Nick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecapitol2015-07-08 07:36 pm
fuckitall) wrote in thecapitol2015-07-08 07:36 pm
Entry tags:
A pair of shoes, if you had three you'd give me two
Who| Nick, Luke
What| It's just another day for Nick, but then he finds a few presents and letter at the door.
Where| Nick's room.
When| Tuesday, the 7th.
After everything that has happened so far, this is one of the few days Nick has to himself to just lie down and process everything. A few weeks have passed and there had been no word about Clementine since. Nick had thought about visiting her room at the D6 suites, but he already knew when he saw Luke and Jane not too long after the fact. They all knew, but other shit in the Capitol got in the way for them to even talk about it (although what was there to even talk about?). He's still reeling it in, despite meeting other folks like Ellis who have given him some light but without Clementine, the already dim world got dimmer. All Nick could do is remind himself that Clementine's a smart and tough girl, and that if she is sent back to the world where the dead walk, it's more than evident that she'd be able to handle herself fine.
He only wishes he got to teach her another song at least. Something so small and mundane that had became important to him that he could've done for her after what she had done for him.
He had gotten up earlier to brush his teeth and change only to remain in bed still, staring up at the ceiling that has become familiar for him. The knock on the door keeps him from falling asleep again as he gets up to answer to an avox holding a gift bag. Nick peeks out both sides of the door as if to expect cameras or some sort of dumb Capitol surprise but as he watches the avox return to her station down the hall, he takes that as a sign that was all to expect.
There's some weight in the bag and its contents let out a quiet clink as he sets it down on the bed. He pulls out the items wrapped in tissue paper and raises a brow at the shot glasses. He sets the glass aside and pulls out the whiskey bottle next, examining its label before setting it down also. So much has been going on that it only just caught up to him that today was his birthday, and as far as he knew, there was only one other person that would do something like this for him.
He keeps that string of hope from being tugged too much when he opens the card and finds the notes inside, smiling to himself that his hope isn't unfounded as he reads through the handwriting he recognizes belonging to one other person.
The letter takes him to their lives before. Even just the day before the outbreak happened and broke out into a spiral that they live in now. When the times were better and survival only meant in the financial sense (that they both royally suck at - but it's one of many memories that Nick still holds close to his heart and looks back with a smile).
Neither of them are strangers to having heart to heart talks, let alone with one another, but so many things have gone unsaid between them for the longest time now. Doors never really locked, but also were never opened again once they had been shut. There's only a silent understanding that there are some things that just couldn't be talked about, given their situation, so they both just need to power through. Keeping everything in like that since then had his emotions come out in angry bursts. They have stayed together, but those months of keeping silent and having his mind in one place while his body kept up with everyone else had been the loneliest he ever experienced.
After all that time of leaving things unsaid, it's no wonder that Luke probably decided that a letter was probably the best way to get things out (even if the constant surveillance was taken to account).
Time's precious, he writes. Take the chance, he says. Nick's brows creases as he wonders if the guy is also taking his own advice - whatever it's meant to be applied to. It'd be the same thing Nick would tell him if their positions had been reversed. It's always been easier to know the right thing to say than to actually bring yourself to actually believing in them. Easier said than done, and some folks just have an easier time getting it done. Nick's not one of them.
Luke believes he can. He believed in him since they met way back in day 1, when Nick had been the new kid in town and Luke welcomed him with open arms.
Nick's eyes never left the letter though he had stopped reading for a while. It just takes one blink for him to realize that the paper is slightly blotted by his stupid tears. He curses at himself quietly as he wipes his eyes roughly with his sleeve, and tries to hide the smile forming with it. Folding the papers up and slipping it back into the card (he'll tuck it somewhere safe later), he clears his throat and calls up Luke.
"Get yourself over here, you asshole," he attempts some level of birthday boy authority with his tone, but the laughter escaping his grin and evidence of tears falling from his voice makes it unconvincing. "I'm not drinkin' this alone."
What| It's just another day for Nick, but then he finds a few presents and letter at the door.
Where| Nick's room.
When| Tuesday, the 7th.
