Love Me, Don't Fix Me

Andrew sat cross-legged on the floor of his small studio apartment, a mess of receipts, unpaid bills, and his half-functional calculator spread around him like puzzle pieces he couldn't fit together. The overhead light buzzed faintly, and the room was silent but for the occasional scratch of pencil on paper and the low hum of the city outside his window. He ran a hand through his thick, overgrown curls, pushing them back from his forehead in frustration. He hadn't gotten a haircut in weeks. Honestly, it wasn't even a priority.

The numbers didn't lie, and they weren't pretty.

He had barely any money left in his account. He'd used most of it getting his laptop fixed after it crashed during midterms, buying new textbooks, and paying back his boss for accidentally dropping and breaking a crate of ceramic mugs at the café. Rent was still due, the fridge was almost empty save for a bottle of ketchup and a few eggs, and his gas bill was threatening to get cut off.

His eyes drifted toward the tuxedo hanging neatly on the back of his closet door—the one Nova had gotten tailored for him, the one he wore at her exhibit. It was pristine, sleek, and made of fabric he wouldn't have even dared to touch in a store. He bit the inside of his cheek.

If he sold it, he might get enough to scrape through this month. Maybe.

But could he do that? Nova had gifted it to him without any expectations. It didn't feel right to sell something she had given so generously. But desperation didn't leave room for sentiment.

He sighed deeply and dropped his head into his hands.

Maybe he could ask her for a loan? No. That would be worse. He had only known her for a few weeks—less than a month, really. And despite the weird connection between them, asking for money would just feel… wrong.

His eyes flicked to his phone. No missed calls. No notifications. Just the crushing weight of his circumstances.

He was in his final year of design school. He had come too far to crash and burn now. His professors expected brilliance, and his scholarship required perfection. If he slipped up, even a little, he risked losing everything he'd fought for.

A sudden knock at the door made him jump.

His heart stuttered. Was it the landlord? Was this it—the final notice?

He took a moment to breathe before getting up slowly, walking to the door with hesitant steps. He unlocked it and pulled it open—and blinked.

Nova.

She stood there in jeans, a white t-shirt and an oversized hoodie that swallowed her frame, holding a takeout bag with the name of a nearby Chinese restaurant printed in bold red lettering.

"Hey," she said casually, as though she hadn't just caught him in the middle of financial panic. "Mind if I come in?"

Andrew blinked again, momentarily stunned. "Uhm... yeah. Sure. Come in."

He stepped aside, and she breezed in like she belonged there, her presence brightening the gloom of the apartment in an instant.

"I was a few blocks away, and I spotted this new Chinese place that just opened up. Smelled amazing, so I thought I'd try it—and figured, why not share with you?" she said, setting the bag down on the floor like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Andrew rubbed the back of his neck, awkward and unsure. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to. We're friends, right? That's what friends are for," she said, shooting him a warm smile that made his stomach twist.

He glanced down at the spread of bills and papers still littering the floor and felt a knot of shame tighten in his chest.

"Seriously, Nova… thank you. You don't know how much I needed this."

"Well, you can repay me by telling me if this lo mein is any good," she teased, pulling out two sets of chopsticks and a box of spring rolls. She sat cross-legged on the floor without a second thought and patted the space beside her.

He hesitated for only a second before sitting down next to her. The smell of hot food made his mouth water. He hadn't had a proper meal in days.

"This place is supposed to be authentic," she said, handing him a box of kung pao chicken and rice. "Let's test it."

Andrew took a bite, and his eyes widened. "Okay, wow. That's… amazing."

"Told you," she said, grinning.

They ate in quiet companionship, the tension of earlier melting away in the warmth of shared food and laughter. She told him about her mother's reaction to Sergei the barista, and he chuckled, imagining the deadly man behind a coffee machine.

Eventually, they leaned back against the wall, stomachs full, and the world felt a little less heavy for both of them. Andrew glanced at her, grateful, a little stunned that someone like her had chosen to sit beside someone like him.

