A miracle?
Luck?
Stable?
No, Nicky dosen't believe in that.
But he does believe in mistakes.
It was him who should have been held down, terrorized, and clobbered over the head with a pipe. He should have stopped responding when she called for him, he should've been in that pool of blood, and better yet- he shouldn't of woken up from it like she did.
Thats what this was.
The universe is one big coin toss, and for once, fate undoubtedly made a mistake. It called the wrong side, because in no world was this was destined to happen.
And if fate caught up to him, surely, it would switch their places. One day he'll wake up unable to move. His eyes swollen shut, brain broken in two, and dreams shattered- whatever they may be. He will hear his sister beg him to say something, and he will be silent. For the first time in his life, he won't come when she calls for him.
There will be a small, tiny, hidden relief in knowing his job is done. Despite the fear of her being alone. He will fight to move his body, to stay with her a little while longer, but he'll pray to whatever listens,
Did I do enough? Please, let it have been enough.
And its because thats how this should end.
But for some unfathomable reason it hasn't, so he waits and waits, only comforted by the idea everyone meets their fate. He will get his own. He is not special, Nayeli was the light that was meant to beat the odds, thats how this should work.
Things will be fair, suffering has a reason.
This will be worth something in the end.
~~~
In the present, he questions other elements of fate. Not with the approach it's all wrong, but simply with pure unadulterated confusion. Marcela's mere existence, jobs gone wrong, annoying nobles and yes Marcela's existence again- there's a lot to get caught up with.
So it's exacting, meditative, to fall into a normal routine so familiar, even just for a moment. An older woman with a beautiful pearl necklace, a drink ordered on his tab, a comforting tone pouring from his throat.
Sure, he gets judgemental stares and grunts of disapproval, but it's a simple transaction. One that violates trust, one that rips something precious from another person, and one that he's fucking good at.
He does not care about what this makes him. People say a lot of things about him, for the record, most of them probably are true.
He's a thief, a criminal.
Another lost cause, unlikely to ever be anything, incapable of loving people the normal way, whatever normalcy even looks like.
He's cruel.
He's changed.
He does not look gentle.
He does not look like a good man.
But-
~~
Contrary to popular belief,
Nicky Neldrans does not sleep with women,
This is because thats not what's really happening. That's not reality. Thats not what this is all for. Truthfully,
Nicky Neldrans wakes up beside a woman.
And that is a very different thing all together.
It does not matter how many that week, or what they actually sounded like before falling asleep. They're humming.
Nicky always wakes up to her humming.
His face is steadily shifting against a warm chest, covered with soft frills, a steady breathing tickling his hair. This hum vibrates the ribcage it pools from, and rocks Nicky like he's being cradled. Which he is, actually. Right, this is back then.
The most gentle fingers, always shaky ("just nerves, nightlight", which she called him more than his own name) and far too delicate to be so grimy, rub his back in circles.
"Are you awake?" This woman laughs.
"Mmm hm.." He stuffs his face away, and holds tighter.
"Mommy needs to get up, okay?"
And like all mornings, it's not okay, so the boy dosent move.
When was this again? He can't be anymore than 5, his body can lay over hers without her lungs pinching. And yet...
There in a small room, small windows, small everything.
The thing is, Nicky knows what's factual and what's fiction.
Fact: His mother is dead. He is not 5 years old. And even when she was alive, she did not leave the bed this early. She woke up to feed him and get him dressed, but she lingered behind to "nap". Elene did so much work in the night this was when she rested, and she only awoke so early for him.
She moves Nicky from her body, and wiggles her way up the wall their mattress is aganist- trying to sit up. Instinctively, he tries to help her. He knows it must be late, he dosen't know many numbers- but she's not just getting him up, she looks like its time to leave. He was mistaken, its night not morning.
Elene likes to work when hes sleeping anyway, passed midnight, though hes learned when she's the most awake- and has tried staying up with her despite it all.
"Nicky baby, go lay down, okay? Please, nightlight?"
He already is, what she really means is- enter the small closet down the hall, and don't listen in the walls, and don't come running out asking where I am again.
But he knows. She's taught him well. He knows how to count to 28, how to read a calender, and how many legs a spider has, that it's the same as an octagon.
"Mmmnooo..." He mumbles aganist her body.
Back then her form felt stronger, less fragile- but maybe thats because he was so small. By the time hes 10 he can't be picked up by her anymore, so its hard to say.
"Nicky."
He holds tighter.
"Nightlight."
Fiction: He had super powers.
With the strength of a true hero, he lifts her up into the air, and carries her out of the small hall theyd been crammed into. From a window in the lobby, he jumps through it's reflection- and the glass bends open to allow them safe passage. They fly into the sky, and they talk to the stars, who all share her voice.
But, right, all of this is fiction. Even the part where the widow breathing beside him is someone he actually loves. Why would any of this be factual?
Sometimes, he thinks,
If I could change one thing, it would be to know when to quit.
~~~
One last thing.
Nicky probably knows what its going to look like when he dies. When fate catches up and Nayeli can walk again, when he's done something stupid and can't talk his way out of it.
Firstly, you'll need to know that his mother's eyes were always open before his.
No matter how many times he tried to wake up before her, to race her to "tomorrow", his world started daily with her smile aganist a pillow, looking at him with a small victory.
He'd complain and pout that she cheated, that she's going to bed earlier somehow. She'd scoop him up, and laugh with him before getting the real rest she needed for later.
One morning, she started keeping her eyes closed, so when he woke up- he could shake her "awake" and cheer that he'd won.
One morning, this simply wasn't a game she was playing at all, she did not want to see her son whatsoever. Elene is too tired to get up. And frankly, she would not want to wake up ever again.
Not that Nicky ever saw it that way. Because as we've established, most of these things aren't always entirely factual from his mind. All he knows is he wasn't allowed on the mattress anymore, let alone on "her side" of the room, or in the room at all when she woke up. He still wears the scars from when he'd make the mistake of trying to console her through night terrors, or greet her with breakfast.
But,
Nicky Neldrans would give anything to lose one more time. To know she's smiling, happy, ready to greet him from a nightmare.
And when he dies, he'll lose,
and the world's suffering will be worth something.
Otherwise, why has he lived this long?