After everything that has happened so far, this is one of the few days Nick has to himself to just lie down and process everything. A few weeks have passed and there had been no word about Clementine since. Nick had thought about visiting her room at the D6 suites, but he already knew when he saw Luke and Jane not too long after the fact. They all knew, but other shit in the Capitol got in the way for them to even talk about it (although what was there to even talk about?). He's still reeling it in, despite meeting other folks like Ellis who have given him some light but without Clementine, the already dim world got dimmer. All Nick could do is remind himself that Clementine's a smart and tough girl, and that if she is sent back to the world where the dead walk, it's more than evident that she'd be able to handle herself fine.
He only wishes he got to teach her another song at least. Something so small and mundane that had became important to him that he could've done for her after what she had done for him.
He had gotten up earlier to brush his teeth and change only to remain in bed still, staring up at the ceiling that has become familiar for him. The knock on the door keeps him from falling asleep again as he gets up to answer to an avox holding a gift bag. Nick peeks out both sides of the door as if to expect cameras or some sort of dumb Capitol surprise but as he watches the avox return to her station down the hall, he takes that as a sign that was all to expect.
There's some weight in the bag and its contents let out a quiet clink as he sets it down on the bed. He pulls out the items wrapped in tissue paper and raises a brow at the shot glasses. He sets the glass aside and pulls out the whiskey bottle next, examining its label before setting it down also. So much has been going on that it only just caught up to him that today was his birthday, and as far as he knew, there was only one other person that would do something like this for him.
He keeps that string of hope from being tugged too much when he opens the card and finds the notes inside, smiling to himself that his hope isn't unfounded as he reads through the handwriting he recognizes belonging to one other person.
The letter takes him to their lives before. Even just the day before the outbreak happened and broke out into a spiral that they live in now. When the times were better and survival only meant in the financial sense (that they both royally suck at - but it's one of many memories that Nick still holds close to his heart and looks back with a smile).
Neither of them are strangers to having heart to heart talks, let alone with one another, but so many things have gone unsaid between them for the longest time now. Doors never really locked, but also were never opened again once they had been shut. There's only a silent understanding that there are some things that just couldn't be talked about, given their situation, so they both just need to power through. Keeping everything in like that since then had his emotions come out in angry bursts. They have stayed together, but those months of keeping silent and having his mind in one place while his body kept up with everyone else had been the loneliest he ever experienced.
After all that time of leaving things unsaid, it's no wonder that Luke probably decided that a letter was probably the best way to get things out (even if the constant surveillance was taken to account).
Time's precious, he writes. Take the chance, he says. Nick's brows creases as he wonders if the guy is also taking his own advice - whatever it's meant to be applied to. It'd be the same thing Nick would tell him if their positions had been reversed. It's always been easier to know the right thing to say than to actually bring yourself to actually believing in them. Easier said than done, and some folks just have an easier time getting it done. Nick's not one of them.
Luke believes he can. He believed in him since they met way back in day 1, when Nick had been the new kid in town and Luke welcomed him with open arms.
Nick's eyes never left the letter though he had stopped reading for a while. It just takes one blink for him to realize that the paper is slightly blotted by his stupid tears. He curses at himself quietly as he wipes his eyes roughly with his sleeve, and tries to hide the smile forming with it. Folding the papers up and slipping it back into the card (he'll tuck it somewhere safe later), he clears his throat and calls up Luke.
"Get yourself over here, you asshole," he attempts some level of birthday boy authority with his tone, but the laughter escaping his grin and evidence of tears falling from his voice makes it unconvincing. "I'm not drinkin' this alone."
no subject
The arena’s over for him, it has been for weeks. But he’s still surviving. Letting himself feel the pain of Clem’s loss only in turns when he does let it in at all between long hours at the training centre, cooking lightly, trawling broadcasts for information, or sketching potential tattoo designs. Nick’s call helps, though. It shakes Luke from his trance, his task-by-task way of living, putting a smile on his face despite himself. His friend’s voice is thick with tears, it seems, but there’s a note of happiness too, something he hasn’t heard in a long time. After so many things he has failed at lately – important things – at least this he has gotten right.
“Good, ‘cause I ain’t lettin’ you have all the fun.” He answers, smirking, though his voice is soft with fondness too. “…I’ll be right over. You want anythin’?”
no subject
"Man..." He hasn't looked away from the bottle. "I almost forgot what today was." He might have just slept in and let it go over his head. He nearly did last year if Luke and Pete hadn't reminded him.
