Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!
Dear Nick
I'll always be here for you. You should know that by now and if you don't than I obviously haven't been as good of a boyfriend as I thought I had. I hope you never forget that I will always be here for you.
I know that you're hurting, and I know that you're only pushing me away because you have to work through this on your own. So here's the thing, I'm leaving. I'm heading back to California and giving you all the space you need. Take your time; don't rush yourself. Just don't forget that I'll be waiting for you.
You can walk away from us forever if that's what you need, Nick, but I will always be here if you need to come back and fall in to what we used to be. I'll never stop loving you. Didn't I already promise that I would love you forever? That I would be yours for all of time? I don't break promises, and you're the only one I ever promised that to.
I hope I get to see you again someday.
I love you Nick.
Greg
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When he had found the letter stuffed halfway through the mail slot in his door, Nick's first reaction was to call Greg, not completely sure what emotion he was supposed to be feeling. He felt numb; he knew that he should be sad, angry, surprised, but he just couldn't find it in himself. Greg's cell phone had gone straight to voice mail, and his house phone had played some recorded message saying that the number was no longer in service. Nick's second reaction was to go in to the lab, seeking only to understand what was going on. When he arrived, it was to sympathetic and wary faces. They had all known. All of his friends had known that Greg was leaving, and none of them had said a word to him. And still Nick was numb, not even hurt by their silence.
For the first few months, Nick kept waiting for the sorrow. He lay awake at night and tried to reach down in to himself for any kind of emotion at all, but each time he came up empty. It bothered him that he couldn't feel anything, but he worried very little about it. He couldn't bring himself to do anything but wallow in the self-pity that was quickly cocooning him, wrapping him up in its layers until he wondered why he wasn't suffocating. He had been buried alive, shouldn't he be more damaged? His boyfriend had left him, shouldn't he be sadder? He could see the worry on the faces of every one he knew as he came in to work and did his job day to day with no more feeling than that of a drone. And he really did try to feel some kind of emotion, but nothing came.
Eventually he gave up on trying and gave in to the apathy. And that was his biggest mistake. As it turned out, trying to feel something had been the healthy option, the one that kept his head just above the surface. As soon as he stopped trying, he started suffocating in the layers. The break down came quickly, and there was a period of four months that his mind blanked out. No matter how hard he tried for the rest of his life, Nick would never be able to recall anything of that dark period. The last thing he recalled was coming home, and the next thing he knew he was waking up in an empty room, strapped to a plain bed. He'd had to wait for an hour for a nurse to come in, and she'd been quite surprised when he spoke directly to her.
After that, Nick finally started to feel. He felt sad and depressed and worried. He felt like the world was ending. Then he'd finally gone home and took an actual look around. It was when he noticed that there were no signs of Greg anywhere that he finally started to realize that there was something vital missing from his life. He sat down on his couch and cried, and didn't stop until his mother found him a half a day later. He hadn't known how broken he really was until that moment, but then and there he swore he would get better. He would be himself again. He would feel every day.
So here he was. It had been six excruciatingly long years, but he was himself again. Who would have thought that it would have taken this long? The Californian sun above him was beating down more intensely than he had remembered that it could, and he regretted not wearing a hat or something. The street he was standing on was bright and clean and wholesome looking, and he wondered why had thought he could do this. It was six years down the road, and he was pretty sure Greg had moved on. But over the last couple years he had began to remember the love he'd had for the younger man, and realized that he still held it somewhere within himself. It was stupid to think that Greg could have waited this long though, and Nick had stopped walking two houses down from the address he had procured to just stare at the home.
Greg's new house was a bright sunny yellow, and that didn't surprise him. It had a white door and a white picket fence and lush green grass that was well kept. The garage looked spacey, and the yard was fair sized, and it all looked so domestic that Nick had to blink away the images of family that popped up in his head. Of course Greg would have moved on. He had probably forgotten all about Nick, had probably given up a long time ago. Nick sighed and scuffed his shoe on the pavement. He shook his head and turned around to walk back to the hotel he was staying in. If he could get past everything else, he could get past this, of that he was sure. He looked up and noticed with satisfaction that the sun was behind him so he didn't have to squint. Then he stopped dead in his tracks and the breath in his lungs froze.
