Nico practically skipped down the sidewalk as they walked to the market, excitedly chatting about his newly acquired red bean buns and moon cakes, quieting only long enough to take a bite of the egg tart in his hand. Hissecondegg tart.
“You’re going to be so sick later,” Mal admonished, trying—and failing—to scowl at the boy.
“How dare you,” Nico said around a huge mouthful.
Mal snorted. “You always eat too much right before school, then text me about how your stomach hurts all through class.”
Nico stuck his tongue out, making a face at him. “That’s not the food, it’s the learning. Knowledge impairs my digestion.”
He stuffed the rest of the tart into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. Mal rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the smile playing at his lips. It was impossible to lecture Nico when he looked so cute. When Mal didn’t say anything more, Nico turned to walk backwards for a few steps, studying his expression, as if making sure he wasn’t angry. When he seemed satisfied, he spun to face forward once more, then fell into step beside him. A memory hit Mal then—the two of them walking through the tunnels together on the day they met.
Whenever Mal mentioned Nico’s cute side—the shy, silly boy who preferred to be babied and cared for—the other boys all looked at him like he was crazy. They would exchange knowing glances, like they wanted to tease him but were too afraid he might snap. Shiloh and Levi were the only ones who were brave enough to finally explain that Nico didn’t act like that in front of anyone else…just Mal. That he acted like that to get his way.
They’d said it like they were worried, like Mal might snap or be angry, holding it against Nico for ‘using him.’ But Mal wasn’t mad. He was happy Nico trusted only him to care for him in that way. Nico was smart. He had the survival instincts of a streetkid. For all intents and purposes, hewasa street kid. He’d had a mother and a roof over his head, but she’d spent her days sleeping and her nights doing sex work.
Nico rarely talked about it, but, over time, Mal had gleaned certain details. From the time he was a toddler, Nico’s mother had trekked dozens of strange men into their home, leaving him in their care while she worked. Some were okay. Others had neglected him horribly, abusing him mentally, physically, sexually, and emotionally.
Each time, his mother would make excuses, only breaking up with the man when they finally wrongedherin some way, never mind what they’d done to her baby. Mal was convinced that Nico’s gratitude towards his mother had nothing to do with love and everything to do with her finally ending the parade of losers she’d brought into his life.
Did Nico manipulate Mal to get what he desired? Sure. Did Mal let him? Yes. Nico liked to show off how whipped Mal was for him. But it was hardly breaking news.
Their friend group knew Mal was just as bad as Nico. Hell, he was worse. While it was news to Nico that Mal had been quietly controlling his life, the others had seen it very clearly. Nico was his. Only his. And woe betide the creature who tried to take him from him. Luckily for them, nobody within their group had any interest in Nico. It clearly showed a lack of brain cells on their part as far as Mal was concerned.
Mal had admitted to Levi and Shiloh that Nico could do whatever he wanted to him. Levi had told Mal that he was an idiot and a simp and that the two of them deserved each other. Mal didn’t deserve Nico, but he’d take him. Hell, he’d already taken him. Nico was his. The boy might be manipulating Mal, but Mal had used it to his advantage, slowly taking over Nico’s life so he could finally have some peace.
Thatwas why they were made for each other.
He just had to convince Nico of that.
“What are you thinking about?” Nico finally asked, expression concerned.
“What?” Mal said reflexively, waiting for his brain to catch up. “Oh, nothing. Just that we don’t know where Casey’s mom’s stall is.”
“We could ask Annie?” Nico said.
Mal frowned. “Annie?”
“The little old lady who sells Felix the silk.”
They found the stall after a few wrong turns. Nico recognized the woman immediately. She stood behind the table and was barely five feet tall but sturdy. She wore all black and had thick framed glasses on, her deep chestnut hair cut in a severe chin-length bob that made her look a little like a cartoon character.
Her shrewd gaze had Nico shrinking away from her.
“Who are you?” she said by way of greeting, her words chopped, like she didn’t have time to draw them out. Before they could answer, she narrowed her eyes, expression hostile and tone accusatory. “You look familiar.”
When Nico refused to speak, Mal sighed. “Yes, ma’am. We’ve been here before with our friend, Felix. He buys fabric from you often.”
“Oh, yes. The pretty, rich boy with the glossy hair and blemish-free skin.” She glowered at Mal. “You’re pretty, too. You didn’t look like this”—she gestured to Mal’s…everything—“when you were here last. I would remember.”
Nico bit back a smile, watching the two interact.
Mal just shrugged. “I like to mix it up.”
She gave a curt nod. “My grandson, too. Silk and lace, frilly things. You’re all too pretty for boys. How are the girls going to find husbands when boys look like this?” she chastised.
Nico grinned. “The boys we like aren’t looking for girls.”
She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Why are you here? Clearly, you’re not in fashion.”
