Nick Peterson is twenty-two today.

"Happy fucking birthday," Yves says through his speaker phone. "Dinner and drinks on you tonight!"

"Happy fucking birthday, Nicky!" Orion shouts, and Nick winces from the loudness of his voice, turning over on his bed. "Guess what we got you this year."

Nick doesn't want to know. Whatever his best friends get him, he doesn't want it near him. Ever.

They thought they were hilarious when they gave him a birthday thong last year. They thought they were fucking clowns when they gave him a ten live geckos the year before that. And they thought they were fucking comedians when they gave him a nose shower gel dispenser their freshman year—that Kaia wanted to use. So they did, and then Kaia took it with her when she left their apartment.

Why couldn't Orion and Yves just be normal and give him...bread loaf slippers? Comic books, for fuck's sake.  A Kid Flash plush toy.

"No," he answers groggily, mouth dry, eyes still closed. In the dark, he sees little electric sparks, like the branding iron's still there.

He fell asleep on the bathroom floor last night, stars all over the tiles. When he woke up early morning, he had no voice, his face and neck had red, painful scratch marks, and he could still see.

Blink once, color. Blink again, gray. Again and again and again.

"Guess, guess, guess," Yves chants annoyingly. "Guess, guess, guess, guess—"

"A fucking Pornhub shirt, I don't know," Nick snaps, kicking his legs on the mattress.

"That's a great idea, actually," Orion muses. "But nope. We got you a date!"

"No," Nick says.

Yves is smiling. "She's your type."

Nick grits his teeth and fists the mattress. "I don't have a type."

"Tall, leggy, brunette," Yves singsongs. "Dark eyes, curly hair, round face, outgoing, friendly, pretty—"

"Stop describing Kaia," Nick snaps, snatching his phone on the bed. "And fuck off. I'm going to sleep."

"Be ready by twelve for lunch!" Orion shouts. "Don't keep her waiting—she'll be at Larkin's! Her name is Billie Vinsant and don't dress like a hobo, understand me?"

"We need to keep your eyes, Nicholas!" Yves shouts as well.

"Fuck off," Nick says again, and shuts his phone off, running a hand through his face and burying it on his pillow.

He screams into it and kicks the mattress childishly.

He's not going. Yves and Orion can go fuck themselves.

*

He's going.

Hi! Is this Nick? :) It's Billie Vinsant, I'm on my way to Larkin's! So excited to meet you :)

Nick finds the least appalling shirt and jacket he has, the cleanest jeans in his closet, and his mud-caked shoes that haven't been scrubbed in a year. He looks at himself in the mirror—a television screen from the 50s, really, because he doesn't know what color he's fucking wearing—pushes his glasses up his nose, and tells his octopus, "I'm going to kill my friends," he tells its blue, angry face.

Nick has never been on a date since that disastrous first one with Kaia, and even then, he screwed up. Didn't look at her, didn't talk to her, counted the hairs on her eyebrow. He was a fucking wall, and Kaia still, by some miracle, happened to like him after that.

Billie will be walking away after ten—no, five minutes with him.

Whatever. Fucking hell. He's resigned to his fate of going blind forever, but. Lunch first, he guesses.

When gets to Larkin's with his palms sweating, he looks around, phone in hand, muttering a silent pep talk to himself.

"Nick!" a girly voice calls from behind him, and he turns around, watching Billie get up from her booth near the window with a bright smile. "Hey. It's Billie."

"Nick," he says stupidly, holding out his hand when she holds out hers. Her smile widens to a grin. "Fuck, sorry, you knew that. You—you called my name," he mumbles, looking at his feet and clearing his throat. He squeezes her hand once and lets go, because he's fucking sweating and that's...God, that's embarrassing. "Yeah. Hi."

"Hello," she says again with a chuckle, rocking on her heels. "You're really cute in person."

Does that mean he looks horrible in pictures? He scrunches his nose and looks at her ear. "Thanks. You, uh, you too."

He gives her face a glance. Billie is tall with long legs and curly hair framing her round face, with a crooked front tooth and freckles on her skin. Nick has no idea what color her eyes are, or her hair, or the shade of red on her lips—she's just wearing a sundress with a jean jacket and sneakers with doodles on them.

"You wanna sit so we can order?" Billie asks him cheerfully, jutting her thumb towards the booth.

