palmstraps | Are you waiting, are you wishing, are you wanting all that she can't give?

Are you waiting, are you wishing, are you wanting all that she can't give?

Niles was working late. More than settled in Defiance, now that Amanda was working for him. Better than that, she understood him. For the first time since he'd been a teenager, he shared the story of what had happened to him. Gabe had always told him that it was a terrible idea. It was better if only the two of them knew that horrible nightmare. But Gabe hadn't been there with him. Hadn't been there when his truck was held up and he was forced to strip. He didn't understand. He'd escaped that awful eleven days as one of the lucky few who hadn't been subjected to that awful treatment. And when Amanda had asked, he'd refused to share. Remembering his friend's words of warning. Of what someone might think of him. But with Amanda there, so caring and so gentle without prying, he'd opened up in a way he hadn't thought possible.

He felt better than he could ever remember. Amanda was finally warming to him. His plan with Doctor Yewll was going as smoothly as could be expected, now that the possible tech had been procured. Soon he'd be able to play the hero and rescue the sister thought dead. He'd be a hero and she'd never doubt him again. The only shadow over it all was that he hadn't heard from Gabe in almost a week. Not since his roller had been attacked.

That's how it always went, it seemed. Gabe couldn't be found when Niles needed him more than anything. Especially when it related to that day in particular. Just as he hadn't been there the day he'd been attacked. Yet he always seemed so incredibly jealous that Connor had been the one there to comfort Niles. It was something that he frequently questioned but tried so hard to not think about. Of everyone, Gabe had escaped without much in the way of injury. The rest of the students shunned him after that, and seemed to think Niles unwell for sticking by his friend.

Niles set down his pen, rubbing at the bridge of his nose in the dim light of his office. He needed to figure out a way to get Amanda unconscious. Deep enough that she could be given an injection in the back of her neck and not be woken up. Gabe was usually such a good sounding board for these things. Where the hell was he?

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"Sure. So we'll go to Amsterdam. I've been to NeedWant, stop trying to get me to go because your girlfriend's there." He sounds dismissive--a real punk-ish attitude as he lifts his chin and smirks. The second shoe gets pulled off, and Gabe keeps the other's leg on his lap, walking his fingers up it to the knee.

"We're drinking, remember?" His free hand goes to the bottle. Takes a swig, offers it to Niles.

"It's...it's not..." Niles wanted to protest. Explain that the old world Amsterdam wasn't there anymore. At least not in the same way. The redlight districts were a thing of the past. Just like earl gray, ice cream and horses. There might be something similar, some replacement, but it would never be the same.

He waves the bottle away, shaking his head. "You agreed," he said, his head feeling fuzzier. "One drink, then we go." Arguing against Gabe seemed harder than it usually did. Why didn't he just stand up and walk out, boots or not? He was stronger than his friend, wasn't he?

"We had an agreement about dancing a couple of seconds ago, too," Gabe points out. Takes the other's hand and physically puts the bottle into it. Closes the other's hands, literally crawls into the other's lap like he belongs there. Licks his lips brings a hand up to stroke his hair, messing it from that fine hairstyle.

"C'mon. I'll let you off the hook for the dance thing if you have one more. Plenty of time to go screw your girlfriend."

Niles hand closed around the bottle. That weight on his lap was so comforting and so warm, he could just stay right there and leave until morning. But still, he shook his head. He pushed the bottle back at Gabe, trying to refuse the drink.

"We can still dance," he said, thinking that would appease Gabe. "But after we go. I just want to talk to her." He almost added 'one last time' but that seemed an odd thing to say, didn't it? "Set something up so we can get the EGO."

Gabe narrowed his eyes, turning the information over and over in his head. Digesting it, really thinking about it. Even as he's straddling his friend, and his arms sling around the other's neck casually.

"One more drink with me and then not only will I go to the NeedWant, but I'll tell you how to deal with Amanda." His brow lifts. "And I forgot about the dance."

For now. It's always a slow descent, at first.

Niles' lips pressed together, dropping his gaze from Gabe. He looked at the bottle in his hand, his thumb rubbing over the crystal neck of it. He didn't really want another drink, did he? That glass was three drinks in one. That should be enough, shouldn't it?

But Gabe had an idea for how to handle the Amanda situation. Why couldn't he just say it now? Why one more drink? Why couldn't he--

Trying to fight through the haze and find a way out of this, he felt it again. That thing that was just on the edge of remembering. But it was sharp and jagged and he didn't want it. In pulling away, he didn't want to think about any of it anymore. Maybe Gabe was right. Just one more.

"Hand me my glass," he said, still staring at his hand on the neck of the bottle.

