Willan
The Rusty Nail is a small cafe in the unofficial vampire district of Osneau, close to Bloody Temptations. Dingy, dirty and lit in the brightest, most offensive fluorescent lighting, it manages to shock away the last of the light sleeping brew I took to get some sleep.
It was one hundred percent necessary.
I got Nikolo’s message in the middle of a lesson for a group of fae looking to expand their magical skills. It’s a class we rarely ran before, but since the lost city of Tathys hit the news, we’ve been completely overrun with beings looking to expand their skills.
On the one hand, it’s been exhausting, and all our instructors have been working to maximum capacity, not only to facilitate the expanded class range but to extend our own learning and find out all we can about the city and their advanced magic.
On the other hand, it’s been a great way to distract myself from checking my phone every thirty seconds ever since earlier in the week when Egbert said he’d give my number to Nikolo.
He must’ve sent the message when he first woke up, but by the time I got out of class and replied, I was still left with hours of anxiety before we were due to catch up.
The sleeping brew barely took the edge off my worries, and they managed to creep into my dreams, leaving me with stressful dreams I can’t quite remember anything of. Except the lingering feelings of dread.
Not that I dread meeting Nikolo. But it’s not exactly like he was receptive to anything I had to say before, and I’m not sure I’m up for any more of his cutting looks or dismissive barbs like at Hearts Gate. Especially not this early in the morning.
As I find a seat, my palms begin to sweat. All of the many, many speeches I’ve prepared since I first discovered he was here in Osneau have disappeared from my brain. I’m tongue tied, and he’s not even here yet.
It’s three forty-five in the morning, and I’m dying, so when the waitress comes by and asks what I’m after—giving me a lingering look because I’m really out of place here—I go with a can of energy drink.
It’s a month expired and flat, but it still looks better than whatever's going on with their coffee pot. Plus, the place has a vague smell of too fresh meat, which, along with everything I’ve touched so far being just a little bit sticky, going with something bottled feels like the safest choice.
It’s really hard not to think the choice of location is a message. And not a great one. It does nothing to ease the anxiety clawing at my belly.
By four thirteen I’m about ready to call it a morning and head home with my tail between my legs, maybe get started on some sort of charm box to lock all these feelings inside of (as only the most healthy magically gifted would do).
But then… in strolls Nikolo, carefree as you please, baggy black jeans slung low on his hips, studded belt gleaming in the lights.
His top has been cropped to flash the strip of tattooed skin at his waist, and there’s two birds on his shirt, over either pec, and the words “nice tits” printed between them.
Because it’s nearly freezing out, he’s wearing a coat, too.
An incredibly ostentatious teal fur thing.
I think it’s real fur, too, though I’m not sure what incredible creature it’s come from.
He looks around, like I don’t stick out like a glowing beacon of ‘doesn’t belong’ before greeting me with an up nod of his head. His boots must have chains on them because they rattle with each step.
“Hey.” He doesn’t really look at me as he sits down, making a big fuss about taking off his coat and laying it on the back of his chair. Noticing his arrival, the waitress comes to take his order right away. She’s roughly seventy-five percent nicer to him than she was to me.
While he gets himself settled and his blood ordered, I drink in the sight of him. It’s obvious he’s nervous, too. I mean, on the outside he’s projecting nonchalant chill, but it’s forced, too rigid to be as relaxed as he’s acting.
And it feels familiar from years and years ago.
He and my brother were in trouble over some dumb thing they got up to—honestly, it happened so often it was hard to keep track in the end.
And as usual, Nikolo was being reamed by the adults while my brother got off with a minor rebuke.
The whole time Nikolo had sat there with the most forced bored look on his face.
The parents were ropeable by the end and they had to send him to time out in my brother's room so they could calm down.
I snuck away to spy on him to make sure he was okay. The door was locked, so I went outside to peek through the window. He didn’t begin to cry until he was safely stuffed under my brother's bed. I don’t think he ever knew that I heard him.
Our parents weren’t terrible. Not individually.
My brother, well. My brother's gifts are what make him a great leader for our clan. They’ve helped him rise quickly through the ranks of the council.
