To claim that Dalton Academy is Hogwarts is not as far-fetched an idea as you might believe. With its limestone façade, sweeping courtyards and towers stretching to touch the sky, it definitely looks rather like the castle. Throw in the boys cloaked in freshly laundered, crisp uniforms without the merest thought of a wrinkle and, despite the fact that they are all muggles, you definitely end up with a family just like the wizarding community. There's even a couple of snakes hidden somewhere in the building, courtesy of Jeff and Thad's failed science experiment – but the school doesn't know about that, so you'll be sure to keep that under wraps, won't you?
Point being, Dalton Academy – especially their infamous show choir, The Warblers – was one huge family. Each had their own skeletons in their respective closets and, to Nicholas Patrick Duvall, who, due to various circumstances, was acutely aware of these things, many had their own various medical issues. Blaine had his diabetes, Trent had his wrist, even Wes had his asthma. So when it was Nick's turn to fall ill, everyone knew he was in the very best of hands.
Technically speaking, his story should begin a few months previously, over the summer, when a particularly nasty stomach bug hit the Duvall family. They all seemed to recover fairly well, though Nicholas Patrick may have taken slightly longer. This was then followed by several unseasonal colds, a few cases of tonsillitis, a couple more of gastroenteritis, and a partridge in the form of bronchiolitis. He always seemed to be tired, often having to miss school or rehearsal. He lost a little weight, despite his eating habits remaining unchanged, was constantly pale – his friends often remarking he must have turned into a vampire over summer – and, well, just always appeared a little under the weather.
Our story today, however, begins in – you guessed it – a Warbler meeting in early October. Nick was trying to focus on Wes' voice, on his protests… David had probably mentioned kazoos again. He didn't really understand what his obsession with the instruments – if they could even be graced with that title – was, but, hey. He was feeling pretty crappy though – his nose was running and his head was stuffy and just… it wasn't easy to cut through that smog of sleep.
He had Jeff, though. That was good. The Australian boy… Well, Nick didn't believe in love at first sight, but Jeff was something else… The instant he'd locked eyes on the boy, he knew that he wanted to make friends with him. And, going back a year ago, Nick barely spoke a word to his roommate, David – whom he now considered one of his closest friends. Back then he was painfully shy. He'd whisper answers only to questions directed at him, whispering as if the rage of the monster that destroys stupid boys with incorrect responses would be lessened with his softer voice. But he'd met the Australian in choir rehearsal – which he had just joined as a sophomore, while Jeff was a freshman – and something in the blonde's twinkling brown eyes just spoke of calmness and understanding and companionship. It was Jeff that was able to elicit his first unprompted words – "Hi. I'm Nick. Are you new here?"
And so it blossomed from there. Jeff taught Nick how to believe more clearly in himself, to trust himself, to uncork the confidence he bottled up for the stage and drink it in his everyday life. And Nick became a brother to Jeff, someone for the compassionate blonde to turn to when he needed to destress, or needed a distraction from the pangs only living 10,000 miles from your home could bring. Nick would pop corn and Jeff would bribe David to bake lamingtons and they'd sit nerding out over Harry Potter, or arguing the correct terminology for jumpers and sweaters, or running around kicking and punching – excuse me, handballing – the strange, red, oval ball that Jeff liked to call a "footy". Instant friendship.
Nick could still remember clearly the day Jeff came out to him. The boisterous blonde was sitting, waiting for their almost-calendar-like movie screening. But the TV was off. There was a packet of Tim Tams on David's bed – who was absent, which virtually never happened, especially for movie nights – but it remained unopened. Jeff blinked, clenched his grey Dalton-approved pants tightly in his fists, and said, "Nick, mate. Just wanted to let you know I'm gay." Nick had hugged him, told him that absolutely nothing had changed – and pressed play on Dead Silence, the horror film of the week, the whole time rejoicing on the inside.
He hadn't gotten the chance to tell him though – or let himself properly consider Jeff as anything more than a friend – until right at the beginning of summer, before they both went home. Nick had dragged him out to see Avenue Q and, well, to be both blunt and concise, they kissed. It was sweet, it was innocent, and they'd done the impossible and been even more inseparable ever since… Bar the month of 10,000 miles and 11 hours' time difference.
So he did have Jeff, his… his boyfriend. The word still seemed a little strange rolling off his mental tongue. He was curled up in the corner of the couch, the taller boy behind him, running a hand gently through his head, like he could draw out the pain and congestion and possibly fever with his fingertips. Occasionally the hand would run down to his back as barking coughs – though he couldn't tell if viral or post-viral any longer – burst from his respiratory tract, or would be holding a tissue box or handkerchief ready to be taken when his nose decided it had had enough. It was warm, it was safe, it was relatively comfortable and Nick appreciated it.
