Chapter 7 - [There's a crack in] A Brief History of Everything

July 2, 2008

They're walking back from a late dinner. Nicks talks about her project. He yawns.

"Am I boring you?"

He stops.

"No. Sorry, I just slept like shit."

She takes his hand. They keep walking.

"Go on." He says.

"So, anyways, the places I've been so far in Manhattan are so boring, I mean, they're basically boot camps for people on their way up, they're so competitive, the worst kind of people you could imagine, just, living together." She laughs. "And I thought, they're so lucky to have found each other, 'cause literally no one else would stand them, but, they don't even have the sense to recognize that fact, they just seem to go on keeping their enemies closer."

"Sounds like a drag."

Nicks goes on.

"But the places I've been in Williamsburg, they're a bit too familiar if you ask me, everybody's sleeping with everyone, and you add the concept of family to that it gets incestuous."

They round the corner of their building. He holds up the door for her, they climb the stairs and enter the apartment. Mark and his boyfriend are hanging out in the common room and Izzy's working late. Rory's door is closed and low music sneaks through it. He doesn't stop to figure out the artist even if he wants to. Nicks notices him halting anyway, apparently.

"Of course, who am I to talk?" She says as they walk into the main bedroom, Nicks's room. "Chris and Izzy, and maybe it's just a matter of time before Paula gives it up to Matt." Nicks laughs to herself and tosses her jacket on the chair in the corner, starts unbuttoning her shirt. "And you and Rory!"

There's a sting in his chest at her implication, he forces a smile anyway.

"Rory and I never slept together." He says.

Nicks stops mid-motion.

"Come again?"

"We were seventeen."

She smiles, raises her eyebrows.

"So?"

"So for someone like her that's young."

She steps out of her pants, and wraps herself in her robe.

"'Someone like her'?"

"Someone not like us."

That explanation apparently works because she nods in recognition. He pulls off his jacket and shoes, gets into bed, arranging the pillows to sit and read.

"But you waited for her."

Nicks is looking at him, head tilted.

"So?" He sighs.

She sits down at the edge of the bed removing her rings, her necklace.

"It's cute."

"Stop it."

"I just assumed-"

"Why?" He interrupts.

He can't put his finger on why he's upset, by her asking, by the entire subject, by what never came to pass between him and Rory. Nicks seems unbothered by his tone however, and shrugs.

"The way you were when we first met, I figured you'd been serious enough to-" She pauses, chews on her lower lip. "You were just so broken up about it. and for that to be over someone you didn't even-" She falls silent, notably frustrated with herself she taps her nails on the door frame.

He fails to pinpoint the reason for his own irritation, instead a simple fact, seemingly unattached to anything floods his brain; It's not about her body, like some separate entity, it's that it's attached to her. He swallows and looks back at Nicks, who's smiling at him, teasingly.

"And I have a hard time imagining anyone resisting you." She adds.

"You didn't know me when I was seventeen." He mutters. "I wasn't exactly Prince Charming."

"Oh, like you'd need to be with those hands of yours."

She winks at him cheerily, back in her element. He doesn't match her mood.

"I didn't know it was a sore subject." She says.

He stifles a sigh.

"It's not." He says lightly. "It just, never happened."

"Yeah, well, sex isn't necessary for drama, apparently."

"Nicks."

"Fine." She holds up her hands. "I'll jump in the shower." She says, and exits the room.

He picks up a book but winds up reading the same page several times while the thought from before pushes against his inside, it aches, the same way as it used to back in Stars Hollow. It's that it's attached to her, is her, it's what she lives in, where she's alone. That's what makes him struggle. And just a few nights ago he carried it, her, held her close. He closes his eyes and listens for the whisper of her music intermingling with the murmur from the water pipes. Sparklehorse, he decides. Fifteen empty minutes pass and Nicks reappears in her robe, eyelashes stuck together from the wet. She rubs a towel over her short hair.

"You do decide who to rent to." He says, picking up their conversation again.

She chuckles, tosses the wet towel over the wardrobe door.

"Oh, I'm well aware that I've painted myself into this corner, but it's so far from the shit I used to deal with that it's healthy by comparison."

He gets up and takes care to put the book back on its shelf, keeping busy.

"So you're okay with it?

She walks over to the bookshelf.

"It's hardly the most awkward living situation I've ever been in." She looks at him, then smiles, showing teeth. "I really didn't have you pegged as a traditional guy."

"I'm not, Matt was giving me a hard time."

"That's to be expected." She walks her fingers up his arm.

He clenches his jaws, says what needs saying:

"I just wanted you to know that if you felt-"

"What? Felt what? And you'd what? Evict my tenant?"

It's all rhetorical, she has her heart set on being the coolest, she sort of already is. He turns to her, puts some weight into his words:

"It'd be understandable, Rory would understand, I'd understand."

She pats him on the cheek.

"You're sweet."

"I'm not."

"Just 'cause nobody ever called you that."

She smiles softly, inches closer to him.

"Nicks-"

"Yes," she says, or maybe it's his name, either way it doesn't sound like a question.

