"The crowd pushed me into the fence so hard, I thought I was a goner." Larry laughed and shook his head. "Really! During those few minutes before the guards arrived, I was convinced I was going to die, right there in the mud. There have been times since the flu came, that I've almost regretted not dying that day, because what a way to go! I figured if I was gonna die horribly, I would have liked to do it at one of life's greatest moments, with Marley still sounding in my ears. Wouldn't you?" He caught himself and cleared his throat. "Sorry. I didn't mean..."
Nick waved the apology away and bent his head over his pad, writing eagerly. The two of them were the only ones left now. The committee meeting had turned into a dinner and the dinner into a late night talk, and slowly all the others had made their excuses and left, while Larry had followed Nick down to his apartment. Larry knew he had to leave too soon, but not quite yet. There was something very calming about Nick, and life had been stressful lately. He still wasn't entirely sold on having so much responsibility.
Nick tore off the note and handed it over to Larry. It said, I have only been to one concert, but think I know what you mean. Crowd went wild. Almost religious.
"Yeah, that's it." Larry took his eyes off the note and looked at Nick in surprise. "You went to a concert?" That must have been incredibly weird, being at an event like that but cut off from the very thing that made it special. He couldn't even imagine it.
Nick nodded. He grabbed the pen and pad again, but hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the pad before he started writing. Rolling Stones. The g person who took me made me learn a bunch of songs. Sang along to the rest. I could watch and follow the lyrics.
"Wasn't it weird, though?" Larry asked. "I mean, what about the music? You couldn't..."
Nick wiggled his fingers slightly in the air.
"Vibrations, huh?" Larry smiled. "Amazing. Did you enjoy it?"
It was OK, Nick wrote, looking amused. I'm more of a Beatles guy.
"You're..." Larry caught sight of Nick's grin and scoffed. "You're messing with me."
Fine. Don't believe me.A smile tugged at Nick's lips, but then died away. He wrote something, slowly, but didn't tear off the note. Finally Larry went over and sat down beside him on the couch, reading over Nick's shoulder: They're all dead now.
"The Beatles?" Larry asked automatically.
Nick turned and gave him an inquisitive glance.
"Not the Beatles," Larry said, and at the reproachful look that got him he immediately relented: "No, of course not. You mean... all of them. At the concert." At any concert, and that was a damn unsettling thought. He should be used to it by now, after seeing New York and everything after, but the truth still blindsided him every time. "Yeah," he said quietly.
Nick's pen moved even slower. I got so used to leaving people behind. Knew they were still there. Strange to think they just don't exist anymore.
Larry thought of his mother, of the horrible wreck she'd become as the flu took her. Would it be easier if he'd never seen that, if she'd still been completely his mom the way he'd seen her when she was healthy and – let's face it – pissed at him? But that thought led to the thought of her dying alone, without even his pathetic excuse for comfort, and he clenched his fists hard, swallowing the lump in his throat. It was over now, he reminded himself. And for all he knew, Mother Abagail could be right and the Almighty was watching over them, in which case his mother, for all her nagging ways, would pretty much have to be in Heaven.
"Maybe they do still exist," he said. "Just not here."
The look Nick gave him was far too polite to be an eyeroll, but still said pretty clearly what he thought of that .
"You don't believe in an afterlife?"
Nick shook his head.
"Even after this? Even with everything Mother Abagail is saying?"
Nick made a helpless gesture and shrugged.
"We got to believe that she's right, don't we?"
Even if she isn't, Nick wrote, she's better than the alternative.
The hairs stood up at the back of Larry's head. "Yeah." He licked his lips, desperate to chase the feeling away. "Wow. You're too cynical for your age, do you know that?"
Nick swatted at him with the pad, and they both grinned, Larry incredibly relieved. If he was gonna have deep philosophical discussions about life and death, he really couldn't think of a better person to have them with than Nick: But just... not right now. Tonight, he needed the comfort.
It was weird to think that Nick was actually younger than he was. Cynicism was the wrong word for it, but there was definitely a maturity about Nick that made it incredibly hard to believe that he was just 22. Maybe because he had been self-reliant for so long; if you couldn't come home to Mom when things went rough, you'd have to learn how to do it yourself. Like he was learning himself, now.
