If Nick had his way, he would have spent all his time by Nate's side, for all that it matters when the man is asleep. He tells himself over and over that people who fall asleep always wake up, that he's never heard of someone not waking up, that he'll wake up any day now, but Nick still wants to hold vigil all the same. Rationally, he just can't. Even if he were willing to risk the kinds of consequences that might come down on him, on Kyle, for Nick just blatantly ignoring the housing restrictions in place, there's still a matter of the theatre.

Nate wouldn't want it abandoned, not even for him, so Nick doesn't.

It's a miserable sort of affair in the lab without him, though. Lack of distraction doesn't make him any more productive, and he spends half his time portalling back to Nate's house anyway. Just to check in, even when nothing changes. And the days wear on like that, Nick split in two and poking the place where he normally feels Nate, stuck in stasis and waiting.

When that quiet spot very suddenly wakes up, it just about knocks him on his ass. It's hardly been that long, but it still takes Nick a moment to pick apart his feelings from the sudden explosion of Nate, finding where his confusion begins and the other's ends.

It shouldn't be surprising, when Nate appears in front of him, but Nick still presses a hand over his mouth. As if it'll to anything to muffle the sob, and anyway he abandons that quickly in favour of rushing over, catching Nate's face in both of his hands instead.

"I think so." There's a lot of theories floating around, but Nick suspects he's probably not looking for a philosophical debate on the answer right now. Instead he lets out a helpless little laugh, wet sounding as he looks at Nate. "Fuck, I missed you."