19

Jadon

When they finally let him see Nico, it had been hours. Hours of answering questions. Hours of repeating himself. Hours of trying to explain.

And now here, this: the semiprivate hospital room, the dark, the fading astringency of a cleaning product. At first, he could only put together fragments. The privacy curtain closing off the other patient’s area. The lamp next to Nico’s bed. The window that looked out on the swells and troughs of more darkness. Like an ocean, he thought. And all the lights bobbing out there, everyone lost at sea.

Nico wore a gown, and it swallowed him up, making him look frail and small. Bruises covered one side of his face. His lip was split. Jadon couldn’t see it from where he stood, but some of that dark, shaggy hair had been ripped out. His hands started to shake, and he pressed them against his legs.

Maybe the movement drew his attention; Nico looked up, uncertainty creasing his face, and then a smile. Air whispered in the ducts. Then it stopped.

“Do you want to sit down?” Nico asked.

Jadon sat with his back to the dark ocean. The lamp lit the side of Nico’s face. It threaded coils of gold through his hair. It made a blaze of the long expanse of his slender neck. Where the gown exposed part of his shoulder, it gleamed on the coppery skin there.

“I look that bad, huh?”

After a moment, Jadon realized it had been a question. He shook his head.

Something changed in Nico’s face. His expression didn’t close, not exactly. It wasn’t even wariness. A kind of reserve, maybe. Or hesitation.

“Nobody will talk to me about Vic.”

“He’s alive. I winged him, that’s all.”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“He’ll go to prison. We’ve got him for—” Jadon barely stumbled over the words at all. “—for what he did to you. He still had your underwear in his house. We’ll get DNA. Bring in previous victims. He’s never going to hurt anyone again.”

Nico nodded. It seemed like there should be more, but Jadon couldn’t think of anything. He wanted to say, You were so brave. He wanted to say, I’m sorry. The inside of his mouth felt like glue.

“I talked to him in the line for coffee,” Nico said, and he sounded on the verge of tears. “I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s not like that. It’s not logical. It’s a fixation, an obsession. He had a type, Nico, and you had the bad luck to cross his path. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Nico wiped his face on his shoulder. “It feels like I did.”

“You didn’t. This isn’t your fault.”

Neither of them said anything. A machine beeped. Steps moved out in the hall.

“So,” Nico said, “thank you. I was too busy being hysterical to say that before.” Then a tired smile gleamed in the darkness. “They’ve got me on something good now. I solemnly swear I will not lose my shit.”

Jadon could hear it now in his voice—the honey-thickness of whatever they’d given him slowing his speech. “You can lose your shit.”

Nico smiled again. He squirmed around in the bed, little blips of pain crossing his face, until he lay on his side facing Jadon. “And I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“For not listening to you. You were trying to keep me safe, and I was…I was such an asshole to you.” The waver on the last words was followed by a fresh shine in Nico’s eyes. He turned into the pillow for what felt like a long time, and when he lifted his head again, his face was dry. “You were right. About everything. And I should have listened.”

“Nico—”

“No, please. Because whatever this stuff is, it’s good, and I want to say this while it’s easy.”

But then he didn’t say anything. He lay there, looking at Jadon. Or maybe looking past him. Out into the great dark. Jadon thought about closing the blinds. And then he thought no. Because he’d looked into the dark too. We carry it with us, he wanted to say. We carry it around inside us. So, you can close your eyes. You can rest for a while. You don’t have to keep looking, not right now.

“I thought I’d grown out of it,” Nico said, and the words had a dreamy slowness to it. “I kept telling myself I’d grown up, gotten over it. That I was an adult now.” He laughed, and it sounded dry and croaky.

Jadon reached for the cup and pitcher next to the bed. His hands were still shaking. He had to lean against the little table, one arm pressed against it, so he could pour the water without spilling. When he passed the cup to Nico, he could see the ripples on the surface. It made him think of Jurassic Park. Of something huge coming. The heavy weight of its steps shaking everything as it approached. And you can’t run. You can’t get away. Because it’s coming right for you.

Nico accepted the cup. He took a slow drink, and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. When he passed the cup back, his fingers brushed Jadon’s, and Jadon followed the fine-boned hand up to the wrist, where bandages hid skin torn raw. Nico seemed to sense his gaze. He slipped his arm under the thin hospital blanket.

