Chapter Text
Nick had managed to get home minutes before Sand and it had taken all of his effort to appear casual. His back and throat were aching and he hadn't had a chance to check himself in the mirror to see if there were any marks. Normally, he would have chatted with his roommate a bit more, maybe asked him how his date went, but he wanted nothing more than to wallow in his misery in a hot shower.
That was an entire week ago and Nick still can't believe that he's a walking cliche. No wonder Boston had asked him if he was a virgin. He feels like an idiot for feeling something, but he knows it's just because it was his first time. There's no way he is actually stupid enough to get a crush on a one-night-stand. Ray and Sand have been trying to get him to come back to the bar, but Nick is quick to refuse.
Going to the bar means seeing Boston and he is not emotionally prepared for that. Actually, he's been spending a lot of his free time at the university. He's been working his ass off on a project his mentor entrusted to him, plus Ray seems to be spending more and more time at their apartment. Nick had joked over dinner one night that he might as well move in at this point. They'd both sputtered out refusals, which left Nick a little confused. He knows for a fact that Sand has a spare toothbrush for Ray in their bathroom and that he's cleared out space in his dresser. Why not go all the way with it?
Relationships are confusing, Nick concludes. Of course, he's not really someone who should be remarking on other people's relationships, especially with the pathetic way he's been yearning after Boston. Just the thought of him tickles the back of Nick's throat. His number one goal is to avoid Boston at all cost. Then get Ray to move in with Sand. Then finish his project, he supposes.
Nick lets out a long sigh before snapping his laptop shut. Nothing seems to be working out right and just the sight of the animation program is enough to give him a migraine. His head falls back against the trunk of the tree he's leaning against. He needs some way to get out of his head.
Just as he thinks that, a shadow blocks the sun from his face and he squints up. It take his eyes a second to adjust but when they do, his whole body jolts and he damn near chokes on his spit.
"So you do go to this university, huh?" Boston. God, this is not what Nick meant by a distraction.
"Oh, Boston, hey. Yeah, uhm," he stumbles over his words as he glances around. The one time he doesn't have Sand hovering.
"You look stressed," Boston smirks. "Want me to take your mind off of things?" Nick's brain is in a frenzy as he tries to think of any way to get out of this conversation. The absolute last thing he was expecting was for Boston to suggest hooking up again. Doesn't that break some kind of one-night-stand code? Nick doesn't know and he can't exactly ask his friends since they don't know anything about it. Christ, Nick's life is a fucking wreck.
"Doesn't that, like, break some rules or something?" Nick mumbles out. A big part of him hopes that Boston doesn't hear him, but that's quickly squashed when he grins.
"Who cares about rules? If we both want it, what does it matter?" he replies with a shrug.
If we both want it, he says. The implication that Boston wants him leaves his head spinning.
"I—" Nick chews on his lip. "I don't know…" Boston just holds out his phone without a word and Nick looks at it in confusion.
"Your number." Again, this is breaking some code, but he moves automatically and inputs his number into Boston's phone. When he hands it back, Boston smirks. He taps on the screen and then Nick's phone pings. "Text me when you want it." Then he's walking away, kicking up just enough dust to make Nick cough.
If Nick was a stronger man, he would have deleted the text from Boston and conveniently lost his number. As it stands, it only takes Nick two days to message him back. He finds himself back in Boston's room, much like the first night. This time, Boston presses him face-down and fucks him like it's the only thing keeping him alive. He kicks him out much in the same way.
Nick wishes that could have been the end of it, really. But when the next text rolls in, he answers within seconds. Then the next. And the next. Nearly a month in, Nick finds himself sprawled out on Boston's bed. He hasn't been kicked out, yet, which is a big shock. In fact, when he looks up, Nick sees him staring down at him with a slight tilt of his head. His throat seizes up and he has to clear it sharply to ease the urge to cough. Boston moves suddenly and Nick's heart kicks up with a start as he sees him reach for a camera.
"Keep this pose," he instructs as he lines up for a photo but Nick sits up suddenly.
"Wait, wait! I don't like my picture being taken. I never look good in them…" Nick laughs nervously.
"Your photographer just wasn't skilled enough," he huffs. Nick opens his mouth to protest some more, but stops when Boston lowers the camera. "What do you want? If you don't want me to take pictures, you can just go."
Insecurity bubbles in Nick's chest. He's never liked having his picture taken. Hell, he can count on one hand the amount of selfies he has in his phone. But he would rather hack up a lung than leave a second earlier. Maybe if he's a good enough model, Boston will let him stay. So slowly, hesitantly, Nick lays back down in his previous pose. He hopes that he looks natural as he looks back up at the camera.
His breath catches in his throat and the tickling of the butterflies return. God, Boston looks phenomenal. His jeans are unbuttoned and he hasn't put his shirt back on, but more than that, he looks so totally in his element holding the camera. It's one thing to see the way he looks as he's fucking into him, it's another to see this. Do the others see this side of him? Do the others get to lounge on Boston's bed while he takes photos of them?