His eyes trail over at his watch before he looks back at the holo with a more controlled smile. "See you soon, Luke."
no subject
Or try to, anyway.
He knocks, offering Nick a smile that comes more easily than he expects. “Hey man, hope you’re hungry ‘cause I brought plenty.” He lifts the bag for emphasis.
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He sets up the glasses and drinks on the table, chairs looking out to the rest of the Capitol. He gives the city a passing glance as he goes to answer the door. The smell of what he could only guess is Luke's home cooking brings back
near embarrassingmemories of college. "Smells nice," he says with a smile and lets Luke in, gesturing towards the table. "And I didn't hear no smoke detector so it must be good."Once Luke settles himself, Nick does not hesitate to pull him to a tight hug, one arm around the waist and the other around his shoulder. "Thanks," he whispers into his neck before drawing back.
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"Wow.” Flatly, shaking his head in mock-offense. And after he ended up with a Band-Aid on a finger and a small, faint burn on the back of his wrist for his troubles, too. “Ain't holdin' back on the praise there, Nick." He walks up to the table where he empties the bag item by item, his smile faltering as he's reminded of the special family dinner Clem had wanted. Reminded of all the surprises for her he hadn't gotten to in time, too busy info-gathering and dwelling on and prepping for arenas to commit to bringing more happiness into the life of a little girl who had never asked for much, for all the world had robbed her of. And now all he had left were regrets and the origami dogs she had folded with him. Things he kept close to his bed with the family photo and the paper crane she had made him the very first day they had met in Panem.
He blinks, snapping back to the present. Nick would just have to enjoy an extra helping of his gumbo and biscuit muffins for her.
“Can’t forget these…” He finishes, lightly tossing a pack of colourful wax candles onto the table. Nick now has the luxury of being made to feel like an itty bitty birthday boy all over again. One’s never too old for making wishes; only too old to believe in them, after a while.
Luke has barely balled up and tossed the bag aside when Nick pulls him close. His body follows, unresisting, their hug a bumping of chests and strong, clasping arms. Luke relaxes into it with a sigh that has nothing to do with relief and everything to do with the ever-constant black hole of grief trying to rip them away and suck them deep into a place they could never escape. Sinking an axe deep into the skull of what had been Kieren – a scared kid wanting to be anything other than what he had become that day -, desperately beating Nick’s head in, being crushed under rubble with Jane and Clem and forced to listen to their liquid, ragged gasping—
He won’t let any of it rule him, won’t let it break him. Today is meant for greater things than his own pain. He fists the back of Nick’s shirt tightly and closes his eyes for a beat, feeling the steady heave of his ribs, his breath on his neck. Nick’s alive. They’re alive. Their numbers have dropped, but they’re still here.
“Anytime.” He pats Nick’s back firmly before they step away. Nick first, to his surprise. He offers another smile – something softer and more subdued, the sadness in his eyes aging him – and then looks around the place, hands jammed in his pockets. “So, what’s the plan? You gon’ make me break out the guitar an' sing you 'happy birthday'?”
no subject
He never was one to be for the center of attention, even on his birthdays. The song is always awkward no matter what mood he's in and he always was more than happy to get it over with in favor of getting the rest of the night rolling. The crowd size got smaller, with virtually all the family and friends whose faces come to mind end up slowly burning away by a fire until there were only a few left standing.
His smile betrays the thoughts going on in his mind, but there's a trust between them that's followed by an understanding. The hug is a sign of gratitude as much as it's also an apology.
Nick looks at the spread at the table, unsure exactly what they would light the candles on since there doesn't seem to be a cake. On a biscuit maybe? It's hard not to just grab one and go to town with it, but he opts for pouring the whiskey into the "12 gauge" shot glasses, one for each of them. "It won't be nowhere near as fun or tolerable with the both of us sober," he answers with a snicker and holds out the glass for Luke and another for himself. "Bottoms up, man."
no subject
It's true, what he had said to Bonnie, and he still isn't the toasting type. But some occasions warrant the attempt and celebrating the closest thing to a normal birthday with someone living on borrowed time is one of them.