“I definitely,” he whispered, “shouldn’t have shat on you for pointing it out.”

His eyes were banked coals, alive with heat shimmer. Tears, Jadon corrected himself. He thought maybe he was getting loopy. He thought maybe he needed to sleep.

Nico was still looking at him.

“It’s okay,” Jadon said, even though he had no idea what they were talking about. “It’s all okay. You need to rest now.”

“In Argentina, we were never in one place long enough for me to fit in,” Nico said. “And then, when I went to boarding school, I was brown when everybody else was white, and on top of that, I was gayer than God. Maybe I would have fit in at Columbia—it’s big enough, mixed enough, that I could have, I think. But then I was trying to model, and school fell apart. And then, at a shoot, I’d look around, and I’d realize I was all alone. There was only so much I could say to the other guys. And the girls wanted to talk about the guys. Even when I was dating someone, I was alone. Because they liked what they saw on the outside, but they didn’t like me.” He swallowed. “Always alone.”

You’re not alone, Jadon thought. The words were so loud inside his head that his heart skipped, and he thought he’d said them out loud.

“When I started grad school, I was determined to be done with that. Done with never fitting in. Done with never being...right. I was going to be the perfect grad student. Only—only I kept taking jobs, and I’d fly back to the city. And I’d tell people. And then I’d hear them talking about it, about how school was a game for me, and—and what I’m trying to say is you were right. I’m a hypocrite. I talk this big game about wanting people to take me seriously, and then I turn around and make a big deal about a job I booked, or I wear fake glasses, or...” He trailed off with a shrug.

“Or brag about sucking dick?” Jadon said. The words popped out before he could stop them, and horror rushed in behind them.

But Nico burst out laughing, the sound bright and electrically alive. “Oh my God. I still can’t believe I said that.”

To his own surprise, Jadon laughed too—a real laugh, albeit a short one.

When silence fell again between them, Nico rubbed his eyes. Then he lay still again, staring out at Jadon, through him. When he spoke, his voice had become syrupy again. “I’m going to drop out of grad school.”

Jadon tried to say nothing. Then it slipped out of him: “Nico.”

“I am. My mom’s been after me for years to come back home. She wants me to be in a telenovela—do you know what that is?”

Jadon nodded.

“So, maybe I’ll do that. My brother does some directing. It could be a family thing.”

Jadon’s head throbbed. He tried to find a more comfortable position in the chair.

“What?” Nico’s voice sharpened.

“Okay.”

“What does that mean? You don’t approve?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you didn’t say anything.”

“What do you want me to say? It’s not my life.”

“So, you don’t approve.”

“Like I said, it’s not my life.”

Instead of whatever Jadon was expecting—shouting was at the top of the list—Nico started to cry. Little tears only, but a steady stream of them. He turned into the pillow again and held himself still. Finally, he lifted his face. It was wet, the tear tracks glistening the color of salt. “I think I want to go to sleep now.”

Maybe it was the late night. Maybe it was the way Jadon’s bones felt hollowed out by exhaustion and fear and adrenaline. He wrapped his hands around the arms of the chair to steady them. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t want you to go to Argentina. I don’t want you to go back to Wahredua. I want you to stay here. And I know that’s not realistic. I know how hard you’ve worked for the career you have. I know you need to move and start the best doctoral program you can get into. And I want that for you.” His voice started to unravel. “But how am I supposed to sit here and listen to you tell me how you’re going to throw it all away because, what, you realized you’re a human being, and you’re complicated, and maybe you want more than one thing at the same time? I mean, Jesus Christ, Nico, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re gorgeous; of course you’re going to enjoy the fact that people like how attractive you are. Of course you should be proud that you’ve done modeling work. That doesn’t change anything about your work, about how smart you are, about the insights you’re bringing to the scholarship.” He tried to stop there, but the rest burst out of him. “I mean, a telenovela?”

Nico stared at him, his dark eyes wide. Then, slowly, a huge smile cracked his face.

“Oh my God,” Jadon said under his breath.

Covering his smile, Nico continued to stare at him.

