Nick Peterson is not a very good liar.

He wasn't very good when he stole candy once, in middle school, and then turned himself in to the police, crying.

He wasn't very good when Robb wanted to cancel on a date, and Nick answered the door, and his brother specifically said: "Tell her I'm sick and I'm sorry. I'll talk to her tomorrow, okay?"

And Nick told her, "He's sick and sorry."

She asked him, "I don't think he is. Where's his room?"

Nick said, "Up the stairs, to the right."

Robb gave him a good beating after that.

And he wasn't very good when he and Kaia broke up.

"Didn't Kaia go to your exhibit?" Jude asked, during dinner one time. "You didn't post any photos with her."

Nick laughed. "Yeah, I—we just forgot."

Harlan blinked. "You said she had a lacrosse game that night."

Nick cleared his throat. "She had the game first and then went to my exhibit after. Please pass me the potatoes."

And he wasn't—he's still not very good at lying, staring at his mother's face, wondering how to lie when she asked, "She loves you, right?"

And the lie isn't when Nick answers, "Yes." It's when his voice breaks, or when his eyes drop to his feet, or when his fingernails dig themselves into his palm. It's in that one little word 'yes', and his mother will know.

Because, the truth of the matter is—Kaia doesn't. Nick's accepted it—but it doesn't mean his sweet, fragile mother has to.

Not until he has to tell her.

So he musters up everything in his skin and bones, and he nods, says, in his clearest voice, "I love her, too."

That's not a lie. It's not.

Helene seems satisfied and convinced with that. She sighs in relief, hugs her son, and whispers, "As long as you're happy, then that's all that matters to me, sweetheart."

It's almost laughable—the thing that matters the most to his mother doesn't matter much to Nick. And the thing that matters the most to Nick—doesn't matter much to Kaia.

He's a terrible liar, but if there's one thing he will not lie to himself about, it's this: I'm going to be blind.

Then again, there's no need to lie to himself—his eyes will tell him that.

*

Nick has had enough of Yves's bullshit.

He fists his collar, pulling him up just to push him against the wall. "You had your chance, man. Why the fuck are you doing this to Orion now?"

"You promised not to get mad," Yves heaves, jaw clenching.

"Oh, I'm not mad, I'm furious," Nick hisses, slamming him again. Yves lets out a grunt.

"Okay, Nick, let's calm down for a sec," he pants. "I said we almost kissed, not that we did."

He lets out a growl of frustration. "And that's supposed to make it okay?"

"That's supposed to make me more of a jackass than I already am," Yves answers, breathing heavily. "Because I wanted to. I really wanted to. And I've never wanted anything that can hurt me until...well, until her."

"Fucking—" Nick lets go after shoving him against the wall one more time. He laughs incredulously, running one hand through his face. "Jesus Christ, Yves."

He got back just an hour ago, dumping his things in his cold and empty apartment before heading to Orion's and Yves's place. He wanted a damn drink with his friend, not this—this fucking mess.

Damn it.

"I should tell him," Yves mutters, hands around the nape of his neck. "I should really tell him."

Nick doesn't know what this will do to Orion. He doesn't want to find out.

"You asshole," Nick whispers, shaking his head. "You fucking asshole. Why did it—why does it have to be Cassia, man?"

"I don't know," Yves whispers back, shutting his eyes. "Fuck."

Nick laughs again. "Well. If anything, this just proves you really are an idiot—but who am I to talk, I'm an idiot, too. I'm a bigger idiot than you are. We're co-presidents of Club Idiot."

Yves stares at him with a raised eyebrow. "English, please."

It's not fair that Orion knows and Yves doesn't. Nick slumps down on the couch, and looking down at his feet, he says, "I can't see the color of that shirt you're wearing. Also that mug. Also this table."

There's complete silence. Nick meets his eyes.

"No," Yves says.

"O said Hilde Perkins is good," Nick continues with a shrug. "Or do you think I should try EyeCare WeCare?"

Yves stares at him.

"Kaia almost found out," Nick says, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. "But she didn't. So don't tell Cass."

Without another word, Yves grabs his phone, keys, and wallet on the counter and leaves. The door slams shut.

Like he said. Co-presidents of Club Idiot.

And Yves isn't the quiet type—Nick knew that from the get-go, and yet, he still decided to be friends with this nutjob. Yves needs to speak—it's the way his annoying ass is programmed. Which is why, the next day when Nick serves Martin his usual classic eggs Benedict meal: Canadian bacon, two poached eggs on an English muffin, topped with creamy Hollandaise sauce and served with a side of hashbrowns, he sees him and Orion sitting at their table. "Here you go, Martin."