He raises his glass, clearing his throat softly. "To the biggest asshole I know..." There's an expectant pause (as he waits for Nick to slug him playfully or something to that effect,) the smirk on his lips softening, losing its roguish edge. He nods, dimly, pressing on. "...an' the best friend a guy could ever want."
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It's true and said in a tone that's reserved for these moments they have. (Nick isn't much of a smooth talker otherwise.)
He holds up his glass when he sees Luke doing the same and nods thoughtfully at the toast while waiting for him to continue. Luke's not wrong and Nick wears the title proudly like a king. His look softens too at the last bit as feelings from reading the earlier well up again.
Doesn't mean he won't go down without making a (yet another) jab.
"Thought we're supposed to be talkin' about me." He clinks their shots glasses and the mischievous glint in his eyes can be seen for a split second before he downs the shot in one go. The warmth settles and continues to do so as he licks his lips. "Mmm. Pretty good."
The glasses look so ridiculous he can't help but laugh at the one he's holding. He waits for Luke to
recoverfinish his shot (they'll be doing a couple more, he hopes) before he lowers his gaze a little, unsure if he would potentially ruin the mood. They haven't even eaten yet."So these candles here..." Not exactly what immediately was on his mind, but it's worth asking when things are still light. "Don't suppose you happened to bake a cake in the...what, twenty minutes it took you to get here?"
If Luke seriously is considering sticking twenty-seven candles on a single biscuit, the return of the mischievous look on Nick's eyes is a sign that he's receiving his blessing for it.
no subject
"Damn, that's some real good shit right there." He sniffs in a dazed sort of way, cracking a grin after a moment and watching the birthday boy as he considers what to do with all the candles. They share a conspiratorial, daring look in the pause that follows and nothing more needs to be said.
Challenge accepted.
"Yeah, sure, s'in my back pocket, lemme get it..." He lets out a soft scoff of amusement and sets his glass aside. "...Don' know if it'd all stay together, but I could try stickin'--" He squints at the package. "--all twenty four candles into one a' them muffins. Jus' don' blame me if the whole thing ends up catchin' fire or somethin'."
But even as he says it he's tearing into the cardboard and plastic and then cracking open the container the muffins are in, resting one on the lid. Time to test this idea. Even at its worst, any mistake they make with this won't have disastrous consequences; it's a rare, refreshing situation to be in.
no subject
After they make idiots out of themselves with this atomic muffin.
"Twenty-four, huh?" He helps along by studding the candles into said muffin. He actually has to pull down the wrapper to get them all in until it looks like the end of a well spiked mace. "Guess I'll have to blow on three of these after."
They were around that age when it all started.
no subject
Sure, it’s stupid, no one's debating that. But it’s special. And arguably of some artistic merit.
“Jesus, jus'... don' breathe on it too much or it'll all fall apart.”
Clem would have laughed, he's sure of it. Even playfully rolled her eyes at these Grown Men shamelessly displaying all the maturity of giggling kids. He feels an ache in the hollow of his chest at the thought, glad not to have entirely outgrown his boyish spirit or let it be crushed under the world’s heel. Clem's memory is just another reason to keep it alive.
He fishes for a lighter - something he has made a point of carrying with him from the moment he got his hands on one in the Capitol – and flicks it a few times before before leaning in to light all twenty four candles. It takes more patience than he expects but eventually the flames take, flickering softly, mesmerizing. Calming. He regards them for a long time with unfocused eyes, hands tucked into his pockets, standing side-by-side in a companionable silence. Taking in the moment like it's their last. Holding it close while it's so fresh and sharply bittersweet, while peace is yet unspoiled. He looks to Nick, finally, candlelight dancing in his eyes. They crinkle at the corners.
"We can relight the last three afterwards, if y'want... Guess y'get two wishes that way. So make 'em count.” Then he nods lightly, encouragingly. Stepping back. It's Nick's time to shine; it has been for a long time. “All yours, man.”
no subject
He stares at the candles for a few seconds. It takes him back to the cabin. The cabin where candles were lit up in abundance since there was no electricity, where he and Luke spent some of the nights playing Global Menace (and arguing about how it should be played). He remembers Sarah excitedly telling him and Rebecca about some sci-fi novel she found and seeing her read by the candlelight in the living room before moving to her bedroom. Their last night there was the first time they met Clementine...and Nick still regrets his actions towards her, as understandable as they could have been.
