Work Text:
The dumpster for the café is in a small alley between two buildings. On the other side of the alley is an abandoned probably-apartment-probably-office complex that hasn't unboarded its' windows since Nicole started work here.
The alley is dank and gross, as are all alleys with dumpsters, and Nicole often wonders why such a dank and gross alley is allowed within the vicinity of a hospital,
but the good thing about an alley nobody wants to use is that there aren't any cameras to catch her smoking.
Nicole's been busted enough for smoking inside. Dr. Paige, the customers, they've all seen her do it. A couple complain about the smell, a scant fewer have reported her to the higher-ups. But, the "higher-ups" are just Dr. Edega, and he's too busy with his nose in his clipboard to pay attention to the addict feeding her own addiction. At least she doesn't get glared at or lectured or pity-grimaced at in the alley. No cameras, no prying eyes, no phone calls. Just Nicole and the death stick in her teeth. She likes it this way.
Smoke drizzles out of the lit end of Nicole's cigarette. Crumpled butts litter the ground around her feet. The dumpster is just a few feet away from her, streaked with old coffee stains from trash bags ripped open from years ago. Mold is definitely growing on the coffee grounds behind it.
The alley looks just as horrible as she feels. That's what she likes about it.
Her cigarette flares orange with another deep inhale, and while the smoke fills her lungs she digs for her phone in her apron pocket. On muscle memory, she unlocks it and goes to her messages. Nothing new.
Her chest pangs on her exhale. Cole's last text was four days ago.
[Cole 💌]: hey, gonna go offline for a bit. ttyl <3
Sure, just for a bit. Just like she's been drowning in coffee and creamer and shitty oven-heated scones for "a bit." His usual has been stagnating on the counter for just "a bit." She's only cried over this "a bit."
And dammit, tears are welling up again. She digs her teeth into her cigarette and takes another drag. She fitfully swipes at her screen until Cole's name disappears.
The defibrillator on her chest starts to pulse. A breeze whips the smoke from her mouth back into her face. She bites down on her cigarette and lets the tears pool in her eyes. Another pulse, and another; the Intern is on a steady one-two, onetwo onetwo onetwo, one-two beat. She's pretty sure these are the Swing Beats Dr. Paige mentioned a while ago.
Nicole sighs, taking her cigarette between her fingers and wiping at her face. "Hey Intern," she greets, in case they can hear. "You're not gonna snitch on my little hiding spot, are you?"
one-two, one-two.
She'll take that as a your secret's safe with me. "Thanks. I'm almost done, anyway." She's about five minutes into her fifteen minute break.
She stews in the silence, feeling her heart beat along to whatever music the Intern is playing from. She breathes slowly, trying to keep the smoke in her lungs as long as she can. One, two. One, two.
She adjusts her lean on the brick wall behind her. "I heard Dr. Paige got fired a few days ago. That true?" One-two. "That sucks. I know I don't wanna do rehab with Dr. Fuckin' Edega. He wants me to quit cold turkey. And I don't think the Ian guy is… capable of giving good advice." She snuffs smoke out of her nose in a half-laugh. "No offense."
She blinks, and the tears fade. She takes another drag, and her mouth dries. She gets the itch for some water, but she isn't going back inside yet. She knows there's a line building inside, she knows at least three pixie-cut assholes want a triple-venti-caramel-white-chocolate-bullshit. She wants to stay out here forever. She has ten cigarettes left in this pack, and they'll be gone by tomorrow. If she had it her way, she'd chainsmoke every last one of them right now.
Her phone buzzes. On instinct, she whips it out of her pocket. Some stupid flutter in her heart hopes its Cole, but–
[Coach ⚾️]: Hey, you. Me and Samurai are running laps today. You want to come with?
The last thing she wants is to run fucking laps today. The last thing she wants is to sit in Samurai's company wondering where the hell Cole is, because they're basically a package deal at this point, but if Cole doesn't want to answer her, there's no way he's answering Samurai. She bites down on her cigarette and replies;
no thanks, I'm working for another 5hrs and feel like shit 👍 have fun for me
She shoves her phone back into her apron and lets a heavy sigh billow out of her mouth. Her chest starts to twist, her heart beating with a small pang. Her defibrillator starts pulsing again.
