Will You Save Me? (Jasico Fanfiction)

Chapter 3

NICO

I sat on the balcony of Jason's apartment, taking in the night air.

It might have been a more romantic setting if it hadn't been for the whoops of people who had just been drinking, or the trash on the ground. Italy, from the pictures that I had managed to save, was a much nicer city than this abysmal hellhole.

New York was the city that never sleeps! The greatest city alive! But in my mind, was just a trashy excuse to call home.

I didn't have a home.

I had read somewhere that a home was a place that you missed when you were away from it; maybe it was the back of a magazine or book cover.

I leaned on railing, the cool railing burning through my skin. I wasn't externally cold, but inside, man it was a blizzard. I felt empty, meaningless.

I was about three stories up, and the dark street below was lit only by a dim, flickering street light.

In between my forefinger and middle was a cigarette, which I put my mouth on and inhaled every once in a while. It wasn't particularly enjoyable, but I could tell I was getting hooked. At first it had only been a stress relief, but now whenever I was away I yearned to have one in my pocket.

Jason was asleep in his room, snoring rather loudly. The air (I wouldn't call it fresh on my life) burned through my lungs like poison.

It was somewhere between the early hours of one and three, I wasn't quite sure. I couldn't sleep. Maybe it was because I had just met up with the boy I had dubbed to be my best friend, or at least someone I could confide in again, or the thought that in a few hours, or days, I would be seeing part of the reason I left. Maybe it was a mix of both.

I hadn't noticed the eerie silence until it was too late.

"Hey, what are you doing up?" Jason's tired, groggy voice sounded from behind me and I spun around slowly.

"Couldn't sleep," I answered jadedly. I put out the cigarette and dropped it to the concrete below. It wasn't like it would make a difference. New York was filthy already.

"Nightmares about Tartarus?" The blonde man suggested. I shrugged. Those nightmares had yet to return.

"No. Not anymore." The look that flickered across Jason's face told me that he was glad I was doing better, but it quickly changed to a frown.

"Come inside. You'll get pneumonia." I obligingly stepped back into the tiny apartment, which didn't provide much more warmth than the outside air, but didn't complain.

My eyes fell on the bed Jason had made up for me on the couch, and then down to his light blue eyes.

"Go back to bed Jay, I'm fine." The nickname caught on my tongue. I hadn't used it in over five years, and it felt odd coming out of my mouth, as if I was trying to chew something a little too large. I pursed my chapped lips and let him speak.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I knew he was referring to the cigarette.

"Don't worry about me." Five years ago that was what I would have wanted the most: to be left alone to myself and not suck away anyone's happiness. Now I would have liked to come home every night to a place I called and truly felt was home, to someone who worried if I was late.

Sure I had dated, a couple boyfriends here and there, occasionally girlfriends. But every relationship, no matter how much I enjoyed them, felt like I had put my shoes on the wrong feet. And none of them had lasted long enough for three words I had never told to anyone but my mother and sister to come out of my mouth.