It's the sight of one of the candles threatening to tip over that brings him back. "Nah. Twenty-four is good." Twenty-four was the last time he actually felt alive.
He kneels down so he's at eye level with the little ball of fire. It's damn near impossible to take them all out with one blow. He makes no wish for being debt free or getting a good deal on a car. He makes no wish at all, with the only image of all the loved ones they've lost in his mind as he deeply exhales.
Only one candle off the side remain lit, but he quickly does away with it with another blow. It leaves the muffin looking like a volleyball designed by Dr. Frankenstein. Nick doesn't need to comment on how ridiculous it looks as he just glances at Luke and starts laughing.
no subject
The birthday boy first, of course.
Then he takes his over to the plush loveseat, dropping into it with a sigh and stretching his legs. After years of having to make do with creaky, jabbing springs and logs for chairs, his ass has never been more grateful for cushions.
"You thinkin' a' callin' some folks over?" He asks, arching a brow curiously, before he flicks back his glass. The whiskey slams the back of his throat, raw and fiery. With Clem's loss weighing heavy on them both, he can't profess to know what Nick's in the mood for today; but whether he'd prefer surrounding himself with more company or favoured a quieter celebration, Luke's happy to oblige however he can.
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"Maybe later," he says when he looks up, eyes trailing towards the night stand where he left the letter and card. "I think there's some shit we gotta work out. You an' me, I mean."
He looks back at Luke, eyes focused but soft and sincere, and not piercing.
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"Figured after this long, a letter wasn't gonna cut it. ...Even if it was pretty awesome."
He rolls his empty glass between his fingers, considering it a brief moment. Then glances back to Nick with a slow, sidelong grin. "So're we gon' need more whiskey for this?"
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"I'll take another," he nods with a smile, hoping the next shot would burn away the lump that formed in his throat when he's in between feeling tense and relaxed. "Just promise me you won't pass out."
As good as it was to see Luke loosening up again, they both need to have a clear head to have this talk, with only just enough liquid courage to get it moving.
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Their banter might not be witty by any stretch but it's all in good fun and that much more welcome while the question of where to steer the conversation next hovers between them. Unfortunately, Luke hadn't thought to take the whiskey with him before planting himself down on the couch. But he doesn't mind having to push up onto his feet just to swipe it off the counter, not when fishing for the right words might be easier for Nick - or so he tells himself - if he's not searching Nick's face expectantly at the same time. Less pressure that way.
"Well, whenever you're ready." He wheels around the couch and makes for the bottle, calling out from across the room. "I don' plan on goin' anywhere for a while."
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There have been worse things done in the name of birthdays and there are worse things a birthday boy can demand...Luke's just lucky that Nick isn't the sort to exercise his authority outside getting his friends drunk off their ass. He may poke fun of Luke's low alcohol tolerance then and now, but this time he means it.
Nick could most definitely use another dosage of liquid courage himself for the things he wants to talk about. While Luke goes to get more, he tries to at least lay out what he wants to talk about. They're all on varying degrees of awkward no matter how he approaches it, with the oldest thing perhaps being the most awkward. He doesn't feel ready but it's the closest he's ever been and if he actually tries to take the time to feel ready, they'd be here all day.
It takes just downing one more shot for him to finally decide and when Luke comes back, he finally speaks, starting with the words that seem to flow out of him the easiest.
"I wanna say I'm sorry," he begins in a low voice. It's a broken record but he needed to get that out there in case he never gets a chance to say it again. "For all the fuck ups. For everythin' that made you doubt me." And for feeling like he hasn't done a single thing right since this all started.
no subject
He sighs through his nose, a soft, resigned sound. The compounding stress of losing so much of themselves and what they loved to the ruthlessness of their dying world has worn them all raw, frayed their nerves. He could have done better by Nick, he's sure. "I know you are." He says. His voice low, even. . “...an' I get it.”
Luke blinks, looking dully ahead. “You don' owe me anythin'."
Thanks for waiting!
What fight he had left in him at that time was just gone. The sound of a gun being cocked was hard to miss for him but he didn't even turn around to face his killer. He had just let it happen. When he woke on the bed, completely patched up, all he felt was the immense guilt at how easily he just gave up. He let Luke down because he wasn't stronger or even as strong.
