"It takes two to make an accident" (Chapter 3, The Great Gatsby)
And that's what had happened. An accident. Nothing more; it couldn't be anything more, just two people being fools. Just two people making a mistake that would be impossible to forget. Just two people letting the heart make a choice that was meant for the head.
Nick's lips parted from Gatsby's, and soft air swooped in to fill the newfound space between. They stayed like that for a handful of seconds, Nick's eyes wide with the fear of what had occurred and Gatsby's eyes still closed, like he was trying to take stock of everything.
How had it happened? Nick's mind was fuzzy - his normally impeccable judgement had been impaired by the warping, magnetic atmosphere that existed around Gatsby; no other soul could claim to have anything quite like it.
Abruptly Gatsby stepped away, awkwardly clearing his throat and straightening the non-existent wrinkles in his expertly tailored suit. Almost as abruptly, Nick felt the need to apologize and an unwelcome blush rise to his cheeks. "Uhm, I'm…sorry." A question was almost discernable in the statement, as if he was questioning God himself about what happened.
The other man opened his mouth to speak, but closed it a split second later, before the beginnings of any thoughts could escape. Nick just stared back.
"Get out." Gatsby finally said in a thin, strained voice that did not suit him at all.
"W-what?" The other man's eyes refused to meet Nick's, darting around like a rabbit being hunted by a fox.
"You heard me."
"Why ar-"
Gatsby interrupted him, his eyes suddenly colliding with Nick's, an alien hardness in them, "I am in love with Daisy and no one else; no one can take that from us. No one can get between us. I've waited too long for that and I refuse to lose it. Leave right this second." His voice was steady but the man was physically shaking; Nick couldn't tell if it was rage or fear. He complied anyways. He wanted to distance himself from what had happened as well. Nodding clumsily, he briskly left the room and went down the steps two at a time until he had exited the magnificent mansion's premises.
As he strode across the lawn to his own house, Nick convinced himself he understood what was going on, he convinced himself that everything that had just happened was wrong in every sense of the word. There was only evil and sin in that…whatever it was. However, that night, his head was filled with replays of the scene. How the two men had been standing startlingly close together, how a lull fell over their discussion, how Nick noticed that the other man's suit brought out his eyes magnificently, how he slowly moved forward, how Gatsby was closer than he thought, and how their lips met.
Nick viciously ripped the thoughts from his head and stuffed them deep into a hollow of his heart. They were unnecessary, they were undignified, they were disgusting. He repeated that in his head until he fell into sleep.
The next day, he decided that a proper, full apology was needed. It was the responsible thing to do, he told himself. It would hopefully smooth things out somewhat, and put Nick's nagging emotions to the grave permanently.
He dialed up Gatsby's number (he knew it by memory) and waited as it rang coldly.
Right as it was reaching its final straits, a click indicated someone had picked up on the other end.
"I would like to speak to Gatsby, please. Tell him it's Nick."
"Yes, you're speaking to him, old sport." He sounded distant, like he was talking to a total stranger.
Perhaps that what Nick had been relegated to in Gatsby's mind. Despite this, Nick pressed on. "I wanted to offer a formal apology for the… events that transpired yesterday. It was completely ridiculous of me and uncalled for."
"Yes, you're right. It was. The fact that you thought you could get in the way of Daisy and myself is frankly insulting." He sounded unusually cold and formal.
For some reason, the other man's words sent a bolt of ice down Nick's back; it was just the draft in this room. "Of course, I completely understand. And, I know that you would like no further contact with me-"
"You were just a vessel I used to ferry myself closer to Daisy; that's all there ever was between us." The other man clipped Nick short.
The words left Nick speechless. Why hadn't that thought ever occurred to him? Of course that was the only reason a person like Gatsby would talk to a person like himself. It made perfect sense now that it was spelled out for him, but he couldn't understand the painful emotion that was worming its way into his chest.
"I've got what I want with Daisy now. What's the point in it Nick?" The phone fell mournfully silent, clicked, filled with static, and Nick knew that the other man had hung up.
The pain was now resounding throughout Nick; he frantically tried to tie it down, to little success.
Why was this pain there in the first place? Nick had lost friends before, he was used to it at this point, so why did this strike him so deeply? It seemed to strike him all the way down to his core.
Nick grimaced, and picked up one of his business books. He just needed something to distract himself; all the stress was just weakening his walls.
He tried to focus on reading the words, but they just seemed like meaningless patterns to his eyes. A thought, a word really, floated to the forefront of his subconscious.
Love.
For some reason, it seemed to be at home amongst the pain that had clouded him. Like the two emotions were brothers waiting to reunite.
And Nick sat there, staring out at the window with the two emotions tearing through him until he couldn't stand the color of the sky.