nicholas-quinn

[nicholas-quinn]

Properly wasted then. Nicki's eyebrows drew together, thoroughly charmed by Oliver's fuzziness, by his slurred words. He reached up and pushed the hair back from Oliver's forehead. His touch soft was soft, the movement familiar. "Is that why you're here? Turning to art therapy? Because you're fine?" That word was the worst of fabrications now. Nicki turned his gaze to Gatsby, narrowing his eyes for a moment as if to ask (were you a part of this?) but after a breath he reached out a patted the dog's head. "Mandy likes to pretend but, lets be real, anyone that short doesn't have a soul."

He reached out and squeezed Oliver's knee. "Yeah, I'm a little sad," he said. He always had that little part of himself tucked away for it. These days the feeling was more insistent. "But right now I'm mostly worried about you." The alcohol made Oliver's gaze fuzzy, but Nicki tried to catch it anyway. "Will you let me drive you home?"

Oliver had done this before. Kind of. He had spent the previous night at Vibrations, trying to find someone to take home for the night—or take him home. That didn’t work because it seemed the guy he was interested in wasn’t interested in him and they were both mildly distracted for the half-hour ish they had spent together. So he went home, listened to sad breakup music until he fell asleep, Lizzie’s head resting on the pillow which had been empty for more than a couple of weeks now.

Then he had found himself looking for something to do, and ended up at Mandy’s studio, talking about his day. Maybe he could get distracted and not think about him. Once the wine was poured, the tears came spilling out. He didn’t know how much he had, but now Mandy’s dog was watching him as if he was some kind of flight risk or liability.

He rubbed his eyes and looked towards the door. Familiarity filling his system. “Nicki?” Oliver leaned forward towards him and squinted, seeing that it was him and he wasn’t imagining things. He stared at him for a moment, before sniffling. “I’m fine…” he said, looking down at the floor. “The wine wasn’t bad,” he held up a finger matter-of-factly. “It was actually pretty good. And Mandy is pretty nice,” he said, pointing over to where Gatsby was sitting, now looking up at Nicki for some head scratches. “Are you sad too? Do you want some wine too?” He slurred.

[nicholas-quinn]

He tipped an imaginary hat at her for the thanks. He wasn't drunk. He'd taken a few deep gulps before Livvy arrived, but he didn't want to be cloudy when he was trying to untangle himself from this mess. He knew Livvy wouldn't, but a part of him wanted her to lay into him. For the mixed messages, the way he'd greenlit every step further in his and Oliver's relationship and still tried to shove it under the umbrella of friendship. He slipped an arm under his head and turned toward Livvy. He could lie to her, but he didn't have the energy for it tonight. "I care about him. More than I intended. More than I thought I could."

There were better words for how he felt, but they were lodged in this throat. "He fell off a ladder a few weeks back," a sarcastic laugh fell out of him as he reached for the wine, "you know, as you do when you're a danger to yourself. He was helping his grandma." His eyes softened. Oliver really was too sweet. "And his sister knows to call me, knows my name. Bet his grams does, too. I kind of knew then I had to end things." He looked back toward the ceiling. "You know where I stand. After -" Leo, "you know how I feel."

"Not that I would complain if that's what you decided to share, but…" she looked over at him with a small, teasing smile, "thanks for getting the good stuff." Dollar store wine had its place in the world, but it wasn't on Nick's floor when they were going to be talking about great big life problems. They would have dollar store wine the next time that they wanted to get drunk for the hell of it, probably on the beach, definitely with a fire lit, and some loud music playing from someone's phone. But not tonight.

"Mhm," she said, drawing out the sound a little bit, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Even if she hadn't known the details, and even if Nicholas had insisted that they were just friends, Livvy knew. She knew her friend far too well than to believe him if he said that there was nothing going on. Although she hadn't really known how much was going on, and that was why she settled in to listen to him talk about telling Oliver that they weren't going to be in a relationship, that they were friends, talked about books. About meeting his dog, rescuing him in the snow, holding hands and kissing -- which did sound vaguely like a relationship to Livvy, even with far less experience than what her friend probably had. Reaching for the bottle of wine again, she tilted it back slowly to be sure not to drown herself as she took a long sip, and then finally asked, once the alcohol had burned its way into her belly. "And did you want to?" she asked, head turning to the side to study him. "End it, I mean. Is that what you really wanted?"

