Nicole hadn't known what tequila tasted like. All the shots she had drunk were at the bar where Miguel used to work, adorned with salt and lemon. Her brain associated the drink with the burning hot sensation down her throat and the bitterness of the lemon juice on her tongue. She soon found out she didn't like the aftertaste of the drink without its complements.

"Oh god, I'm dead," she moaned, and crawled on top of Miguel's black leather sofa, bottle hanging from her hand.

He was quick to join her, sitting on the carpet with his back against the sofa. Getting into his flat wasn't an issue, but finding the keyhole on the inside to lock the door had made him question his sobriety on all the other nights he had arrived home drunk. Still, he closed his eyes and let the world spun within his eyelids.

"I don't think I share your problems, my dear," he pointed out. "In fact, I believe that last shot fucked me up pretty good."

She mumbled something against the cold fabric, to which he agreed. He took the bottle from her hand and took another sip. His regard for himself was wearing thinner and thinner as the night progressed.

"Are we going to talk about why you're drunk at five a.m. in my apartment?"

Nicole fumbled with her own limbs, trying to change her position. A flash of light pierced through the darkness of the room, and then everything went still again. Everything was black, no sound but they're breathing.

"It's six," she whispered, breaking the silence. "I have to open the café at seven."

He chuckled. "That'll be funny. You have an hour to get sober."

She took the bottle from him and took a long sip, feeling the alcohol burning down her chest. That feeling was her reason to drink. That warmth before everything became irrelevant. The problem was the horrifying taste in her mouth as soon as she put the bottle on the ground.

"Oh, so that's your plan? And I thought I was crazy."

"The tequila is over," she told him.

"I think I have whiskey."

"No!" she said, way too quickly. He wouldn't question it, knowing she disliked it.

"Water then. For the sake of sobriety."

Miguel got up, or at least tried, as his legs gave in, and he fell back down. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or if he just realised he didn't want to get out of his spot on the ground. Another attempt to get on his feet was made. This time, he grabbed two glasses from the kitchen and filled them with tap water.

"Grab it," he commanded before sitting by her feet. She ignored him, so he fumbled around until he found his centre table and left the glass there. "Okay then. No more pretending. We need a heart-to-heart conversation."

She moaned what sounded like a complaint, but he ignored it. He drank his water in one gulp and then turned to her, or at least to where he imagined she was. The dim light trespassed his curtains, but he could only distinguish a few shadows.

"Did you fuck Gabriel again?"

Silence. And then, "No."

"No?"

"I was going to. But then I realised he wouldn't give me what I wanted. I can't bury the pain with sex."

"But you can with alcohol?"

"Yes, exactly! See, you get me."

Miguel had always thought the alcohol was to forget. The sex was to regain the body autonomy she didn't have in her past relationship. He never asked, never voiced his thoughts out loud, but somehow, he knew he was right.

"And you're in pain because Andrew left you a month ago," he said. She flinched at his name. "Why cry about it now?"

"I cried about it back then a lot, too."

"Nicole-"

"No!" She sat upright, digging a finger into his chest. "You don't get to lecture me. You lied to Lúcia. Why did you lie to her?"

He held her finger and pushed it away from her. His lips were sealed shut, refusing to form the words his brain wasn't able to make. The whole situation was messy, and he didn't know what to do with it, so his best solution was to get drunk and postpone it as further away as possible.

"The drink is supposed to make your tongue loose, not the other way around," she said.

"You go first."

"Why do you care so much?" She cocked a brow, staring at the shadow of him.

"Because you don't make irrational things. Impulsive, maybe, but never things with which you cannot deal with the consequences." He laid on the ground, feeling the cold bite his exposed skin. "I don't. I fuck up my life again and again. Now that we both seem to be in fucked up situations, I worry you are no longer being as rational and cold-hearted as you've always been."

She sighed an endless sigh and quickly took a deep breath to fill her lungs. The problem was that, just as Miguel's, her lips didn't cooperate because her mind couldn't make sense of the situation.

"He left me," she said. It was the first time she admitted it. "He looked me in the eye and told me he would only take a minute. And then the plane took off, and I was alone. He promised he wouldn't hurt me, and then he did."

"Do you want to trash his house here?"

"He called me yesterday for the first time. I didn't hear it. I don't know if I would've answered if I did." The sun was now trespassing the curtains, giving her shape and colour. "This past month I've been focused on uni and work because I don't understand, I can't understand, what happened. Because if I stop to think about it, I'll just crumble into pieces."

Miguel found her hand resting on her belly and enlaced their fingers. He'd hug her if he could, but his body was feeling too heavy. Everything felt heavy and closing around him.

"Do you want to see him again? To talk to him?"

She hesitated, and then said, "Yes and no. I want an explanation, but I think I'll tear him apart if I see him. And yet all I can think about is that I wish he was here. I wish he just popped out of nowhere and things could go back to normal. I am hurt and I am mad, but this dumb fucking part of me just wants him back."

