Mal nodded. “You’re a storm chaser.”
Nico barked out another laugh and Mal saw fireworks. “What?”
He shrugged again. “You’re an adrenaline junkie. The kind of person who runs towards danger instead of away. Youlikethe danger.”
Nico stared at him for a long moment, considering. “Yeah, maybe.”
Mal nodded, letting the silence creep in once more, focused on the odd cadence of their echoing footsteps. Nico tended to scuff his shoe every second or third step, and soon, the pattern of it became a beat in Mal’s head, something he could dance to.
“We used to come down here to get high and play laser tag,” Nico said suddenly, answering a question Mal hadn’t asked.
“Oh,” he said, uncertain of the appropriate answer.
When the silence dragged on once more, Nico began to fill it, words spilling into the confined space like sand. “Do you like horror movies? I love them. Likelovelove them. Even the bad ones.Especiallythe bad ones. There’s something so fucking intense about being scared. Like, you’re probably right about me being an adrenaline junkie ‘cause I think I’m addicted to that feeling, you know? My favorite isHereditary.Oh, and probablyDawn of the Dead, too, but maybe that’s just ‘cause I would happily live in a shopping mall forever. Picking off zombies from a rooftop would only be a bonus.The Conjuringis another favorite and like, yeah, I know it’s kind of cliché, but it’s my comfort horror movie, you know?”
He turned those bright blue eyes on Mal, anticipation lighting his face. How could he stay quiet with his future husband looking at him so expectantly? He really meant to say something normal, to tell Nico his favorite horror movie—Rosemary’s Baby—but what came out was, “Did you knowin Alfred Hitchcock’sPsycho, they used chocolate syrup for blood?”
Nico slow-blinked at him once. Twice. A pit formed in Mal’s stomach. Was this what it felt like to care about disappointing someone? He hated it.
Nico scrunched his pert little nose once more, and Mal decided then and there that he would let the other boy stomp all over his heart wearing six-inch heels if he asked. “Gross. Probably better than corn syrup, though. So…sticky.”
Mal nodded, grimacing. “Yeah. I hate being sticky.”
“Mm,” Nico agreed. “Me too. Did you knowThe Exorcistset was haunted?Poltergeisttoo. I have this really cool documentary about it if you want to watch it with me. I like documentaries, true crime and movie stuff, mostly. The others won’t watch them with me be?—”
“I will,” Mal blurted. Nico’s eyes went wide so Mal kept going. “I’ll watch them with you. Any of them. I-I like documentaries, too. Mostly nature stuff and stuff about aliens.”
Nico gripped his arm, excitement leaching into his voice. “You like alien stuff, too?Ancient Aliensis one of my favorite shows.”
“Mine too,” he said, once more too quick with his answer.
Nico looked at him like he was made of cellophane, like he could look right inside his chest and see how far gone on him he was already.
But Nico was a benevolent god, taking pity on Mal, ignoring his obvious crush to ask, “Do you like anime? Please tell me you like anime and not just the bloody stuff likeDemon Slayerbut the soft stuff like Studio Ghibli. I’m dying for someone who will watchPrincess Mononokewith me when I’m sad.”
Mal’s chest tightened, nostrils flaring. Who made Nico sad? Nico should never be sad. He had Mal now. He would make it his life’s mission to ensure Nico was never sad ever again. He’ddie first. He’d kill, slaughter millions, make a castle out of their bones if it meant he got to spend his life watching him scrunch his nose so cutely. But, again, he would never say something that insane out loud.
He just had to say something normal. He could do that.
I love Studio Ghibli.
“Sometimes, I watch those cake smash videos and imagine someone getting impaled on one of the dowels they use to hold up the layers.”
His chest caved in on itself. Why was his brain like this?
Nico stared at him, then began to giggle. “You’re so weird.”
Oh, good, Nico knew already. Mal sighed, relieved. Hewasweird. No point in denying it. “Yeah.”
“That’s a good thing,” Nico promised, squeezing Mal’s hand.
Mal’s lids fluttered as he tried to memorize the feel of Nico’s hand touching his. “Oh, okay. Thanks.”
“You don’t smile much, huh?” Nico said.
Mal smiled reflexively, like Nico had pulled a cord on his back.
Nico gasped, hand going to his mouth.