[nicholas-quinn]

"Yeah, well - he's a lightweight. I don't know how he survived college." He was facing the door when he said it, his back to Mandy so that she couldn't see the smile, fond and familiar, stretching unbidden across his face. How obvious had they been? Were they still? He looked back over his shoulder. Oliver should have blocked him. He deserved that sort of scorched earth policy after what he'd pulled, but a part of him wasn't surprised it hadn't happened. A part of him ached to hear that he'd been placed on that list beside his family. "It's not what you think, Mandy." His words packed a bit less punch now. She'd seen through him. He shook his head, ground his teeth together and said, "Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

He didn't leave her a chance to answer though. Instead, he pushed through the door to find Oliver. He was in one of the studio's seats, pushed back from the easels and the paint. A short fluffy dog in the shape of a rat (sans tail) was at his feet. Nicki took a breath before approaching him. He dropped down into a crouch so that he could look him head on. "Hey," he reached out to squeeze Oliver's knee, trying to gauge just how drunk he was, "there's this miniature, annoying blonde outside telling me you might need a ride home. She said something about cheap wine."

Mandy shrugged, not even shaken by his words. “Two glasses. And… for giving you this chance? Whatever this is between you and him… whatever you need? Closure? Not closure? You obviously mean a lot to him. And him to you because you’re here. Or you would have told me to fuck off a while ago,” she said. “Hey, I only bring out the good stuff,” she rolled her eyes before laughing. “Cute. One, I have a budget and two, I would be charging by the hour if all the guys who come your way come by my studio.”

She waved him off towards the door. “I told him I was calling someone to pick him up. And I may have gotten into his phone and you were the first one saved on his favorites list,” Mandy said, before opening the door for him. “So. I mentioned your name and he stopped crying for like, two seconds, then started crying again. So whatever it is, whatever this is, I think it’s important,” she nodded. “I just don’t get paid to give advice—but if you want my advice, I think you two should take some time and talk. Start by getting him home safe.”

[nicholas-quinn]

"Really? I owe you? For what exactly, huh - getting Oliver wasted on wine?" He sneered. "I bet it wasn't even the good stuff." He knew she wasn't fazed by him. Part and parcel, he figured of her having known him since he was in knee highs and shorts. It didn't cool his discomfort though, or his fear that something about this whole situation was boiling over. He didn't respond well when he felt like he was being backed into a corner. "And here I thought you wanted all my ex-shags. Good for business, right?"

His hands clenched in his pockets at the label. Livvy wouldn't have told her sister anything. He trusted her confidence fully. And yet these days, it seemed everyone was in on something he wasn't. It made him a touch crueler. He moved toward the door, pausing to ask, "Did you even tell him you were calling me?"

Mandy tapped her foot as she waited for Nicki to show up. When Oliver had showed up at her studio, the two of them had started chatting. She had already opened a bottle of wine for herself. She had poured a glass for both of them, handed him a smock and a set of paints and turned on some music. One glass turned into two. Then came the tears. Gatsby was watching them, splooting down in the middle of the floor.

She gave a sigh before taking her phone out and texting Nicki. She could tell the two of them had a lot to talk about. She wasn't sure what, but she had an idea. It was complicated and probably best if the two of them figured it out themselves. Getting the other man off the floor and onto a chair took a couple of tries before he could sit still was a challenge. Gatsby was sitting in front of him, making sure he didn’t fall off again, and knowing he’d bark (loudly) to alert her if he did.

“Maybe not, but you’re my sister’s best friend, and by extension, it’s my job to be protective,” she said, looking up at the taller man when he arrived. “You owe me big time, Quinn," Mandy crossed her arms over her chest.

[nicholas-quinn]

"Are you serious Mandy?" Nicki shoved his keys into the back pocket of his jeans as he swung out of the car. The air was still cool in the evenings, and with the sundown he felt the shiver of goosebumps over his skin. He'd been at home attempting (emphasis on attempting) to cut Daisy's nails when the texts came through. He'd thrown on a pair of pants, a sweater, and shoes to drive over. He stopped a few paces from Mandy, throwing an off-hand glance at the door behind her; relieved in some small part that she wasn't waiting with Oliver. "You know I'm not his boyfriend, right? And since when do you care who I fuck?"

Mandy: exactly. i'm short enough that i could bite your ankles, buster. Mandy: i gave him two glasses of wine. two. glasses. of. wine. i didn't know i was going to have to play cheers with your situationship Mandy: you'd better.