It was getting increasingly difficult to focus on the ruckus, however. It was the Warblers – following their logic was never an easy feat – and he was sick, he supposed. Thad seemed to be getting particularly riled over… something… and he could see Wes biting his lip, banging… he couldn't even tell which gavel it was today because he was so tired… but banging one of his gavels, trying to keep control of both the council and his temper… He glanced down at Blaine, who grinned somewhat sheepishly before sliding onto the couch.
"When is Thad gonna learn that teaching a bunch of high school boys every note and dance move to Gay Bar is just a bad idea?"
Nick shrugged, yawning.
"Oh, are you sick again?" Blaine asked, biting back a laugh as Nick just sneezed in response. "We'll be through soon… Just a cold, do you think?"
"Um… Maybe…" Nick curled up more tightly against Jeff, drawing his knees in to his chest as another harsh blade of pain stabbed through his gut, biting his lip to stop himself crying out. He dropped his head down onto his knees, the increased contact area reassuring him that the world was not, in fact, spinning – though it did little to help stop the vertigo.
"You've been crook so often, sweetie," Jeff murmured, kissing his temple and snaking an arm between Nick's chest and legs. It was funny how he just seemed to intuitively know where the hand was needed, which particular area of him needed that magic touch only the Australian seemed to be able to give. Nick must have been shaking though, because the next thing to come out Jeff's mouth was, "Do you feel sick? Are you gonna spew?"
Nick didn't feel sick anymore. He felt ill. Screw rehearsal. He wanted to be in bed, actually asleep rather than this half-awake state that seemed to tire him more than a marathon would. He wanted to lie down curled in the foetal position with something warm to ease the muscles and bloating in his gut. He wanted to force a bit more blood to his head, or maybe just stick it in a vice to stop it from spinning. "No. No spewing," he whimpered through gritted teeth. So, this must be what it was like to be a girl… He was pretty sure these were cramps he was experiencing, the muscles suddenly tightening and holding and clenching around his stomach like Superman around his mother's finger as a baby, before finally letting go and giving him a half minute perhaps of respite before the next one would hit, stronger and smarter than the one previous.
Wes – the ever-vigilant resident doctor that he was – had looked over at them at the whimper. Nick was half-aware of his eyes narrowing in concern, of his hushed conversation with Jeff and Blaine, of the tanned hand brushing the back of his forehead to check for a fever… He somehow managed to rouse himself enough when his name was called, and took in something about going to the nurse, though he wasn't really sure what that was about, or why.
Then Wes had a tight grip on both his hands while Jeff and Blaine both had a hand on his back, lifting him up. Bad idea. He wasn't ready to get up yet… But before he could warn them not to move him, the world had gone black and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head as exhaustion and light-headedness finally took control over his consciousness.
For once, a fic NOT based on a word prompt :P
Hi!
So, I've had this idea bouncing around for quite awhile now... It was mentioned AGES ago all the way back in TSAB, and I've been planning on writing this ever since. And, especially now that I can to some extent relate to Nick, I thought I may as well actually get round to it... as well as finishing off all the other WIPs I have. Though this was crying out to me at work the other day, so thought I should...
Any guesses as to what's wrong with Nick? Clue: It's mentioned in my massive fic, TSAB, somewhere in the mid-twenties, from memory. And possibly elsewhere. Also, I don't think it's been done yet. Oh, and there should be a clue in the title, but I'm not exactly coherent now.
Okay, I'm not planning for this to be overly long. But a few chapters' worth, at least. There's always things to consider... And I'm going to stop trying to be mysterious. It doesn't work this late at night. You guys nknow what I'm like :P
Oh, and if you're just joining us for the first time - I ramble a lot. And abuse my notes. But, meh. You don't have to read them. I don't know why anyone would, to be completely honest. Especially considering the sheer number of them that get made after 2 am...
I've been up for 21 hours. Someone tell me why I'm still here...
Oh. And, it does take me awhile currently between updates. I have... too many WIPs, but I'm not good at directing my muse. I also spend my time either studying full-time or working... and I'm working 73 hours this fortnight, so... yep.
Okay, I'm practically asleep.
Oh. Also, if you're just joining us, I constantly feel the need to be obnoxious and offer my services as listener/crying post/strange person to chat to. So, if you ever need anything, you're more than welcome to come PM me or hit up my Ask box on Tumblr - pi-on-a-skateboard. tumblr. com
And sleep. I do have work tomorrow. Just not til 12. And it's a one-on-one. And I know her sister very well. I think I'll take my nail polish along, and it should be pretty sweet!
Like it? Hate it? Want me to be overcome tomorrow by a swarm of moths? Please let me know!
Keep smiling! :D