Greg still dyed his hair blonde, and he still wore crazy shirts. He had a messenger style bag slung across his chest and his hands in his pockets as he swung around the corner on foot, whistling a tune to himself. His eyes were on the sky and he was smiling gently at nothing but the beautiful day. Nick just stood there and stared, and Greg had almost drawn abreast of him when he finally looked down and met eyes with the person standing in front of him. He stopped walking too, his whistle trailing off mid-note and his smile dying instantly as he was stunned in to immobility.
For the longest time, both men just stood on the sidewalk and stared at each other, examining each other, wondering if it was real. It had been six years, and while Greg hadn't changed a bit, Nick had. He'd let his hair grow out of the buzz cut he usually kept and it was almost in to a shag state. His shirt was a bright fire engine red, a color he never would have worn in his old state. His jeans were worn without a belt, and he wore sneakers instead of dress shoes. He had a silver chain around his neck, and he looked more alive than ever. He looked…almost like Greg. As if he'd learned to loosen up and actually live.
"Hi," Nick broke the silence first. He wasn't sure what else to say, but it seemed like as good a way to start as any. Greg blinked and shuffled his weight, standing a little straighter, like he used to when he was trying to impress Nick. The Texan felt a wave of memories hit him.
"Nick…what are…" Greg couldn't seem to find what he wanted to say. He swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair, spiked up like it used to be. "Hi," he returned eventually. The staring continued for a while, and Nick tried to read the expression that the younger man was wearing. It was as impossible as it had always been. Greg was a closed book, contrary to what many people might assume. But Nick remembered that he used to cherish the journey of finding out how to read the minute changes in his face and body language. He was saddened to discover that he had lost the talent. He had no idea what Greg might be thinking at the moment. '
"Greg, listen, I-" he tried again to find the right words, but nothing came to mind. He watched Greg lower the hand that was still mussing his hair and watched him sigh, shake his head, adjust his shoulder strap.
"Come on, we can talk inside." Greg walked past him, casting a hesitant glace over his shoulder to see if Nick would actually follow. As if he doubted it. But Nick was right behind him, and they entered the cheery yellow house together in silence, mocking the home with their somber mood. The first room they came in to was the living room, and as Greg walked past the side table next to the couch Nick noticed him setting a standing picture frame down on it's face. He frowned but pretended not to notice.
When they both had their shoes off and Greg had deposited his bag in his bedroom, they both sat down at the kitchen table and Nick looked around curiously. It was a nice place, although it lacked in personal touches. And it was almost too clean. There were no dishes in the sink, the floor looked like it had been recently mopped, and the only thing on the table was yesterday's mail. Bills and a letter from Sara. Nick frowned at that. Then he looked up and Greg was staring at him cautiously, waiting for him to make the first move.
"How have you been?" the words slipped out before he could realize how cliché and impersonal they were. He winced at that, but Greg seemed to have expected it. He didn't really react, just looked around the kitchen like it would hold some clue for him.
"Ok I guess. You've been well." It wasn't a question but a statement, like he knew that already and didn't need to ask. Apparently this wasn't the first letter from Sara but one of a series. Nick hadn't known that the two had kept in touch, but it appeared that she had kept Greg updated on his progress. He wasn't sure if it was guilt or joy that rushed through him for that. But silence fell over them once more and he closed his eyes. It shouldn't be this hard, but he knew it was his fault.
"I'm sorry," he whispered at last. He opened his eyes, but Greg wasn't looking at him. He was looking off in to space.
"I was the one who left. You shouldn't be the one who's sorry." Greg's face was still impossible to read, and Nick found himself wishing he had mind reading powers. He would have given anything in the world right then to know what was going through the other man's head. As it was, he settled for frowning.
"I suppose, but I was the reason you left." Then he sighed. "Look Greg I-" and this time he had almost actually found the words, but he was frustratingly cut off. Not by Greg, but by the phone ringing. It was shrill and annoying, but Greg didn't get up to answer it. He brought his eyes slowly over to look at Nick and they stared at each other in silence as the phone rang again and again until finally the answering machine picked up with a loud beep. Then they listened to the message together.
