Do You Think Hes In Love With You?

Do you think he’s in love with you?

can you tell me what’s going on? no. yesterday your father called me. i see you don’t have any problem calling each other when it’s about my business.

wait for it, i promise it’s worth it

what are we gonna do? i don’t know, i’d like to leave. leave where? did you ever see wes anderson’s bar? no. where is it? in milan.

Nico likens a BPD episode to standing in a room with nothing but grey fog to keep you company. You can see bits and pieces of real life passing you by, but it’s distorted somehow, unlcear and blurred around the edges. 

Coming down from an episode is much the same; it’s like seeing a light in the fog and following it, running towards it; running towards clarity and understanding and the peace of mind that had been lacking in the days before.

Coming down from this BPD episode is everything like that, and absolutely nothing like it.

“Nico,” he hears and he opens his eyes, flinching against the fluorescent light of the hotel room. “Nico?”

His voice is rough, hoarse when he responds, “Mom?”

His mother takes a breath and she bends down to kiss his head. Nico accepts it warily. Nothing looked familiar, and he hadn’t seen this haggard look on his mother’s face in– 

Nico sits up, “What’s…” What’s going on, he thinks, but something is missing. Someone is missing and his brain is still trapped in the fog, floating and unsure, but if he tries and tries to pull at the red string, he thinks he can figure it out. So he tugs at the tether in his mind whispering just you and me.

He sees flashes first in slowmotion; big brown eyes and slow grins, holding hands on the train and kissing cheeks. Then the memories speed up somehow, like his body is working overtime to catch him up again with the rest of the normal world. He sees flashes of rooftop and red, red lights and tanned skin and he hears the gentle sighs and moans of the boy who had been with him. He sees Japanese food and brown hair spread across pillows and- 

“Marti,” Nico whispers and sits up even more, shrugging away at his mother’s fretting hands. He tracks the length of the room. His mother, in front of him, his father sitting on the couch watching him with dark eyes. Maddelena, standing at the door but not daring meet his eyes. There’s someone missing though. Marti is missing and all Nico can feel in the moment is how imperative that he be here, “Where is Marti?”

His mother holds out a hand and gestures for Maddelena, who follows without hesitation. She brushes some hair behind her ears, “I imagine he’s on the train back to Rome.”

And that doesn’t make sense, because Marti should be here, next to him, the way he’s been all week. The way he should be for the rest of their lives. “In Rome? But… he left?”

His mother flinches; and whether it’s at the lost words or the heartbroken tone of a boy who’s realizing that he’s just lost something intrinsically important, he doesn’t know. She smooths down his curls, “Maddelena told him to.”

Nico turns his gaze on his ex-girlfriend, “Why would you do that?”

She doesn’t responds, so his mother takes over once again, “Because he’s not good for you, Nico. He’s– look where we are. He’s triggered something and the doctors say we should stay away from triggers.”

He bats violently at the hands still coddling him. She flinches and sits back. Nico takes a breath, and then another, to try and staunch the flood of terror, “Did he- was he okay? Can I talk to him? What did you say to him, Maddelena?”

She tilts her chin up, but her eyes are still guarded, “Nothing that wasn’t true.”

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Nico repeats slowly. “You… he made me happy. For the first time in so long, I was happy. He wasn’t a trigger, Mama, he was the only thing holding me together.” And a dawning realization slithers through his veins like ice. “He’s never going to speak to me again. He’s– you made him leave before I could explain. Everyone leaves him and you just- you made me like them.”

“Nico,” his father speaks up, “We can talk about this later. We just need to focus on getting you back to Rome.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Nico says and lays back down, staring up at the ceiling. Just you and me, he thinks again and shuts his eyes to drown out the tears.