A series of clicks breaks his train of thought. Boston makes a satisfying noise as he pulls out the roll of film.
"Do you want to see my studio?"
God, anything. Nick would do anything for more time with him. It's an ache so palpable that he feels it in his chest. A pain that pulses with each breath he takes.
Nick follows him through his house, his eyes devouring every bit of it he can, until they make it to the dark room. He shudders at the way Boston looks under the red lights and watches as he gets to work. Nick has no idea what he's doing, but his eyes linger on the way his fingers handle the delicate film. A question crawls its way up his trachea, a desire—a need—for clarity. He spits out the words before he can choke them down.
"What are we?"
"You're my favourite," Boston replies without turning around. "Why else would I keep fucking you?"
The words send heat rushing through him. For the briefest moment, he has the urge to confess but a pain in his chest stops him.
"Want me to fuck you in here while this develops?" Nick looks up to see Boston leaning against a table with a smirk.
Anything. Anything to stop the throbbing in his lungs.
"So are you ever going to tell me who you're dating?"
Sand's sudden question has Nick choking on his spit, promptly sending him into a coughing fit. His friend gives him a concerned look as he pats his back. The fit lasts longer than it should have and he feels the way it rattles in his chest and makes a note to go out and buy some medicine.
"W-what? I'm not dating anyone!" Nick finally shouts. The look Sand gives him is equal parts exasperated and amused.
"I genuinely can't tell if you're being serious or now," he replies with a sigh. "You've been leaving the apartment more, for one—"
"I've been working on a project and giving you and Ray space."
"—and you're also covered in bruises." Nick's mouth snaps shut. "If Ray wasn't such a freak, I'd think you were being bullied."
"Gross," he grimaces. Sand continues to give him a pointed look and he nibbles on the inside of his lip. "We're not dating," he confesses finally. "We're just…y'know…."
"You're sleeping with someone no strings attached?"
"Why do you say it like that?" Nick huffs and Sand just rolls his eyes.
"Nick, I've known you long enough to know that you come with strings." He tries to suppress the wince, but he must have been unsuccessful as Sand's face softens. "It's not a bad thing. I, for one, like your strings. Ray does, too."
"I just…He—" Nick struggles to find the words but thankfully Sand fills in for him.
"You're not sure if he feels the same." Nick nods. "You know, Ray and I were supposed to be a one-time thing. Neither of us were looking for anything more."
"What changed?"
"Everything," Sand breathed out. "As stupidly sentimental as it sounds, that first night together felt like both of us found something that we were missing. So we went back for more…and then more. Before long it was a regular thing and then we started hanging out outside of just having sex. It wasn't until one of us spoke up that we realised that we'd basically been dating the whole time." He pauses and looks at Nick. "Do you understand?"
"What if he doesn't feel the same?" His voice is small as he looks down at his toes.
"Then you lick your wounds and move on. Your first crush won't kill you." When Nick takes a tremulous breath, there's a sharp pain in his lungs and he has to turn his head to cough into his elbow. "Ray got you medicine, by the way. You've been coughing a lot recently."
"Tell him thanks," he replies after he finally stops. Sand huffs out a laugh.
"Tell him yourself. He'll be here for dinner." Nick rolls his eyes.
"You ever gonna ask him to move in?" It's quiet for a moment too long and when Nick looks up, he lets out a startled laugh at the shy look on Sand's face.
"D'you really thing I should?"
"Dude, you cannot ask me for relationship advice after just giving me some." He rolls his eyes. "But yes, obviously. He practically lives here already."
Nick expects Sand to ask in some grand romantic gesture, probably during one of their date nights, but is pleasantly shocked when he pops the question over dinner. Part of him feels honoured that he was involved in some way, but the bigger part of him burns with envy. Would he ever have this with Boston? Is that at all possible?
Nick tries to drowns the incoming cough with water.
He is unsuccessful.
After his talk with Sand, Nick gives it a lot of thought. Whenever he's with Boston, he finds that he's over-analysing every action. He fucks him a few more times in the dark room after showing him his latest pictures. Sharing hobbies is a good sign, right? He tries to think back to what Sand had said about his and Ray's relationship and finds himself comparing it to him and Boston.
Sure, they fuck all the time. They meet practically everyday now to fuck, but it's always at Boston's house. Since the day they'd seen each other on campus, they haven't seen each other outside of his place. It was the one thing that threw a wrench into things. There were a lot of times where Nick could maybe convince himself that Boston likes him, and then others where he's just not sure.
He leans back, his head thumping against the same tree he sits at when he's working on campus. He's thankful that the weather is still as nice as it's been. If he's not able to focus outside, there's no way he'll be able to focus in the library. Or, god forbid, his apartment. He loves Ray to death, genuinely. But with him moving in, he's been like a tornado through the apartment. There was almost no quiet time there now.
Nick looks up from his laptop just in time to see Boston sauntering towards him. His heart lodges itself in his throat but he chokes it down and gives a small wave.