They are also what made him an absolute shitberg of a child, and the worst kind of asshole as a teenager.
It was his idea to sell the weapons our clan forges on the black market. It was his contacts. It was his plan. Like always, Nikolo was just along for the ride. And because he had all the makings of a clan leader, even at that age, Nikolo took the fall.
Publicly, at least.
At home, my brother went through hell and back with our parents.
And my grandfather. He was second to the Mazheri clan leader, and my brother's reputation tarnished his. Losing both Nikolo and our grandfather’s respect is what finally broke my brother.
He agreed to bear all his punishments and commit to restitution to the clan.
And to his credit, he grew and learned and changed for the better.
But if I have to hear one more being tell me how the bad times helped him grow, I’m going to throw myself into the fires of Riordinan.
Because Nikolo was the sacrifice for my brother's great lesson. And no one—not a single damned member of the clan—acknowledges that.
I may not know this new adult Nikolo, but I still know him, who he was years ago. If I really look, I can still see the same little boy who’d stare down the elders as they berated him for my brother’s misdeeds while he tried desperately to hold himself together long enough to get somewhere safe.
The realisation is like a punch to the gut. I never want to be yet another clan member who makes him feel that way. Even if it means never speaking to him again after today.
Inhaling deeply, I try to settle my racing heart—that energy drink was a terrible idea—and meet his eyes. “Thanks for meeting with me. I know… I know it was selfish of me. But I really wanted to see you. To talk. Properly.”
Months of daydreaming, coming up with the perfect speech, and that’s what I come up with? Thank fuck the waitress shows up to deliver his blood, cutting off my rambling.
At least I earn myself a smirk from Nikolo, one that he tries to hide behind his bottle as he takes a sip, but it loosens the knot inside my belly and I can feel the tension in my shoulders slowly unwind.
“It’s fine.” He takes another sip of his blood, then I’m treated to the view of his tongue coming out to swipe at his lips, leaving a glossy red streak behind. “What did you need to say?”
Say? With words? Coherent ones? I think that might be beyond me now. I stare, fascinated, at his lips for another second while I try to gather something intelligent to say.
“I’m sorry.” Well. I guess that’s a start.
Nikolo shakes his head, resting the bottle on the table but clasping it in two hands like a lifeline, making the tendons on his tattooed forearms flex. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Huffing a sigh, I barely manage to refrain from rolling my eyes. “Yes. I do. For a lot of things, actually. Starting with when you left. I should have—”
Nikolo raises a hand in a ‘stop’ motion, cutting me off. “Should have done what, exactly? Told off the elder? Your family? Cut them off? Beat up your brother? Staged an intervention? There was nothing you could have done, Willan. You were just a kid.”
I scoff loudly this time, actually rolling my eyes. “Oh please, you and Aleksi were always acting like I was a baby. I’m a year younger than you.”
“Not really anymore, though, right?” He waves a hand towards his blood and flashes his fangs at me. I can see the diversion tactic for what it is.
“So what, just ‘cause you’re all fangy the days don’t turn for you? You always thought you were the centre of the universe.”
“Hardly!” Nikolo laughs through his denial, and my heart squeezes. Laughter definitely wasn’t what I expected for this meeting.
“It’s true! You and Aleksi both always competed for centre square. No one else could get a look in with you two around.” Though in my eyes there was never any competition. Nikolo was always the winner.
At the mention of my brother, the burgeoning light in Nikolo’s eyes dims.
“Yeah, well, your brother sure won that race, didn’t he?” He says it offhandedly, like it’s a casual thing, instead of absolute bullshit.
“So I guess you heard?” May as well just leap right in, while the wound’s open, right? “About Aleksi?”
“That he got his shit together after I left? Made it all the way to the council? Yeah, I heard.”
“He felt really bad.” I don’t know why I keep going.
Especially in defence of Aleksi of all the beings in the world.
Maybe to selfishly alleviate some guilt?
Or maybe because after all these years I’m still angry at my brother, and I’ve never been allowed to voice it out loud, and I feel guilty about that, too.
