“Uh no,” Charlie says in a tone that suggests he thinks Nicholas is out of his mind. “Did you miss the part where he doesn’t want us to?”
Nicholas did hear that, but what Andrew said and what he knows of Andrew to be true, aren’t exactly lining up.
Andrew said he didn’t need the rage room and that wasn’t true. He also said he was fine after the paparazzi, but the way he looked digging his toes into the sand and staring at the sealike he was ready to disappear said otherwise. Nicholas might not know Andrew that well yet but one thing is clear. That man has no fucking idea how to handle his own emotions. Not that Nicholas is much better. He practically has a membership to the rage room and plays a professional sport where he gets in fights because he can’t manage his own. But this isn’t about Nicholas, this is about Andrew.
That god awful feeling in his chest intensifies, and Nicholas realizes with a sudden uncomfortable clarity: it’s worry. He’s not sure he’s ever cared about anyone else before, not since he was a child and it was conditioned out of him.
“Honestly we should probably leave,” Charlie says. “Sometimes Andrew gets in moods like this where he needs to be left alone, but he always comes out when he’s ready. Just uh, sit and watch television or something. Don’t touch his Kindle. He doesn't like that. Don’t put the television on an even volume, he doesn't like that either.”
“Are you going to go, or stay and tell me everything he doesn’t like?” Nicholas snaps, wishing they’d leave so he could go check on Andrew.
“You’re bitchy, you know that.” Charlie pats him on the chest. “Take care of my brother or I’ll kill you. Also that might sound like I’m joking, but I promise you, I’m not. Our parents are lawyers. There’s very little they couldn’t get me out of.”
“First Polly Pocket, now you. I’m not going to hurt him, calm down.”
“I don’t trust you,” Eden declares, glaring at him. “But for some fucking reason, Andrew does, so don’t fuck that up.”
“What he said,” Charlie says, slinging an arm around Eden’s shoulder. “We’re gonna head out, but tell Andrew we left whenever he leaves his room. I’ll call him later.”
Nicholas grunts.
Eden flips him off, then saunters out of the apartment with Charlie on his tail. When the door shuts, Nicholas breathes just a little easier, his feet moving before he’s consciously made the decision to follow. He knocks twice.
“Fuck off Charlie, I’m not in the mood.”
“Charlie already fucked off with his boyfriend,” Nicholas says. “Just me left.”
There’s some muttered cursing before the bedroom door is yanked open to reveal Andrew looking expectedly disheveled. What’s less expected is the redness in his eyes, almost like he was crying.
Nicholas is probably the worst possible choice to comfort Andrew right now. He’s got no idea how to placate people or be polite, but he’s the only one left.
“You can uh, watch the TV if you want.”
“If I wanted to watch TV, I would’ve stayed in the living room.”
Andrew scrubs a hand through his hair making his normally tamed locks stand up on one side. “Look, you don’t wanna be around me right now.”
The word choice isn’t lost on Nicholas. Growing up, he had to be a master of what was said and not said. His parents were experts in saying one thing while meaning another, the echelon of the upper elite cruel in their kindness. Boarding school had been no different. Everyone’s interactions with him had been about gaining something. He’d learned to observe and catalog, to notice the discrepancies in what people said versus what they truly meant.
“I’m good,” Nicholas says, leaning against the doorway. Were it anyone else, he’d walk right into the room, but with Andrew he won’t enter until he’s given permission. He’s learned enough about him to know he needs that control.
“I’m cranky, Nicki.”
“Picked up on that, princess.”
Pulling at his hair, Andrew groans. “Then you should know you don’t wanna be around me.”
“You keep telling me what I should want, not whatyouwant.”
Andrew stops stock still, dropping his hands to his sides and staring at Nicholas like he’s never seen him.
“From where I stand, everyone seems to think you want to be alone, but that’s bullshit.”
“Nicki.” His voice is small, and that makes Nicholas fucking mad. He likes when Andrew is loud and bossy and strong.
“It’s bullshit.”
“They love me.”
