Head bent, arms crossed, sitting alone on a busy New York street. Wild curls blowing gently in the wind. A shaking hand holding a probably maxed out credit card. A ripped black dress and hoodie that looks way too big. A beautifully lost soul.
That's how Lorna Morello first saw Nicky Nichols.
Red high heels gave her walk a rhythmic strut – hadn't Marilyn Monroe worn a similar dress in that one movie? – and perfectly coiffed hair tumbled to her shoulders, only allowing tendrils of a dark mane to be tousled by the breeze. A girl meant to walk the runway if there ever were one.
That's how Nicky Nichols first saw Lorna Morello.
"Are you alright?" A concerned voice awoken the girl from her stupor, and she glares at the brunette, her brown eyes blazing with resentment.
"Do I look fucking "alright"?" Nicky replies, rubbing her temples with her left hand whilst her right still played with the now meaningless piece of plastic in her hand that had the name "Marka Nichols" printed on it. "Just leave me alone. Go to your fashion show or whatever." She waves her hand dismissively, clearly used to getting what she wants.
Lorna can't help but smile, even though she knows she's not welcome. "Oh, well this old thing isn't really suited for a fashion show..." Her mind wanders to her closet full of "undelivered" clothes and shoes, and the knot in her stomach tightens. "But I'm glad you like it," she says hopefully.
"I didn't say that."
Whenever Nicky shut her out, Lorna was always reminded of their first meeting, a fleeting chance in this apparently small world. It reminded her that just because her exterior looked tough, and that she used a sharp tongue to battle her own demons, it didn't mean she didn't need to be loved.
Lorna makes a noise of reproach. "Mm." But still, she didn't leave. Instead, she pushed any reservations out of her mind and sat down next to the mess of a girl, pretending not to care that her dress was getting creased and attempting not to think of all the germs on the street. "You're not homeless," she deduces. "You're wearing mascara."
Nicky stares at the girl. "First of all, that's just fucking stereotypical. Who says homeless people can't want to look nice?" She shakes her head. "Second of all," she says, remembering her actual point. "What do you actually want?"
"Nothing!" Lorna insists. Then, before she can stop herself, she says, "Come with me to my hotel."
Nicky frowns for a moment, before looking the girl up and down suspiciously. "Are you…trying to get into my pants?"
Lorna's cheeks immediately tinge pink. "No! God, no," she laughs nervously. "I'm gettin' married, you see…" Her eyes mist over dreamily. "His name is Christopher."
Nicky always remembers the first time Lorna told her she was getting married. She wasn't sure if she believed her even then, eyeing up her lack of engagement ring whilst Lorna babbled about it being in the jeweller's. Even so, she remembered what happened next with a smile, too.
Lorna sat back against the pillows of her hotel bed, her cheeks flushed with excitement but her forehead creased with worry. Her eyes glance to her dress, which she (or was it Nicky?) had ripped off with abandon, all worries of creases left with her thoughts of her darling Christopher at the door. She tugged at the white sheet, peering into the bathroom, where Nicky stood in the shower. Her lack of singing Broadway songs didn't surprise Lorna. The only thing that had come as a surprise to her were her own actions. She wasn't the type to kiss on the first date, and yet here she was, naked with a stranger in her room. And though in the back of her mind, her mother's words echo in her mind: "You're a good girl, and good girls wait until marriage," she couldn't help but smile as she watched Nicky mumbling to herself in the steamy bathroom.
Lorna's cheeks always flushed the same way when she stepped into the bathroom at Litchfield, and saw Nicky stepping out of one of the cubicles. Yet it still brought a smile to her face, because the girl was always talking to herself about something. If anyone asked, she always complained about the heat in the shower room. This always led to her getting pushed to the back of the line, seemingly not minding about the cold water. Though she always shivered on her way back, she didn't mind so much. She always had a warmed up bed to crawl into, even if Nicky's hair did tickle the back of her neck and gave her the giggles.
"I've gotta go." Nicky says quickly as she throws her hoodie over her head, leaving Lorna confused and hurt on the bed. She glances up at her, and shakes her head. "It was fun, kid, but I've got things to do." The girl can't stand still. Her eyes are darting around the room and Lorna frowns, concerned.
"Aren't you at least going to say goodbye?" Lorna asks. Nicky sighs and pushes her hair out of her face irritably.
"See ya," she says sarcastically. She shakes her head. "What do you want from me? Here," she says, fishing yet another credit card from her hoodie and showing affection in the only way she was taught as she throws it on the bed. "Have a drink on me."
"But you didn't even say your name," she calls, embarrassed to admit that she hadn't even the faintest clue who she'd slept with.
"Nicky Nichols. I'll see you around."
"Lorna Morello. I leave town tomorrow," she says regretfully. "Maybe we'll meet again sometime soon?"
Nicky lights a cigarette as she contemplates this. "Yeah. Maybe," she opens the door. "Say hi to Christopher for me."
And with that, the girl who changed her without even meaning to was out of the door and blending into the hustle of New York City. Lorna stared at the spot where she had been for longer than she'd ever admit, chewing on her bottom lip as she finally thought of Christopher for the first time in a while. It had been the longest time she'd forgotten about him since their first date…oh, their beautiful first date…
Neither Nicky nor Lorna knew why fate brought them together again at Litchfield. Neither brought up the first time they met apart from when they were reunited for the first time, and no-one dared to ask why they'd spent a little too long in the broom closet with hushed yells reverberating through the walls, afraid both of Nicky and Red's wrath if either of them found out "the family" was being gossiped about.
Red accepted Lorna as part of the family without question, and Norma welcomed the new arrival with a slightly unnerving meaningful glance into the eyes.
No, neither knew what reasons the universe had for having two people drawn together so forcefully. But as long as they had each other, it didn't matter.
Lorna Morello would always be the runway model that never got to be.
Nicky Nichols would always be the beautifully lost soul.
And no matter where the world took them, they would always find each other.
I'm really liking writing for this pairing at the moment, and enjoying reading it even more. So I hope you enjoy. It's so difficult to get these characters in character, so please give me any pointers if you think they're not.