"Eeeeeeyyyyy!" His hands wrap around the other's cheek, leaning forward to smack a kiss right on his nose. "Atta boy, Niles! I knew you weren't still that wuss I first met." He laughs, that angelic beam on his face, the all-american, wholesome son. He hands the glass to him, eyes alight.

"Okay, so: Yewll. What is up with those Indogene eyes, man?"

Edited 2015-06-17 06:01 (UTC)

Niles couldn't help but smile. It was small and sheepish, as if he were exactly what Gabe said he wasn't. That kiss and that smile was enough to reduce him to the insecure boy he'd once been. Glass in hand, he poured out a hearty measure of the port, twice as much as he'd intended. He pressed the bottle into Gabe's hand.

"I don't wanna talk about Yewll," he said. The alcohol was starting to really have an effect on him, now. His words were far less clipped and formal than they usually were. "Drink with me," he insisted. "And talk to me about..." he wanted to say 'why you hate Amanda.' But for the first time since Gabe showed up this evening, she wasn't at the forefront of his mind. In his thoughts, she seemed to be swapping places with someone he couldn't even see anymore. "...about Connor," he finished, his tone softening further.

He'll immediately shift his expression-the angel's smile turns into something a little less cherubic. Solemn, serious, but still fond of the memories. He takes a deep breath, and for a moment his chest rises.

Niles is drinking with him. That's all that matters. Gabe will focus on that.

"Connor... Hmmm. I don't really know, what about? Connor's awesomeness is extremely varied." He raises the bottle, smirk on his face.

Niles took a slow sip from his drink, watching Gabe. He tried to force himself to remember what he was supposed to be doing. Going out to see Amanda. Finishing his plans. But it was so hard to remember that when Gabe was right here, and the chair was so comfortable. And there was Connor. The one who helped him through so much. The memory of those arms around him, of that soft voice telling him everything was okay always chased the memories away. Almost always. Like a barrier between him and those awful things.

He lowered his glass, his free hand resting on Gabe's thigh. His gaze dropped to somewhere below the other's chin, not really seeing him anymore. Before everything went bad, he remembered the two of them. Walking with Niles back to the room he and Gabe shared. Still smelling of sweat and grass from their games in the afternoon sun. Walking beside them, wishing he were between them. Sometimes Gabe would change his shirt, or maybe just drop his bag off. Niles couldn't remember. But then he'd leave. With Connor. Leaving Niles alone.

His thumb rubbed in slow circles, as he tried to remember it. How many times had it happened? Was it real, or just his memory twisting things? Finally, he looked back up to Gabe's face. "You and him used to go off without me," he summarized. "Tell me...about what you two would do."

Gabe's smile was still soft, still full of schoolboy charm as he looked down at Niles' hand. Looks at that thumb, rubbing circles. There's a fondness when he looks up, even if his smirk is as evil as can be.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he teases, and reaches over to flick Niles' ear, playful as he openly laughs. "I can tell, you know. You're thinking that we'd go back to Connor's room and kick his bunkmate out. Maybe sneak a girl in from the girl's dorm, maybe just the two of us. Connor would close the door and then the fun would be gin, taking off out shirts, unable to keep our hands from each other as we pinned one another, grappling for dominance. Hips against hips as we fucked, and fucked, and fucked."

The more Gabe spoke, the tighter Niles gripped the young man's thigh. There had been a time, when such words would have left him flustered and blushing. It was certainly the sort of things that dominated his thoughts as a young teenager, imagining what Gabe and Connor might be doing to one another. And it almost had that same effect on him now. But there were words in there that raked at him, like claws across his chest.

Pinned. Grappling. Dominance.

Each one dragged a flash of something unpleasant across his mind. Too brief to see, just enough to feel. And that grip suddenly felt as though he were holding a lifeline while that repeated word threatened to drag him down and drown him in the memory he so desperately didn't want.

"I'm serious..." he tried to sound firm, but there was a quiver of fear in his voice. His gaze flicked up to Gabe's face, but only briefly. "Why won't you just tell me?"

"Because it's hilarious to see your reaction," He states plainly. Settles down and puts one hand on the other's on his thigh. The other takes another swig, that same mischievous look on his face for a brief moment. He shrugs, as and that moment is gone. He's more casual, relaxed as he sits a top Niles' lap and looks down at him.

Boring into his his skin, digging into his nails.

"I dunno. We did a lot of things. Never homework. We actually did drugs. Hardcore drugs." That snide, snotty sarcasm that comes with most of his conversations and always had.

"Mostly just...Lay there and listen to music. Talk about how much England sucks and shit like that. And I'd fuck him into the mattress with him moaning my name, my balls smacking against his ass as I drove into him."

The more Gabe spoke, the more sullen Niles became. There once had been a time when such harsh things out of Gabe's mouth would have had Niles looking like he'd swallowed his own tongue. But he was used to it, now. At least to the point that he didn't choke at hearing it.

