We Were Strangers| Completed

part 27

As I sat in my last class of the day, I was ready to leave and go home. I looked forward to jumping into bed and napping my evening away today. It was one of the few days I didn't have to work after school. I only had an hour and a half before I could do so.

As students trickled in, I sipped my water and looked at the seat next to me, thinking about Nico. I hadn't seen him since more than a week ago, that night at the restaurant. So, when he walked into class five minutes late, I was taken aback.

He walked to the far end of the classroom to his seat, and I watched from the corner of my eye as he made a face and stretched out his left arm as he removed his backpack and set it down on the floor before scooting into the chair. Ms. Harold mentioned having the entire period to catch up on missed work, so once we were excused to do so, the classroom became loud from partners conversing with one another. Nico and I remained silent.

I was completely caught up and decided to check my phone. I searched my backpack for my headphones, only to realize I had left my earbuds at home. I sighed as I realized I had an entire period to do nothing.

I could have easily just read the show's captions, but the experience would not have been as enjoyable. So, I fought against it, setting my phone aside and scribbling words on the desk, quickly erasing them as the teacher walked around every so often to make sure we were on task. 

I looked to my side after hearing a hiss and saw Nico clenching his jaw and rubbing his arm.

Angry with him, I decided not to bother talking to him.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. Growing curious, I turned fully to look at him and asked, "What's with your arm?" My question caught him by surprise as he snapped his eyes onto me, his sea-blue eyes widening.

"Why are you talking to me?" he asked, tilting his head and pressing his lips together.

"I thought you hated me." I gave him a half-smile. Hate?

"I could never hate you." Even if I tried, I'd fail. His brow furrowed in response to my words.

"Or anyone else for that matter," I added, making sure he didn't feel so special about himself. I could barely deal with his inflated ego as it was.

He nodded and averted his gaze. After a few minutes, my mind went crazy from not having my headphones with me, and I began bothering Nico. "Don't you have a soccer match on Friday?"

"Yeah."

"How are you going to play with a bad arm?"

"I play with my feet, not my arms." He was being so rude.

I paused at the audacity, rolled my eyes, and turned away from him. What a jerk. Maybe hating him wasn't going to be so difficult after all.

***

I awoke to the sound of my phone vibrating near my nightstand. When I looked down at the time, it was now midnight. I had fallen asleep, tired from the night. Now that everyone had gone to bed, the house was quiet and calm.

Hearing a buzz, I squinted and looked at the incoming call. I had to do a double take when I read Nico's name.

I accepted his call by pressing the green button and placing the phone to my ear.

" Hello?"

"Hello Mila, it's just the p—-."His voice was slurred, slow, and mostly inaudible.

"Nico?" "Are you drunk?"

He responded with a hum "mmhmm."

I sighed. "Where are you?"

 "At your doorstep. Should I knock?" I quickly said no before leaping out of bed and slowly descending the stairs to the foyer and the front door.

Hearing a voice from behind, I peered through the peephole to make sure it was him. When I saw him, I opened the door.

Looking at his calm face, I noticed his eyes were red and irritated, and I could smell alcohol on him. Trailing my eyes down his body, I saw his hand in his pocket and a stain of blood on his white sleeve.

"Is that blood?" When I asked, he raised an eyebrow before pulling his left hand back, revealing his bare hand covered in dried-up blood and small cuts. 

"Wait...what happened?" I examined his hand; the bleeding had mostly stopped, but it needed to be cleaned.

"A bottle," he admitted. I took a deep breath and sighed before pulling him in and placing a finger over my lips to signal him to be quiet. I made a point of walking quietly up the stairs after locking the front door. I stopped near the hallway bathroom and turned on the light before telling him to follow me. He didn't budge or fight me on anything; he just listened and leaned on the sink.

I turned on the faucet and let his hand wash off the remaining dry blood as I searched the cabinets for alcohol and a bandage. I turned off the water and grabbed a rag, submerging it in a small amount of alcohol.

"This is going to sting a bit," I warned him before patting and disinfecting his cuts.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, which faded after a while.

After rinsing the rag, I set it aside and unwrapped the bandages before applying them to his cuts. After applying three bandages, I rinsed my hands with soap in warm water and dried them.

"Much better," I told him as I walked out of the bathroom.He then turned off the lights on his way out and followed me into my room.

He made it to my bed without saying anything and sat down to examine his now-bandaged hand.

I kicked my shoes to the side of the room, taking care of small details like grabbing my clothes from earlier and placing them in my hamper.

When I returned to look at him, Nico was still staring at his hand.

"I wish we could just get away from our problems," he finally said.

"What was that?" I couldn't make out his jumbled words.

"I wish my mother was still alive; she'd know how to solve any problem." I finally understood what he was saying the second time. I was still left with more questions than ever. What did his mother have to do with anything?

"It was never like this, Enzo, and I—" As his eyes welled up with tears, I stopped him by raising my hand. I was used to seeing him as stoic, so seeing him soften and become vulnerable caught me off guard. I felt like I was seeing something I wasn't supposed to see.

"Shhh, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"I should go," he finally said, struggling to stand on his own without grabbing the nightstand and knocking over my water bottle.

"Sit," I told him before I picked up my water bottle and set it back.

I didn't want to kick him out, especially in his condition, but I considered calling Enzo and asking if he could help.

"Do you want me to call Enzo?" He groaned and shook his head.

He reached forward and said, "I don't want to see him," before grabbing the remote and turning on the television

."Ok." As I stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do, he changed the channel.

I became tired, and he noticed as he looked over at me before patting my bed and telling me to sit down. I sat down as he instructed, and we sat side by side, flicking through the television channels before deciding on a horror movie. I hated horror films, but if they got his mind off things, then so be it.

After about 40 minutes of watching the movie, I leaned over onto the bed, stretching my legs and letting my head rest on a pillow as I slowly drifted off to sleep. Screams could be heard coming from the television as Nico pushed himself to the end of the film.

He must have failed because the smell of his cologne and the sound of his faint snores close to me were the last things I remembered before falling asleep.