Chapter Text
You're a nice guy and all—
Nick sighed and kicked at a rock on the ground as he continued along the lonely trek home, words ringing in his ears from this date he had just gotten off of. From all previous dates he had ever gotten off of.
You're just not exactly what I'm looking for—
Why was he no one's type? Why was he no one's idea of a partner? Nick wasn't sure what it was, and he had normally let his date give a simple explanation of it's not you, it's me, which never really covered why he wasn't what anyone was looking for; and the one time he did ask, the answer incited him.
I was expecting someone who’s more into… getting laid.
“I have a lot of love to give,” he mumbled to himself, burrowing further in his jumper. “It’s not my fault I don’t want to just fuck around.” He glanced up then, at the stars hanging overhead and the moon in its crescent shape, and he yelled, “Since when is being a romantic a bad thing?!”
The stars remained silent to his anger, and Nick huffed. Well, screw the stars. He didn't need them. It's not as if they had ever been of any help to him before, either.
Honestly, he wasn't sure who he blamed most of all, though. It might have been the stars, for ignoring his pleas for a cute relationship. It might have been Tao Xu, for setting him up on so many blind dates in the first place. It might have been himself, for being old-fashioned and, apparently, not exactly anyone's type.
But he would place more blame on the people who always ended the date with a smile and a handshake and a let's just be friends!
They never texted back, and after a few days, Nick had deleted their numbers from his phone, anyway.
He was going to end up alone at this rate. And, sure, maybe he was only twenty-one, but he had already been on far more dates than older people he knew, and he had already been rejected far more times than anyone he knew before.
All he had ever wanted was a strong and secure relationship that he could cherish and take care of; a person who he could envision a future with. He had been nothing but kind, polite, and a gentleman to the people he went on dates with, but none of them ever called him back for a second date. And he guessed it’s mostly because he did everything that he could to avoid their physical advances (mainly by gushing about his dog, Nellie, hoping it could spark an interest from or connection with his dates and make it clear that he was not just looking for someone to shag).
“I'm going to be a bachelor forever,” he moaned to himself sadly. The stars didn't hear, and he felt the need to inform them of the miserable life he was leading. “I'm going to be a bachelor forever!” Nick yelled out, and they seemed to understand, and they seemed to also not care at all.
Yelling at the stars felt nice, in any case, but when Nick noticed a lady across the street staring at him in confusion, he realised that maybe it was more silly than it was nice.
So he hurried home, content with grumbling to the stars instead, and also contemplating whether or not he should call Tao to yell at him some.
He had his phone out by the time he reached his tiny flat, and one hand worked on unlocking the door in the dark, while the other searched for Tao's number to call.
And he had finally dialled it just as he opened his door, and he would have congratulated himself on his intense multi-tasking, but the moment he stepped inside his dinky flat, he heard a noise. Not only that, but he was certain he had left the lights off, and just visible around the corner was a soft glow, presumably coming from his fridge.
Which meant someone else was in his flat.
Nick stood just in front of his door, breaths deep and eyes wide, until Tao finally answered the call.
“Nicholas!” Tao greeted cheerfully. “How did the—”
“He hates me, but more importantly,” Nick hissed out, holding the phone close to his mouth as he inched further into his flat, not yet bothering with his shoes. “There's someone in my flat.”
Silence fell on Tao's end before he repeated, “Someone is in your flat?”
“Yes! I hear someone moving in my kitchen—” There was more shuffling, the sound of an item being thrust back in his refrigerator. “I don't know if they've heard me come in.”
“Why did you keep going in? Why don't you get out?”
“Because I'm going to defend my flat!” Nick whispered as he hid behind his sofa. “I don't have much to call my own, but what I do have is very important to me, and I'm not going to let some criminal steal my stuff!”
Tao sounded worried. “Nick, what do you want me to do?”
“Come save me, of course! I'll fight them off, but I need you—”
“I can call the police.”
“Don't call the police!” Nick was a bit louder, more insistent, and he responded angrily, “You're right down the street from me, and I might be about to die! There's probably a murderer in my kitchen as we speak, and you think I should wait for the police?”
“Fine, fine, I'll get on my shoes and bring something — pepper spray? Elle has pepper—”
“Whatever you bring is fine, just come save me!” Nick listened for the intruder, and when he heard nothing, he hissed into his phone, “I'm going to try and make it over to my front door again, alright?”
“Is it clear for you to do that?”
And Nick really didn't know. He hadn't checked again since his initial discovery of someone in his kitchen, but he supposed he should do that before running off into his death. So he took a deep breath, then twisted his body around to look—
Peering at him over the sofa were a set of blue eyes — a man was staring straight back at him.
Nick screamed, and he hurled his phone in shock. The phone smacked into the man's forehead, and Nick heard a soft, “Ow!” before the man disappeared again.
Nick also heard his phone shatter upon hitting his floor, and he could have cried. His phone was his only contact to Tao, who was going to save him from this murderer. Now, not only did he probably piss off a killer, but he also lost Tao.
He muttered curses under his breath as he scrambled to his feet, but before he could go anywhere, the stranger's face popped back up. Nick screamed again, falling back to the ground, and watched in terror as the figure climbed awkwardly over the back of his sofa. The man had a scowl on his face and his eyes were staring seriously into Nick's, but even in the dim lighting, Nick could make out a milk moustache.
What the fuck was that all about?
He didn't get too much time to think about it, however, because as he desperately tried to shuffle away from the man, the man easily inched closer. A hand came up, and Nick squeezed his eyes shut. He had lived a good life. He had regrets, but at least he was a good person.
But no hand wrapped around his neck as he assumed. Instead, he heard the man speak. “Excuse me, but why did you do that?”