Nick blinks hard and shakes his head. He goes over to pour himself another drink but doesn't take it just yet, instead just staring out at the rest of the Capitol. "I don't want you to think you gotta carry all this shit alone." He doesn't feel the need to elaborate on exactly what "this shit" entails. "I mean that. I just - I want you to see me as someone you can count on. Always did."
But there always had been something or many things that would chisel his confidence down until it leaves nothing but a short fuse. It causes trouble for everyone and he knows it, he knows it and never needed Pete or anyone to repeat that to him.
He goes back to his side of the seat with the shot glass still in hand but paying little mind to it now. His eyes are on Luke, vulnerable as few have seen.
np
"It ain't about keepin' score, man." He sighs through the muscles knotting in his chest. "We're family, we're in this together. An' I know I can talk to you when I need to."
And there's the catch. the clause. Despite Nick's good intentions, it's his openness and his eager support that backs Luke into the corner, that puts him at odds with the part of him protecting Nick from the unrelenting bleakness of the future. He's damned if he's silent, but anything he's at liberty to say is never enough, never what Nick wants to hear, what he deserves to hear. He's tired of being a disappointment for reasons he can't begin to explain. But if that's the price of keeping Nick in a state as close to blissful ignorance as he can, it's a burden worth shouldering.
I need to shut up because this is tl;dr
He makes a face as he downs every single drop of his shot. It doesn't burn the image of the lost away so much as it actually makes them appear clearer for him. Great.
"Sorry for the mood kill." He looks back up at Luke thoughtfully. His gut feeling tells him that there's probably more to Luke's words that may or may not be coaxed out with more booze. He knows better than to push for more. For now, he just wants to get out everything he has on his mind because that's all within his own abilities. "Just...thinkin' about everything that happened up until now, I don't want to lose the chance to tell you these things. Lettin' you know things in case anythin' happens to me. Or you. Both of us."
The repeated deaths in the arena had him thinking about it. The Gamemakers' way of bringing them back to life is something that is still beyond Nick's understanding, but it has given him perspective with how to deal with his own personal issues. Whenever he would make a mistake, he wished he had a reset button to start over or even just simply erase the mistake entirely. More than often he wished he hadn't said the things he did or done the things he had done. "...wish I hadn't pulled that trigger." Wish he hadn't been forced by nothing and no one but his own fatal injury to leave Luke behind along with Sarah only for the Gamemakers to make their nightmares come true.
To use what time he has to make things right between them. It had been on his mind, because the "right thing to do" had always been on his mind. Luke's letter just gave him that little push he needed. They can never go back to the life they had but they could at least make the time they have here worth it in some miniscule way.
Nick sits in silence for a while, waiting for Luke to speak. He ponders on getting another drink but opts to sit for a while longer, staring back at the floor now. He hunches forward with the posture that any grandmother would scold him for and lets out a short laugh, because it's easy to find dark humor when there is time given to breathe.
"Man...we lived through some tough shit, didn't we?"
no subject
One by one they'll all fade away; it's only a matter of how long luck can hold out.
"She's gone," He says, as if testing the words for the first time. They hover in the silence uneasily. "She's back home now..." Free. "I guess that's somethin'."
Home doesn't mean safe. It doesn't even mean alive, not for sure, when he had watched her drift further away, her body a blurry silhouette hovering near the surface. Close, but not close enough. Life's not fair, it's never been, but he refuses to assume she'd return to same dead-end Nick would -- and that he would too, more likely than not.
"Well, we ain't outta the woods yet." He finally reaches for his shot, gulping it down numbly. "But, for now - for today at least - jus'... consider it a vacation. ...A really fucked-up sort a' vacation."
A soft, wry little chuckle escapes him though his expression sobers quickly, eyes hazy in thought.
"Still, if it weren't for that..." He glances to Nick. "...well, we wouldn't be sittin' here like this, that's for sure."
no subject
He snorts at the vacation comment. "That's one way to look at it." Especially after what they have been through. If the arenas weren't a thing, living here would be a god damn paradise. Things probably would get better for the districts too, maybe. The rebellion comes to mind, but he tucks it back to keep focus on right now.