"Y'know, I only really did the baseball thing 'cause I thought it'd be fun to do with Cole," Nicole looks towards the sky as if the Intern is up there. "We both needed the exercise, yeah, and… heh, pitching was kinda' fun. But, it was really just an excuse to hang with him without getting yelled at to go back to my room."
A small, bitter smile creeps onto her face. "I know it's stupid to get so worked up. I have other things to focus on than someone who doesn't want to give me the time of day." Another drag on her cigarette, and that's the last of it. "I can't help it. He's… I…"
onetwo, onetwo, onetwo, onetwo. One, two.
"I don't know."
She sighs out the last of the smoke, coughs at whatever got stuck in her throat, then spits it onto the concrete stairs. She grinds her cigarette on the wall behind her and flicks it to the ground.
"I don't know," Nicole echoes. "I've had plenty of exes. I should be used to this by now." She brings a hand to her mouth, and nibbles on her thumbnail. "I– did we even break up? He's not talking to me, but…"
Their last conversation– their fight– rings in her ears. "I'm not, like, "mad" or whatever… I just wasn't expecting this relationship to be so high maintenance!"
"Is it really so high-maintenance to just… wanna see him?" Nicole swallows dryly. "I know he's busy, that… that stupid contest means a lot to him, but… more than me?"
She bites her cheek. Tears are welling up again. She tries to force them back, to wipe them away, but once the first one streaks down her cheek the rest come tumbling after. Shortly after that, her breath starts to stutter and her throat closes up.
She presses both hands to her face, nails digging into her cheeks as the sob builds in her chest. Now she really doesn't want to go back inside.
"I should be used to this," Nicole whispers, choking back what she could before the rest fell out with a shake of her shoulders. "I-I can't keep doing this. It's not like anything changes. I put everything I can into a relationship for– for what? Just so they can– fucking disappear, when they find something better?"
Another sob wracks her body, and she fights the urge to crumble to her knees. Her defibrillator keeps pulsing, but right now it does little to soothe the wrenching in her chest.
Is it me? She doesn't like entertaining that thought, but it's always the first one to creep in. What am I doing wrong? Can I change anything? It's the smoking, isn't it? I swear, I'm trying to stop! I'm trying to be better. Believe me, I'm fucking trying.
Her throat feels raw, and there's a dull headache staring to creep in between her eyes. In the back of her mind, she feels pathetic. Of course I'd be breaking down in a shitty little back alley. Crying over cigarettes and trash for some stupid boy. This is just like me.
Her defibrillator keeps in time with her heart. It's like the Intern's way of patting her on the back, to comfort her in some way across all the distance. Through her crying, she appreciates it.
She only stops crying when her teeth start itching. Another pathetic pang rings through her chest.
"I was doing so well," she mutters, mostly to herself, but she knows the Intern is listening while she rifles through her pockets. "I wasn't smoking nearly as much. I went down to three a day. Three! Now it's like…" She stares down the half-empty pack of cigarettes in her hand, coupled with her lighter. "I can't go three minutes without one. That's so stupid, isn't it?"
One-two, one-two.
She scoffs, sniffling and picking a cigarette out of the pack. "It's wh-whatever. Thanks for listening, I-I guess." She takes a choppy breath in, heaving it out just as unevenly. Then, she snaps her teeth onto her cigarette and starts flicking her lighter. Once, twice, three times, four– "God dammit—" fifth time's the charm. She watches the flame dance around the tip of the cigarette until she can taste it.
She thuds her head rather painfully into the wall behind her. A half-groan, half-whine escapes her alongside the next cloud of smoke. This headache is going to follow her all day. These tear tracks aren't going to go away, either.
She can still feel her defibrillator pulsing. She knows the cigarettes do some bad shit to her heart. They fuck up her lungs, so that's got to mess with her heart. Looks like the Intern isn't leaving her alone for a while. That sucks. She'd really like to be totally alone again, so she can break down and cry without feeling bad for subjecting them to it.
Whatever. If they're still listening, it wouldn't hurt to talk.
