#emo hours

✧ a quiet night, a soft confession, and two people who stop running from each other

✧ genre: fluff, romance, slice of life, mutual pining

✧ word count: 705

✧ author's note: my first fic, hope you enjoy it ♡

✧ keep reading if you want to stay a while ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)

it starts with you pretending you’re not waiting for him.

you are—just a little. but you’re trying to act normal about it, scrolling your phone, sitting on the edge of your bed while the room glows softly in the evening light.

then your phone buzzes.

nicholas: i’m outside

your heart reacts faster than your brain does.

you don’t even fully process standing up before you’re moving to the door.

when you open it, he’s there—hands in his pockets, hair slightly messy from the wind, like he ran through the night just to get here a little faster. his eyes land on you and soften instantly, like you’re the only thing he was actually looking for.

“you didn’t have to come down,” he says, though he doesn’t move away.

“you literally said you were outside,” you reply.

he smiles at that—small, warm, like he’s trying not to show too much all at once.

“yeah,” he says. “i wanted to see you.”

there’s a pause. not awkward. just… full.

you step aside to let him in, but he doesn’t move right away. instead, he looks at you like he’s memorizing something he doesn’t want to forget.

“what?” you ask quietly.

“nothing,” he says, but it’s clearly not nothing.

he finally walks in, and the space feels different immediately—like the room got smaller in the best way.

you sit on the edge of your bed again, and he follows, sitting close enough that your shoulders almost touch. almost.

he glances at you. “you always sit like you’re ready to run away.”

“i do not.”

“you do,” he says, smiling. “like you’re scared of staying still too long.”

that hits closer than you expect.

you don’t answer right away.

nicholas shifts slightly, turning toward you more fully now. his voice lowers just a bit.

“you don’t have to run from me.”

your breath catches—quiet, subtle, but real.

you finally look at him properly, and he doesn’t look away. he never really does when it matters.

“i’m not running,” you say softly.

“good,” he replies. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

the words sit between you both like something warm settling in your chest.

a moment passes.

then his hand moves—slow, careful—until his fingers brush yours. not grabbing. just asking.

you let him.

and when he finally holds your hand properly, it feels like something that was always supposed to happen just… finally did.

he squeezes gently.

“you’re cold,” he murmurs, half-teasing.

“you’re distracting,” you reply.

that earns you a quiet laugh—soft, real, like it belongs only to this moment. and then, silence.

but somehow, the silence doesn’t feel empty.

it feels… safe.

like neither of you is in a hurry to break it.

nicholas doesn’t let go of your hand. not even when he shifts a little closer, shoulder brushing yours properly now. this time, he doesn’t pretend it’s an accident.

you notice how his thumb gently traces over your knuckles, slow and absentminded, like he’s memorizing the feeling without even realizing it.

“you’re really warm,” you say quietly, more to fill the space than anything.

he hums. “you said i was distracting.”

“you are.”

he smiles again, softer this time. “good.”

you glance at him. “good?”

“yeah,” he says simply. “means i’m doing something right.”

your heart stumbles at that, but you try not to show it.

outside, the world keeps moving. cars pass somewhere far away. a faint sound of wind slips through the window you forgot to fully close.

but in here, everything feels paused.

like this moment decided to stay a little longer too.

nicholas leans back slightly on one hand, still holding yours with the other. his gaze drifts over your face for a second longer than usual.

not intense.

just… honest.

“i like this,” he says quietly.

“this?”

“yeah,” he nods a little toward you, like it’s obvious. “you. here. like this.”

you don’t know what to say to that, so you just squeeze his hand a little tighter instead.

he notices immediately.

and his smile softens in a way that makes your chest feel too full.

“stay a little longer?” he asks, like it’s not a question he’s fully asking out loud.

you don’t answer right away.

I asked, What is morning? and you said,

When everyone who fucked with me is dead.

When everyone we loved has gone or fled,

That’s morning. Empty’s the same as clean.

Let’s put this first-draft dream of mine to bed.

In that appointed hour

I’ll turn down your sheets. I’ll kill the light,

Lie down beside you; die; and sleep the night.

This time will be the time we get it right:

Forgiveness not so hard, nor anger long;

Our graves will be less deep, our lies less true.

You held aloft the sword