“I’m sorry,” Jadon said. “It’s been a long night, and—” He started to rise. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

Nico caught his wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong. For what felt like a long time, they were chained together like that, Nico still trying to cover that stupid smile. Slowly, Jadon sank back down into his seat.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

Nico shook his head. “No, you’re right. I’m embarrassed, that’s all. It’s—it’s so superficial. So vain. I mean, according to all my ex-boyfriends and TikTok, I might need validation. Scratch that, I definitely need validation. But I don’t like that about myself. And I don’t like…I don’t like how it makes me act.”

“Believe it or not,” Jadon said drily, “there’s a middle ground between dressing like a suburban dad and blowing your professor for a publication credit.”

“Jadon Reck!”

Jadon shrugged.

“Come over here.”

“Uh, pass.”

“That was the bitchiest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I—”

“I loved it. I want to pull your hair out.”

“Lots of mixed messages tonight.”

Nico’s smile was cockeyed. One of those fine-boned hands curled around the bedrail. The bandage cuffing his wrist rustled when it brushed the hospital blanket. He was aware, again, of Nico’s sleepy breaths. Of how little distance separated them.

“I’m not a good person,” Nico whispered. “I thought you liked me when we were texting, and then you didn’t, and then we met in person and I was even worse, and you’re—you’re so wonderful. And I’m such a mess.”

“I think maybe you’re being a little hard on yourself,” Jadon said, his voice so thick he thought it might crack. “I’m a mess myself. What would Kierkegaard say about all this?”

“Kierkegaard definitely wouldn’t be in favor of quid-pro-quo BJs.”

Jadon gave him a look.

That cockeyed grin widened and then, after a moment, faded again. “Kierkegaard wasn’t a big fan of the aesthetic.”

“That’s not the part I’m talking about. I’m talking about the other stuff.”

Nico rolled his eyes. And he managed to put enough spin on it to make a middle-schooler proud. But after a few huffing breaths, he said, “Do you not know that there comes a midnight hour when everyone has to throw off his mask?”

The words sent a frisson down Jadon’s spine. The hairs on his arms stood up. The midnight hours. All those midnight texts.

“Do you believe,” Nico continued in that same voice like he was reciting something, “that life will always let itself be mocked?” He stopped and swallowed. “In every man, there is something which to a certain degree prevents him from becoming perfectly transparent to himself, but he who cannot reveal himself cannot love, and he who cannot love is the most unhappy man of all.”

The chill that had run through Jadon’s body felt like an iron band around his chest. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even talk. He thought about all the things he’d said to Nico, all the things he’d never told anyone else. The things he hadn’t even known about himself until he’d put them into words. And the way Nico had told him what no one else would. Had helped him see himself, even if it hurt.

“I’m tired of not being who I am,” Nico said in that slow-thick voice again. “I’m tired of caring what people think. I’m tired of trying to convince myself if I can be smart enough, if I can be good enough, if I can find the right part and play it perfectly, someone will actually want to be with me. With me, Jay. And that’s so stupid, because how can anyone be with the real me when I’m trying so hard to be someone else? I want to wear super slutty clothes if I want to wear them. I never in my entire fucking life want to wear a quarter-zip again. I mean, my God, they’re like the Emery Hazard of clothing. And I am tired of not being honest about how I feel. I like you, Jadon.” Nico stopped. His Adam’s apple moved again, and he gave a weak laugh that sounded mostly like despair. “Actually, I think I love you, which is your cue to run as fast as humanly possible. I love the guy I got to know over all those texts. I love the guy right here, right now, who’s so much better than words on a screen. I love that you listen to me, and more importantly, that you pay attention to me. You care about the things I care about. I love how resolved you are, how disciplined, how much you give of yourself to do what you think is right. And that goddamn picnic in the library.” Nico’s voice broke. “I mean, how the hell am I supposed to do anything after that?” He was quiet again, and when he spoke, his voice softened to a whisper. “So, there it is. I love you. And for the record, being vulnerable is not cute.”