"Thank you, Nick." He tips his hat to him with a kind smile.

Nick returns it and heads back to his table with his friends, passing Gail along the way. The younger has her face in her fist, staring at the certain brunet stabbing his bacon with a fork. Nick shoots her a look, and Gail blinks hard, smiles sheepishly at him, and heads inside the kitchen.

Orion chews his waffle slowly as Nick sits next to him, and he points at Yves with his spoon. "Get rid of your attitude. It's seven in the fucking morning."

"His attitude comes and goes any time of the day," Nick grumbles, blowing on his hot chocolate. "I thought you were mad at me. The fuck are you doing here."

Yves raises his head, and he looks at Nick with sleep-heavy eyes and disheveled hair. "My attitude isn't going anywhere. You know why? Because you—" he points his fork at Nick threateningly, gritting his teeth, "—didn't fucking listen to me. Now I have to deal with two blind dimwits."

"It happened before Christmas," Nick repeats in a flat voice.

"Then why aren't you moving away to another country yet, moron?" Yves asks sweetly with a smile.

"O said Hilde Perkins is good," Nick continues with a shrug, sipping his drink. "Why? Do you think I should try EyeCare WeCare?"

Yves narrows his eyes. "Fuck you."

"No thanks, fuck yourself."

"So what's the plan?" Orion cuts in, hand moving in the air in search for his juice.

Annoyed, Yves moves his glass toward his hand with a set jaw and stabs his bacon again.

Yves looks at him. "Yes, Nick, please do tell us your plan."

"No one tells Kaia," Nick says, leaning back against the seat. "That's the plan." He grabs Orion's fork, stabs it on a bagel, and eats it.

The brunet stares at him and gives him a mocking smile. "I know you're supposed to be dumber than me, but get this: a plan is a detailed proposal to achieve something, a strategy, a step-by-step process. So interesting, right?"

"If he wants to be blind, go for it," Orion says, shrugging. "I don't recommend it, given the excruciating pain and the loss of your sight forever, but. You do you. I just think we should tell Kaia. She deserves to know."

Nick scoffs at the absurdity. "And end up blaming herself? No thanks."

"Why?" Orion questions, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. "D'you think Cassia blames herself? For what happened to me?"

"Doesn't she?" Yves deadpans, clenching his jaw. "She's the reason, after all."

Orion turns his head. His gray eyes go straight to Yves's face. "Are you sure you aren't the reason?"

Nick sighs, rolling his shoulders back. He takes his hot chocolate and stands. "I don't have time for the both of you, but I mean it. You tell Kaia, the next step is for me to kill you. That's the plan."

*

The flashes of color pass and go; it's like living in a sheet of gray, and then not, every time Nick blinks.

But he can still see, now, in this auditorium listening to a seminar Nick could care less about but needs for a class requirement, Kaia's charcoal hair, that's actually mahogany brown, fallen leaves brown, baked mud brown, bark of an oak tree brown under sunlight. Her thin lips filled with her favorite shade of blushed red lipstick, honey skin. The green of her shirt, the black in her jeans, the reds and blues on her wrist. Nick will blink, and her color will still be there.

Her seatmate says something, and Kaia turns to them, a wide grin on her face.

Is this what the Disease is trying to tell him? He won't be able to see this—see her at all—if he doesn't get rid of his love?

How cruel.

For the first time, Nick feels the bitterness crawl up his skin, and the pen he's gripping almost snaps in half.

Just as the seminar ends, Nick plugs in his earphones, and he's out of the auditorium before the rest of them could get up.

He speed-walks down the hallway, one strap of his bag on his shoulder, books on his other arm, pushing his glasses up his nose. He's—maybe Yves is right. Maybe he needs a new plan, one that doesn't specifically involve killing his friends.

How did Orion do it? How does Orion do it? How is he so brave, wasn't he scared? Did he think about running, or—

His feet stop, and Nick takes out his earphones, facing a pretty redhead he's never seen before. She tugged at his jacket sleeve to stop him, and Nick blinks, eyes wide.

"Sorry," she said, grinning, laptop in hand. "It's Nick, right? Nick Peterson?"

He gives her a small smile. "The one and only."

She lets go of him, and her grin widens. "I'm Shelly. I don't know if you remember, but Kaia and I are friends, and we, uh, actually met at her party last year."

Oh. Right. One of Kaia's friends he'd already met once upon a time in one of Kaia's small kickbacks. He scratches the back of his ear and chuckles nervously. "Sorry, yeah, yeah, of course. Shelly."

