hi im so sorry for this late update i was so swamped with college work ;-;

happy late valentine's day! ((im still single it's been 21 years wbu guys))

also, im so sorry for this chapter's ending

*

Nick Peterson hates that, all his college life, up until senior year, there was an "and Kaia" stuck to his name.

Nick and Kaia. Hey, where's Nick and Kaia? Hey, Nick, where's Kaia? Hey, Kaia, where's Nick? Nick and Kaia just went out to get some drinks. Nick and Kaia are so cute together. Nick and Kaia broke up?

Just as he's sitting down, getting coffee with some friends (yes, he has friends besides Orion and Yves and Cassia...because of Kaia), West says, "Sup, Nick. Where's Kaia?"

It has been the universal question since they broke up last summer. Their mutual friends will come by Mo's and ask him that, too.

And every time, Nick has to smile and say, "I don't know."

Yasmin hits him. West furrows his eyebrows. "Oh, you guys are attached to the hip, though, so I thought she was coming."

And every time, Nick has to smile and say, "We broke up."

West's eyes widen. "Oh, shit, really?"

"Sorry, Nick," Yasmin says, smiling sheepishly. "He's...he's out of the loop. Rumors in college don't work like rumors in high school."

"It's fine," Nick mutters, brushing it off. He scrapes back a seat and plops his bag down.

West leans forward and looks at his face. "I'm so sorry, dude. I didn't know, I thought it wasn't true."

"Don't worry about it." Nick takes his wallet and juts out a thumb to the counter. "I'll go get some coffee, you guys want anything else?"

And Nick hates that there's not a spot in his campus, in his apartment, in Mo's, in his car, or in that damn bookstore down the street, that's been marked by Kaia.

He's standing here, in the middle of the gazebo behind Goshawk Hall, and he can see himself—his younger, stupid, hopelessly in love self—on that bench next to the pole with the vines, leaning against it, camera up on his face, an ignorant smile, glow to his eyes. Next to that fool is another fool—younger, beautiful, lover. His lover.

Nick's fingers twitch unconsciously where they rest on the camera slung around his shoulder. He still hasn't deleted those pictures. All of them. It's stored in a hard drive back in his apartment, but if you scroll past some lazy, halfhearted photos he managed to take once he could get his hands to stop shaking, Kaia's face will be smiling back at him, and Nick will—he'll remember what she looks like when she was as hopeless as he was.

He tears his eyes away from the bench where they used to sit and settles on the bench opposite, back facing his past. If every spot's been marked by Kaia, then he'll just have to get over it until he can stop picturing them behind his eyelids.

Nick takes out his laptop, his notes, and a bottled coffee, and gets to work.

*

This is Nick without "and Kaia":

"Pens down, hands up," the professor demands, just as the timer goes off.

Breathing out heavily, Nick puts it down and raises his hands, rolling his neck and shoulders. From across the room, Yves looks at him, and Nick knows that look. It says fuck, that was so hard. I'm getting a perfect score, though. You wanna get wasted tonight?

Nick hates it. He hates that this douche is fucking...he's smarter than him, and he won't ever admit it, but Yves knows it, Nick knows it, everyone in this damn class knows it, and it pisses him off.

The class starts shuffling out in a sea of voices as they exit, handing in their quiz paper on the way. Yves catches Nick when he slings his bag over his shoulder and ruffles his hair. "Hey. What do you say we—"

"No. I have a thesis consultation, a therapy session, and I promised O I was going with him to his support group thingy."

Yves pouts at this, and they pass their papers on the way out the door. "Why didn't he ask me?"

"Because his girlfriend was into you, dumbass," Nick deadpans, stretching his arms, and then his feet stumble over each other, catching Kaia outside the classroom.

Nick feels his mouth about to smile, his heart about to leap, and his face about to brighten—until he remembers Kaia isn't here to pick him up so they can go get burgers before his shift at Mo's, so they can go to the arcade at the shopping center along Sixth Avenue.

"Hey," Kaia says in a small voice, waving. She smiles at him hesitantly, holding her books to her chest.

Nick did that. Kaia doesn't do anything out of hesitation—doesn't say anything in a small voice.

She did things never half. Never almost.

"Hi," Nick greets back, giving her the most genuine smile he can muster to make up for his fucking outburst at Mo's.

She seems to relax, shaking off her nerves, and her grin widens.

She's wearing one of her huge gray band shirts with the sleeves rolled up—she has an entire closet of that—and ripped jeans and her white Converse sneakers, and black leather bracelets cover her wrist. Her dark curls fall over her face and shoulders, and the way she looks right now—she looks exactly like the "and Kaia" stuck to his name, the one marking the places he's stepped foot in. Nick barely holds her gaze for another second before he looks away, focusing on the hallway behind her.