[nicholas-quinn]

Nicholas: size does matter, sweetheart. Nicholas: he's drunk isn't he? you overserved him and now he can't drive himself home? Nicholas: goddamn it Hartman Nicholas: i'll be there in fifteen

Mandy: judge me by my size do you?

Mandy: because he’s sitting in my studio crying, and I’m supposed to close up and take Gatsby to go potty

Mandy: did you forget the part where I said he keeps saying your name?

Mandy: I could charge him 5 cents for advice or you could come bring him home.

[nicholas-quinn]

Nicholas: always took you for an ankle biter Nicholas: shit Nicholas: and why would you need me to collect Oliver? Nicholas: he's a grown man

Mandy: but I could reach your ankles and take you down Mandy: so you are telling me the cute british librarian who is on my floor talking to my dog and has mentioned your name twice has nothing to do with you? Mandy: thrice.

[nicholas-quinn]

"Yeah," he shoved the heel of his palms into his eyes, "well I thought this problem deserved something more than dollar store zinfandel." He stayed like that for a heartbeat, dropping his hands when he blew out a breath. The whole thing was a mess in his head. He didn't fully know where to start. It was only in the past few days that he realized what half-truths he'd given his friends. Misdirection as transparent as glass. But once he started talking, it all came easy enough.

"Well, you know we've been. . .hooking up." He tilted his head to look at Livvy. "Since January in fact. And I told Oliver - that first night actually - that I wasn't looking for anything. That we weren't going to end up in a relationship." He took a breath, looking back at the ceiling. "And then we started hanging out. We became friends. He has the best taste in books, Livvy. You could bring up any book and he'd know it - or he'd read it. And he's probably the sweetest guy I've ever met. So, we'd talk some nights about books, and I started spending some time at the library. And then, during the last snowstorm I rescued him when his car stalled. We got stuck together for a few days and I met his dog." His face scrunched as he continued, feeling the weight of everything laid out. "And I might have suggested he could kiss me whenever he wanted, even if we weren't going to - well I think I just really wanted to kiss him all the time. We wound up cuddling some of those nights. And then afterward, when I was showing him around town I might have held his hand once or twice, but he's terribly clumsy so-" He bit his lip. It was all incriminating but while he was in the midst of it all, it'd felt natural. "I told him we needed to end things last week."

While Livvy was sure that Elise would appreciate being paid back, she also couldn't see her friend being too upset over her brother taking a bottle of wine if he really, really needed it. Maybe when she found out what they were drinking for, everything would make a little more sense. To Livvy, and to Elise. Elise, minus a bottle of very, very good wine, which she remarked on with a laugh, "probably should, that's an incredibly good bottle of wine."

Livvy allowed herself to relax as much as she could while laying on a floor, knowing that it wasn't the easiest feat, but… if that was where Nicholas wanted to be, well, that was where they would be. And although her mind was going one hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out what he had done, what he needed to talk about, she took that moment to just… be, to just relax, to just breathe, and then turned her head to the side to look over at him when he admitted that it was Oliver. Because of course, but… "Led him on how?" she asked, raising a brow, "what happened?"

[nicholas-quinn]

"I appreciate that. Maybe something to promote clarity for the springtime." He liked to have little items and goodies from the local businesses in town at the Brownstone. When the guests inevitably asked, he'd direct them there and feed into Merrock's community. He munched on a few more of his chopped vegetables, laughing softly when he got a look from one of the other participants. He might not have enough left over for the actual recipe, but he was having fun. "We've managed," he said. He wasn't one to share his family's secrets. He more often than not covered their deficits with a joke. Despite living in the same town with his parents, he saw them maybe twice a month and usually for planned dinners. "And we've yet to fine a family event that isn't improved with wine. I've actually always thought you've had it a little better off in that area."

"Well, we never have a shortage of good juju rocks," she said with a grin. In fact, Elena and Amina were both probably very much in agreement that it was best to get the stuff that might be seen as a little more 'cliche' in stock, because as much as it might make them both roll their eyes… it also sold. Remarkably well. "I'll even put some of our best ones aside for you for the next time that you came in," even if she was biased and knew that all of the products that Amina bought could be considered the 'best ones.' Moving on to the next step of the meal that they were preparing, she brushed her hair back from her face and smiled. "I can see that, you -- you, Elise, Clara -- have always seemed like a nice little family unit," she knew that there was… dysfunction there, in the parental area, but it was good when the siblings could rise above it, still have love for each other.