He nodded. "I understand, and I don't want you to go back to the person you were before him. I think you should pick up next time he calls, because he was in a shitty situation, and you don't know his side."

She slid off the sofa slowly, knocking down the empty bottle in the process, and laid on top of him. Her head rested on his chest and her hand clasped his tight. The warmth of him made her feel a little less lonely.

"Hold me," she muttered. "I fear I will disintegrate if no one holds me together."

He did. He hugged her against him. If he could solve all her issues, he would, because she didn't deserve it. He couldn't see her hurt. It was like a knife in his chest. He loved her too much to see her in so much pain.

"Tell me about Lúcia."

He closed his eyes shut but tried to explain it still. "I told her I would be home studying all night. She doesn't know I spent it with you."

"And why did you lie?"

"She's been acting weird. Cold. The more I try to mend my relationship with Jenny, the weirder she gets. I thought she would be happy that I was making things right."

"Are you sure this is about Jenny?"

"Yes. She gets mad every time her name comes up." He drew loops on the carpet, wondering why he was feeling so annoyed. "I gave up, though. I was the only one trying to revive the friendship, so I stopped. But Lúcia is still acting different. And I don't know what to do with that."

Nicole got up and stretched before walking up to the window and pulling the curtains open. The sunlight invaded every corner of the room, making Miguel roll over to cover his eyes. She stared through it, at the dirty street and old apartment buildings.

"It's all about maintenance," she said without looking at him. "If she's mad, it's because she feels that you have been paying more attention to the Jenny situation than to her. And if she's right, you must go back to the old ways. But if she's wrong, show her you only love her."

"Love is a strong a word, don't you think?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, fine. I didn't understand the maintenance comment, though."

"Me neither. I have to go to work."

He dragged himself to the sofa and stayed there. "You're drunk, though."

"I'm going to take a shower and drink my weight in water. And pray to god."

"Didn't know you were religious. Which god?"

"Whichever is available."

Nicole chugged down the glass he had left on the table for her, and staggered to the bathroom. She stepped into the shower, fully clothed, and sat at the bottom, letting the water clean her makeup and her tears. Her throat felt dry, and she knew it was a matter of time until inebriation became dehydration.

She stripped off her clothes and left them at the bottom of the shower, resuming to clean herself off the sweat and alcohol coating her skin and hair. Her body begged to lie on a bed and stay there forever, but she had to work, so she stepped out and got ready for the day.

"Can I borrow something from the Lost and Found drawer?" she asked Miguel once she stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

"It's all yours."

The Lost and Found drawer was not a drawer. It was a basket where he kept all the things his one-night stands forgot in his apartment under the promise he was going to give them to the homeless. Yet, Miguel always forgot of the existence of the basket until there was something new to add to the collection.

"This is all washed, right?" she asked, to which he nodded. She got dressed after the confirmation. "See you later."

He mumbled something, and she left the apartment. The walk to the cafe wasn't long, but her eyelids were begging for mercy. The chilly wind of March punched her awake as she walked down the nearly empty streets.

Searching through her purse, she found The Bookmark's keys chained to her home ones and opened the double glass doors. Despite being closed and alone throughout the night, the smell of sweets and paper was still strong in the air.

Nicole got a double expresso and drank it in two sips before starting the work in the kitchen. She put bread and pastries in the oven, cleaned every single table top, took the dishes out of the dishwasher, and laid on the sofa until the bell rang.

Mornings on a weekday were slow. The usual morning client would come for fresh bread or coffee, but it wasn't until eight a.m. that she was forced to wake up because of the occasional group of people demanding breakfast. A few dozens of students would stop by to eat before going to class, some asking for something as simple as a sandwich, others with the time to request time consuming orders.

When Nicole requested a change in her schedule, as her second semester schedule at university mostly filled the afternoons, she thought it would be fun to do mornings. She liked it when Oliver was sick, but she hadn't realised how tired she would be with all the differences.

"Good morning!" Alice cheered as she walked in with Giovanni behind. "How are you?"

"Dying!" she said with a smile on her face. "What can I get you?"

Alice ordered milkshakes and toast for both of them and then lectured her about staying up all night getting drunk. They still didn't talk as much as they did before Andrew came into their lives, but things were going back to the old ways.

"What's up with her?" Nicole asked Giovanni when Alice disappeared to look for a book her teacher had requested. "She's so... sunshiny. And not in the normal way. It's freaky."

"She's been like that since we kissed."

Nicole stared at him in shock. "What? What did I miss?"

He shrugged. "We kissed on New Year's Eve and now she refuses to talk about it. The one time I mentioned it, she talked about how hurt she was with Andrew and now she refuses to let herself be hurt again."

She blinked. "Ah, she's stupid. Got it."

"I actually thought she liked me." He stared at the ground, hands deep in his pockets.

"She does," she reassured him. "I know she does. Do you like her?"

He shrugged. "I do. A lot. But that doesn't matter."

