These Different Times (Nick Clark FF)

02.

"Oh my...holy shit...Nick!" I squealed, dropping my bag to the ground before rushing towards him, throwing my arms around his neck, "Thank God."

He didn't really reciprocate the hug. His hands just stayed limply by his side and I finally pulled back to get a good look at him.

He was filthy, that was the first thing I noticed along with that he didn't exactly smell the nicest. Skinnier too. His hair had gotten longer but the one thing that really stood out was how bloodshot his eyes were.

I stepped back, "Are you high?"

"No!" he exclaimed, giving me a sly smile, "I was high earlier."

"Jesus," I hissed, pushing past him to unlock the door, "Get inside." He yelped as I grabbed hold of his arm, tugging him into my house, "Seriously, Nick. What the hell? Do you know how worried your mom's been?" I gave his chest a smack.

"Hey, stop!" he yelled, grabbing hold of my hand to stop me.

I did stop, my hand resting on his chest, "Three weeks. You've been gone for three weeks and you never sent one message. I thought you were dead!"

"'m sorry," he said quietly, tugging me to his body again, chin resting on top of my head, "My phone's gone."

I sighed, looking up at him, "Where have you been?"

He shook his head, releasing me and heading towards our small kitchen, "You don't want to know."

I frowned, watching as he bent down and took a drink of water straight from the tap, "You should shower. Nick, you're filthy and don't take this the wrong way, but you stink."

"I know. Are my clothes still where you keep 'em?"

I nodded, watching as he disappeared into my room.

Him staying over was a normal occurrence and it made sense for us to have sets of clothes in each other's houses.

While he was in the shower, I glanced at the clock and saw that it was after five and decided to cook us something to eat. By his appearance, I didn't know if he had eaten properly in a while.

He emerged just as I was plating up some mac and cheese and he gave me a grateful smile and sat down, shoving the pasta into his mouth.

I took a seat across from him and began drumming my fingers on the table.

"This is amazing," he murmured, "You always cook it just right and put the right amount of..." he trailed off when he met my glare, clearing his throat before looking down again, "Did you, uhm, have you called my mom?"

"No," I replied, "Do you want me to?"

"No!" he exclaimed, standing up so quick that the chair fell and he came to crouch in front of me, clasping my hands in his warm one, "Please, Tay. Y-you don't need to."

"She needs to know that you're okay."

"No," he mumbled again, "See, I'm not staying long and she'll just want to come over."

"What do you mean you're not staying?" I whispered, "No you can't go out there. Not tonight. Th-it's raining and you'll catch a death." I then cupped his face in my hands, resting my forehead against his, "Stay here. Just for tonight."

Looking away from me, he deliberated for a couple minutes before he nodded, "Okay. But you can't call my mom."

Biting my lip, I agreed but I had already decided that I was going to phone her. I'd just wait till he was asleep.

**

I did as I said I would. As soon as Nick fell asleep on the sofa, I closed myself in my room and called Maddie, managing to get her to hold off coming to see him until tomorrow morning. We agreed that she'd just act as if she was just dropping in to see my mom, who would probably have come back sometime during the night.

The two of us slept in my bed and sometime during the night, we had somehow merged into one. The position that we always favoured when we were together.

Though when he woke up, he immediately retreated and practically flew from the bed and I sat up to see him running his hand through his hair, "Sorry."

"It's okay," I flushed, "It's nothing...new."

He gave me a smile and pointed silently to the bathroom before disappearing inside and I decided to get up too, pushing my hair away from my face as I shuffled through to the living area.

I put some bread in the toaster and hopped up onto the counter, looking up at him when he came in.

"So...thanks for letting me stay here."

"That's okay," I whispered, "You know you're always welcome here. You want some toast?"

"Nah, I'm actually gonna take of-."

"No," I cut him off, leaping off the counter again. I took his hand and led him to the dining table, where I sat down, "I'll let you leave in a bit, just answer some of my questions first?"

"Okay," he nodded, "Seems fair."

"Where have you been?"

"Here and there," he shrugged, "The church mostly."

I grimaced at the mention of that awful place. It was known to most young people as the place where you could go for a good high.

"Do you have to go there?" I mumbled, "It's scary and I worry about you."

He waved a his free hand and walked away from me, detaching our hands in the process, "You don't have to. Hey, you got any soda? My throat is dry as a junkie's carpet. If you'll excuse the pun."

I didn't laugh, watching as he went around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboard doors and before I knew it, I was crying into my hands. How could he be so casual about all this? As if he wasn't risking his life every time he stuck a needle into his arm just for temporary release?

"No," I heard him say, "Tay, don't cry. Please."

"How can you keep doing this?" I cried, wiping at my eyes, "You have a family and people who care about you! How can you do this to your mom? To Alicia? To me? Do you know how worried I've been? Every time my phone rings, I am terrified. Terrified that it's your mom calling to tell me that you're dead. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

He stared at me for a couple of seconds and then opened his mouth to reply but my phone ringing on the counter distracted him, "Why...why is my mom calling you?"

I took a shaky breath and got up, "Because I called her."

"Why the hell would you do that?!" he yelled, hand running into his hair so he could grip it in frustration, "When? How? I was with you all night."

"When you fell asleep on the couch. Nick, I thought it was the right thing to do."

He stared at me, hurt that I would even think about calling her and then he started heading for the door, "I gotta go."

I let out a bitter laugh, pathetic tears still leaking from my eyes, "Go ahead. Do what you always do, Nick. Run away."

He stopped, hand on  the doorknob and turned, crossing our small kitchen in three quick steps.

My eyes fell closed as he placed his lips against my forehead, something he always used to do back in the day, a quiet 'I'm sorry' leaving his mouth in a whisper.

Then he was gone.