[nicholas-quinn]

Nicholas: you couldn't reach my ass if you tried

Nicholas: and i have no idea what you're talking about

Mandy: nicholas ian quinn get your uppity butt over here and collect your man before i kick your ass right this instant @nicholas-quinn

[nicholas-quinn]

"I just want you to be happy." It was the most honest he'd been with the other man in weeks. "I hope you know that." He stepped backward, out of reach of Oliver's arm. The sunlight on Oliver's skin, highlighted all the little evidence of stress that he'd glimpsed inside. But he remained, to Nicki, irrevocably beautiful. He shook his head before digging into his bag, pulling out a small container and offering it to Oliver. "It's bacon," he said. "For Lizzie." He hadn't bought it thinking about her, but he wanted her to have it. He bit his cheek before he could tell Oliver he missed her, missed him. Give it another week, he thought. This would all get better soon. "Give her a few scratches, from me, yeah?"

Oliver watched Nicki with sad eyes. What happened between them that they could barely be around each other anymore? His heart hurt and it was heavy. Tired, slumped shoulders after what was considered to be nothing? Was it really nothing?

“It’s alright,” Oliver said softly, keeping the air of politeness around them still. He handed over the cup to him and took his own, standing there quietly and awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. His eyebrows raised as Nicki spoke up to say something, “Y-yeah?”

[nicholas-quinn]

He took a few long breaths when he was out on the curb. He was shaking slightly, unnerved by the polite chatter and the look in Oliver's eyes. It fit the pattern, though. He never seemed to find steady ground in this situation. Any idea he ever had, was thoroughly shattered. He felt terrible. He felt like everything he did or said with Oliver from now on would be smart like a bruise.

Oliver's voice broke him from his thoughts, his touch sending goosebumps up Nicki's arm. He turned, his eyebrows drawn together before he looked down at the drink in his hand. The cup with Oliver's name. "Shit - yeah," he offered it to Oliver. "Sorry, I didn't realize." He silently cursed his clumsiness. It all seemed like some cosmic joke now, some karmic comeuppance that, away from the crowd, was loosening his tongue. "Oliver, I wanted to say-" his other hand crinkled around the paper bag he was holding. The breakfast he didn't have the stomach for anymore.

He was distracted by his thoughts. He was urging himself not to cry in front of him. Oliver took a deep breath, eyes filled with tears and his heart was racing again. He shook his head and forced another smile. His emotions were taking over, and he didn’t want Nicki to know that he was crying. A lot. “Y-yeah?” He asked when Nicki said his name. His attention was caught. What did he want to say to him?

He turned his head as soon as Nicki did once their names were called. Oliver was about to say something but Nicki had already moved towards the counter ahead of him. He was speechless—there was so much left that he wanted to say, but couldn’t. Because Nicki was rushing out the door as soon as he could. He blinked back the tears and went up to the counter, realizing Nicki had taken his drink by mistake. He grabbed the other one and followed him out.

“Nicki…” he called his name softly. Carefully he moved towards him and placed a hand on his arm. “I don’t think you’ll like what I ordered,” he said with a quiet chuckle.

[nicholas-quinn]

He smiled as Livvy joined him on the rug. Was the couch more comfortable? Certainly. Tonight's conversation felt like a floor problem though. The kind of conundrum where you count ceiling grains until revelation struck. He nodded at her question. "I'll find a way to pay Elise back when inventory comes around." A spa day, maybe. Or a gift card to her favorite store. A large gift card, if the wine's vintage was anything to go by.

He paused for a long moment after Livvy had gotten settled beside him. The words weren't easy for him - the jokes were, the charming chatter he could spill out over a hundred different parties, that was all easy - but there was a part of him that he'd closed off over a decade ago. He needed to clear the cobwebs a bit, see if the lights still worked, before he could continue. "I think I might have led someone," he took a breath, and said the name he was instinctively skirting, "Oliver. I think I probably led him on." He held up his fingers. "Just a pinch."

Catching Nick's glare, Livvy's own eyes widened, as though full of innocence, as she tilted back the bottle of wine and took a long sip, letting the flavor warm her from the inside out. And then, and only then, did she flop down onto her back next to him, setting the wine bottle aside for a moment. After all, she didn't think that he wanted to pour wine down the front of himself should he try to drink and forget where was. "Good wine, one of Elise's?" she asked, although she knew not to really ask that question. Of course it was one that he snagged from Taste. Most of Livvy's were, too.

