Vashwood | Teen | 2.8k+
A/N: For @feu-eau, whom much of this wouldn’t have been written if you hadn’t gushed to me over El Woowoo. So I wrote you the cutest vashwood, I could manage, as a thank you. And form of torture.
Summary
It’s the same story, or so it goes: a stray dog never misses, though the same dog wouldn’t bite you had you tossed it one of your bones. And just imagine that—the incisors. Now replace it with a gun. Replace that little story with humanity. Not a dog. It’s the same story every town, every city often tells: a stray person never misses, though the same one wouldn’t shoot you had you blessed them with a favor—they’ll forget it once you leave.
He doesn’t follow the fucking script when it tells him to leave them be. Even animals know it better than to trust them when they’re hurt. But Needle Noggin? He forgets. He thinks the world wouldn’t bite him: he thinks the townspeople and every rogue has his interest in their hearts, just as he would trade an arm to try to help them with what he’s got. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?
Nicolas isn’t jealous. And he isn’t angry—either. Disappointment’s palpable. Dirty water simmers out there, but he isn’t ready for any coffee. Not when the sunlights, ugh; bedsprings, scrunch; blankets, falling; Needle Noggin without his pants, maintenance on his arm while the real one’s in a spasm. And a loose screw, somewhere. So he reaches to see which one.
