-- @200crashes
Miraculously enough, Nicks isn’t at Xander’s place. After the first night he’d debated bailing and by the end of the first week he was housed up in a shitty motel. That, of course, was after he’d stolen his fair share of blankets from Cage’s place with the shaky promise of returning them cause fuck if he was gonna trust the sheets at the local motel 6. He’s thumbing through twitter and mourning the loss of the heater when he sees the news, when his anger goes cold and the body they pull out of the river looks suspiciously like Tennyson’s own hulking frame.
It’s a small miracle he manages to react as poorly as he does.
So he’s got two bottles of whiskey and a bottle of vodka. One bottle lasts him through most of the day and he doesn’t hear the phone chiming next to him on the nightstand. Nicks is curled up in his hoodie, eyes swollen with tears he’ll deny shedding till hell freezes over and curls more into the pillow while he watches some shitty ass soap opera on the television. Sniffling, he finishes the bottle as a couple are dramatically reunited. “Fucking lies!” He can’t even get the goddamn whiskey bottle to break right. Nicks curls up, cradling his phone and numbly dialing the first number in his speed dial; Tennyson.
There’s a voicemail he’ll listen to later but for now he’s crying and holding the stupid bit of plastic and metal to his ear, “I’m at some shitty ass motel cause it reminds me of you and your fucking awful taste and how fucking pathetic is that huh? Sofia and James can get reunited after a fucking car crash and you -- why’d you have to leave? I just wanted to spend the weekend together, do something fucking normal cause we ain’t like that and now you --” Nicks closes his eyes tightly, sobbing and curling in on himself as the phone drops from his fingers onto the floor. He’s got his hands over his face as he cries, face full of tears and snot and body heaving with sobs.
It wasn’t real if he didn’t believe it ... right?