He doesn't look at his friend, even as he can feel that gaze on him even more readily than the weight in his lap. He tried to keep a barrier between him and the image Gabe seemed intent on conjuring. He downed the rest of the drink in one gulp. But the cringe the burn pulled from him lasted far too long. The image tangled with what he didn't want to think about. It was so hard to not think of what it felt like. And the terror that came with it. And suddenly, Gabe's weight on his lap wasn't as welcome as it had been. It was oppressive and claustrophobic. And Niles had trouble breathing.

He planted a hand on Gabe's chest, trying to push him off, but his arms felt weak. "Stop," he breathed out. "That's not...not what I...just...don't."

And Gabe, suddenly concerned, reaches a hand out to steady both himself and Niles. His brow is knit, worry on his face, frowning as he set the bottle of Jack down.

"What? What are you talking about?" He asks. Curious. "Not what you huh, now?" As if the entire conversation hadn't just happened.

Niles could just let it go. All of it. Pretend like it never happened. But that memory, no matter what barriers he tried to throw between him and it, tore through him like a hellbug.

He kept trying to push Gabe off his lap, the now empty glass falling from his fingers. "Get off," he said, his voice frantic. "We're gonna go," he insisted. "To the NeedWant. You promised."

Amanda.

He'd nearly forgotten about her. She'd be there. To greet him with a smile and a drink. Her soft hand on his, asking if he was okay. Everything would be okay, she'd tell him. The thought alone stopped the monster in his head, if just for a moment. It gave him clarity and just enough room to breathe. She'd make everything okay. He just needed to see her.

"Okay!" And Gabe does get off of the other, springing back up and stacking Niles' empty glass on top of his older ones near Amanda.

The bottle of port was nearly done.

He mock bows, a flourish. "Lead the way. You're paying, remember? Maybe it'll give me something to do while you shittily flirt with Amanda." He means it in jest, though, and he's surprisingly bright and bubbly and vibrant. Energetic, even. Excited.

The spark was there, now he was allowed to watch it burn.

"Race ya there, punk!" That wasn't a jest, as he literally bounds out the door with just enough time before to slip on his shoes. Gabe, it seems, has left Niles in the dust.

That energy seems to take a toll on Niles directly. He doesn't even bother to negate the taunt. He's too busy trying to figure out how to keep his legs under him while the room seemed intent on listing to one side. Since when did simple port hit him so hard? He'd only had two drinks. He should barely be tipsy. And yet, it felt as though he'd already had a hard night of drinking.

Niles fully intends to follow Gabe out. But feeling the cold hardwood of his floor through his socks reminds him that he needed shoes. It wasn't even that he'd be judged for wandering into an establishment of ill repute without proper footwear. It was that the walk there was bound to be littered with debris. Even the tiniest pebble could cut like glass.

Glass.

He stood in the middle of his living room, rubbing at the leather over his palm with the thumb of the opposing hand.

He looked at the unlaced boots laying on the floor. Dealing with all those laces seemed exhausting. He had better shoes. Less complicated shoes. In his closet. He managed to reach it with only leaning on half of the furniture between him and the closet doors. And he was mostly upright. He was starting to wonder if Gabe swapped bottles on him. That was just port, right?

He pulled open the closet and remembered his socks were wrong. Too thick for dress shoes. And he was reaching for the chest of drawers that occupied one side. Tugging open the top drawer, he saw them. Two boxes of vastly different size and quality nestled beside his socks. One made of wood that had once been a gift from parent to child. The other, much smaller, once held an Old World watch.

Staring down at them, he forgot why he'd come in there. He forgot about the socks. And the shoes. The friend who was likely already bounding into the NeedWant. The woman he was supposed to see. "...Connor..." he breathed out, reaching down to touch the smaller of the two boxes.

Gabe is leaning. Against the doorframe of the old-fashioned apartment, watching the Mayor with a fixed, pointed look. It wasn't exactly one of sympathy, but instead a strange understanding. Coming back once Niles didn't leave.

Gabe is leaning and Gabe watches. Always watches, always seeps into prey in between their hissed breaths and half-states. Licks his lips, wetting them. Concern on his face.

He is concerned. Gabe is so very worried, and wants to come to the aid of his friend.

"Connor," He repeats the other, echoing it from behind. "I miss him, too."

Niles picks up the the small box. Too light to contain its original contents, but not empty. As he does, his fingers brush over its companion. The larger, wooden box. Adorned only with a small plate with a boy's initials. His fingers brush over it and it was like finding that jagged piece of memory with bare skin. He flinched away from it, not wanting to touch it again. Not wanting to even look at it.