Right now or anything remotely resembling this moment would be impossible for them back "home". Not with the way things played out. "Yeah..." He turns away from the floor and towards Luke to meet his gaze. There isn't much he could say to that other than what's in his eyes, that he's grateful for them to be able to talk like this but the cost of it...
The next time he gets up to pour himself another is the last, because he brings the whole bottle with him this time. Filling up the shot, he scoots closer to Luke and holds the glass out to Luke to toast. He better drink to this one.
"To Clementine. The smartest, most badass kid we ever knew."
no subject
"Y'mean she's the toughest, most badass kid we know, an' that's why she's gon' make it." He says, wishing he felt as sure as his voice manages to sound. Then he salutes with his glass, lips twisting into a closed, quiet grin. "...Here's to you, kid."
Another shot knocked back, scorching a line down his throat. He wets his lips. His head doesn't feel thick but he's aware that he's already beginning to slide into a warm, woozy place, a more carefree place.
"M'gon' miss her sassin' us." He says suddenly, gazing into empty space. Snorts. "Y'know that look she'd get sometimes."
no subject
Nick quickly pours himself another shot and raises a second toast to correct himself. He breaks out into light chuckles as the image of her little scowl comes to mind. "Yeah." Since meeting her again her, he found himself teasing her like he would a kid sister.
He glances at his guitar propped across the room. He had been teaching her what he could and he wished they had more time to learn a few more songs.
Nick misses her.
"Didn't get the chance to tell you this..." Actually, he never planned to. "Don't tell Luke," he told her. And he chuckles at the fact that he's doing just that at the moment. "But she and I both fell off from a tree back at that old arena. Right while I was tellin' her 'bout that one time I went to the emergency room for the broken ribs. Remember that?"
Well, it's more accurate to say that they did everything but go to the emergency room to avoid letting the adults know until they had no choice.
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"What?" He blinks, looking over incredulously. "Clem said nothin' about it to me..." There's a note of boyish offense, of betrayal in his voice that raises it a half-octave but he's smiling when he shakes his head. Then comes the phrase that seems to sum up their roller-coaster ride of a teenhood, more or less. "God dammit, Nick."
He can laugh about it now with much less guilty unease than he used to but it's still has his chest tightening a little to think of the roof-jumping incident that had the both of them drenched in anxious sweat. It wasn't the usual scraped-raw palms or bruised knees Nick could walk off and Luke's knowledge of first aid hadn't made it any easier to approach the situation abstractly. How could anyone when their best friend was struggling to breathe? It had looked bad and he can still remember the way his stomach dropped while overhearing talk of a possible collapsed or punctured lung. This didn't happen to best friends, he used to think. It couldn't. They had been invincible, once upon a time.
"Like I could forget it." He says wryly, scoffing, but worry furrows his brow. "You scared the shit outta me back there."
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'DON'T...tell...PETE!'
"I just didn't want to worry you." He scoots close enough to Luke for their sides to touch and leans his head back against the loveseat, letting the scar on his neck exposed. He's grown used to it being there. Despite knowing that he could get it removed like the ones from the arena, he's kept it as a reminder of what happened. Getting rid of the scar won't make the nightmares go away.
Booze can if he intends to black out though. They've both had their fair share of dumb drunk activities. Although all of them have been things Nick has held close to his heart, enough for it to hurt him.
"Hey..." He slowly raises his head, knowing that if he went any faster it wouldn't help the buzz he's feeling. He's buzzed, but still himself. "While we're on the topic of...clearin' the air..."
Burying the bad things and moving on is one thing, but pretend that it never happened is a different level of awful. And unhealthy.
"We've been here a while now." Enough to miss the freedom but not enough to miss the lurkers. "And we end up meetin' different kinds of people...some are weird, most are assholes...others..."
Where the fuck is he going with this? Oh.
"I think I got my eye on someone."
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It's Nick who breaks the silence after a moment and Nick who drops a bomb that has Luke staring stunned at him for a moment. Then it clicks and his face lights up, a slow, cheeky smile spreading.
"Yeah?" After years of nudging Nick to put himself out there, pitching the idea with all the persistence and charisma of a salesman and stepping on Nick's nerves more often than not, he couldn't be gladder that Nick values himself enough to finally believe that he deserves good things. "...Who?"