And for now, that was enough.

They sat in silence, the kind that needed no words—comfortable, warm, and understanding. The late afternoon sun filtered through the window, painting streaks of gold across the floor where papers were spread out in a chaotic mess. Nova glanced down, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the rows of calculations, receipts, and overdue notices scattered beside them.

Her hand instinctively reached out to pick up one of the papers, but Andrew reacted quickly, snatching it away before she could touch it.

"You shouldn't be looking at this," he said with a nervous laugh, his eyes flicking anywhere but her face.

"Why not?" she asked, her tone gentle but curious.

"It's nothing. Just... some budget stuff."

"Andrew," she said quietly, her voice soft but firm.

He looked away, lips pressing into a thin line as if debating whether to tell her the truth. A war was waging inside him—between pride and vulnerability.

"Nova—"

She cut him off before he could finish.

"Do you need money?"

His eyes widened slightly. "No... uhm, I was just calculating this month's expenses, that's all," he mumbled.

He didn't look her in the eyes when he said that. And that was enough for Nova.

"Andrew, do you need money?" she asked again, calmly and patiently.

He sighed, long and heavy. "My rent is overdue," he admitted, voice low. "I haven't even bought groceries yet, and I barely have enough money left for one meal."

Nova stood up abruptly.

"Come on. Let's go."

He looked up at her, puzzled. "Where?"

"The grocery store. We're getting you enough groceries to last a few months. I'm paying. And as for the rent? I'll cover three months."

"Nova, no. You can't—"

She cut him off, firm but compassionate. "Then I'd be a horrible friend to let you suffer when I can help. This isn't about pity, Andrew. It's about friendship. I like helping people. My mom taught me to never ignore someone in need when I have the means to help."

He hesitated, torn between his pride and the genuine kindness in her eyes. Eventually, he stood up.

"Okay," he said quietly.

—

The local grocery store was bustling with people, carts rolling, toddlers screaming, and announcements echoing over the speakers. Nova grabbed a cart and handed it to Andrew.

"Alright, go wild. Pick whatever you want. Anything. Everything. Food, toiletries, snacks. Even stuff you think you don't need. Just get it."

Andrew blinked at her, uncertain. "Nova... are you sure?"

"Do I look unsure? Go."

He hesitated a beat longer, then started slowly, grabbing a few essentials—rice, pasta, canned goods. Nova watched him with a frown, then rolled her eyes.

"Move aside. You clearly don't know how to shop for survival."

She took control of the cart, tossing in a pack of mixed vegetables, protein bars, peanut butter, bread, frozen meals, eggs, milk, cereal, and fruit. She moved with the precision of someone who had done this a million times.

"I live alone too sometimes, especially when Mom and Dad travel. So, trust me. These are staples."

They moved through the aisles, and soon the cart was overflowing with everything from basic necessities to comfort food. Nova even added a set of toiletries—soap, shampoo, deodorant, razors, and a new toothbrush.

As they passed the grooming section, she picked up a sleek set of hair clippers, scissors, and a comb.

"What's that for?" Andrew asked.

"You," she said simply.

He raised a brow.

"Tonight, I'm your barber. That hair situation? We're fixing it."

He couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "You know, you're kind of insane."

"And you're kind of broke," she replied with a wink. "Perfect combo."

By the time they got to the checkout counter, the cart looked like it could feed a family of four. The cashier blinked in disbelief at the sheer volume, and Andrew turned red from embarrassment. But Nova? She just slid her platinum card across the scanner like it was nothing.

They bagged the groceries together, walking back to the car in comfortable silence. Andrew carried two heavy bags, and Nova balanced the rest in the trunk.

For the first time in a long time, he felt... light. Like the weight he'd been carrying around for weeks had finally loosened its grip.

And as they drove back to his place with the groceries in tow, he glanced at Nova from the corner of his eye and realized something:

She wasn't just some rich girl with a big heart.

She was a hurricane of compassion.

And maybe—just maybe—she'd walked into his life exactly when he needed her most.