Nick doesn't want to sit or order. Frankly, he doesn't even want to be here—but he's not an asshole. He's a loser and he's fucking weird, but he's not a bad guy, point blank. He can't even lie.

And even though his skin is itching and his brain is telling him to run for the hills, because it's been almost four years since his last first date, and Billie is the first girl since Kaia...he follows after her and sits down, and mumbles that he'll have a SWOT analysis meeting with himself after this so he better do his fucking best and not count the hairs on her eyebrow. Ah, and that they need to discuss if they're murdering Orion and Yves.

*

They're murdering Orion and Yves, and then they're scheduling an urgent appointment with their therapist later today because they need to figure out what the fuck is wrong with his brain.

Billie: "It's your birthday, right? Happy birthday! I was told I was your gift this year."

Nick: "I hate gifts, actually."

Billie: "You smell good, Nick."

Nick: "Thanks. I use both nostrils."

"And she opened the car door for me so we can get coffee," Nick mutters, still with his eyes shut, and his entire body cringes and he leans further down on the driver's seat, face and skin flaming hot. "But I panicked and slammed it shut. Then I told her goodbye and ran away."

Both his friends (for now) are quiet.

"Fuck you both, then, thanks a lot," Nick snaps angrily, slams his thumb down the call button and tosses his phone on the passenger seat.

He leans forward and bangs his head on the steering wheel, making distressed noises.

Why, for one goddamn second, did he think he could do this? He can't. He's twenty-two fucking years old and he still can't hold a normal conversation with a member of the opposite sex that finds him the least bit attractive without being a freak because of his mental illness, and he can't look in their eyes for longer than ten seconds or he'll die.

It's a wonder how Kaia was able to put up with him long enough for him to be completely comfortable with her. But now she's gone. And that—that is Nick's fault, too.

"You can't do anything right," he hisses through his teeth, repeatedly slamming his head on the wheel, jaw clenching. Behind his eyelids, he sees tiny prickling sparks. And then he sees Kaia. "You made Kaia stop loving you, you. Fucking. Useless. Shit."

When he opens his eyes, Nick sees nothing.

He's seized with panic and terror, hands gripping the wheel as he blinks repeatedly.

Nick hears his own rapid breathing, like he's choking on his saliva and air.

Then his vision's back. Gray, but back, and it's a little blurry, but he can still see.

Nick slams back against his seat, shaking hands and breaths, eyes wide and open.

It was dark. It was dark and terrifying and oh, God. Nick is going to be blind.

The shrill ring of his phone makes his heart jump, and he scrambles for it, fingers still trembling, that he needs to hold the device with two hands. "H-hello?" His voice is quivering, too.

"Nicholas!" his mom greets, lively. "Happy birthday, sweetie!"

Nick's still catching his breath, and he swallows thickly before responding, "Hi, Mom. Thank you."

"I know you're dealing with finals so you're not coming home this weekend," Helene continues with a smile, "so I'm coming to you! I'm about forty-five minutes away and we can grab some food and catch up!"

Nick's heart drops. "You're coming here?" he whispers.

"Yes!" his mother answers cheerfully. "It's about time I visited. You said you were just staying home with Kaia, right? Let's go out!"

Oh, shit. Oh, shit, shit, shit.

This morning, his mother sent him a message. Happy birthday, my son! Plans for today? What did Kaia prepare this year? :D

Nick, half-asleep, answered: thanks mom. we're just gonna chill and stay home this time

Useless. Useless, useless, useless.

"I was thinking some shopping," Helene says. "I need to buy you a gift. A watch, maybe. Or a brand new pair of shoes. And then I want to get Kaia something, too, and then we can get dinner afterwards! How's that sound?"

"Great," Nick says. "We'll see you in a bit."

Once his mom is off the phone, he twists the key in the ignition and dials his ex-girlfriend. Later, he'll punch himself in the face for asking for another favor from her.

Kaia picks up. "Hey, Nick. Happy birthday—"

"Please don't hate me," Nick starts in a small voice, wincing. "But my mom is on the way to my apartment and she wants to take you and I shopping and then dinner afterwards and she'll know we broke up if she doesn't see your stuff in my house."

"So I need to pack a bag with some shirts, toiletries, shoes, books to scatter in your apartment and dress in pajamas, looking like I've been watching Spider-man with you since this morning," Kaia says. "And you're on the way to pick me up."