"Hey spunk, was going to see if you wanted to come out tonight but I guess you're putting in overtime at work. Again. Gosh you don't even have time for your favorite cousin anymore and we work together. Get a life Greg! Love you!" The woman's voice was affectionate and warm, heavy with the teasing overtones. When the machine beeped again and began to flash to announce that it held a new message, Greg sighed softly. He waved Nick up and they moved out of the kitchen so no more phone calls would interrupt them. They made it to the living room together, but neither one of them sat down. Greg stood by the big front window and Nick stood beside the couch, both still just staring at each other.
"You working too much too, huh?" Nick asked, trying to ease the tension with a bit of casual joking around. It earned him the first smile he'd seen since they'd made eye contact that first time and it sent his spirits soaring through the roof. But then he had to go and be dangerous, had to try and make it seem casual. "What, you're not seeing anyone?" the chuckle that followed sounded hallow and fake even in his own ears, and the smile immediately died again on Greg's face. Nick watched his eyes flicker over to something then dash away again, and he turned curiously to see what it was. It was the picture frame that he had tipped over, hiding whatever was inside. His stomach clenched and he reached out towards it.
"This is him, isn't it?" he asked, running his fingers lightly over the back, afraid to pick it up and make it all real. So that was why Greg was so uncomfortable. He really had moved on.
"That's…the man I love," Greg answered vaguely from across the room, and Nick felt the world tilt a little more. He fought not to show that his heart was breaking as he picked up the frame. The least he could do was look his opponent in the face and admit defeat. He could be strong enough for that, right? But then he turned the frame over and he'd seen this picture before, because it used to hang in his living room. It was him, smiling and standing directly under a street lamp, his face lit up with laughter. The other half of the picture held Greg, but the blonde had folded himself away so he could fit the picture in to the too small frame, only showing his ex-boyfriend. Nick looked up sharply, and Greg's eyes were soft and tearful.
"I promised you that I'd wait Nicky," he whispered in a heartbroken little voice. "I promised that I'd always be here for you, don't you remember?" Nick felt his heart skip a beat and grow ten sizes bigger, like the Grinch. He stepped slowly across the room, glancing at the picture again briefly before looking up at Greg, not stopping until they were only a single step away from each other.
"What would you have done if I had never come?" he asked, his own voice dropped to a whisper. One small tear ran down Greg's face and he sniffed shortly.
"I would have waited forever," he answered with a shrug. Nick gaped at him a little. Then he surged forward and wrapped himself around the man he clearly remembered loving and pressed their lips together. The picture frame fell to the ground, but he didn't notice if it broke or not because Greg's arms caught him right away and he had the most amazing sensation of coming home, despite his two homes both being hundreds of miles away. He was neither in Vegas nor Texas, and yet he had never belonged more to anywhere but here in Greg's arms, no matter where they were. They were together, and that's where home was.
Greg's hand pressed in to his back and the heat spread all through out his body. Another hand wound around his waist and pulled him in desperately. He didn't fight it. Instead he raised one of his hands to wind in to Greg's hair softly, recalling the texture of gel and how much fun he used to have teasing Greg about it. The kiss lasted forever, and he was so reluctant to pull back, but he knew that he would have to share some words about what was going on. When they broke apart he rested his forehead against Greg and took a deep breath.
"I just…I just need what we used to be," he murmured. "I still love you Greg. So much that I can't believe that it's taken me this long to come back to it." He opened his eyes and was met with swirling chocolate. He held his breath and waited to be rejected, however Greg only smiled.
"But you came. And I was waiting. And while the waiting was all well and good I'm glad that it's over. Now please take me back to Vegas. I've missed you Nicky, and I don't want to miss you anymore." Nick smiled too and leaned it to kiss his lost love again, holding on a little tighter than strictly necessary.
"I don't want to miss you either," he murmured when they pulled apart. And it didn't escape his notice that Greg hadn't said to take him home. They were already home, no matter where they were, so long as they were together. It felt good to come home, after so long away.