Nicole rolled her eyes, but before she could add anything, Alice came downstairs with the book under her arm. She leaned against the counter, far away from Giovanni, waiting for her order with an impatient smile.

As Nicole finished with their milkshakes, they sat on a table by the window, sipping on their drinks. Soon after, the blonde was done with their order and dropped the rest by them, going back to her napping sofa.

Just as her head hit the pillows, the bell rang once more, and she grunted in exhaustion. She forced herself back up, smoothing the wrinkles of her apron and walking towards the counter. The fake smile appeared on her face, but as she turned to see the newcomer, it slipped.

"You," she whispered, eyes locked on the dark-haired man in front of her.

Andrew wore a black hoodie and a grey beanie. An unusual outfit for him, especially since he was wearing a tux last time she saw him, but she had grown used to that lazy side of him.

"Hey," he said, sheepishly, stopping a few meters away from her.

"Hey?" she repeated. For an entire month, she felt miserable and confused, but now, staring at him, something ignited in her chest, something explosive. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I-I came back." He was taken aback by her reaction, but mostly by the way her face was so dark and tired. "You look like a mess."

She frowned and then laughed humourlessly. He looked just as bad as she did, black circles adorning his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days. She wouldn't tell him that, though.

"I look like a mess? How sweet of you." She sneered. Her fists clenched into two tight fists. "It's been a month! A month without a single word. So you come here like nothing happened?"

"I just want to talk-"

"No!" she yelled. "You don't get to talk. You could've called or texted. Instead, I get a shitty goodbye and I never hear from you again. You don't get to show up here and say you want to talk!"

Nicole was looking through him. He didn't seem real. The Andrew she mourned for was a man who held her tight against his chest and kissed her temple. A man who told her he would never hurt her, who asked for a chance to prove his worth. Yet, the Andrew who stood before her had to be a hallucination. This was the same boy who wouldn't return her calls or texts and left her completely alone.

"Look, I know you're mad-"

"Mad?" she interrupted him once more. "I'm not mad!"

Nicole snatched the lamp by the sofa and threw it at his feet, where it smashed at his feet, making him step back. The distance between them was short enough that she could have hit him had she wanted to.

She stared at the damaged, surprised at herself with what she had just done. Her mind was blaming the alcohol still in her veins, but remorse still came crashing like a wave.

The sound of the lamp breaking Alice and Gio and a couple of other customers, but no one interfered. They stayed watching, some in shock, some amused.

"Nicole, please calm down," Andrew said, raising his hands in defeat. "Let's just talk this out."

"I don't need to calm down," she said, voice cold. "My reaction is perfectly justifiable to being left for a month. I tried talking to you and I was ignored. I believed you when you said you were coming back, but after two weeks with no response, I had no choice but to accept that you were gone."

"Nicole-"

"No! You don't get to talk! You hurt me and I won't forgive you for that."

She wasn't about to let him spit his sweet words as if everything was okay. He wouldn't erase what happened with an empty apology. She knew what it was like to be hurt and fooled into submission. There was no way she would fall into that cycle again.

"I'm sorry! You have no idea how sorry I am," Andrew told her. "Just let me explain."

She shook her head. "I don't want to hear it. I just want to forget you ever existed."

Her voice pierced through his heart, each word a knife driven deep into his chest. For weeks he pictured their reunion, and it was nothing like this. She was going to cry out of happiness, and he would hug her and never let go again. Instead, she threw a lamp at him. He panicked as he saw his relationship crumble.

"You don't mean that."

"Are you deaf?" She stepped towards him. "I mean every single word. I want you gone from my life. And gone from this establishment."

He shook his head. "Please, it wasn't my fault. I was coerced! If you let me explain."

"Go away, Andrew. Just go away."

He sighed, but nodded. Resigned, he started towards the door, but just as he was leaving, something stopped him. He retrieved a small box from his pocket and handed it to her.

"You were eyeing it at the store. I thought you'd like to have it."

He wasted no more time and left her alone. Her eyes followed his shadow until they could no longer, but his absence didn't help. All the feelings were still there. The anger, the grief, the hatred, and the sorrow. And she knew they would be there forever.

She hesitated, but opened the box. Inside there was the small necklace she had seen at a store's window, the one with the word "Boundless" engraved in it. She still didn't know what it meant, but she thought it was pretty.

"I hate you," she said to no one in particular. "And I hate loving you so much."

I thought there were 2 chapters left. They're 3. Why doesn't my outline match the story? *inserts crying*

I thought this chapter would be very hard to write, but compared to the previous one, it wasn't. I actually liked this one, though I'm worried it doesn't feel as heartbreaking as I wanted it to. So did you guys like it?

The real questions for when I edit tho: Was this all too sudden? Should I write a(few) chap(s) of just Nicole being alone? Who are we mad at? Thoughts on Gio and Ali? Thoughts on Miguel? Thoughts on the author? O_O

Once again, thank you so much for reading. Your votes and comments give me motivation :)