"I dunno," she starts, and immediately feels dumb for starting like that for the third time. "I don't think I should get so worked up. I'm… doing that thing, where I spiral and spiral, and it's actually not such a big fucking deal. I'll get over myself." Another drag, another exhale, then she lets her cigarette dangle between her fingers at her side.
"I can't say I don't need him," She admits, staring at the ashes smattered on her shoes. "I think I still do. We had something good going on. Something great, even. It… it felt real, this time." She bites her cheek, running her free hand over her shoulder. She can still feel his embrace if she thinks hard enough, and those stupid-cute little pepper-kisses he liked to do across her neck and back. It makes her chest tight with another defibrillated twist.
Her phone buzzes, and the Intern misses their next cue as she jumps. A stupid painful twist is yet again hoping to see Cole's name, but- argh, god-DAMMIT,
it's just her alarm. Her break is up. No it's not. She shuts off her alarm and shoves her phone back in her pocket. They can wait another ten minutes for their shitty stale scones and overpriced lattes.
"I don't know," She says for the fourth fucking time. "I- fuck, dude. I just don't know anything. Except that I miss Cole." She scoffs and takes another drag. "Isn't that stupid? Or-or cliche? We're in the same building every single day, and I fucking miss him. Feels like he moved a million miles away, but he's right down the hall. He might as well be dead, right?"
She brings her cigarette to her mouth again, but just chews on it like she's got to stop doing. "Never did good with long-distance relationships. Tried one in high school, when she moved away. We were over about a month later, I just… couldn't keep it up with someone I couldn't even hold at the end of the day. Much less see."
She finally inhales some smoke to get her teeth to stop itching. She holds it in her chest until the Intern shocks it out of her.
"I wish he'd just understand that," She wheezes, pressing a hand to her chest. A cough, and she composes herself. "Like, just once a day is all I'm asking. A quick drop by, is all. Like—" She heaves out an irritated sigh. "Do I need to spell it out for him? That if you really love your girlfriend as much as you say you do, maybe don't ghost her out of nowhere for a stupid contest! I don't- I don't care if he writes a song about me. What's the point if I don't get to hear it from him? I couldn't care less what he writes about! I just…!"
She bites back another I don't know with another drag.
"Whatever," She hisses, letting her chest pang and twist and ache and letting her heart crash against her ribs with every angry throb. "Stupid boys, am I right? Stupid boyfriend can't get the picture." She taps her cigarette, more ashes falling onto her shoes and even burning her ankle. "What else is new."
Her chest still hurts. Her throat feels tight with regret. I don't mean that. Maybe I do. No, no I don't. He's not stupid. It's different this time. He's different. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. But he doesn't mean to hurt. But it still fucking hurts.
She wipes her face before the tears can start up again. She can't afford two sobbing fits in one break. That'll just wait until she's off the clock. She can cry all she wants once she gets to her room.
She stews in a few more beats of silence. Her chest feels lighter with every pulse, She just puffs away and lets the Intern work their magic. A bit of sun peeks through the clouds on the other side of the cafe, sending a beam of light her way through a window on the boarded up building on the other side of the alley. Her head still aches, and her mouth is dry and choked up at the same time. There's an odd pressure under her eyes, streaking down her face. She really needs some water right now.
She checks her phone again. Minutes idly tick by. She got another text from Lucky she doesn't care about, and swipes it away.
Her defibrillator stops pulsing. She feels a little better.
"I'm not gonna take up any more of your time," Nicole says, tapping the rest of her cigarette onto the ground. "You have other patients to focus on. Go ahead, I'll be fine." She drops what's left and crushes it under her shoe. "I'll be inside. Working." She doesn't lift her gaze from the ground, even as she twists an arm back to catch the door handle behind her. "Just…"
She peeks through the window. There's only two people lined up, but they both look impatient as hell. One of them of half-yelling into their phone while they wait.
(She sees her guitar leaning in the corner, and her eyes start stinging again.)
She lets out a heavy sigh, hoping the force would blow the rest of her fucked up feelings away. They just stagnate in the bottom of her stomach.
"I'll be fine," she insists, throwing open the door. "Just forget about me."
Time to get back to work. She'll unpack all this later.