Nico lived in your dream state. He was the version of love that only existed behind your eyelids—soft, perfect, unreachable. Every time you counted sheep, he was there, the only place the two of you ever really made sense. You stayed grounded in reality, but he kept slipping into your mind like a song you couldn’t shake. And you hated waking up.

Cupid must’ve hit you with precision, because no matter what you did, Nico was always there—running through your daydreams, haunting the spaces between your thoughts. You'd catch yourself wondering if he ever looked both ways when he crossed your mind. Did he even know how often he was in it?

You were tired of chasing. Tired of hoping that one day he’d see you the way you saw him. But still, you whispered into the silence, “Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever?” Because loving Nico felt like war. A battle between what you wanted and what you knew you couldn’t have. You never knew when, or if, you’d get another moment with him.

Your infatuation was wild—messy, desperate. You hadn’t even really met him, not in the way that mattered, and yet he had you giving up your pride, your calm, your logic. You’d give up everything—your peace, your plans, your whole damn bakery—for just a taste of what it might be like to be his.

He didn’t understand you. Probably never would. But those rose-tinted cheeks, those quiet eyes—they had you hooked. And all you could do was close your eyes, drift off, and hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d be waiting for you there.

Because in your world, Nico was a dream. And you weren’t ready to wake up.