He feels like a kid all over again, asking Nick, in a curious, conspiratorial way, who he was taking out to the dance. And he won't have any of that 'not telling' bullshit at this point; Nick doesn't get to tease him and leave him hanging. Whoever it is, they must be something special.
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"It's uh...he's - " Yeah, he. Nick speaks up a little more when he catches himself grumbling like he's back in middle school. "You already met 'im." Ellis's dorky smile that Nick finds himself sooner to kiss than punch comes to mind. "The guy part of Rochelle's group. Ellis. He uh, asked me out for some...fuckin' reason and I said...sure."
That came out a little easier than he anticipated. He looks over at Luke, brows creased as he waits for his reaction.
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"Oh my god --" He can't help laughing. "Wow, that's... man, that's great, Nick!"
There's a little twinge of guilt in all this, that he's been so deeply buried under the shit the Capitol's been dropping on their heads - and the beginnings of something promising of his own - that he hadn't sensed a change for the better in Nick after the arena. He couldn't blame Nick if he had ever given him the idea that he couldn't talk to him about his attractions from the way their clumsy, lust-drunk experimentations ended, the bitter taste of loneliness and adrenaline left in the backs of their mouths. From the way he had ended them, flushed and unsure, not as much at what he discovered about himself but at what place it could have, if any, under his roof and in a puritanical town where everyone knew everyone else. Such a trivial worry now.
Nick's now with someone who can give him what he wants, what he deserves - and the more Luke thinks about it, the more fitting he and Ellis seem. They ground each other, the optimistic Ellis a perfect counterbalance for the grim realist in Nick.
"Look at you, busy makin' eyes at him an' gettin' your game on while I'm busy writin' letters tellin' you to go live your life how you want to." He scoffs - playfully - as if to say, 'thanks, asshole'.
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Sometimes it takes a leap of faith though and Nick hasn't even so much as putting his foot in the water.
"Hey, it's only a date. A date that I haven't even gone on yet." He looks away to scratch the back of his neck again, face burning hot now without a doubt. It's not so much that he's putting himself down like he normally does but he doesn't want to celebrate so early...not when the possibility of disappointment is still around the corner. "So it...it' ain't like we're together now or...maybe even ever - fuck, I don't know."
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"Well, no need to get all worked up about it," He's tempted to point out the blush creeping its way up Nick's neck. But he won't be so cruel. Not today, at least, even if it'd make them even what with all the jabs Nick has made at his expense in the last twenty minutes. "Jus' go into it lookin' to have a good time an' see where it goes. If nothin' else, least you had fun."
He tucks his arms behind his head and leans back into the couch, content and almost relaxed. Man, oh man, seems the both of them have been hard at work forging bonds with Rochelle's group. All bases covered. He barks out another laugh in disbelief. "Guess I got some fessin' up to do, myself."
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"Yeah," he nods and nods a second time as he tries to convince himself to relax about it. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe." He's still incredibly apprehensive about it, but at the very least it doesn't seem like a life or death matter. And whenever he pictures Ellis in his mind, there's a warmth that he never thought he would ever be able to feel again.
He comes back from his own musings to look at Luke. His turn to smirk like a bandit now. "So the gossip stuff I've been hearin' is true?"
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Luke turns his head at the reference to Celebrus, scoffing softly. No sense in playing dumb with that shit-eating grin spreading across Nick's face. "Didn't know you paid attention that that shit." Every now and again there's a grain of truth in those write-ups. Well, a speck of fly shit might be more accurate. He has skimmed over issues from time to time though admittedly is more curious now that Rochelle has mentioned her own contributions to the magazine.
"I... might a' been seein' someone on the down-low." He can't help smiling as he says it, reminded of the times they'd sit around talking about girls. Well, he had done most of the talking with Nick offering commentary between sips of beer. It makes more sense now.
"Nothin' official." His smile slants gradually into a frown. "Didn't think I'd get to remember what this feels like, to tell you the truth. I mean... there were moments... but I guess, after a while, I thought that was as good as it'd ever get. Iunno..." The thought sits for a while before he snorts, shaking his head. "Might just be gettin' ahead myself."