*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—chapter sixteen: i've got my eye on you

IT'S STARTING TO GET A BIT WARMER AS SPRING COMES. The sun is beginning to set below the horizon, casting a warm glow over everything and causing the sky to be painted in hues of pink, purple, and orange. Poe is standing on the balcony, looking out over the harbor, staring at the boats as he runs his fingers over the cover on his journal. A pen is tucked behind his ear and every so often he picks it up and chews on the end of the pen, a habit that started quite recently and Nico and Lewis have teased him about it multiple times.

From inside the apartment, Nico has just exited the bathroom, dressed is a simple white T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, his hair still damp from a shower he's just taken. He leans against the doorframe for the doors leading out to the balcony, a fond smile on his face as he watches Poe take a seat on one of the lounge chairs. Watching him is enough to make Nico feel peace.

"What are you working on?" the blond questions, accidentally startling the brunet, whose journal falls from his hands and lands on the floor. "You've been out here for hours."

"Extra credit project for creative writing. It's not due until we get back from spring break. I thought it best to get it over and done with as soon as I could," Poe says with a sigh as he picks his journal up from off of the floor. "Well, I'm trying to write. But someone keeps distracting me," he clarifies, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, really?" Nico smirks, crossing the threshold to join him on the balcony. "And who, exactly, might that be?"

"You," Poe says simply, his tone teasing but his eyes warm as he gazes up at Nico. He sets his notebook and pen down on the coffee table and grabs Nico's hand, pulling him closer and into the seat beside him. "You're impossible to ignore, Rosberg."

Nico lets out a laugh, the kind that is quiet but full of joy. He wraps an arm around Poe's waist, brushing back a stray strand of his dark hair. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not," Poe admits, his voice softening. "It's just... inconvenient when I'm trying to focus on my work, you know."

Nico tilts his head, pretending to think. Poe's seen that look before, the feigning of concentration. "It could be that the problem isn't me. Maybe it's that you're writing about, what is it, local politics again? That's not exactly very exciting. Politics are boring."

Poe rolls his eyes but isn't able to suppress his smile. "Not exactly. But not everyone gets to race cars for a living, Nico. Some of us have to deal with the real world."

"Hey, driving's not exactly a walk in the park," Nico defends, a small frown on his face, though his tone is light. "You try taking Eau Rouge flat-out and tell me it's easier than writing about how governments operate."

"Touché," Poe says with a laugh. He leans into Nico, resting his head against his shoulder.

They stay like this for a while, the sounds of the city below fading into the background. The world always feels smaller up here, quieter, as if it belongs only to them.

"Do you ever think about when we were kids?" Poe asks after a moment, his voice almost wistful. "Back when I thought I'd end up as some world-renowned novelist or something and you were convinced you'd be the next Michael Schumacher?"

"Of course," Nico answers, his hand tracing lazy circles on Poe's back. "You used to make me read your stories all the time. If I remember correctly, half of those stories were stuff from your weird dreams you'd have the night before. I think one of them was about a detective who solved crimes using a magical typewriter."

"Don't remind me," Poe groans, burying his face in Nico's chest. "What was your excuse for that awful haircut you had?"

Nico gasps in mock offense, pouting. "It was not awful! I just... I didn't know how to do my hair. I'll have you know that haircut was very fashionable in 1998."

"I'm sure it was. For a boy band member, maybe," Poe teases, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Not for a future Formula 1 driver."

Nico chuckles, pressing a kiss to Poe's forehead. "All right. I'll take that for now, let it slide. You've got a good memory, McKenna."

"I remember everything about you," Poe says, his voice soft but steady. "Always have. I'm basically your other half, quite literally and figuratively."

The words hang between them, not heavy but significant. Nico's smile softens, and he brings a hand up to cup Poe's cheek and caress it. "I hope you always will."

Poe leans into his touch, his eyes fluttering shut. "How could I forget the man who made me believe in impossible things?"

They kiss then, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes time feel like it had stopped. When they finally pull apart, Nico rests his forehead against Poe's, their breaths mingling.

"I love you," Nico says, his voice barely above a whisper. It isn't the first time he's said it, but it always feels like the first time—raw and full of meaning.

"Je t'aime aussi," Poe replies, his words steady. He means it when he says it. Always.

✧ ✧ ✧

The following day is Poe's nineteenth birthday.

The café in Monaco is buzzing with life—an eclectic mix of locals and tourists filling the air with laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint sound of street performers nearby. It's the perfect place for a low-key celebration, and exactly what Poe had wanted for his birthday.

Well, almost perfect.

