extent | duplicitynet

You don't have to be a romantic to make out at work, you know.

[ complete with a little eyebrow waggle, naturally, because who would he be if he didn't slide a gentle proposition in there.

it's not his best work though, abandoned quickly in favour of tugging one of his feet up onto his seat, looping an arm around his leg to hug it to his chest. he's too distracted by swigging from his own bottle again, a long few swallows, to seriously flirt. ]

What about soulmates, do you believe in those?

[Chris smiles but shakes his head. Of course not, he'd make out with any of them whenever they wanted and none of them were even dating him, but he's also sure that isn't the point.

Chris shifts and sinks down in his chair to use a foot to yank the spare chair over closer to Nick, then re-settles in it so his leg is back up in the chair, but his boot is lightly touching Nick's shoe.]

Yes and no. See...in my world, people have life-threads, representations of their lives that my god looks over. No one is born attached to any but those that birthed them and can detach their threads as their lives go on based on choices made. But, two or more threads can tie themselves together and if those threads are especially strong, they'll resonate brighter and hold tighter. So, I think you can find and make a soulmate, but no one person was born for another. It's a choice and effort same as any.

[ nick listens with a captive expression, broken up only with a quick swig from the bottle, and when the chair gets dragged closer nick opts to drape one of his legs over chris' instead. close enough. ]

That's a bit romantic, you know. I know it's not....star crossed lovers or whatever the fuck, but-- [ he shrugs, swaps for the bottle with a kick again, face scrunching briefly as he drinks. ] Choice is very romantic. Sexy, even.

[That works for him, he settles into the small contact comfortably and chases a swig of one bottle with another. They mixed fine enough, what could even be tasted of the stronger one.]

Don't call me out, Nick.

[He croaks and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.]

I don't know. I like sweet words, sometimes I tangle myself in them and sometimes they come better than some poets I've heard. Nice to think someone might be endeared enough to that to tie up with me. [He pauses.] I mean here, I've two boyfriends back home, but not sure they're tied to me so much as just taking the path with me, you know?

[He waves his hand a bit as though to brush that out of the way. It didn't matter.]

So, you wanna talk about who you're tying up with that's got your head here and halfway into a bottle?

Edited (changed my mind go for the throat) 2022-04-03 23:46 (UTC)

[ nick is not a bitter person. even when things are awful -- and they have been truly horrendous at times -- he's not the kind of person that gets angry and bitter over it. he wallows, sure, gets sad, absolutely, but not bitter.

so it's an unusual sort of sound coming from him, the bitter little laugh before he clamps down on it, shoves it back down with all of the other feelings that nick doesn't feel, chasing it down with a long few swallows from one of the bottles. he's losing track of which is which, now. ]

I'm much more interested in talking about your boyfriends. What are they like? Are you in love? Have you known them forever, are they new?

[That isn't a pleasant sound from Nick, he decides. He doesn't like it.]

I slept with one of them when I was seventeen and he was thirty-four, now I'm twenty-six and he's still thirty-four and I just got him back. The other's a thief. This isn't a mess we need getting into.

What's their name, Nicky? I probly don't even know them.

But you love them?

[ he doesn't want to talk about it, is the thing. he so desperately doesn't want to talk about it that he's lied right to the faces of just about every person that loves him, over and over again, and it's only a matter of time before that catches up with him. but he doesn't want to talk about it--can't talk about most of it, too.

he doesn't like being a liar though, and it's hard to claim like nothing's wrong when he's sinking back drinks like they're the only thing patching him together, so he just shrugs. ]

I, like, historically make very poor choices, just like, across the board, right? Like the first guy I dated was my dealer. I ran into my very married teacher like two years after I dropped out of school and I slept with him just because I could. Here, I-- [ he laughs again, a little helpless. ] How far is too far, if you're protecting someone you love? How much is too much?

Yes, I love them, very much.

[That was never the issue when it came to his boys, it was him, the common denominator, but he's glad there's a perfectly good reason not to get into that because, clear as day, Nick's in a spiral. His just looked a little different than Chris'.

He swallows down the very jitteriness that always caused his issues with his boys and reaches out to take Nick's hand.]

Hey...you dating someone you know you ought not be? Cause they're bad. Bad for you or bad for others? I'll answer your question if you answer mine.

No. Everyone I'm dating is...fucking wonderful.

