the art of letting go

twelve - reminiscence

the art of reminiscence

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"I can't believe you're making me do this."

"Stop being so dramatic."

My top lip curled over as I hit Nico with a bewildered expression, "That's like telling a fish not to use their gills. Do you want me to die?"

Nico stayed quiet for a few moments for dramatic effect before a laugh bubbled out of his throat.

I shoved his shoulder as he headed into his apartment, "You're such an idiot."

"Go cry about it, Princess." He rebutted immediately, "Give me a few minutes?"

"Sure," I replied easily, as if I had any choice.

Nico's declaration of our friendship apparently meant that we required some time together as friends. The reasoning behind that decision lay with Brayden and his requirement for, and what he refers to as, 'friend dates'.

Not wanting to deal with Brayden's epic complaints, I'd said yes to Nico's suggestion when our newfound friendship was brought up during last week's Boxing Gym visit. Nico had won another fight to an amateur boxer and Brayden responded to their win by drinking a bottle of tequila and eating an entire lime.

Yeah, Brayden was never known for being anything but passionate.

The no-conflict arrangement meant that I was able to study Nico's apartment in a way that I was unable to last time I'd visited. Last time, I was more concerned with getting out than staying in.

Nico's apartment wasn't much different from my own, but it held a certain element to it that made it seem more like a home than just a place to live.

It wasn't too far away from his gym but my place was closer to NYU. Kareem insisted on getting me away from some of the rougher parts of New York City, and after spending most of my teenage years here, I wasn't complaining. Nico's place was in the nicer part of Brooklynn, so I knew Kareem wouldn't be phoning me shouting if he checked my location.

Photo frames littered the mantlepiece of the fireplace, surrounded by a few trophies that I recognized from all the old competitions. There were some new ones too.

The pictures on the fireplace were mainly of Coden, of different stages of his childhood. He was so adorable, and so young. It still seemed weird to me that when I left he was just this little bundle of joy and now he's a child. He can walk, and talk, and give his dad trouble that doesn't consist of crying and needing his diaper changed.

One specifically captured my eye. It was Nico with Coden in his arms. The baby was laughing and Nico was grinning down at him. It was a beautiful picture.

"I always forget how small he was." I said nostalgically.

"Four pounds, ten ounces." Nico murmured, resting his hand on the small of my back.

Instead of moving away like I usually would, I relaxed into the touch. Friends, I reminded myself. Just friends. "I still can't believe you thought wearing your hair like that was acceptable."

My eyes flickered back to the picture, where Nico's hair is completely a mess. He used to go for the whole 'just got out of bed look' because he thought it made him look younger. Nico just chuckled, shaking his head dramatically so his current, unknotted curls shook with him.

"Blame Bray, it was his idea."

"No one ever told you that you should take responsibility for your own actions?" I commented with a raised brow.