I must struggle through this bravely on my own then. *sigh*
Life is without beta. That's why there're so many problems with it. *cough*
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It had been a good two weeks, reflected Nick woozily. It had been a nice vacation despite of the relatives and Mike’s ‘plane-trip’—an event which meant that he would never, ever allow Mike to go near a plane again without some sort of high-security supervision. It was a good night tonight too, he added to himself, despite of the phenomenal jetlag from which he was suffering and the sudden drop in temperature. The café they were sitting in was mostly unoccupied save for a few other college students like themselves and the streets were quiet and empty save for a few occasional cars whose lights flashed past with the rapidity of shooting stars. The warmth of the heating system, coupled with the slice of cake and cup of hot chocolate that he had already consumed, produced a nice, mellow feeling in him. Very nice and very mellow. Nick yawned.
“Here’s to the new year, may it be better than the last one which, frankly, sucked.” Mike raised his cup in slightly lop-sided salute, face flushed from the warmth. If it were possible for anyone to get drunk on sugar, Nick would’ve supposed that Mike was that. “Off with the old and on with the new and whatever. You know.”
“Hear, hear,” chimed in Zach bravely, in the tone of a man who found the prospect of the future none-too-reassuring, likewise raising his styrofoam cup. “Happy Holidays!” Said the cup.
“Yay,” Nick heard himself say, then giggled in spite of himself because his voice sounded strange even to his own ears. He tried to touch his cup to those of his friends in their shared salute and managed, barely, in a feat that had more to do with luck than with fierce concentration, though he tried both.
“You should get some sleep,” said Zach, watching him over the rim of his cup.
“No, I’m fine,” Nick beamed at his two friends. “Happy holidays! Well, even though it’s almost over but,” he paused and tried to remember what he was talking about, shrugged mentally, gave up, and beamed at his friends again.
Mike and Zach looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
“I saw that,” declared Nick, because he did and because something told him that it was very important that he let them know that he did.
“Alright, let’s go back,” said Mike, and drained his cup.
“Alright, let’s go back,” said Mike, giving in, and downed the rest of his chocolate in one gulp. Zach eyed the empty cup. He didn’t know how his two friends managed to handle all that sugar, with the hot chocolate and the cake, which Mike insisted that everyone order. Then again, he thought, watching Nick smile happily at his very much inanimate cup as Mike began to whistle, almost breathlessly, some forgotten Christmas carol or the other, maybe handling the sugar wasn’t the issue at all and he was, once again, missing the point.
“You do realise that I’ve got the stuff to make our own hot chocolate?” He told his friends.
“You know you’ve said that already. Twice.” Said Mike, airily. “And you know that it’s only,” he peered at his watch, “ten and that we have the rest of the night to go?”
“Hm,” mumbled Nick cheerfully. Or it could’ve been a “mmf.” It was hard to tell.
“We have the rest of the night to go after we go back to the dorms first,” He reminded Mike, getting up and pushing his chair back. Zach regarded Nick. “He can still walk straight, right?”
“He can still walk straight, right?” Zach asked uncertainly, giving Nick a slightly puzzled frown.
“Can he walk straight even normally?” Mike smirked. It was an on-going game, the teasing and the jokes, and he supposed that all the sugar was finally getting to him. But he was finally starting to feel…all holiday-spirit-y, and he wasn’t about to complain because the warm and frizzy feeling, while it lasted, was something to be treasured.
“I can so walk street—I mean straight,” declared Nick, catching himself. He stood up, and Zach hurried to save his chair from crashing backward, knocking over Mike’s empty cup in the process. Nick blinked at them sleepily, then yawned again. “And I can walk straight normally too!”
“Of course you can,” Mike grinned and held open the door, wheezing a little when the unexpected coldness from the air outside shocked his lungs.
“Does that even make sense?” Zach whispered as he walked past him.
“Since when did Nick make sense?” Mike asked back.
“I heard that!” interjected Nick.
“You were meant to,” pointed out Mike, putting himself between Nick and the street on the off chance that, jet-lagg-y, Nick might mistakenly walk into the streets and into the oncoming traffic. You never know with Nick.
“Mmrphk, fine.” Muttered the person in question, then sighed blissfully. “Happy holidays.” Sleep was definitely called for.
“You just said that not two minutes ago, you do realize?” Mike gave Nick a sideways glance. His friend showed no sign that he’d heard and yawned enormously. Oh yes, sleep.
“Happy holidays to you too, Nick,” Zach said peaceably, walking on the other side and still sipping his cup of tea.
Mike rolled his eyes at the sky, but held the silence that followed, that followed them as they walked back towards the campus like an old, faithful dog whose very presence could give off comfort. The reflected neon-bright eyes, the glow-green of the Starbucks and the gold-blue of Blockbusters, watched them go past, like they have no doubt seen many students go past in the years and were likely to see many more students in the time to come. Between the white-gold orbs of the street-lamps hung the sense of expectations, still fresh, still waiting for the peals now less than two hours away.
A tune came to Mike’s lips, and he whistled it. An old song that he’d picked up from French class in high school, something about the coming of another year. After a moment or two Nick joined in, singing softly, dreamily, filling in the words that Mike had forgotten. Another year, another street, another life; another corner and the blue lightning of the first school lamppost came into view. Like the lamppost from Narnia, thought Mike with dry amusement.
“Where’re we going?” He spoke first, breaking the spell.
“I have the stuff in my room,” offered Zach. “But we’ll need a microwave.”
“My roommate’s got one,” said Nick. Mumbled really. “And we can use it.”