She laughs, too. "It's okay if you don't remember, don't worry about it. Ah, I was—I was meaning to contact you, actually."

Nick blinks. Her red hair is gone—it's gray now. So are her eyes, her laptop, her shoes. The trees behind her. "Oh."

"I wanted to ask if you were free this weekend to take some photos for my birthday?" the redhead asks cheerily. "I've seen your photos all over your socials and I would really love it if you could take some pictures, and I heard you do it for free."

Nick suppresses the sigh. His smile stays frozen. "Yeah. Yeah, no problem. Just—just message me the address, and I'll—"

"Here!" Shelly jumps on her toes, handing to him a piece of paper. "Thank you, Nick. I'll see you Saturday—"

The paper is snatched from her hand before Nick can take it. "You're asking him to drive an hour away," Kaia drawls, raising her eyebrow, reading the handwriting. "To stay and do work for five, six hours, and then edit them one by one, send them to you as soon as possible, and you're not planning to pay him."

"Kaia," Shelly breathes, laughing. "Hey."

"Shelly." She grins, shoving the paper in her shoulder that the redhead stumbles back a bit. "Nick's too nice to tell you, but I'm not. Let's not make a habit of you belittling artists, okay?" Kaia taps her cheek with a sweet smile. "We can stay friends if you decide to do that."

Shelly's cheeks heat. "Yeah, of course."

"Great." Kaia tips her chin to the opposite direction.

"Bye, Nick." The redhead scurries away.

Nick looks at Kaia, and there's color everywhere. "Let's not make a habit of you saving me," Nick teases quietly, biting his lip.

Kaia rolls her eyes, turning to him with crossed arms. "What did I tell you about agreeing to do free work, Nicholas?"

Ever since they came back from Christmas break, they've been teetering on the line of friends—ah, no. I's just Nick who's unsteady. Kaia's perfectly fine waving at him from across the field, striking up a little conversation with him during his shifts at Mo's, meeting him at the gazebo behind Goshawk and walking through the shortcuts they learned together.

How do you just be friends with Kaia? Everything was less painful when they were ignoring each other. It should be just one of the two extremes—not something in the middle. The middle is...it's confusing. It gives him, stupid as it is, hope—even though he knows there's none anymore.

Nick sighs. "Sorry."

"Yeah, you better be." Kaia shuffles her bag around her shoulder to reach it, and she shoves her hand inside. "You spend hours taking and editing photos, they should fuckin' pay you for it, understand? Here." She thrusts in his direction a bottle of iced coffee with a genuine grin. "The vending machine was stuck, and I got this instead of juice. Think you need it."

Nick takes it slowly, turns it over his fingers. He smiles at her. "Thanks."

"See you around, Nick!" she shouts, already walking backwards. She gives him a big wave, and then she's gone.

When Nick blinks, everything is gray again.

*

Yves's latest 'the one' stumbles across the living room in a half-buttoned polo shirt untucked in a wrinkled skirt, smudged makeup, and an awful bed hair.

Nick raises his mug to her from the kitchen. "'Sup."

"Hi," she says, smiling. Then she leaves the apartment just as the door opens, and Cassia steps inside with Orion in tow.

Nick grimaces. Cassia's head follows the blonde, fingers slacking in Orion's hand.

"Who was that?" he asks, blinking, looking ahead.

Cassia faces Nick. She's clenching her jaw. "Another one of your roommate's lovely guests. Nick's here."

"Ah." Orion scoffs, shaking his head with a smile, and he steps forward, pulling his girlfriend with him. "That's the fifth one this week. Hi, Nick."

"O," Nick greets back, narrowed eyes on the brunette.

"Fifth?" Cassia spits.

"What else do you expect from Yves?" Orion says, shrugging. He opens the door and tugs Cassia inside.

Once it's shut, Yves steps out and slumps down on the couch, feet kicking up on the table.

Nick sits next to him. "O and Cass just came in."

"I heard," Yves mutters nonchalantly. "And I'm going to tell him. I promise. So cut it out."

Nick raises an eyebrow and leans back. "I haven't said anything."

"You were going to be a nagging shithead again. It irritates the shit out of me. You wanna leave? I need a drink and a hit, and I'm not sticking around to hear them fuck."

So Nick shuts his mouth lest he become a nagging shithead again, and follows him to the nearest bar to their apartment. Yves orders for them both, and they clink their glasses together.

Nick's throat burns, but he finishes his shot.