"Okay, wallowing, got it," she nodded her head, pulling one arm up to rest under her head as a pillow, the other resting on her chest, watching the ceiling as though the answers would be there. "Whenever you're ready, you know that I'm all ears. And I've been told that I'm pretty good at advice, too," every now and then, anyway. At least when it came to him, she'd never want to lead him astray if she could help it.

[nicholas-quinn]

He let the air get heavy between them again. It was filled with all the things he wasn't saying, the apologies he wouldn't make in public. But, he was terrible with any type of small talk, and as he slipped his hands into his pockets, he saw Oliver's chin lifting. There was something terribly familiar about Oliver's eyes just then. Liquid. He'd hurt him again. A part of him, the one that had been raised by white collar parents, wanted to stamp down on any type of public display of weakness, the other was just plain tired. "Oliver, I didn't get to say it last week, -"

He was cut off by the sound of Oliver's name, the barista's hands were full as she dropped orders onto the counter. His own name was mixed in there. It startled him, knocking the words right out his mouth. He grabbed blindly for his bag of food and the coffee. "I just- well I'm sure you got it, actually." He started for the door, ready to make a quick exit. "I'm glad you're well." He was pushing out with the crowd then, heading onto the street and the soft May sunshine.

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed quietly. He liked quiet. It was the reason why the library was so comforting to him. It was the reason why there were days when he was growing up he’d hide in his grandfather’s study, curled up with a book into the late hours of the night into morning. A habit that he hadn’t completely kicked. Quiet was nice. But it was sometimes lonely. That was a feeling Oliver was very familiar with. At least with Nicki, he didn’t feel completely alone. Again, that feeling was in the past. His eyes shifted to the counter, waiting and counting the orders before his was set down. “It sounds nice.”

Looking at Nicki again, Oliver smiled, strained and stiff. “That’s good,” he said politely. “Oh,” he nodded. “That’s really good. I’m, um, glad you’re doing well,” he said, lifting his chin up to fight tears that were threatening to escape. “I’m… fine. Busy. Keeping busy,” he said. It wasn’t the truth but it wasn’t exactly a lie either.

[nicholas-quinn]

Nicholas: when have I ever been interested in more? Nicholas: we're adults, sis Nicholas: that's not going to happen Nicholas: let's get a drink soon, though. I want to gossip.

CECE: well, it does run in the family, doesn’t it? CECE: I don’t mean to, though. CECE: From what I’ve gathered, you’re not interested in anything more than some fun, correct? What happens when this ‘sweet’ man wants more? CECE: Shit will hit the fan, but the point being I’ll be there either way.

[nicholas-quinn]

Nicholas: well now you just sound patronizing Nicholas: explain it to me like I'm a 5th grader Nicholas: baby sister

Nicholas: 🤨 Nicholas: lots of fun Nicholas: and like i said he's a really sweet guy Nicholas: why would shit hit the fan?

[nicholas-quinn]

There was some small measure of peace to be had with Livvy's company. He never felt performative with her. He was dramatic, of course, but that was as true to him as his love for Merrock. Daisy had perched herself on top of his bookcase. As Livvy joined him, as she took the wine from his hands, he met his cat's slit-eyed glare. There was no pity there. She was certainly not someone to spill his guts to. He shook his head before looking away from her.

"Well right now we're wallowing." He steepled his fingers before resting his hands on his stomach. He'd tossed on some old sweats while cleaning, a pair of mismatched socks. "And in a minute, I plan to unload on you. And then maybe -" he blew out a breath. "Maybe ask for a little advice." He nodded to the wine bottle in Livvy's hands. "There's more of that if we run a little long."

It wasn't as though NIcholas and Olivia needed a reason to hang out together, of course. Sometimes that meant heading to Livvy's place on the coast, and other times, they spent the time together at his place. Even more often, they went out and did something -- got drinks, went shopping, grabbed a bite to eat. But she had the feeling that if Nicky was inviting her over and telling her to let herself in, that there was something on his mind. Or, worse, he was three sheets to the wind and she was going to have to do a lot of drinking to catch up. Which was why she told Mikey not to wait up for her.

Slipping the key into the lock of his door, she gently pushed it open, as though expecting to see… something, anyway, and instead caught the scent of … cleaning supplies, maybe? It smelled fresh, that was good. "Honey, I'm home," she called out, although the words were drowned by a laugh as she heard her friend call out in return, dropping her gaze down to where he was laying. On the floor. With wine. So she hadn't really been that wrong. "What exactly are we doing?" she asked, tossing her bag and jacked onto the couch and dropping down, first, to sit. And second, to grab the bottle of wine.