Chapter five: Maybe, I’m into our bully.
1153 Words
Dinner was a disaster.
After all the drama about me, everything at the table fell silent. Uncomfortably silent. The kind of silence that buzzes in your ears and makes the air feel too heavy to breathe. Eventually, I’d had enough. I excused myself and retreated to my room without saying another word.
Nanny Tee helped me get into bed, her touch gentle and practiced, like always. She didn’t ask questions. Just tucked the sheets around me, gave my arm a soft pat, and turned off the lights as she walked out.
For a while, I just lay there staring into the darkness. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Everything that happened. Everything I couldn’t say. Everything I wished I could forget.
And then—
Clink.
A noise by the window.
I stiffened, my body going tense as I turned my head toward the sound.
"Who's there?" I called out, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with uncertainty.
Silence.
Then—THUD!
"WHAT THE f**k?!" I yelled, panic jolting through me as someone leapt straight onto my bed.
I flailed, trying to move back, but my legs didn’t work, and my heart pounded so loud I thought it might explode.
Suddenly, the light flicked on.
"Jesus Christ, Cilia!" I snapped, squinting as I finally saw her.
Of course it was her.
She was doubled over, laughing her lungs out.
"You scaredy-cat," she grinned, still giggling as she plopped down beside me.
"You almost gave me a damn heart attack," I muttered, my pulse still racing.
"Yeah, yeah. You’ll be fine. You’ve handled worse," she teased with a wink. Then her gaze softened. She leaned in and gently placed her hand on the sore, swollen part of my face.
"How’s the bruise?" she asked quietly.
"It’s fine. I’ll heal," I said, brushing it off.
"How was dinner?" she asked gently.
I gave a half-hearted laugh and nodded, more out of habit than anything.
She raised an eyebrow, catching on immediately.
"Okay… no dinner talk," she said, dropping the subject with a small smile.
I studied her for a second, narrowing my eyes. "And what are you really doing here this late anyway?"
She shrugged like it was nothing. "I was lonely… and I wanted to talk to you."
I raised a brow. "Oh really? Since when are you not lonely?"
She smirked. "Fair point. But maybe I also came to tell you something else."
I groaned. "Here we go."
She leaned in again, this time with a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"You did the face again."
"What face?" I asked, confused.
"The ‘I’m into you’ face. You were totally giving Andrew that look when he leaned close to you earlier."
Oh, no. Not this conversation again.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I said, shifting uncomfortably.
She gave me the classic ‘you think I’m a fool’ look.
"Nick. Come on. I know you. You denied it the last time, but I see it. I feel it. Just admit it."
I hesitated, my lips parting but no words coming out.
Then she dropped the real bomb.
“If he weren’t our bully… if he weren’t such a douche… if he were gay too—would you consider him?”
I didn’t answer right away.
How could I?
The truth sat heavy in my chest.
How could I like someone who made my life hell?
How could I feel anything for someone who hurt me?
And yet…
"Maybe," I murmured, almost to myself. "Maybe I’m into our bully."
Her eyes lit up with a weird sense of triumph.
"I knew it!" she grinned.
"But it doesn’t matter," I added quickly. "Andrew is our bully. He’s straight. He has a girlfriend. Liking him is like… chasing a ghost. It’s falling in love with someone I can never have."
Her smile softened. She reached for my hand.
"I’m sorry you feel that way. And I’m sorry for pushing this on you. I just… I don’t know. You always seem so sad lately. But around him—"
She paused.
"Even when he bullies you… you change. I know that sounds crazy. But you come alive in this strange, painful, confusing way."
"Why are you so calm and happy about this?" I asked. "He’s our bully, Cilia."
She sighed. "I don’t know. I don’t know how or why you fell for him. But I do know one thing for sure: I saw you smile tonight. A real one. That hasn’t happened in a long time."
I looked at her, quiet for a moment.
"Thanks," I whispered. "For trying to make me happy."
"Also," I added, trying to lighten the mood, "is it really that obvious?"
"Yeah, duh," she said, laughing. "You go all soft and vulnerable around him. And you defend him like he’s your hero or something. If people knew you were gay, they’d connect the dots instantly."
That made me smile. Cilia always found a way to both embarrass and uplift me in the same breath. It was her superpower.
"Okay," she announced suddenly, standing up. "That’s enough moping over your forbidden crush. Let’s dance!"
I blinked. "Dance?"
She pulled out her phone, scrolled through her playlist, and hit play on a song.
It was “Happy” by NF.
She cranked up the volume and began dancing like a complete dork, arms flailing and hips swaying off beat.
"You always say this song reminds you of me," I said, smiling despite myself.
"It does," she shouted over the music. "It’s like… broken but hopeful. That’s you, Nikki."
I watched her for a second, then shook my head. "Isn’t the volume too loud?"
"Who cares?" she laughed. "Come on!"
She came over, helped me into my wheelchair, and gently pulled me into her chaotic rhythm.
And just like that—we danced.
The breeze from the window grazed my cheek, carrying in the scent of night and a strange kind of peace.
For the first time in weeks, maybe months, I felt alive again.
Not broken. Not weighed down.
Just… me.
We sang—loud, off-key, unfiltered.
We laughed so hard our sides hurt.
We spun in circles, she twirling beside me, hair flying wildly.
Time slipped away.
Everything else—the pain, the fear, the confusion—it all faded.
Eventually, Cilia came to a stop. Her chest rising and falling with each breath.
She knelt beside me, hugged me tight, and kissed the top of my head.
"I love you, you know," she whispered.
"I know," I whispered back.
She stood, grabbed her phone, and turned the light off.
"Goodnight, Nick."
The room went quiet again. But this time, it wasn’t the kind of silence that suffocates.
It was calm.
It was peaceful.
I lay back in bed, still smiling, and let sleep find me.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel lost.
I felt whole.
- Writer
