#02st

The villa is quiet when he checks in on them. Takeaway bags litter the table along with half-empty alcohol bottles, the scent of vodka and food grease warmed by the morning sun as Nico opens a window to let some fresh air in. A lack of shouting and broken objects is welcomed gladly by him, but there’s an uneasiness that lingers within the walls. Unable to leave the mess as it is, he tidies for the sake of his own peace of mind, throwing away cold fries and crumpled wrappers, gathering lipstick-smudged glasses in the sink. Painkillers, a vitamin pill, two bananas, and a cooked breakfast have done well to soothe his hangover, but he chases a lack of sleep away by boiling the kettle and helping himself to the coffee in the cupboard, leaning against the kitchen counter with his lashes pressed closed for a brief moment of rest.

He hears her before he sees her. The third-to-the-bottom step on the staircase creaks, ever-in-tune with his surroundings despite the fog that clouds his brain. Nico opens his eyes, looking towards the figure now stood in the doorway. His pulse stop-starts, memories from the night before sweeping over him like a flood. “Hey.” The gentleness in his tone comes out hoarse, the word more air than sound. He studies Summer, the stretch of linoleum between them too far and too close all at once. He keeps his following question tactically vague. “How are you feeling after last night?”