The last part he said as though it were a joke, but Jadon didn’t laugh. That length of iron still felt like it was wrapped around his chest. He felt dizzy, and a part of him recognized that it was because he wasn’t getting enough air. Finally, though, he managed to say, “You were right when you told me I was afraid. I’ve been afraid for a long time. Afraid of meeting someone I would…would care about, I guess. Afraid of what that would mean. And I told myself it was because I didn’t want to get distracted. That was the truth, but only partly. I’m having a…” The laugh tore out of him. “I guess you could call it a hard time. I’m having a hard time letting go of some stuff. What happened to me with Barr, you know about that. And it was more than—more than what they did. The injuries, I mean. It’s what they took from me. Who I thought I was. Strong, tough. The stupid idea that I knew how to handle myself, let alone how to handle everything else. They took that from me. And so I’ve been on this fucking—this fucking treadmill, running as fast as I can and no matter how hard I try, I’m always falling behind.”

Nico’s breathing sounded slow and deep, almost like he was sleeping, but the coal-fires of his eyes glittered back at Jadon.

“But that’s part of it,” Jadon said and gave a ragged laugh. “The other part is, I think I knew once I met someone, I couldn’t—I couldn’t do this anymore. Keep juggling everything. I knew once I met someone I cared about, I’d have to deal with it. And I’m scared—” He had to stop; his throat closed. Finally, in a tight voice, he said, “I’m fucking terrified of dealing with it.”

“Jay,” Nico whispered, and his hand shifted on the rail like he might reach out.

“So, you deserve to know that. There’s a lot going on in my life right now. And I’m not handling any of it well. And I told North and Shaw, and they said I wanted you to be my fuck doll—”

“Excuse me?” Nico murmured.

“—and that’s not what I want, and I keep feeling like I’m banging my head against the wall.”

The smile on Nico’s face had faded slowly as Jadon spoke. Now, his expression unreadable, he watched Jadon for a long moment. Then he wiggled his fingers. When Jadon didn’t do anything, he made a vexed noise and wiggled them again. “Scoot, Jay. I want to hold your hand.”

So, Jadon scooted. He wrapped Nico’s hand in his own. A moment later, Nico threaded their fingers together.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Nico whispered. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to be anything. I shouldn’t have told you that tonight. We’re both in a weird place, and I know I put you on the spot. I wanted you to know that I care about you, and I’m happy I know you. Kind of doubly so, I guess, since you also saved my life tonight. But I’m not asking for anything, Jay. I promise.”

This time, Jadon did laugh. It was another one of those sounds that felt ripped out of him, and he shook his head. “No, that’s not—I love you.”

“Jay, you don’t have to—”

“Please.” Nico didn’t say anything, but Jadon shook his head anyway. “I do. I love you, and I didn’t think—I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again. I had all these reasons. All these lists. All the explanations and justifications and arguments. And then we started talking, and—and I fell in love with you. And I could tell you it’s because you’re so sensitive, and you understand me, and you make dumb jokes, and you have great taste in movies. And it is those things. But it’s also—I don’t know how to say it. It happened, Nico. It happened, and everything was different. I was in your dorm room, and your head was on my chest, and it fucking happened. It was like that leap of faith you were talking about. I was on the other side of it, and I realized none of those stupid reasons mattered. None of them made any difference at all. I love you, and I have no idea what to do about it.”

When he looked over, Nico’s eyes were wet.

Jadon heard what he’d said. “Okay, I understand that didn’t sound romantic—”

“I don’t want romantic,” Nico said, his voice rough. “I want you.”

Jadon squeezed his hand.

“Well,” Nico said with a note of impatience. “Kiss me, dummy.”

Jadon kissed him. The roughness of his split lip was new, but the shape of Nico’s mouth was familiar, the taste of him, the way he relaxed and let Jadon’s tongue in. Only a little, because they were in a hospital after all.

When he pulled back, fresh tears had spilled and left silvery tracks on Nico’s cheeks. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.” Jadon kissed Nico’s knuckles. “Although I didn’t think this was how tonight was going to end.”

“You thought you were going to get some booty.”

“I thought I’d invite you back to my place to watch a scary movie.” Then Jadon grinned. “Netflix and chill.”

“No,” Nico said, trying to pull his hand free. “I take it all back. I can’t. You’re disgusting.”

Jadon laughed and held on, and Nico settled back onto the bed.

“Do you want me to bring anything? I know it’s a pain, staying overnight.”

Nico shook his head. “What a waste of a Halloween. I shouldn’t even be staying overnight, only they said I couldn’t go home unless I had someone who could check on me while I was sleeping.”

Jadon gave him a long look.

“Oh.” Nico offered a lopsided smile. “Right.”