He's glad Yves doesn't try to ask him about Kaia. He's silent, head heavy with thoughts, probably angry and hurt he's not the one who's with Cassia right now. That, or he's angry and hurt that he is feeling angry and hurt.

Either way, Nick doesn't push it anymore. That's Yves and Orion's shit to settle. If it comes down to a fight, he'll probably help Orion. He's blind. Yves has an advantage.

Nick blinks, and the drink in his hand turns gray.

"Fuck," he mutters, shutting his eyes closed, rubbing his fingers over his eyelids.

"Idiot," Yves mutters back before downing his shot. "Don't you like colors, Nick? I happen to like them. I happen to like that hideous green shirt you're wearing. Or those lights."

Nick clenches his jaw. So much for the quiet. "You have shit to worry about."

"I'm not going to be blind," Yves says. He's confident about it. Sure. "Because Cassia loves me."

Fucking asshole. "Fucking asshole," Nick says, and then he blinks again, and his hideous green shirt comes into view, and his drink is no longer cement.

Yves is right, though. Because the brunette comes bursting through the door in her heels, face red with anger and hair a mess. "You can't do that shit to punish me," Cassia snaps as soon as she reaches them at their booth, chest heaving, eyes throwing knives at Yves. "Why are you so cruel? Is it because I'm still with Orion?"

"You're only with Orion because you feel guilty," Yves drawls, staring at her, chin tipping up. "But you're never going to leave him."

Cassia's fingers ball into fists, and her face crumples. "I love him," she whispers.

"You love me, too."

"And you?" the brunette demands, stepping forward. "Do you love me?"

Yves stills, looks away to down his shot, and then stands. He steps closer to Cassia and says, "I said I want you. Not that I love you."

"So why am I not crying stars, Yves?" Cassia snaps, pushing a finger to his chest. "I've never cried stars all this time I've loved you. Stop being a fucking liar, the eyes will always tell."

"Why bother asking then?" Yves growls.

"I wanted to see if you were sincere," Cassia hisses, voice broken with rage, eyes welling with tears. "Guess not. I'm going to tell Orion because I want to be honest with him, but this shit? You and I? That's never going to happen anymore."

"Glad to know you've considered it, doll," Yves snaps, grabbing his jacket and phone from the table, and pushes past Cassia to leave.

Nick stares after his friend's retreating figure and sighs. "Asshole," he mumbles, throwing his head back to drink. Yves was his ride, and he just left him here.

Cassia lets out a frustrated noise and drops herself on the couch next to Nick, cramming in the space, and Nick scoots over, head lolling to the side. She grabs Nick's glass and downs his shot with her eyes closed, and then slams the glass on the table. "Fucking jerkface," Cassia curses, jaw tight.

Nick lets out a deep breath. "Need more?"

"Please," Cassia says, chest heaving and hands balled into fists.

Nick orders for them.

It's not long before Cassia's tipsy, head on her arm, lying down on the table, and it's not long before she starts crying.

Nick tries to avoid hanging out with people when they're crying because he doesn't know what the fuck to do or say in these kinds of situations. He has a thing called anxiety and that thing is in gears, moving in slow circles, going: do we pet her hair? Do we just order more shots? Do we offer to lie down on the table and cry as well? Where's the fucking guide book?

"You know," Cassia begins, voice soft and lazy, and her eyes are barely open. "It hurts sometimes. Loving Orion."

Nick blinks at her. "What?"

She blows out a heavy breath and sits up clumsily, resting her face on her closed fist, and mumbles, "I know it's selfish. I know it's selfish because I was the one who made him blind. But it's..." Cassia takes another deep breath and whispers, shutting her eyes, "...he can't tell me how he thinks I'm beautiful."

Nick grabs his glass and chugs his shot. Barely even notices the burn.

"It's so shallow," Cassia mutters, laughing. "It's so shallow, God, but I...I can't help but imagine what it's like if he could see me."

"Would you still love Yves if Orion wasn't blind?" Nick asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Cassia answers at once. "I don't know how it's possible to love two people at once, and I don't know why it's that fucking asshole of all people, his best friend," she spits with disgust, reaching for another glass. "I hate him."

"No you don't."

"I wish I did," she whispers, fingers shaking as she holds her glass. "I wish I did. Then maybe I wouldn't have to hurt Orion when I tell him."

Nick takes a deep breath, and finally asks, "Aren't you with O just because you feel guilty?"

Her lips turn up at the corners, but it's not a happy smile. "I don't know. In the beginning, I didn't know if I just...felt responsible he was hurting. Maybe I did. But then I loved him. And then now...yes. But also, I'm not sure. I don't know if the guilt has anything to do with it and I can't stop thinking about what it's like if he weren't blind." Cassia laughs. "That fucking sucks."