"Hey, Ton," he calls out. Part of him just expects him to invite him back to his place, but he twitches in surprise as Boston settles down next to him. "Uhm, you good?" Boston just hums in response and lets his head fall down onto Nick's shoulder. His breath hitches so quickly that it nearly sends him into a coughing fit, but he quickly tamps it down.
"Just need to recharge a bit," Boston finally explains as his eyes fall shut. They sit in silence for a while. Nick's project is all but forgotten as his laptop times out and goes black. He tilts his head just enough to be able to look down at Boston. Seeing the way his long eyelashes fall on the tops of his cheeks sends his heart into a frenzy.
Does this mean anything? Surely, it doesn't mean nothing, right? Boston sought him out in order to "recharge." Nick doesn't know if he's just overthinking things. Maybe they're just friends. Friends can fuck, right? He genuinely just doesn't know and it makes him want to rip his hair out. He needs to just man up and say something. That's what Sand said he and Ray did. Talked. Communication. Yeah.
"Ton, I—" Suddenly a phone chimes and Boston sits up. The lifted weight on Nick's shoulder makes him feel unbalanced in the worst way possible. Boston pulls out his phone and answers the call.
"Yeah?" Nick can quite hear the words being said on the other end, but based on the tone it can only be about one thing. He watches with a building sense of dread as a smirk grows on Boston's face. "I'll be right there." The low tone sends a shiver down down Nick's spine but it's quickly overshadowed by panic as Boston stands up as he hangs up the phone.
He gives Nick a cocky salute before walking off. He watches Boston disappear into the crowd and then the incessant itch is back in his throat. He doesn't hold it in now as he dissolves into furious coughs. They rock in his chest and tear at his throat enough that it brings tears to his eyes. By the time the fit ends, he is panting for breath as he leans his head back against the tree.
It's then that he feels something soft and velvety against his tongue. His brows furrow and he quickly pulls it out. When he looks down, he sees a small flower petal. It's bright red and for a moment, the colour takes him back to Boston's dark room. He looks around, but doesn't see where the petal must have come from. He must have sucked it in while he was coughing.
He releases a deep sigh and moves to wake his laptop. Might as well get some work done.
If anyone asks, Nick is not avoiding Boston. He's busy. The time-crunch with his project is getting to be a lot and he still has a ton left to finish. Plus, he's been helping Ray finish up his move-in. It's a lot. He doesn't have time. Sure, it doesn't explain why he was leaving him on read. But again, he's busy. He's definitely not stopping himself from picking up the phone every couple seconds so that he can finally message Boston back.
"God, I'm fucking pathetic," he murmurs to himself. It's one of the rare days where he has the apartment to himself. Ray and Sand had been out all day doing god-knows-what and now Sand is performing at the bar. They'd invited Nick, of course, but he's busy.
In reality, Nick's laptop remains untouched across the room while he bed-rots. He's not sure what he's doing wrong with Boston. Are all relationship this complicated? Why is it so damn hard to figure out if Boston likes him.
"I will not love you."
That doesn't mean he can't. Things change, right? If he didn't like him, then why does he continue fucking him? It doesn't make sense to Nick. He feels like he's slowly going crazy. He'd been so close to telling him how he feels. He needs to just do it. What's the worst that can happen? It's just like Sand had said. If Boston doesn't like him back, it won't be the end of the world. Sure, it'll probably hurt like hell but he'll get over it. Eventually.
With that, he jumps out of bed and grabs his phone. He types out a text to Boston, his fingers trembling so badly that he has to rewrite it several times. Boston is quick to reply and tell him that they'll meet at his place in an hour. Nick nods to himself and gets ready. His heart is beating so hard, it makes his lung ache.
Boston has to like him. There's no way he doesn't feel something. Nick is sure of it. He's steps away from the front door when it feels like lightning in his ribs. He nearly drops to a knee as he clutches his chest and tries to gasp but it feels like something is clogging his airway. Panic floods his body and he claws at his neck and shoves his fingers down his throat. His fingertips graze his soft palate and he gags.
Tears stream down his cheeks as he sprints to the bathroom and his stomach clenches as his body desperately tries to expel whatever it is. He falls to his knees hard as he leans over the toilet. With a gut-wrenching retch, it's finally released. He gasps for breath and wails so hard, he can feel his vocal cords shredding themselves. His face is drenched in sweat, tears and drool and his whole body is shaking.
Finally, Nick looks down and into the toilet bowl. He blinks furiously past the tears as he tries to make sense of what he's seeing. Floating in the water is a single flower, it's petals achingly familiar: bright-red, the same colour as Boston's studio. He sobs harder at the sight.
"It's simply not in my nature." And yet, like an idiot, Nick let himself fall for him anyways. He feels so fucking stupid for thinking that someone like Boston could ever love him. The floral taste in this mouth as he reaches over with tremulous finger to flush the toilet only highlights that.