the art of letting go

seventeen - time *

the art of time

- - -

It took about five hours for Nico to turn up at my apartment.

I didn't even bother opening the door. Instead, I counted for five seconds in my head and then he slammed it open.

"Jesus Christ, can you at least attempt to not break it? And people have the audacity to call me impolite."

"Do you have any idea..." He gritted out between his teeth, "The shit you've done?"

This made any feigned amusement sober up constantly. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Nico-"

"She's threatening to move away! Take him away from me! Is this what you wanted? For me to never see my fuckin' son again? Is it?!" He demanded, somehow sounding more pained than angry despite his volume. "She's going to take him away from me!"

I stood up from where I was sitting on my couch, hands out. "Nico, I never intended for this to happen. I swear."

"And why the fuck should I believe a goddamn word you say?'

Not quite knowing what to say, I just shook my head. I should've walked away. I should've fucking walked away.

"Are you joking!" Nico snapped louder than I'd ever heard him shout. I didn't expect it, eyes wide as I jumped back on reflex. Without even thinking, I held my arms up in front of my face, curling my neck so I could duck away from the impact. My muscles tensed in anticipation that I didn't realize what I just did until I stopped to breathe. A part of me was shocked, appalled at myself even, because I'd not reacted like that to anything in years.

My mind was blank. I didn't get why I just did that. The last time I remembered flinching at a raised voice I was just a kid, scared shitless from one of Mom's boyfriends. But I'd never been scared of anyone other than one of them before, least of all Nico.

"Kezziah?" Nico said, confused. Every part of him diffused. His eyes kept moving back to my lowered hands, eyes squinting. "Why did you..? Why are you acting like I'm going to hit you?"

I cleared my throat, attempting to shake off this unsettled feeling coursing through me. "Fuck off, Nico."

I tried to add a bit of bite into my words but they just come out soft, weak.

"Did you think I was going to hit you?"

"No." I gritted out, swirling around to try and find my bag. I needed to get out of there.

"Kezz," He reached out and grabbed my wrist. I turned around with my fist tightened, ready to swing if he tried anything. As if sensing the apprehension in my eyes, he dropped his grip. "I wouldn't do that."

"I know."

"Then why did you..." He drifted off, gesturing to me.

"Drop it."

"Kezz-"

"Drop it." I snapped, scowling at him.

He didn't seem to get the memo. "Did someone hurt you? Kezz, I swear I'll fucki-"

"Fuck off!" I shouted back at his prying, biting the inside of my cheek in order to ward off the heaviness spiralling behind my eyes. I was not going to cry. I don't cry and I'll be damned if Nicolas freaking García broke that. "Get angry at me! This is my fault! I did this to you, Garcia."

He didn't stop, not even as the anxiety in my chest started building up, pressing down on my chest. Just like I always do, I directed that attention back to anger, back to fury because fuck that. My anxiety merged into anger and suddenly it was pushing at the boundaries of what I knew I could handle, the sharp buzz shivering under the layers of my skin, threatening to expose themselves if provoked. My head was spinning as my hands shook, the simmering anger becoming more and more volatile with every passing second.