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The city swallows everything. Its skyscrapers stretch like jagged teeth into a pale, indifferent sky, its streets churn with rivers of people who never stop moving, never look back. They don’t know what it means to be still, to feel the weight of every step, to wonder if their legs might give out before the day is done. Like weeds forcing their way through cracked pavement, they push forward, relentless, never questioning whether they should. Life persists, even when it has no right to.
It’s been days. Weeks. Months. Niko doesn't count anymore. The passage of time is meaningless when you have nothing to look forward to, nothing to hold onto but the quiet ache in your chest and the memory of a bullet’s sharp punctuation. There is no revenge in revenge. There is no justice, no absolution, no relief. There is only what’s left. Wilted petals clinging stubbornly to their stems, refusing to fall even as they wither.
Roman says Niko should move on. He says life is too short to be angry, too short to be sad. But he doesn’t know what it feels like to wake up every morning with the same leaden weight in your chest, to carry it through the day and into the night, where it festers and grows. Though, Niko doesn't blame him for his optimism; it’s his nature. Roman believes in happy endings. He always has.
He believes in Niko, too. God help him.
Mallorie is pregnant. Roman told him a while ago that if it’s a girl, they’ll name her Kate. The irony isn’t lost on him. A name like a pressed flower in an old book... preserved, but lifeless.
Niko tells him he is happy for him, and it is not a lie. Roman deserves to be happy. He deserves the house, the wife, the kid, the normal life he’s always dreamed of. He deserves it all, and Niko wishes he could give him more. He wishes he could be more.
But there is nothing left of him to give. Some things bloom only once, and Niko fears he spent his last bloom on a life that was never his to keep.
Some nights, Niko walks through the city until his legs give out, tracing the same streets he and Kate wandered together. The neon lights blur into streaks of color that smear across his vision, and he thinks about how small they all are, how insignificant. Dandelions crushed underfoot, petals scattered without thought. Kate had believed in things... in joy, in redemption, in Niko. He’d wanted to believe too, but he’d seen too much. There’s a darkness that clings to you when you’ve killed as many men as he has. It seeps into your skin, your blood, your bones. You carry it with you, no matter how far you run. Like roots wrapping around a coffin, the past never lets go.
He keeps walking. The air smells like exhaust and hot concrete, a cocktail of industry and decay. He steps over a crushed soda can, its aluminum sides gleaming dully in the afternoon light. It reminds him of something. Someone. But the memory slips away before he can catch it, leaving only the faintest trace of sadness in its wake. Like a petal carried away by the wind, drifting too far to ever be retrieved.
Roman calls him often. He says he wants to check in, make sure Niko is still alive. His voice is full of warmth and concern, and it twists the knife in Niko’s chest a little deeper every time. He lies to him, tells him he is fine, tells him he’s been keeping busy. Roman doesn’t press, because he wants to believe Niko.
He’s having a party tonight, a small one, just family and a few close friends. He asked Niko to come, and he said he would, because saying no would’ve hurt him. Because he owes him that much.
The apartment is warm and bright, filled with laughter and the smell of food. Mallorie greets Niko at the door, her belly round and her smile radiant. She reminds him of a sunflower, stretching toward the light, full of life in a way he has never been. Roman is in the kitchen, clinking glasses together and telling a completely false story that makes everyone laugh. He looks so happy, so alive. Like a sunflower turning toward the light, Roman has always known how to find joy.
Niko finds a quiet corner and nurses a beer, letting the conversations wash over him like waves. He watches Roman from a distance, his arms around Mallorie, his hand resting gently on her stomach. He looks at her like she’s the only thing that matters, like she’s the center of his universe. Like a gardener watching his carefully tended blossoms thrive, full of hope for the seasons to come.
When the party winds down and the guests begin to leave, Roman pulls Niko aside. His smile falters when he looks at him, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you okay, cousin?” he asks. Niko nods.
They sit together on the balcony, the city sprawled out before them like a living, breathing thing. Roman talks about the baby, about the nursery they’re decorating, about the future he’s building. Niko listens, because it’s all he can do.
“I wish you could be happy,” Roman says softly, and the words hang in the air like smoke.
“I am,” Niko said, and Roman doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t press.
When he leaves, the streets are quiet, the city’s roar reduced to a dull hum. He walks without direction, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, his head down. He passed a flower shop with a display of roses wilting in the summer heat. Their petals are curled and brown at the edges, their stems bent under the weight of their dying bloom. Like him. Like all things left too long in the sun.
Niko thought about plucking one, just to feel its softness between his fingers, just to remind himself that beauty still exists, even in decay. But he doesn't. Some things should be left where they fall.
A few days pass in the slow, dragging way days often do when you're a man with nothing to anchor you. Niko doesn't keep track of them anymore. They bleed into each other, gray and featureless. But Roman always knows how to find him, always knows when to tug him back into the world.
The call comes just after noon.
"Hey, cousin," his voice was bright and familiar, stretching through the receiver like an old song. "Feel like going bowling?"