Nick exhales heavily. "Yes. I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay," Kaia tells him gently, and Nick can hear the smile in her voice. "It's okay, it's your mom, I get it. Drive safe, I'll see you in a bit."

As soon as Nick pulls up to her apartment, Kaia comes bounding outside in a huge shirt and gym shorts, hair up in a bun, and she's lugging her bulky lacrosse bag over her shoulder. Nick jumps out of the car and takes it, tossing it in the backseat, and Kaia gets in the passenger side without a word, only sending him a small smile.

When they're on the road again, Nick swallows and says, "Kaia, I'm so sorry, I didn't know she was—"

"Happy birthday," she cuts him off, and Nick glances at her to see her grinning at him. His heart stings. Kaia looks like she's been watching Spider-man with him all day. "Consider this my gift to you, Nick, so please stop apologizing."

Nick feels his face burn with humiliation. The final time he's ever going to spend with Kaia being able to see her, and it's to pretend in front of his mom.

"So, did anything special—red light! Nick, stop!"

He slams his foot down on the brake, and his eyes go to the stoplight. They're all—they're all gray.

When he looks at Kaia, she's all color. Charcoal hair, that's actually mahogany brown, fallen leaves brown, baked mud brown, bark of an oak tree brown under sunlight. Lips filled with 420 blushed red lipstick, honey skin.

Dark eyes wide and staring at him. "Nick," she breathes.

Nick looks away, back to the sheet of gray. "Sorry," he mumbles, shaking his head. "I was distracted. You were saying?"

Kaia pauses for a few moments, but she asks him anyway, and lets it go.

In his apartment, it's torturous seeing Kaia's things in his space again, in a space that used to be theirs. The blanket on the couch, the hoodies hanging over the desk chair...her wallet and notes on the desk, her shoes sitting in the cabinet, her toothbrush in the holder and her shaver in the cabinet.

Nick realizes too late that what he's asking her to do is too cruel. It's cruel. It's tearing him apart.

Her blazing touch on his skin. Her fingers in his, the adoration, unquestionable love in her voice. Her head on his shoulder, her lips on her cheek. Her eyes glinting with a once-happiness—back before they decided that their ending is good.

Their ending is agonizing. It's excruciating. And if he doesn't feel that enough in his heart—the Disease makes sure to make him feel it in his eyes.

When Helene leaves, Nick doesn't have time to hide.

His knees crumple and he slams on the ground of the living room once-theirs, the fire slowly creeping up his face as his nails dig into his skin. The branding iron is searing hot on his eyes, and he sees nothing beyond the tiny little sparks, and he screams.

There's a needle slowly piercing his eyeballs—no, not needle. Knife.

He heaves, scratching his face as the ugly stars continue their way down his face, each one as burning as the one before, and he doesn't know if what's loud is his screaming, or Kaia's crying.

And then his wrists are taken away from his face and Nick howls, throat parched and dry and aching, and eyes scorching hot.

He can't see. He can't see anything.

"You're going to hurt yourself, Nick!" Kaia shouts, tightening her grip on his wrists. Impossibly, Nick hears the shake in her voice. The terror, the horrifying realization that he's crying stars because of her.

"Oh, God, Nick," she gasps. Nick feels water, beyond the fire, hit his arm.

Water. Tears. Huh.

Must be nice.

*

Kaia is hugging her knees, curled against the end of the couch, when Nick opens his eyes.

The burn is gone, it's only the light pitter-patter, the numb throbbing he feels. There's no color, but he can still see.

His eyes hurt, and his throat, too.

"Don't talk," Kaia says, not looking at him. Her face is blank. "Drink water first, but don't try to talk. You've been screaming for hours."

Nick's bones still.

"And don't touch your face, you're bleeding," his ex-girlfriend adds quietly.

Nick sits up, hissing at the soreness of his body. He does as Kaia says.

Finally, finally—she turns to him, and says, "You should've told me."

Her eyes are blank, but they're red. There's an angry set to her jaw that only Nick recognizes.

"I didn't—" Nick gasps. His voice scratches against his throat. "I didn't want you to know," he croaks, clutching his neck with battered fingers. When he looks at his nails, they're all chipped and wounded, some with scabs of skin.

"You need to stop talking," Kaia says calmly. "And listen to me."

Nick nods once.