Box in hand, he shoved the drawer shut. He knew Gabe was there. He'd heard him. But he didn't acknowledge him. He just moved over to the bed, sitting down as though he weighed twice what he did. Heavy and without grace.

"I found Connor, in New York," as if Gabe hadn't been there with him. As if he hadn't told the story several times already. "It had been...what? Ten years since we'd seen him? I wanted to...congratulate him. For all he'd accomplished. To thank him for..." Niles swallowed hard, trying to force past the lump in his throat. "...for what he did for me. For us. But it was like...he didn't know me. Like that day had never happened. I was no more than some guy who just happened to be at his school. He was confused that someone who was almost a stranger would give him something so....so precious. A remnant of the old world." He ran his hand over the box, staring at it. "I found this later. He'd just...tossed it aside. Thrown it away after taking the watch. I don't think he would have known my name if I hadn't..."

But his words failed him finally. And after a few moments, unsteady hands slowly pulled the box open. Nestled inside, where a watch should have been displayed, was a small lock of hair. Dark strands tied into a knot by the unskilled hands of a teenager. Still kept all this time.

Gabe isn't leaning against the door. Not anymore.

Gabe is right behind him, now, and his arms wrap around him. Latch on to him, strong and protective. Possessive and powerful. Moving to tangle himself around Niles--not twist, no, but weave, and Gabe is shaking. Gabe is shaking with grief and despair because Niles is feeling it.

He, too, has grief and loss. He's painted with it, tarnished, and Niles is his ticket. Niles, delicate Niles, careful Niles, memories swimming in his mind, difficult to fish out what's what.

It's the hair that he sees that causes him to cry. He cries because Connor is dead and Connor is his best friend, he cries because Niles is all alone and there's nothing Gabe can do.

He cries because Niles is grieving.

His arms tighten on Niles, pulling him back into a bear-hug, staring at the hair. He begins to whisper, soothing, and kisses the other's cheek. Staring at the lock of hair. The last connection.

"I miss him."

Niles leaned slowly back against Gabe, trying to imagine those arms belonged to someone else. Someone he hasn't even spoken to in years. The one who should have been in Niles' place, who had been the one to open the way for the Republic into Defiance. If Connor hadn't been killed, he would be the provisional mayor. Not Niles. Niles only got the position because of his manipulation to get himself stationed in the same place as Connor. After so many years, they would have finally crossed paths again. They could have worked together and found what they'd never had.

But there was nothing he could do to change who those arms belonged to.

It wasn't until a tear fell on the box, just barely missing the lock of hair, that he realized Gabe wasn't the only one crying. He took a slow breath, but the tears wouldn't stop.

"You knew him so well. He barely knew I existed..." He wanted to try to say that his grief was unwarranted compared to Gabe's. Gabe and Connor were so much closer and Niles and Connor ever would have been. But he can't dismiss the weight in his chest.

The loss of what could have been.

He lets go of the box with one hand, reaching up to grasp one of the arms around him. Not to pull it away, but to grip it tighter. Not wanting to be let go.

He's won.

Gabe has won but it's a hollow victory, because Connor's not here. Gabe is here, but not the black-haired debutant. He shakes his head, hugs the other closer. That's what he needs, now--to be someone's anchor. To be Niles' anchor.

To be there for him, to remind him. To make him remember him. Him and Connor.

"Sunday football," He murmured. "Trading baseball cards. Talking about the world and girls and Mr. Mattheson's ridiculous hair." Hair...

He sniffs loudly, reaches out. He's still draped over the other, and one hand is holding Niles', the other grabbing the lock of hair. Examining it.

"It's good," He says after a moment, voice still breaking, "That you've kept his."

Niles started to reach out to stop Gabe from taking the hair. But his hand falls short as though he just doesn't have the energy to go through with it. His hands just settle in his lap, still clutching the box. Slumping against the arm around him.

"But earlier you..." He just shook his head. Why would Gabe be glad when he'd mocked Niles for it back in the office? So malicious reminding him about taking the brush in the first place. He'd just wanted something of Connor's. Something to hold on to since he didn't get to spend the time with him that Gabe did.

"Just...give it back..." he said, his voice flat. He should just put the hair and the box away. Lock it away and forget about it all.

Gabe teases. Gabe teases because in life that's all Gabe ever did--pick on Natalie, tease Niles. Not maliciously, but because Gabe was 17 and smarter than a lot of people at the school.

This, though? He takes the hair, almost lovingly. Ignoring pleas, and brushes it against his own cheek. Moves, for a moment. Away from Niles, away from the boxes, and looks thoughtful before gently holding his hand out. An invitation for something. He's got the hair in his outstretched palm, and his gaze is firm on Niles.

"...Dance with me. I can make this all go away, Niles."

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