"Kaia," Yves says, smiling charmingly. "'Sup?"

"Ah, I'm just waiting for someone," she says, nodding, pointing to the door. Then, raising an eyebrow, she asks, "You staying out of trouble, Yves?"

Even as Nick's stomach drops at the mention of her picking up someone else, Nick notices that her voice takes the same teasing tone she always used on the brunet.

Yves notices this, too. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, slinging an arm around Nick's neck, making him grunt in surprise. "Nick's been keeping me on my toes, but we should hang soon. There's no reason for us not to be friends, you know?"

Nick almost socks him with his fist, but Kaia's face lights up. "Yeah, for sure. Let's make it work."

"Great," Yves chirps, leading Nick away. "We'll see you around, doll."

Nick waves once, already ducking his head, brushing past her. "See you."

"You too," she says cheerily, rocking on her feet.

As soon as they're out of earshot, Nick hisses, "'There's no reason for us to be friends'? Our breakup isn't reason enough?"

"You said it's been five months and you keep insisting you're fine, you're not getting the Disease," he answers, shrugging. He's smiling, the fucker. "And, bro. You gotta admit. Kaia's cool, she's sweet. I really do miss hanging out with her, and you can't tell me you don't."

He's right, he can't.

But it's so fucking awkward—when they do find the time to make it work with their mutual friends, they sit opposite each other, far away, avoiding each other's gazes. Sometimes, Kaia would look at him, all polite and tight-lipped smiles, and Nick remembers, she used to be so relaxed and carefree around him, falling into his body when she laughs, stroking her thumb along the back of his hand. Nick would look away, sip his coffee, and rub his palm along the fabric of his jeans until it remembers that it's not going to feel her hand on his again.

Now, there's just—calculated, careful spaces between them, their words thought-out so carefully before they speak it into the air, and Nick ignores the sinking feeling in his chest and the light punch to his stomach every time Kaia falls onto the body next to her when she laughs.

It gets easier, though. Looks are longer, words are more impetuous, smiles are more...more Nick and more Kaia. Ah. Sorry. More Nick. More Kaia.

This is Nick without "and Kaia":

"I'm going to need that on the fly," Nick says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

Ricky, Mo's chef, gives him a deadly look. "You forgot about their order?"

"I'm sorry!" Nick squeaks, rubbing his hands together. "They just followed up and I forgot to drop it by the kitchen...I love you, I'm sorry, next dinner is on me."

Next to him, Gail snickers.

"Deal," Ricky says gruffly, rolling his eyes, but his mouth twitches.

Nick grins, knowing he's off the hook, and he turns around to wait on the rest of his section, heart stopping just—just a little bit when he sees the back of Kaia's head, settling into her usual booth, sliding her knapsack across the sofa.

She's been stopping by more frequently after their 'hangouts' with their mutual friends, getting back into routine, not a big deal that they used to date each other. And it's not, so Nick shakes it off, heads to her table, and smiles. "Hey. Getting a head start on finals already?"

Her eyes smile, then her lips do. "Hi, Nick. Yeah, I'm just getting a bite to eat and then I'm spending the night at the Java House, in the library, or—just, anywhere without my roommate." She laughs a bit at that, and then her breath catches, face falling. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Didn't mean to remind me that you moved back in with your annoying roommate? No worries," he says, biting his lip and grinning. "Hope that goes well for you."

She relaxes, exhaling heavily, and chuckles again, propping her face onto her palm. "Thanks, dude. It means nothing, but you know, thanks."

It makes Nick laugh. "Can I get you, uh, some hot chocolate? Or just juice or something else...?"

"Actually, I'm feeling a vanilla milkshake," she says, smiling, and without looking at the menu, she adds, "And can I have the chicken pot pie, some cheese fries, Coleslaw, and the bacon, mushroom, Swiss burger?"

Nick keeps his grin. "Coming right up."

He watches her wolf everything down while she studies the notes open on the table. Nick sees himself—the younger, the stupider, hopeless—sitting across her, stealing from her fries, quizzing her on her notes, sharing the milkshake, laughing, wiping the sauce from her lips. When he blinks, he's gone.

Kaia cleans up her table, packing her stuff. She stands, finishes the last of the milkshake, moving the straw around the glass, and leaves a huge tip.

Nick's serving a table when she heads out the door, and he catches her eye, jutting her thumb out. She mouths, "See you!", grins, and leaves.

Nick gives her retreating back a wave.

This is Nick without "and Kaia":

Skipping across stones, swallowing down his coffee, rushing to his class. Taking the shortcut by himself, waving at her when they cross paths. Smiling.

Shitty car breaking down in the middle of the road, on the way home from his film project shooting, calling his friends—except they don't know jackshit about cars, making them useless, and his finger scrolls down his contact list to letter K.

