Nick stood outside his house. It looked large and empty and uninviting. It definitely didn't feel like home anymore. After forcing himself to leave Zak's house, he had wandered around aimlessly before noticing his house key on the chain. He had moved into Zak's house months ago and had decided to sell his place. Apparently, he hadn't gotten around to it yet. He was thankful to have somewhere to go, even if it wasn't where he really wanted to be. He took a deep breath, swallowing his sadness before slipping the key into the lock and opening the door. He was surprised to find how lived-in the house looked. There were clothes hanging over chairs, stacks of mail on the counter and half empty water bottles on the coffee table. How long had he been living here? He could have sworn he'd been living with Zak just the other day. His chest ached as he thought back to Zak's words. "Me and Dave have been together for six months." Six months? Had they really been apart that long? Had he been living here, alone, all that time? He couldn't remember. His head swirled with confusion as he felt his airways constrict. A panic attack. He must be having a panic attack. He tried to calm himself, but his body trembled with sadness and it was getting harder and harder to breath. His vision was growing fuzzy and something about this was starting to feel so familiar...He was just about to put his finger on it when everything went black.
"Nick!"
Nick snapped awake at the sound of his name being called. He sat up, looking around wildly before realizing where he was. He'd made it about five steps into his house before passing out in the entryway. He rubbed at a painful lump on the side of his head. The sun was down. He'd been out for a while. He closed his eyes as the events of the day came screaming back. He couldn't help but wish the fall had knocked him out a while longer. Then at least he could be blissfully unaware of just how bad things had gotten. Suddenly, he remembered the voice that had woken him. "Hello?" he called out, a bit more hoarse than he'd expected. His throat was dry after who knows how many hours he spent passed out. "Zak?" he called hopefully. But even as he said it, he knew he was alone in the house. He must have just been dreaming the voice. He felt hot tears prickle at his eyes and he tried his best to keep them from spilling over. Falling apart wouldn't help him now. He stood up slowly, feeling dizzy and drained. He steadied himself as he made his way to the kitchen. Careful to hold on to the wall for support in case he needed it. As he stepped into the kitchen, he finally realized what Zak must have been talking about. The kitchen island was covered with assorted liquor bottles, mostly empty. No wonder he couldn't remember anything. There was enough alcohol here to give a small country a pretty good buzz. He'd definitely be having some of that later. But first he really needed water. He opened the refrigerator to find water bottles and not much else. He grabbed a bottle, chugging down most of it as he took in the scene. He felt like he was looking at someone else's life. This was not him; walking away from a man he has loved so deeply for so many years and drinking until he can't remember entire months of his life. None of this made sense. He shouldn't be here. He should be at home with Zak, cuddling on the couch and watching terrible television. Instead he was here and Zak was probably cuddling up to Dave. It hurt to think about, but Nick let himself wallow in the thought for a minute. He finished his water bottle and grabbed a half empty bottle of whiskey from the island. He took a large gulp as he made his way to the couch. If this is who he was now, he might as well embrace it.