Nick's hands clenched into fists from where they propped him up from the ground, and he peeked through one eye. Rather than looking serious, the man now looked indignant, and a slender finger pointed at his forehead.
“Wha—”
“You threw something at me for literally no reason at all!”
The man had a softer voice than Nick would have thought a murderer would have, and he had pouty lips, dimpled cheeks, and a sharp jaw that were seriously more model-material than they were killer-material. A killer in good looks, though, might be how Nick died tonight.
“You… you are in my house!” Nick announced, wondering how he actually wasn't dead yet. Maybe the man just came to rob him. But, then, why was he sticking around and looking at Nick with such adorably large eyes?
“Is this your house?”
“Well, yeah, I mean—”
“Because your window was wide open, so I'm pretty sure you're basically inviting people inside!”
Did he leave his window open? Oh, god, it was possible. In his rush to make it to his date on time, he might have forgotten to close the window. But still — “It wasn't wide open, was it?”
“It was wide enough that I could push it on up the rest of the way.”
“That's breaking and entering!” Nick accused, and he pointed a finger at the man. “So you are a criminal!”
The man looked confused. He cocked his head to one side, reminding Nick of a puppy, and oh god, why was Nick finding a potential murderer so cute?
“I didn't break a single thing,” the man assured him. “I propped up the window and hoisted myself in.” The man suddenly gasped. “Maybe this place isn't even yours! Maybe you are breaking and entering!”
“That's ridiculous!” Nick snapped, and he held out his keys. “I have keys to this place, so obviously this is my flat!”
“Keys?” The man blinked and then grabbed for them. Nick knew he was typically the slow one of his friend group, but even he saw that coming, and he closed his fist around the set of keys.
“And now you're trying to steal my keys? What is wrong with you?”
“What's wrong with you?” the man countered with a scoff, and he grabbed Nick's fist. “I want to see the keys!”
“They're mine!”
“I've never seen keys before, let me look!”
Before Nick could consider the absurdity of the statement, the man suddenly clambered on top of him. Nick held his fist away as the man fought him for the keys. And, yeah, maybe this was how Nick would die — a cute criminal vying to get the keys. He was pretty certain, too, from the huffing the man was giving, that he was getting a little pissed off. What would he do if he got the keys? And why was he kinda strong? He was peeling apart Nick's fingers, displaying the tip of the keys.
“Let me see!” the man demanded, and he pulled at Nick's wrist.
Nick realised that fighting back would get him nowhere. The man was pulling hard enough, too, that going limp suddenly might be the best option. The man would probably tumble backwards and Nick could use that distraction to get away as fast as he could. (His personal belongings could be replenished, maybe, if he made up a sob story and went to his mum for help.)
However, going limp didn't have the same effect that Nick thought it would. Instead of the man falling backwards, he managed to pull Nick's fist towards himself, the keys slicing across his eyebrow — and then he fell back with a slight whimper.
Nick scrambled away from him, breathing harshly and holding his keys to his chest. “That serves you right!” he scolded in between his panting. “For trying to take a man's keys—”
But the man, he realised, was bleeding. Even if it was dark, Nick could tell that the man was gingerly touching the new wound that had most likely appeared and was wincing at the sight of the blood that might have been on his fingers.
Nick felt a twinge of guilt, despite knowing full well that he had done nothing wrong.
“You— you made me bleed!” the man whined, and he looked up at Nick. “I'm bleeding! Why are you so rude?”
“Me? Rude? Me, seriously?” Nick fussed as he reached over to turn on the lamp. “You're the one trying to fight me for my keys!”
“I wanted to see them.” The man sounded so sad and so pitiful, and Nick gave a slight tsk as he turned back to him.
“And I don't need you stealing them.” Nick stuffed his keys in his pocket and knelt down towards the man. “Move your hand. Let me see.”
He wasn't sure what he was going to do about it. After all, why on earth would he help with a criminal's wound?
The man was pouting again, and in the light, Nick could see just how attractive he was. His build was smaller than Nick’s and he was a little tanned and had dark curly hair. He had beautiful dark blue eyes and he stared up at Nick in slight anticipation. “You'll hurt me again, all because I can't look at your cool keys.”
“I won't hurt you,” Nick assured, if only because maybe this criminal wasn't a criminal at all. Maybe he was just some cute, lost man who randomly climbed into Nick's flat for reasons still unknown. “I promise, I'll fix it and then you can look at my keys and then leave, alright?”
That seemed good enough for the man, and he carefully drew his hand away from his wound.
Nick blinked.
“Um...”
“Is it bad?” The man looked worried.
“It's… blue.”
“What?”
The blood was blue. It was smeared around the wound and on the man's hand and it was still welling up, threatening to drip down the man's eyebrow.
“It's blue,” Nick whispered, his eyes wide with shock.
The man stared at him. “That's because it's blood,” he explained, also in a whisper.
“Blood is… is red.” Nick was wondering if he was going crazy.
The man seemed just as confused, then he suddenly smiled brightly. “Oh! Maybe it is here, but on my planet, it's blue!”
Did Nick hear that right? On his planet? What did that mean?
His breath was getting shorter as he stared at that blue blood. “It's… what? Planet? What?”
“I said, on my planet it's blue. I guess it could be red here, I'm not really sure.”
Nick's heart hammered in his chest and his mind suddenly wrapped around the words this man was saying. “Are you… an alien?”
The man — no, the alien — giggled endearingly. “Nope! I think you are, though.”
“But… you're not from this planet?”
“Nope!” The alien looked unashamed of that.
Nick blinked again, whispered out, “Oh my god—” and then the world went black.