"Hi! Kaia! It's, uh, it's Nick. Peterson. If you remember me. Yeah, I'm so sorry to bother you," he breathes, rubbing the nape of his neck. "But, uh, my car just...it died? In the middle of the fuckin' road? And I'm stressed, but I pulled over and switched on the hazard lights, and I popped the hood and I remember you telling me the engine is going to be hot, so I didn't, um, touch it, and now, I have—I have no idea what to do, I'm so sorry to bother you. If you're busy, that's fine, I'll call the police—"

"Nick," Kaia's voice says, and it's calm, not angry. Patient, a bit worried. "Hi. Where are you?"

Nick tells her, pacing.

"Okay," she mutters, and Nick hears shuffling from the other line, and Nick fucking—he just hates himself right now, what kind of idiot doesn't know what to do when his shitty car dies? "You're not too far, I'll get to you in twenty minutes. Your car can have a simple problem, but it's old—no offense—and I need to check a bunch of things to make sure it's safe. Please stay where you are, send your location to me. Don't panic, I'm coming."

Nick is close to pulling out his hair. "I am so sorry, Kaia, I'll make it up to you—"

"I know what you're doing, and I am telling you to stop it right now," she says sternly. "Stop hitting your head with your hand, you'll hurt yourself, and stop beating yourself up for calling when you need help. You know what you'd do before?"

Nick swallows. "What?"

"Before, you'd leave your car, walk home, die in the middle of the street before you can gather the guts and the courage to call someone for help. I'm happy you called me, Nick, okay?" she assures him softly, and Nick's entire body shakes. "I'm coming, don't worry. Send your location."

Kaia arrives in less than twenty minutes, making Nick exhale in relief once he sees her Benz pull up, and she jumps out of it, ponytail swinging, in gym shorts and a huge shirt—his shirt.

Nick freezes, and Kaia comes close with a gentle smile. "Hey. I'm just gonna check the battery terminals, the fuse box, spark plugs," she rattles off, stepping around him to inspect the hood.

Somewhere, down in his stomach, he finds his voice. "Were you, uh, at lacrosse practice?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah, we just finished when you called," she tells him with a smile, glancing at him briefly, hands in his hood. "I'm sorry, I know it's your shirt, but it was the first I got to grab this morning while I was rushing, it got mixed up in my stuff. I'll return it after I wash and iron it, is that okay?"

"No, it's—"

Fine. Nick was about to say it's fine, but it's not—it's not normal to keep your ex's shirt, and looking at Kaia—all he can see is her putting that shirt on after spending the night and the morning together, putting that shirt on after they get out of the shower, putting that shirt on hurriedly when they get unexpected visitors, and laughing and groaning at the same time because they got interrupted, and her pressing a promise to his lips to continue later when they're gone.

He takes a deep breath and says, "Yeah, no worries. Thank you, return it whenever. And, um, thank you for coming all the way here, I'm so sorry again."

"Apologize one more time, Nick, and I'll smack you," she warns, eyes twinkling. And then she gets to work, and Nick sees her and him in his car, driving with the windows rolled down.

And this is Nick without "and Kaia":

Buying one ticket to the new Spider-man movie. One, not two. Orion offered, just to keep him company, but he won't see a thing and Nick just—he likes talking about it afterwards, gushing about it, and Orion won't know what the fuck he's talking about because he'll just fall asleep, seeing nothing. Yves offered, but everyone knows he gets bored at the movies, and he'll start—throwing popcorn at people and ducking when they turn around annoyed, and Nick is going to be embarrassed sitting next to him and he'll pretend he doesn't know him, and Nick just wants a good time, not to be a babysitter. Cassia offered, out of kindness and some sort of pity, but Nick knows she was supposed to meet her friends out for drinks, and he can handle watching Spider-man alone.

He just sort of freezes in place, after buying his popcorn and drink, because Kaia's here, in line, buying tickets, and she's with one of her lacrosse teammates, Jordan Hill.

Nick knows him because they fought about him, too.

He ducks and enters the cinema as quickly as he can, drink shaking in his hand.

From where he's seated, he sees the back of Kaia's and Jordan's heads, and they're sharing popcorn, and it's—it's shitty enough to have his attention divided, unfocused, and he—he waited so long for this movie, and he and Kaia talked about seeing it together, and he's supposed to be watching it but he can't, he can't—he's watching her and Jordan, he's watching her put her head on his shoulder, and he remembers she used to do that to him, too.

If he stares at the back of Jordan's head long enough, he'll see himself.

Nick goes to Orion's and Yves's apartment. They ask him how the movie went.

Nick says, "It was good."