"I know you're already colorblind," she starts, "so there's nothing else we can do about that, but you still have your sight." Kaia takes a deep breath. "And you're not going to lose it. I'm not going to let you."

Nick was already shaking his head. "Kaia—"

"Shut up," Kaia says through her teeth. "I'm going to move back in, and we can—we can go on dates, talk, hold hands, kiss, watch Young Justice together—I can...I don't think it's hard to love you again, Nick. I can do this."

"No," Nick snaps, voice hoarse. Stumbling over the couch, he stands up with shaky legs and curls his fingers into his fist. He clenches his jaw and says, "No. Don't you—don't you dare love me out of guilt. You—you promised me you wouldn't...you promised me you fucking wouldn't, Kaia."

Kaia stands, too. "I can do this, Nick—"

Nick nearly shouts, "If you love me for any goddamn reason that's not love, it will kill me."

"If I don't do anything, that will kill me," Kaia argues loudly and firmly, and her voice shakes the walls once-theirs. Her eyes shine with tears, and her bottom lip trembles, and she takes one step forward closer to him. "You were so scared of this, Nick," she whispers, voice breaking. "You are scared. You don't want to be like Orion."

"And I don't want you to be like Cassia," Nick counters, chest heaving.

"Orion was already blind!" Kaia snaps. "You're not blind yet. It's not the same."

"You'll still be loving me because you don't want me to lose my sight because of you," Nick says. "And I would rather die than that."

"Fucking shut up!" Kaia pushes him suddenly, palms out, raging with anger. "I don't care if it's because of me, I don't want you to lose your sight—yourself—at all. We had a plan," she cries, breathless, wrecked. Tortured. "We had a plan, Nick. We said to move away if it happens! Why didn't you?"

"Because I love you," Nick says.

Kaia stares at him, and her jaw tightens. The hand at her side curls into a fist, and her fingers shake. "And that's worth breaking your mom's heart? After what happened to Robb? That's worth your pain, losing your sight forever, losing your memory?"

"Yes," Nick answers quietly. Honestly.

"And what if you die?" Kaia hisses. "You said you...people with the Disease—they're going to want to, and—"

"Ah." Nick sighs, eyes still locked with hers. "Well, to die with my heart in your hands, Kaia...that's a good way to go."

Kaia scoffs incredulously, and angrily wipes the tears from her flushed face. "You're not going to be blind. I won't allow it."

"That's not your decision."

"I can help, why won't you let me?"

"Because you don't love me anymore," Nick answers calmly, and Kaia freezes like she's been slapped. Her eyes are wide and big and oh, God. Nick has never seen this look in her eyes—not when they were fighting, not when they broke up.

It's the first time Kaia looks sad that what Nick said is true. The first time she looks desperate for it to be not.

"Because you stopped loving me, Kaia," Nick whispers, feeling his skin prickle, "after you said that you can't unlove a person after you've loved them with everything you had—but you did, you stopped loving me, and that's...that's not your fault." Nick shuts his eyes, mouth trembling, and says, "It was mine."

Kaia doesn't say anything, because she knows it's also true, they both do.

"You don't love me anymore," Nick says, softer this time, staring at her. "I feel it. Every time you had to touch or kiss me because we were pretending...even though it hurt so good to be touched and kissed by you again—you don't love me anymore, Kaia. And if I let you do this, if I let you love me again only because I'm becoming blind..." He takes a deep breath, and slowly, his hand inches upward, fingers shaking, to cup her cheek, and his thumb brushes the wet tear that falls on her skin. Nick whispers, "I will never forgive myself for it, and I will never forgive you for giving me less of what love I deserve."

Kaia cries, and it makes Nick smile.

If there's anything he's happy about, it's this: he kept his promise. He said he will never make Kaia cry stars.

(Kaia never promised the same to him.)

In this house once-theirs, Nick decides that this time—this ending is good.

*

Nick browses through the pictures he vowed to never open again.

They're all stored in a hard drive, buried beneath clutter and things in his drawer, and he shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath.

When he opens them, Kaia's face is smiling back at him.

"Ah," Nick whispers, stung, feeling Kaia's claws still deep in his skin, past his bones, curled around his tissues, puncturing his heart, lungs, organs, consuming his body whole. Like poison.

"This was what you looked like when you loved me," he whispers, committing her face to memory.

Because it'll be the last time he sees what Kaia looked like when she was as hopeless as he was. Is.

*

brb kinda crying