Nick doesn't want Kaia to know because of this. He doesn't want Kaia to stay with him because she feels guilty for making him cry stars, for making him blind—if it happens. Because she will. Kaia will.

And Nick would rather choose her not loving him at all than that.

That's a miserable life to live and to love.

"Cass," Kaia's voice says, and a jolt goes through Nick's body that he sits up, shocked, like he was electrocuted. Kaia's leaning over the booth, shaking her friend's shoulders, concern on her face. "Cass, hey. Let's get you home. Hey, Nick."

Nick sees the color of her shirt, jeans, shoes. Brown hair. Dark eyes. Pink lips. "Hi."

"She called me before she stormed in here," Kaia tells him with a small smile, and Nick feels his chest constrict. Fucking hell. "I have my car, will you help me get her in there?"

So they drag Cassia along the road and pray she doesn't throw up. Once curled up in the backseat, Nick is panting and sweating. "Thanks. I was actually just gonna call a cab and take her home, but this is safer. Glad she called you."

Kaia purses her lips, hand stilling at the top of her car door. "Is she okay? You know, with the whole...Orion and Yves thing."

Nick scratches the back of his ear and mutters, "I don't think so. Yves is kind of an asshole."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," says Kaia with a small chuckle, and she rolls her eyes. Then, she smiles at Nick and says, "Hop in. I'll give you a ride home after I drop Cass off at mine."

As is being crippled with over-apologizing and overthinking, Nick shakes his head and steps back. "No, it's fine, I can call a cab."

"You said it's safer for me to drive you home."

"For her," Nick corrects loudly, clearing his throat and rubbing the nape of his neck. "For Cassia."

Kaia raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're drunk, too. You think you're safe in a cab because you're a guy?"

Nick swallows thickly and opens the passenger door.

She grins and settles in the driver's seat, revving the engine. At the backseat, Cassia moans.

Nick looks out the window, palms sweating as he fists them in his jeans, because it's the first time he's been in a car with Kaia since they broke up. He refuses to look at her while she's driving, because then he'll remember how she would always reach her hand out to his, glance at him with the biggest grin on her face, lean over to kiss his cheek or lips when the light's red.

Nick and Kaia drag Cassia with great difficulty to her room, and Nick, tipsy as he is, tries very hard not to focus on the fact he's back in her apartment—the apartment she shared with her annoying roommate, where they cooked together and napped together and where Nick had to wait on the couch while she got ready for a party. He refuses to look around, because if he does, he'll remember where the baking soda is. He'll remember where the mug he used to use is. He'll remember that he was the one who bought those magnets in the fridge, and Kaia never took them out.

They dump their friend on her bed, and Kaia laughs breathlessly. "God, that was a workout."

Nick tries very hard not to look around in her room, but it's impossible not to see the frame of stars hanging above her bed.

He's frozen. That's his—that's his gift to her. Years ago.

And now it's hanging above her bed, shining brightly, and Nick remembers his fingers trembling while he drew those stars. Remembers the sun bleeding through the window when he was finally finished.

Kaia notices what he's looking at, and she asks quietly, "Sorry. Is it weird?"

No. It has Nick's stupid and ignorant heart reaching out with both hands.

"No," he says quietly. "No, I'm just—I'm just surprised."

"It was too beautiful for me to keep it hidden," Kaia says. "And you know I love stars. Not the ugly kind but—these ones. The ones you gave to me."

The ones he has for her now are excruciatingly painful.

"Whenever someone asks me where I got that," Kaia continues softly, rubbing her arm, meeting his eyes, "I tell them it's from my stupidly cute ex-boyfriend, and I laugh a little because you really loved me then, and then I get sad because sometimes, I miss that love."

What does that mean? What the fuck does it mean? Does she want his love back? She has it, goddamn it.

Kaia smiles at him. "You're my favorite story to tell, Nick. You used to be my favorite and my most painful story—but now, it doesn't hurt as much. I'm just happy we ended on good terms, and that we're friends."

Ah. That's what it means.

Nick's lips pull up at the corners. "Yeah. I am, too."

When Kaia drives him home, he thanks her, steps out of the car and waves, and goes inside the house that was once theirs.

And then he screams, and cries, and fills the bathroom floor with the ugly stars, and when he looks at the mirror, his eyes are gray.

He blinks, tearing out the flesh in his palms with his fingernails, and his eyes are back to brown again.

He's close. He's close to losing all color, and then he's close to losing all sight.