How is this fair? How is it fair that, when he starts being Nick without Kaia, he sees her and she pulls him back like a fucking rubber band, like poison, like a man starved of water? How is it fair that she can look at him without seeing themselves six months ago, a year ago, two years ago, three and a half years ago, and feel nothing—nothing, while Nick's here, grappling to get free from all the claws she left on his body?

And he supposes it's not her fault. Their breakup was mutual—they fought over the same things over and over again, there were more tears than smiles, and it was exhausting to fight and to love and they couldn't do it anymore.\

At least, they both believed they couldn't.

She appears at his door, holding Nick's shirt in her hands, and she gives him a smile and says, "Hey. Sorry, did I bother you?"

She rang the doorbell. Nick was studying for his finals, and the doorbell rang, and it—it's the first time she ever rang the doorbell, and she's standing here outside. It feels wrong. It feels wrong that Nick's inside, and she's outside—just one step away from the door of the apartment they shared.

And she's returning his shirt.

His blood runs cold, and in the sudden tightness of his chest, Nick remembers she asked him a question. "Yeah. I mean, no, sorry, no," he rushes to say, coughing, leaning against the doorframe, staring at her ear. Did she get a new piercing? Was that there before they broke up or after? It's funny how there's only two time ranges when it comes to Kaia: before or after—and he thinks she got it after. The last he'd known her, she had three piercings, and now she has four, and Nick wasn't there for the change. "No, you did not bother me," he repeats firmly and clearly, taking a deep breath.

Her smile grows slowly wider. "Okay," she laughs, and she reaches her hand out, his shirt folded neatly on her palm. "Here's your shirt, I washed and ironed it already. Sorry about getting it mixed up in my clothes."

"It's okay," Nick says quietly, accepting it. Their fingers don't touch, and the fabric feels cold in his skin. "Thank you for giving it back. And for washing and ironing it, even though I said it's not necessary."

Kaia shrugs. "Didn't think you wanted perspiration and the sweet smell of lacrosse soaking through it, so."

Nick's mouth curves, and he looks down at his feet. "Right, right. Thank you." There's silence for about two seconds, and Nick feels her eyes on his face, so he scratches the back of his ear and mutters, "Uh, I was just studying for my final exams, but, um, if you wanna come in and have a bite...I, uh, I have some macaroni. I think. If it's not expired. Maybe cup noodles. Or, you know, pizza. Just order in."

Kaia's smile is kind. It's—it's always kind. "I'm actually working on my final presentation, too. Just found the time to drop this off today, and I'm picking up Karson from the airport."

Her older sister. Right, she's returning for the holidays.

And Nick knows she's not lying. She's not making excuses to get out of entering the apartment, spaces that used to be hers, too. She's not that cruel, and she doesn't love him anymore. It wouldn't have been a big deal if she were free, but she's not, and Nick doesn't know why his chest isn't expanding in relief. "Say hi to her for me," Nick manages to say. "And good luck on your finals, I know you'll ace it."

"You'll ace yours, too," she says, grinning. "No doubt. You're a genius, but don't forget to eat, too, okay? Make sure your macaroni isn't expired. Actually digest something. It'll help your mind."

Nick nods. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks."

"Ah." She shuffles around for her knapsack, zipping it open. Her hair falls over her shoulder, and Nick's arm raises again. Before Kaia sees it, he clenches his fist and puts it back down, gritting his teeth. "Right, before I go, I wanted to give this back to you, too. I found it in my things and I just...I guess I forgot, sorry."

Nick can hear his slowing pulse in his ears when Kaia pulls out a dangling chain with a single, silver key.

"I wore it under my shirt after I moved in, remember?" she murmurs, lips turning up, fingers curling around the key. "I was afraid to lose it."

Yes. Nick remembers. She used to wear this around her neck, above her heart, under her shirt.

"Here." She gives it to him, and their hands don't touch again, and the coldness of its metal shocks his skin, but he doesn't move.

Nick doesn't know how she leaves, or what she says to him next, or what he says to her. He finds himself in the middle of his bedroom, seated on his bed, his key in his hand.

His, his, his, his. Used to be their room, their bed, her key.

Loving Kaia feels like being in this room. Filled with her things beside and around his things; her tattered textbook on the desk, index cards with her presentation notes all over the floor, her yellow and black flannel jacket hung over the chair, closet filled with her big band shirts. There's a spot of blood from when it seeped through her shorts on the white sheets that never came out no matter how many times they washed it, and they smell like fresh laundry but the spot will be there, and the bed is soft. It feels like fighting over the single working socket near the bedside table, and one side of the pillow is cold and the other is warm, and they have indentations the exact size of their heads.

Kaia digs her claws deeper into his skin, past his bones, curls around his tissues, punctures his heart, lungs, organs, consumes his body whole. Like poison.

Nick closes his eyes.

When he opens them, stars fall down his cheeks.