You didn’t even realize you were doing it.

Your nerves had been creeping in slowly- tightening your chest, speeding up your thoughts, making everything around you blur. You were trying to listen to what Brando was saying across the courtyard table, but the world was humming too loud and Niccolò’s hand just happened to be there, resting between you both.

You didn’t think. You just reached out and let your fingers wrap around his, thumb brushing the cold metal of the rings he always wore like armor. You twisted one absently. Slid it halfway up his finger, then down again. Over and over. It was grounding.

By the time you realized what you were doing, it was too late. He looked down, then back up at you- quiet and unreadable.

You started to pull away. “Sorry..” you muttered, cheeks warm. But instead he said something more surprising to him than you.

“Keep it.”

The words hit so softly you almost missed them. Your eyes flicked up to meet his. He wasn’t smirking this time. No teasing grin, no cocky comeback. Just those steady, clear blue eyes watching you like maybe he understood more than he let on. Like maybe this wasn’t just about nerves or rings.

You froze.

He slid the ring from his finger- the thick silver one he never let anyone borrow and pressed it gently into your palm, curling your fingers around it like it meant something.

Because it did.

“Seriously,”

He said, voice a little rough as he spoke up again adding on to his words.

“Just… keep it. If it helps. I don’t care.”

And that was Niccolò for you. Bold, reckless, unpredictable. The same boy who’d kiss someone behind the gym one week and punch someone in the face the next. But this version of him? The one that let you hold his hand without a word? The one who gave you part of himself without expecting anything back?

That version was something different.