"Okay," Lewis says, leaning back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. "I'm just gonna say it: this is the most boring birthday party I've ever been to. Where's the chaos? Where's the cake fight? Where's the—"

"Don't even think about it," Nico interrupts, narrowing his eyes at Lewis from across the table. He's sitting next to Poe, one leg crossed over the other in that effortlessly casual way that somehow still makes him look like he belongs in a fashion magazine. "If you ruin his birthday with one of your 'chaos missions,' I'm not helping you clean up the mess. Again. This happens every year, Lew."

Poe, who's sitting between the two of them, can't help but laugh. "Lewis, don't listen to him. I think Nico's just scared you'll outshine him."

"Outshine me?" Nico repeats, feigning offense. "Excuse me, but I'm the one who planned this entire evening. I even got you that fancy dessert you like—the, uh..." He snaps his fingers, searching for the name. "What's it called again?"

"Pavlova," Poe answers, smiling fondly.

"Right, pavlova!" Nico says triumphantly. "See? Thoughtful fiancé points right here."

Lewis snorts, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, you're a regular knight in shining armor. But, you forgot one crucial thing."

"And what's that?" Nico questions, a brow raised.

"A party isn't a party without a little fun." Lewis smirks, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And lucky for you, I'm here to save the day."

"Lewis," Nico warns, but it was too late.

Before either of them can stop him, Lewis reaches behind his chair and pulls out a small, brightly wrapped gift box. He slides it across the table to Poe. "For the birthday boy," he says, grinning.

Poe blinks, surprised. "You didn't have to get me anything," he says, though the smile tugging at his lips betrays how touched he is.

"Of course I did," Lewis replies. "You only turn nineteen once. And you're one of my bestest friends. Besides, I'm not gonna let Nico here hog all the credit for being the perfect fiancé."

Nico rolls his eyes, but there's no real annoyance in the gesture. "Fine, but if it's something ridiculous, I'm not taking responsibility."

"Relax," Lewis dismisses, waving a hand. "It's nothing crazy. Open it, Poe."

Poe carefully unties the ribbon and peels back the wrapping paper, revealing a sleek black notebook with his initials embossed in gold on the cover. He runs his fingers over the smooth leather, his eyes lighting up.

"It's beautiful," he says softly. "Thank you, Lewis."

Lewis shrugs, but there's a hint of pride in his smile. "Figured you could use it for some more personal projects of yours. Or you could use it for all those fancy-schmancy articles you're gonna write when you're a big-time journalist."

Poe can feel his heart swell at the thoughtfulness of the gift. "I love it," he says. "Really, thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get all sappy on me," Lewis says, though his grin only widens. "Now, can we finally order the cake? I'm starving."

"You already had two whole appetizers," Nico points out.

"And? I'm a growing boy," Lewis shoots back, patting his stomach, which earns a laugh from Poe.

It's only about half an hour or so, after the boys have spent the rest of the evening eating, laughing, and trading stories—Lewis recounting his latest antics on the karting circuit, Nico teasing him mercilessly, and Poe soaking it all in with the quiet warmth of someone who knew he was exactly where he was meant to be—when the waiter arrives with the pavlova. It has a few candles perched on top.

By now, Poe's cheeks are sore from smiling so much. He closes his eyes. I don't want this to end. This friendship, any of this. It's perfect, and I don't know what I'd do without either of them. Once his wish is made, he blows out the candles as Lewis and Nico cheer.

"What'd you wish for?" Lewis asks, leaning forward eagerly.

Poe smirks. "Nice try."

"Oh, come on," Lewis groans. "Not even a hint?"

"Nope," Poe says, popping a piece of meringue into his mouth. "But I will say this: it's already shaping up to be the best birthday yet."

Nico reaches for Poe's hand under the table, intertwining their fingers. "Good," he says softly. "You deserve it."

Noticing the moment, Lewis groans loudly. "You two are so gross. I'm never third-wheeling again."

"Sure you won't," Nico teases. "You'd miss us too much."

"Maybe," Lewis admits with a grin. "But don't push it, Rosberg."

The trio bursts into a fit of laughter soon after. Lewis is doubled over, his face going red, face hurting. Poe has a hand over his mouth as he tries desperately not to laugh any more than he already is. Nico is struggling to stifle his laugh, a snort interrupting his silence and now he's in a giggling fit.

For Poe, being surrounded by the two people who matter the most to him, this is the most perfect birthday he's ever had, and he wouldn't wish for anything different.

author's note
fluff for the next few chapters.
be prepared for the angst that
will come soon

12.22.24