She drops her robe to the floor, and puts her arms around his waist, a hand up his back under his shirt. They haven't had sex in a while. He's been too distracted. She kisses him and he responds to it, even if his head won't quiet down. Maybe he can drown it out.

July 3, 2008

Hours later and he still can't sleep. He hasn't been able to for days. He'd love to blame the heat but is too tired for self deception. Nicks is sleeping next to him on her edge of the bed. She's naked and the linen kicked down to the bed end, but her hair is still sticking to her temples. The window is open and the sounds from the street - cars passing, distant traffic, stray voices echoing through the alleys - fill up the room. He gets up and gets dressed, that's what he misses most about his miniscule Philadelphia apartment: that he can walk around any which way as he pleases. Now he pulls on sweatpants and a t-shirt. He drinks some water in the kitchen, and heads down the hall for the shower.

He notices Rory's open door from the draft. The light's off. She might be sleeping with her door open, for the ventilation and no one could blame her. He's about to move on when he sees her silhouette on the fire escape. She has her back to the room, face to the city, the light from the street lamps contours the edges of her. There's that pull in him, that frays him at the ends, to get closer, make it worse, and hesitation, a part leaning away from the pain. He speaks before his thought is finished. She's gravity.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

It's nearly a whisper but she jerks at the sound anyway. She reaches for the light switch but he takes a step into her room.

"Leave it."

She leans back. He takes another step without meaning to.

"Why are you up?" She says.

"I asked you first."

He's at the window. She's in shorts and a tank top, she moves a bit to the side making room for him. He climbs out and sits next to her. She shrugs.

"The heat, I guess. Also I realized I'm living in New York City, I had to seize the moment."

He looks down onto the street, chuckles.

"You're not impressed?" She says.

"I've lived here most of my life. One of the first apartments I remember me and Liz staying in is around here."

"Really?"

"Yeah, about ten blocks that way, by Fort Greene" he gestures vaguely.

"I could use a walk."

There's something eerie about her voice, like it's balancing on some kind of edge. He turns his head to her.

"Now?"

They look at each other for a moment, and things shift into place in him. A walk in the middle of the night, he's done it loads of times, just never occurred to him to invite someone along. And she calls herself tame.

"Okay." He says.

They climb back inside. She steps into her sneakers and ties a sweater around her waist, he puts on his jacket even if he won't need it for anything other than carrying his cigarettes and keys, he laces on his old converses, worn and torn at the heels.

She lets a silent, breathy laugh when they're on the sidewalk.

"What time is it even?"

"So late it's early." He responds. "Sure you wanna do this?"

"Yes."

"This way then."

They walk. Passing through mostly empty streets, a few after parties of different varieties, some places are still open, a couple that are about to, and one or two that never close. The facades of the buildings are peppered by open windows. There's very little traffic, and when they cross the vacant streets he glances at her. She looks around, smiles, seems almost dazed. The lush greens of summer reach across the streets, sometimes blocking the sky. She moves closer to a tree trunk, running a finger over carvings in the bark.

"Hey, have you read A Tree Grows In Brooklyn?" She asks, smiling widely.

"Years ago."

"How did you like it?"

He smiles.

"What do you think?"

She turns her face toward him and squints. He squints back.

"Can I answer after you've shown me the place?"

He laughs.

"Sure. If you wanna play it safe."

She leans her body to his in a gentle shove that he enjoys way too much. They keep walking.

"So, where else have you lived in the city?"

"Well, after the place we're headed, Liz dated someone from Manhattan, so we lived in the East Village for a while-" He has to go to the places in his mind to remember, which is probably why he doesn't talk about it much. "-then she actually stayed with the same guy for a couple of years, we lived in Jersey for that, then Queens, Bushwick, and then Manhattan again, Greenwich-"

"Washington Square Park." She fills in.

He smiles, doesn't mind remembering certain places.

"Yeah. But we rented from a tenant of a tenant, and then… I moved to Stars Hollow. Liz stayed at that address until she met TJ."

"Oh gosh, that's right, Doula didn't just appear out of nowhere." Rory slaps her forehead.

"Unfortunately not."

"That bad, huh?"

"For me, yeah, for Doula, no. TJ's an idiot but he's not mean, that's what's important." The words come easily, he tells them to himself frequently.

They cross the street and walk a bit further.

"Here it is."

Her body shifts as she eyes the place from ground to top.

"Doesn't look too bad."

"Yeah, well, ten years ago it was a shithole," he mumbles, "roaches climbing the walls, barely functioning plumbing and all kinds of crap on the streets. The playground a few blocks over was nice though, even then." He nods his head in the right direction.

"You didn't like it?"

He shrugs.

"I was a kid, kids are resilient." Kids are adaptable, the correction sneaks into his head, he raises his voice slightly. "Liz was nuts, but she fit in here, and the neighborhood took good care of the children, at least during day time."

