Bandom One-shots book 3

A Year In The Quiet (Vinikki/Vince Neil x Nikki Sixx)

It had been a year since the crash, but the guilt hadn't loosened its grip on Vince. If anything, it felt heavier now, like an anchor dragging him deeper into waters he couldn't swim out of.

I watched him from the couch, nursing a beer while he stared at the muted television. His blond hair hung limp over his face, his shoulders slouched as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

He barely noticed when I sat beside him. "Vince."

He flinched at the sound of his name, blinking as though he hadn't realized I was there. "Yeah?"

"You okay?" It was a stupid question, but I had to start somewhere.

"Fine," he muttered, turning back to the screen.

I didn't buy it for a second. "You've been carrying this thing for a year now. You can't keep letting it eat you alive."

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his fingers twisting the edge of his t-shirt. "What do you want me to say, Nikki? That I'm fine? That I'm not thinking about him every damn day?" His voice cracked, and he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Because I can't. I can't forget what I did."

I shifted closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to forget. But you can't keep punishing yourself forever."

He looked at me then, his blue eyes rimmed with unshed tears. "How the hell do you move on from something like that?"

I didn't have an answer. I wasn't sure there was one. But the raw pain in his voice hit me harder than I expected, and before I could think twice, I pulled him into a hug.

He stiffened at first, then sank into it, his hands gripping the back of my shirt like a lifeline.

"Vince, you're not alone in this," I murmured. "You don't have to be."

Somehow, one thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, we were tangled together in my bed, his lips on mine, our bodies pressing into each other like we were trying to chase away the ghosts that haunted us both.

It wasn't about lust or need. It was about connection. About finding something real in the middle of all the chaos.

Afterward, the room was quiet, save for our steady breaths. Vince lay on his side, his hair messy and sticking to his forehead. The blanket barely covered us, and the moonlight spilling through the window painted soft lines across his skin.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't look burdened.

I brushed a strand of hair from his face, and he smiled—a small, tired thing, but it was there.

"Nikki," he said softly, his voice breaking the silence.

"Yeah?"

"Is this... just a one-time thing?" His words were hesitant, like he was afraid of the answer.

I reached out, threading my fingers through his. "No," I said firmly. "It's not."

His lips parted slightly, his eyes searching mine. "You mean that?"

"I do," I replied. "I love you, Vince. I don't know when it happened, but it did. And I'm not letting you go."

He didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was real. Then he smiled again, brighter this time, and squeezed my hand.

"I love you too," he whispered.

For the first time in a year, the guilt didn't feel so heavy. And for the first time in what felt like forever, we were at ease.

~A Year In The Quiet~