“After a time, that is. After you left, he got his shit together and—”
“I know.” Nikolo cuts off. Not harshly, not like I deserve.
But without any emotion. And I hate that more.
“Willan, I know. I know everything that happened after I left. I even know how your grandfather was devastated when he learnt his favoured grandson acted like a scumbag. I know he felt guilty about how it all went down. I know he was concerned I turned out of resentment. I talked to him before he passed on. I still talk to my parents. We’re not close, but we’re in touch.
And Egbert, too. He’s been here for me whenever I've needed him.”
“Oh.” So many feelings. One tiny syllable.
It makes me the worst, most selfish kind of asshole, but it hurts—hurts more than I ever could have thought it would—that Nikolo, Nikolo who has always meant everything to me, Nikolo who I thought I’d lost was always just there. That he’d maintained some kind of connection with everyone important.
Everyone, just not me.
I go to take another sip of my drink, but the can’s empty, and there’s no way I’m asking for another one.
“I did… I did try to stand up for you.” My voice is barely above a whisper. I feel a little pathetic. “I tried. But no one listened.”
Nikolo leans forward, his elbows braced wide on the table. “Of course they didn’t. I didn’t expect you to defend me, Willan. Like I said, you were just a kid.”
Jaw set, I raise my eyes from where they are staring a hole in the table to meet his. “A year, Nikolo. You’re one year older than me. If I was a kid, you were, too.”
Pain slashes through Nikolo’s eyes, and I almost regret my words. What I regret more is that there is no way for me to comfort him. Despite my hand desperately itching to reach out and grab his, to reassure him, I don’t. I’m too scared he’ll snatch his hand away and reject me again.
“That may be so, but it doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done.”
“And so that’s it? We just…” I don’t know what I’m trying to say.
Neither does Nikolo, with the way he cocks his head.
I try again, but it gets worse before it gets better.
“So… so what do we do? About us? Finn and Kai. Our friends are together. We will see each other inevitably. I don’t want it to be awkward when we do. ”
“Okay.” Nikolo leans back. Even though he’s giving me nothing, I hate the distance.
“I think it would be cool if we were, you know, friends again. Or something.”
Nikolo's lips round over his teeth like he’s trying really hard to stop himself from smiling.
“I’ve got friends, Willanator.” He busts out the annoying nickname from back in the day, and I want to just evaporate into the ether.
“Fine, fuck you. Whatever. I—”
“Friends sounds good.” He cuts me off, actually smiling this time, and it’s blinding.
My heart races, and my stomach swoops as a shiver skitters over my skin. Nikolo’s nostrils flare almost imperceptibly, and I can’t be sure, but I swear he can sense it all happening to me. Because of him.
“Okay. I kind of thought it would be harder than that… So, no more shit like at Hearts Gate?” I ask, trying not to wince.
Nikolo doesn’t hold his back. “No. No more shit like that. And because it’s the fucking night for it.” He grimaces, wiping a hand wearily over his face. “I’m sorry. I was… going through some shit. I was rude. It wasn’t fair.”
Even though he’s kind of right, I shake my head. “No. It’s fine. I ambushed you. And ignored your boundaries.”
Nikolo’s eyes drag over me, his fangs digging into his lip. If it were anyone else, I’d think they were checking me out. But Nikolo just exudes sex; it’s probably unconscious.
“Why don’t we agree we’re both sorry, and draw a line in the sand? It’s done. It’s over. I just… I just want to move forward, you know?”
“Okay.” I nod and I’m rewarded with another smile. “But does that mean that I can ask about the past, or is that off limits now? Because I can’t lie, I’m dying to know everything you got up to between then and now.”
Nikolo chuckles, easing back in his chair so far it forces his legs to stretch out until his boot taps mine and our ankles are resting against one another. He probably doesn’t notice through the layers of leather and fabric.
“Nah, happy to share. What do you want to know?”
Everything feels like too much of an ask. I wasn’t kidding that I’m dying to know every little detail of his life. I’m ravenous for all the pieces of him that I missed of the man I spent my childhood believing was my future.
“Where’d you go first? And where did you meet your maker? And how? Did you travel? Where did you go?”