Though come to think of it, even surrounded by people, nice, caring people, Nick still kept that self-reliance. Most of them had paired up by now, or were trying hard to, but Nick didn't even seem to care. As if...
A niggling thought from the back of Larry's mind made his way forward, and he stood up, searching through Nick's discarded notes for the one about the concert.
Nick tapped his chin – his expression, more than the gesture, said, What's wrong?
Larry found the note and read out loud, "The person who took me..." His eyes met Nick's. "You didn't start out writing 'person'. In my experience, when people change a word from 'girl' or 'guy' to 'person', it's usually for one particular reason."
Nick bit his lip.
"Nick," Larry said helplessly. "If you were there with... some kind of boyfriend... that's fine. I don't mind – hell, even if I did, who cares what I think, you know?"
Nick watched him for a long time, his face unusually impassive. Finally, he wrote, It's been so long since I last cared. I couldn't decide what to say.
"Yeah, I guess I could see that," Larry said. He thought of what he'd say if someone asked him about what he'd done at all those parties he'd been to. Of course, that was complicated by the drugs and the other things he was ashamed of – but then again, he didn't know what kind of complications Nick had, now, did he? "I'm sorry I cornered you."
Nick shrugged and smiled, spreading his hands.
"Is that why you don't have anyone? There's a whole bunch of people here now, there's got to be someone... For that matter, I could..." He shouldn't be saying this. Not only did he have Lucy back home, but Leo lived there too, and that kid knew everything. Still, his misgivings didn't stop him from concluding: "All I'm saying is, I'm game if you are."
For a moment, Nick looked at him so blankly that he wondered if he'd accidentally been covering his mouth without thinking or something. He was about to start explaining again, when Nick took a step back, a scowl forming on his face as he reached for his pad. What do you take me for? The writing was jagged, the lines deep and black in the paper.
"What do I take you for? I don't know, for you, I guess. I'm not sure what you're asking here."
Nick wrote a single word and underlined it. Lucy!
"Yeah, okay," Larry admitted. "There's that. Still, this is kind of a special situation."
Nick scoffed and shook his head violently, writing, Not that desperate. Tossing Larry the pad, he turned his back, shoulders angled in annoyance.
Larry had to laugh at that note. "Point taken. I'm sorry." But Nick's back was still turned, a pretty unmistakable way of ending the conversation.
Larry grabbed his jacket and starting moving towards the door – but this was all wrong. Come on, the night couldn't end like this, it was ridiculous. Not that he thought Nick would hold it against him in the long run, but slinking off into the night was undignified as well as unfriendly. He threw the jacket back onto a chair and put his hand on Nick's arm. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."
Nick looked up halfway through the sentence, and the naked hunger in his eyes almost made Larry forget his apology. He'd never in a million years thought he'd see something like that in Nick. i Nick /i , for crying out loud, calm, smart, grounded Nick, rock solid – except now he was quivering, and he pushed Larry back against the wall, kissing him hard and passionately, hands grasping his ass.
Somewhere in his foggy brain, between the surprise and sheer desire, Larry had time to reflect that Nick didn't i need /i his face, his pad or even his hands, really, because every inch of his body was communicating as clear as day and as steady as a heartbeat: Want, want, want...
And then it was over. Nick broke loose, dragging the back of his hand against his mouth.
"Wow," Larry said dumbly. "That was really something."
Nick grinned and made a shooing motion.
"What?" Larry protested. "Just like that? My heart's still aflutter." He grinned too – he couldn't help himself.
Nick went over to the couch and picked up the pad, and Larry knew what he was writing long before he saw the note. Go home to Lucy.
"Are you sure? We could be missing one hell of an opportunity here."
Nick nodded and circled Lucy's name.
"Yeah, it'd be complicated. Some things are worth the complications, though."
Nick tapped the blunt end of the pencil against the message.
"I will, I will. Quit nagging." He didn't leave, though. Instead he drew nearer, giving Nick a small peck before saying, "If you ever change your mind, let me know."
Nick smiled, but made no motion to keep him there. Reluctantly, Larry took his jacket again and headed for the door. "Okay, then. See you around."
On the way home, he could hear Marley in the back of his head, telling him that every little thing was gonna be all right. He grinned and started whistling.