[ part of the problem, really. nick has gathered up a collection of people who love him fiercely, who would do anything for him, who would let him get away with murder probably -- and he repays them by keeping secrets.

nick just sighs, tips his head a little as he looks at chris and reaches over to flick a few stray blond strands out of the way. he's got a nice face to look at, so nick just looks at him a moment longer. ]

I'm afraid I've got myself in a bit of a mess, Chris. And I can't tell anyone or it'll just get worse.

[Theres a thought in that, even as it catches in a bit of the swirl in his head and he sets it aside.

He’s sweet and self-destructive and Chris can guess at a few messes, but gives a small smile for that little gesture.]

Tell me. You know I’ll be straight with you, even if it’s not nice. I’m not one to tell secrets, but you’re welcome to leave off names, if it helps.

[ it's tempting. it's really tempting to just unload the whole sorry story onto someone else and let it be someone else's problem for just a moment, because it's eating away at nick so badly it feels like there's nothing left to give.

but there's too many ways of finding out that nick talked, and if someone else comes under fire for his choices nick might never forgive himself, so he just smiles, sad, and takes another swig. ]

Maybe when it's safer. I thought we were drinking to forget our problems, not hash them out.

[‘Safer’ like someone with inherent danger. Power or threat or both. Fear of a watchful eye turned on the wrong person. Persons who mattered most, who were too good for you and the trouble you bring.

It sticks in him and he leans forward, hand bracing on Nick’s chair while the other reaches behind his neck to pull him closer. Chris presses a kiss to his forehead.]

It won’t get safer until you take steps to change it. Trust me.

[He leans back again with a sigh and takes a long drink off one of the bottles.]

Come on. Promised a bad idea, but we’re not yet through these bottles to be in them.

[ nick doesn't like to get particularly emotional in front of people, certainly not without warning, but there's something in the way that chris says trust me that catches nick by the throat and makes him want to spill everything. he can't, he knows he can't, but there's nothing physically stopping him except his own conscience, a handful of very clear threats, and the nasty mix of guilt and shame that winds through all of it.

he sucks a quick breath in, sharp, like he's going to say something--or maybe cry, that's a very real threat with the amount of alcohol soaked into his system--but instead he just shakes his head, snags the other bottle for himself and drinks.

and drinks some more, and a little more after that, until he has to pause to come up for air. ]

You know, if I really wanted to get you into trouble I would've convinced you to get high with me.

[ he's still staring at the neck of the bottle even after he puts it down, running a thumb carefully around the rim, when his other hand reaches out to catch hold of chris' arm, a loose hold above his wrist that drags out for a few moments. nick's thumb finds his pulse point long enough to feel it, and then he drops the grip and smooths his hand out over the table top instead. ]

If you could do something, and you had...no way of knowing if it would actually work, but if it did, it would keep someone that you loved safe, would you do it? Even if it hurt you?

[Chris chuckles into his next gulp and shakes his head as he swallows.]

Lovely boy, if I ever agree to get high with you, trust it's not me in my head or something very wrong with me. No judgement for you and Nate and others, but I don't like how it feels in me.

[Nick's hand reaches for his wrist and Chris just watches what he does as he takes another, smaller sip. It felt nice, his hand there.

When he sets his hand down on the table, Chris puts his own next to Nick's, pinkies touching along one side.

That question, though...he sighs heavily and...needs another drink.]

Depends. Hurt how and safe how?

[Because wasn't that just the million gold question? The very one that had been weighing at the back of his mind since he'd shown back up here. What if, for the good of countless others, you need to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder and waiting for a cold hand at your throat?]

Spoken like someone who's never tried molly.

[ he's not about to start pushing drugs on people, that's a far cry from who nick is, but he can't deny that the call of something with a little more kick to it than these bottles of alcohol is strong tonight. he's pretty sure he's sat at this exact table and snorted lines off of the surface before--but that was without present company. or company at all, actually.

but he's trying to retain some semblance of an image, so nick doesn't start patting his pockets down. instead he links their pinkies, something about idle hands and all that. ]

Bad hurt. Unpack in therapy later hurt. But, if it works, they don't have to go through...any of that. And I really can't see another option.

[That...gods, how does he answer that. With a very long drink, that's how. Please just let him be drunk soon. He could cop-out, say 'I thought we weren't doing this' and close it.

He could lie and say 'no, I would never'

Or lie more and simply say 'yes, I would. In an instant.'

None of that is true and the poison of that decision has been eating at him for months.]

I...[he chokes on nothing in his throat, faster than he ever has before as words and doubt form a too-real lump in his lungs.]

I haven't decided yet.

[It's quiet, but desperately honest in a way he wishes he could instantly cover up again. He covers it with another long drink instead.]

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