Zach, lagging a few steps behind Nick now, looked at Mike, and he could tell they were thinking the same thing: microwaving things aside, if they met in Nick’s room, they’d have less to think about when (because it was only inevitable now) Nick fell asleep.
“Alright,” agreed Mike. “Your room, then. You better not have anything too weird in there.”
“Besides me?” asked Nick innocently.
“Good point,” conceded Mike, surprised that Nick was still awake enough to say something like that.
Nick made a small noise. Of victory. Of satisfaction. Of a dying urge to yawn his head off. Mike hid a smile.
“Oh you’re pathetic,” he muttered fondly, more or less steering Nick in the right direction as his friend attempted to wander left, two doors too early. “You do have your key, right?”
“Mm, am not,” mumbled Nick, meekly opening the door and turning on the lights. He shambled over to his bed and sat down heavily, then promptly toppled over to one side. “Pathetic, I mean,” he added, voice muffled by the bed.
“Maybe we should just let him sleep,” said Zach, looking down at the sprawled form that was Nick. “And stay up far too late somewhere else.”
“No, I’m fine!” Nick insisted, his face appearing over the edge of his pillows with a startling suddenness. He pouted. “I’m going to stay up till midne—
“Nick,” Zach thought for a moment, “We’re eight hours behind GMT, the new year’s already happened to the world, you can sleep.”
“It’s not here yet,” said Nick stubbornly.
“Nice phrasing,” Mike told Zach, then added, when Zach gave him a blank look. “It’s ‘already happened to the world’?” Sounded like some time of pestilence.
“Egrk,” said Zach, and Mike saw that he understood. “Well it’s technically true…”
“I know,” grinned Mike. “Just sounds funny.” He looked at Nick, who was staring at them mournfully and determinedly, if somewhat glazed-eyed. It was, reflected Mike, a very bad way to begin a new year by not getting what you wanted. “Okay fine. Let’s just let him stay up late if he really wants to.”
“See, Mike agrees with me!” Nick informed Zach, quite triumphant.
“Yes, I heard him,” said Zach. “I’ll go and get the stuff for the hot chocolate, shall I?”
“I can get it,” offered Mike, “I’m getting my laptop anyway, and our building clusters are pretty close.”
Zach looked at him, looked at Nick, and appeared to consider this for a moment. “Okay,” he said finally, and fished out his own keys. “Here.”
Mike looked at the keys. Keys. Plural. And raised his eyebrows. “You’d trust me with these?”
“Well,” replied Zach, smiling slightly. “I don’t own an airplane, so yes.”
“Right.” He pocked the keys and cleared his throat. “Behave yourselves, children,” ordered Mike, opening the door with extreme dignity. “If you’re good I’ll bring you back candy. Er. Hot chocolate.” He amended.
Zach and Nick stared at each other for a long moment, then turned to Mike in unison.
“Yes, mother,” they chorused.
Mike grumbled as he left, trying to twist the smile off from his face. When he returned he found the two in relatively the same spot, save for the fact that Nick was now asleep, the sweep of his lashes dark against his cheeks. He stared at him, then at Zach, who gave him a slight shrug.
“We can go into the lounge to talk,” suggested Zach quietly. “It’s empty anyway.”
Nick woke up feeling very, very disoriented. He was, he knew, in his room, on his bed, which was all very well and normal except there was something that was important that his mind insisted he was forgetting. He sat up and rubbed his face and suddenly remembered that first, it was New Year’s Eve (a panicked look at the clock assured him that he had slept for no more than an hour that that it was, indeed, still the eve), and that secondly—
The door opened slightly. Before he could wonder why it wasn’t locked when he was, in fact, sleeping, Mike’s voice came, slightly amused. “Yeah, I think he’s awake. Le soir, Nick, comment allez-vous?”
Secondly, recalled Nick, was finding out where the heck his friends went because they were suppose to celebrate New Year’s together.
“Éveillé et conscient,” replied Nick. He gave his eyes a final rub. “What were you guys doing?”
“Talking,” said Zach.
“Plotting to pour something strange on you while you’re sleeping,” said Mike, at the same time.
“You wouldn’t do that.” Well, he hoped that Mike wouldn’t, anyway. He had done nothing to deserve it. That he know of.
“Why not?” asked Mike, sounding only mildly curious.
“Because you like me?” Nick suggested, then added. “And I am trusting Zach to prevent you if you do decide to do it.”
“Oh right.” Mike’s mouth twists slightly to one side as he looked down at Zach with one raised eyebrow. “How do you know he’s not conspiring against you too?”
“He’s Zach.”
“Reassuring,” muttered Zach to himself. “I’m me.”
“I’m hurt,” said Mike. “Deeply injured. You’d trust him over me?”
“Well considering…” began Nick.
“The airplane incident…” continued Zach.
“Oh let it go already,” muttered Mike.
“Don’t worry Mike,” said Nick reassuringly. “I still trust you. Mostly. Just not around airplanes.”
“Thanks,” said Mike sarcastically. “And what’s with all this talk about trust?”
“It’s the basis of most human relationships and a few non-human ones,” said Zach. “It’s late. It’s New Year’s eve. I’m allowed to be philosophical.”
“You get all philosophical when it’s not New Year’s,” Mike reminded him.
“I’m allowed to be more philosophical than usual, then” Zach amended, defiantly.
“He’s weird,” Nick informed Mike, to which Mike returned a look that said “Ya think?”
Nick sighed. Then yawned. Then remembered the third thing.
“Are we going to make the hot chocolate?”
1 comment:
Heh, I had hot chocolate today x)
Yay thanks for letting Nick wake up on time =)
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