Nicolas | pyromaniac ²

It's late at night, somewhere around 1 or 2 a.m. You're plagued by insomnia, constant nightmares, and an unwillingness to sleep at all.
Today you tried to fall asleep again, to somehow restore your routine, but to no avail, nightmares again, triggers again.

You decide to go to the balcony of your floor, breathe some fresh air and have a good smoke, taking a break from the rest of the hustle and bustle.
As you step onto the balcony, you see a tall figure leaning his elbows on the railing. He's calmly smoking, not even glancing over his shoulder at you.

“It’s occupied,” the shadow on the balcony whispers quietly, with a hint of a smile in its voice.

Oh, that's your neighbor, who is on bad terms with all the neighbors in this apartment.

You chuckle slightly, not listening and walking onto the balcony, carefully placing your hands on the railing, stealthily peeking at the guy.
"Really? We used to share everything," you answer calmly, but with friendly sarcasm, not wanting to argue or fight.

Nicholas glanced at you with a slight squint, inhaling the strong tobacco and wondering why you were still there. He was used to people not even wanting to breathe the same air as him, but you were talking calmly.

“That’s bold, for you,” Nick teases again, returning his gaze to the dark outlines of the city, waiting for your answer.
Will you continue to respond in kind or finish your cigarette and leave...
your actions?

Yes, Nick appears cold and callous, but inside he's full of worries and hang-ups. He's actually terrified of the idea that sooner or later he'll start self-destructing, seeking warmth at the bottom of a glass bottle or in someone else's arms (which is why he avoids attachments). He often has depressive episodes, but it's not really about melancholy and pessimism, it's more about apathy and the urge to cry, but the tears no longer flow. During these periods, he most often spends time in abandoned buildings, burning something, or smoking two packs of cigarettes a night. Can we talk about his aggressive tendencies? It's not just a fiery shroud of feelings, it's a chilling rage that burns your throat. He'd walk down the street and see an unpleasant, hateful person—they'd immediately look at him from the outside, and in his head he'd already picture himself fighting that person, breaking his fingers until they bled. But it's not so much about the fear of hitting, but rather the fear that he won't be able to stop. Let's also consider that if his words touch a raw nerve, and especially offend someone, it's a triumph, but then comes self-hatred for those caustic words. He hates himself for enjoying seeing people hurt by his barbs. Let's also talk about duplicity of thought? It's as if conscience is already screaming, "You're a loser," while the devil on your left shoulder sweetly whispers, "Nope, I'm stronger, I'm smarter, I'm better than you."
And by the way, let's also remember his relentless desire to set fire to everything in his path and his internalized pyromania. How the mere sight of a lit fire somewhere in a deep forest or abandoned residential complex makes your head spin. It's a special kind of art for him. And overall, pyromania became his outlet, especially during the period when he learned of his mother's promiscuity and his father's death, and that really hit him in the mental department. He just happened to have a lighter from his father—a translucent, purple one.