Niko hasn't said yes to much in this life lately, but Roman? Roman has always been different. "Sure," Niko said, even though he can’t remember the last time he held a bowling ball without wanting to throw it through a window instead of down a lane.
They meet near the old alley on Mohawk Avenue, but Roman, being Roman, changes the plan halfway through.
"It's too hot in there," he waves off the idea, guiding Niko toward a nearby vendor with his hand on Niko’s shoulder. "I just want to sit outside for a bit. You hungry?"
"I'm not really-"
"Two hot dogs, please," Roman interrupts before he can finish.
They sit at one of those rusting metal tables, surrounded by pigeons pecking at the pavement. He slides a hot dog in front of Niko, fully loaded with mustard and onions, the kind of messy that requires two napkins minimum.
"You didn't have to do that," Niko says, half-hearted.
Roman shrugs, biting into his own with gusto. "C'mon, Niko. It's hot dogs. One of life's simple pleasures!"
Niko stares at his for a while before picking it up. "Simple pleasures, huh?"
Roman nods through a mouthful of food. "Yeah. Hot dogs, bowling, you know."
His words linger in the air between them, heavy despite his cheerful tone. Roman’s never been good at subtlety, and today’s no different.
"You look tired, cousin," he says finally, wiping mustard from his lip. "I worry about you."
"I'm doing fine, Roman" Niko lied, the words automatic.
Roman leans forward, his voice softer now. "You're not fine. And that's okay. I just-look, Niko, I know things have been..." He hesitates, searching for the right word. "Hard. Since everything happened."
Since everything happened? It’s always been hard. Niko doesn't want to talk about it. He never does. But Roman keeps going, his concern outweighing his usual tactlessness.
"I miss her too," he admits, and it catches Niko off guard.That was a lie. Roman barely knew her. "Kate. She was good for you. Maybe too good. But you deserve someone like that."
"I don’t deserve anyone," Niko says flatly, dropping the hot dog back onto its wrapper.
Roman shakes his head. "That's not true. You think you're some monster, but you're not! You care more than anyone I've ever known, even when you try not to. You saved me, cousin. And Mallorie. You keep saving me, even when you don’t think you are."
"You don't get it," Niko tells him, his voice low. "Every time I try to be someone better, someone good, it falls apart."
"So what?" Roman gestures wildly, nearly knocking over his soda. "You think that makes you the only one? Life doesn't stop kicking you when you're down. But you have to keep standing up, Niko. For me, for yourself."
Niko looked at him, really looked at him. His round face flushed from the summer heat, his eyes earnest and full of stubborn love. He’s always believed in Niko, even when Niko didn’t believe in himself.
"You've got Mallorie," Niko reminds him. "And the baby."
Roman smiles, soft and proud. "Yeah, I do. But I want my cousin around too. Not just in body, but here." He taps his chest. "You know? Like the old days. Laughing, having stupid adventures. You remember that?"
"Yeah," Niko says quietly, the memory distant but not gone.
"We can have that again," he insists. "Maybe not exactly the same, but something good. You just have to let it happen."
Niko doesn't know if he believes him, but he wants to.
The pigeons scatter as a car honks nearby, and Roman laughs, shaking his head. "This city, man. Never stops being a circus."
"Yeah," Niko agreed, his voice softer now.
Roman leans back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach with that easy grin of his. "You remember when we were kids?"
Niko glances at him, brow furrowing slightly. "Yes, of course."
"We used to sit by the river," Roman continues, eyes distant now, fixed on something only he can see. "Dreaming about coming to America. You said you wanted to be someone important. I just wanted to eat cheeseburgers and drive a nice car."
Niko huffs a dry, humorless laugh. "Looks like you got what you wanted."
Roman grins wider. "Damn right, I did. Cheeseburgers, nice car, and a beautiful wife who puts up with me. And soon, a little kid running around, breaking everything in sight."
"You've got it good," Niko admits, though there's no bitterness in his voice, just quiet truth.
"And you could too," Roman says, leaning forward again, his tone insistent. "It’s not too late, cousin."
Niko shook his head. "It's different for me."
"Only because you make it different," Roman counters. "You're always carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, like you owe something to it. But you don't. You're allowed to be happy, Niko!"
Niko looked down at the remnants of his hot dog, the mustard smeared across the wax paper like some ugly metaphor. He meets Roman's eyes, and for a moment, there's nothing but that same unbreakable bond they’ve always had, forged through years of hardship and survival. He’s always been the dreamer, the optimist, the one who believed in a better future. And maybe that's what Niko needed right now... someone who refuses to let him sink into the darkness entirely.
"You've always been stubborn," he told Roman.
"And you've always been a pain in my ass!" Roman grins. "But we're family. We get through things together."
Niko nodded, even though the weight in his chest remained. "Yeah."
Roman slaps the table, standing up. "Come on, let's walk off those hot dogs before I turn into a bowling ball myself."