Mithridatism

"Nice, huh?"

I turn around, and Nick German stands there, like he always did. Foot propped up on the scorched wood of the old barn, grey eyes peering around with that ever present curiosity and light.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," I say, turning back to look at the withered, wind worn scaffolding. "You can go back to sleep"

"Not tired," he says, "I slept for a while earlier, waiting for you to come back"

"I'm not back," I murmur, wrapping my coat tighter around myself. "Just...passing through"

"Too busy with your big shot life to come back to us little folk?" He snaps, and I whirl to look at him, to face the note of accusation in his voice head on.

"How did you hear?"

"Small town. People talk" he stands, looking like he did ten years ago in his old leather boots and big denim jacket. "Welcome home, by the way."

"Thank you," I say stiffly, "But I'm not staying long."

"Never did stay for long, huh?"

"Don't make this-" I cut myself off, glaring holes into the charred stone foundation of the barn. "It's my fault, I know, but don't rub it in."

Nick looks up at the sky, visible through the charred ceiling, and smiles wistfully.

"Remember the times we had here?" he murmurs, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I try not to."

"Oh, come on, Jas. You know you had fun with me" he takes a step closer and I take a step back. Something in his face, raw and unkempt, scares me more than I'd ever admit aloud. "We used to swing from the roof on ropes. You used to wail every time you couldn't climb like I could. I was always stronger than you"

"Stop," I snarls, and he does, to both of our surprises.

"It's so lonely here, without you." he says in his smooth voice, a voice I could melt into like butter. It sounds like home.

"I shouldn't have come back," I decide, turning to leave, but he blocks me.

"But you missed me"

"I have for ten years," I admit, "But this was stupid. I should have stayed in New York"

"Always wanted to go there," Nick smiles at me genially, the way he smiled at old ladies in church for an extra sweet or two when we were little. That smile doesn't fool me. I've become immune to it's sweet poison.

"You could take me back with you," he continues, and I scoff.

"You can't leave. You have too much to do here."

"And who's fault is that?" He snarls and I flinch. Instantly, he deflates.

"I'm sorry, Jas," he sighs, "I don't know what came over me."

"It's been a while," I force out of my dry throat, "That's what it is"

"Must be. You look tired. Those marks don't help."

I prod the marks on my face he talks about, and sigh. He used to kiss me there. Now, I want him to again, but he can't. I can't let him.

"You could stay," he tries again, "Stay with me. It's the least you could do. It could be like old times. I even kept a rope you can swing from."

"I can't stay. It's not good for me."

"What about what's good for me?" He asks, hurt. I look at him again. Pale hair, pale skin, grey eyes. Perfect as the last day we spent here, in the hay when we were sixteen and I thought I'd never love anyone like I loved him.

"I have to think about myself, for once"

"For once," he scoffs, "You always think about yourself. It's always about you. You left, You knocked everything off kilter. The least you could do was spend some time with an old flame"

"It's not good to cling."

"And yet you're here. You know you can't just forget about me. You miss me too much. Isn't that what you said, our last night together? I asked you if you'd follow your fancy talents all the way to the big leagues, and you know what you said?"

"I'd miss you too much, lover boy," the words scratch at my throat. "I know."

"Did you lie to me, then? Before everything went to hell?"

"I'd never lie to you, Nick. I loved you"

"Loved?"

"Loved." I confirmed, "It was a nice place, before I ruined it."

Nick smiles around at the ruins of what was once a haven. "Stay and help me fix it up. It's a two person job"

"I have to go home, soon"

"Isn't this your home? Wasn't I your home?"

There's a far off sound, dripping. I listen it's tempo. Drip, drip, drip. The drip never stops, until it does.

"I'm sorry I left you here," I finally say, "Your grandma said something to me earlier. She wants you to go, so she can knock this all down. Build something new."

"Can't let her do that," Nick shakes his head, "I like this place too much. Besides, she's off her rocker anyways."

"Be kind to her. She's tired and old."

"She hasn't spoken to me in ten years. It's not my fault."

"I know," I watch night fall slowly, the sky going from dove grey to charcoal faster than I want it to. "Do you have to go soon?"

"Yes. But I'll be back tomorrow morning. And the day after. And the day after that" Nick tries to twine his cold fingers with mine, but I step away.

"I won't be." I tell him, and he shrugs.

"You will. Eventually. And then we can be together again."

"No. This is goodbye for good" I tell him firmly, and he smiles that sly, perfect smile.

"We'll see."

I walk away quickly, leaving him in the shell of that barn, watching me go. It's not until I'm out of sight that I finally pull the paper out of my pocket, the printout of the decade old newspaper article.

One Dead After German Family Barn Fire, One Injured.

The scars on my face feel too tight. I tuck the paper away and walk down the darkening street.