His memories are hazy at best, and there's no use dwelling on them. Later he'd come to dislike the place, just from knowing better, but it could have been a lot worse. He hasn't thought about it much at all lately and he hasn't been by here despite how close it is, he can't help trying to recall if he even told Nicks about this, and hates the mere thought. Why is he down this road with Rory? What is he trying to do?

He has an impulse to turn and walk back, but nails his feet to the sidewalk, waiting for her to make whatever move she pleases. She frowns at the building and glances at him. For a second it looks like she's going to raise a hand to touch him, but she doesn't, instead she smiles a little bleakly at him and turns, starts to walk back. He's relieved and follows her eagerly.

"So, what are you doing for the holiday?" She asks.

"Philadelphia with Nicks and the guys."

They're driving down tomorrow and staying the night. He's relieved at the prospect of leaving the city, and anxious to get back, however that's possible.

"You?" He asks, for etiquette's sake.

"Stars Hollow."

They walk almost a block in silence.

"You moved around so much." She says. "I've only ever lived in two places, no, three; Stars Hollow, at Yale, and… here."

"The nomad thing isn't all it's cracked up to be. If you're miserable, then it's miserable everywhere."

He's expecting her to protest, but instead she sighs.

"It just seems like such an adventure."

"And it was," he admits, "just not a very nice one."

"Were you miserable?"

He clears his throat.

"Yeah."

"I didn't enjoy life on the road that much either," she says, "I guess it didn't feel like my kind of adventure."

"And now?"

"Now, I'm just kind of scattered, a bit lost." A pause. "Not miserable though."

"Good."

They sway another few steps, before she asks.

"How about you?"

"I'm not miserable."

"Good." She nods. "Although I feel like we should aim higher than 'not miserable'."

He chuckles, but considers it. He hasn't been unhappy for a while, at least not like he used to be. Since about a year back he's been at some sort of relative peace, but then he moved to New York. He hasn't even thought about it before, he just always felt this way in the city; antsy, a bit on edge, ready for something. When he lived here earlier that was just the way it felt to be alive.

"Probably."

She smiles at him. He swallows. Maybe it never was all about the city.

"While we're on places; How are you liking your room?" He asks.

"Fine." There's a pause. "It's a good room."

"Objectively." He adds helpfully.

"I just need to decorate properly, have a tea party, or something." She chuckles to herself. "Speaking of which, Lane's coming to visit next week. She'll stay for a couple of days."

"Great."

He hasn't seen Lane other than in passing for years and wonders how she'll find him this time around, as Rory's best friends she's always been a barometer for his graces with her.

They walk the rest of the way quietly. He holds up the door for her but has to wait for a couple of minutes while she stands on the sidewalk, looking around at the building, lifting her face to the morning sky, a silly smile on her face. She turns to him with the smile intact and his heart beats faster. She finally enters the house and they climb the stairs. His feet feel heavy and he starts hoping for some sleep.

He unlocks the door and immediately takes off his jacket in the still warmth of the apartment. She waits for him and doesn't move when he's done. He raises his eyebrows at her in some attempt to say goodbye when she hesitantly puts her hand to his shoulder. He looks at it, resting against his t-shirt, and then at her face.

"You know..." She starts, voice low before it trails off completely.

He squints at her.

"What?"

She shrugs.

"Whenever I'm in New York, ever since we met I just- I think about you when I'm here, wonder where you've stayed, which places are yours, I- I know it's silly, I just do."

He can't bear the thought of her removing her hand.

"I suppose I'm the same way." He mumbles.

She chuckles.

"Yeah, whenever you're in Stars Hollow…"

"No, it's less-" He interrupts himself, thinks that she has to feel his heartbeat. "It's more from the inside out with me. I'll read a book or hear a song and just- I think about Stars Hollow a lot."

She looks away.

"Mad and moonly, right?" He mumbles.

Her cheeks are pink, he can tell, even in the dark hallway. She shakes her head.

"Or completely sane and sunly. You would think about Stars Hollow, I mean, with Luke and everything."

"Yeah. When I moved there it was just another stupid place, and then I met you. You'd only ever lived there, and you didn't seem miserable."

"I guess I wasn't."

"But I wasn't talking about Luke. I was talking about you."

Her eyes.

"Thank you. For telling me."

"A bit too late, but still…"

"But I still got those ears."

"Good ears."

"Not too late."

She lets her hand drop from his shoulder, but takes hold of his hand instead. Just like that. He squeezes it back. Just like that.

"I'm gonna say you loved it so much that you hated it a little."

"What?"

"The book."

He wants to kiss her, badly. He lets go of her hand, and takes a step further into the apartment, putting some distance between them to prevent himself from doing that.

"I guess you'd be right, or maybe it was the other way around, I get a little confused on chronology of stuff like that."

She follows him down the hallway, he hears her behind him, she yawns. They reach her door and he turns to her, smiling.

"There."

"Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He makes an effort to keep walking, but her voice halts him.

"Hey, why couldn't you sleep?"

He turns away before replying, he's too tired to deceive anyone, she'll tell he's lying.

"Oh, just the heat too. Sleep tight."

Notes: Referred to poem by EE Cummings "Love is thicker than forget"