author—
bachelorettia

Pairing: Nick/Alex
Rating: Quite tame.
Happy Holidays to: jubileebanker (and everyone else).




Mistake #1: moving to Glasgow.

He went for her. For Manuela. Because she was going and he loved her. He believed she could right him, straighten him out. They'd been together so long, her affection for him never failing, not even when he did the most horrible things: stealing, drag racing, fucking about with the police and his life. He wanted to change because she wanted him to change. But he knew he couldn't do it without her.

She told him to stop mucking around and get serious about his music. He wanted to.

I'm moving to Glasgow, she said.
Glasgow in Scotland? he asked.
Is there another one out there?

She packed her bags and so did he. And they went there, together.

As soon as he got there, he realised his error. But he did meet this one bloke named Alex.


Mistake #2: joining a band.

Alex convinced him to be in his band. He promised spectacular things. Manuela was not impressed.

You're classically trained, she sighed. You're not meant to be in some pre-pubescent rock and roll band.
But I like it, he said.

It made him glad to strum at a guitar in the company of men who were serious about music, even if it was only pop music. Alex told him over pints that pop music was absolute serious business, that there was no shame in making pop music, none whatsoever. Alex didn't care for Manuela and never seemed to agree with her on anything. Some of the things he said made a lot of sense.

One night, Nick found Bob crying outside of Alex's flat.

What's wrong? he asked with concern.
It's this. Everything. Bob sniffled into his sleeve. I don't want to be a musician.
But you're good at it, Nick offered.
I wasn't aware that was a reason to do something, Bob sneered.

Nick sat that night in his kitchen, tuning his guitar while Manuela slept in his clothes in the bedroom. He was good at lots of things, he thought. He was good at guitar and piano. Making people laugh. Finding hidden treasures. Loving Manuela.


Mistake #3: marriage.

It was the only way, he reasoned. He sensed she was losing interest and he was desperate to keep her. She was bored with Glasgow and bored of his band. She rolled her eyes every time Alex walked into a room. Alex ignored her and smiled at Nick instead.

He proposed on a lackluster evening. She hesitated.

Don't tell me you've bought a ring, she said, incredulous.
Of course, he said, presenting the diamond.
That's sweet, Nick. She turned the gold band around in her hand. Well, why not?

He tried very hard to think of an answer for her before he realised she was saying "yes."

Alex didn't want to go to the ceremony.

I've got too many things to do, he said. I have to fly to New York.
But it's my wedding, Nick implored.
The band comes first. Alex pursed his lips, obviously averting his eyes.

He did attend the bachelor party. There was a pub crawl through various German towns. Nick translated for the rest of them until he was too drunk to manage it. By the end of the night, Paul was calling his wife, Bob had two girls on his lap, and Alex had Nick cornered in a dark section of the last pub.

This is the biggest mistake of your life, he slurred. It'll never last, Nicholas.
Why? Nick managed, feeling small.
She doesn't love you. She loves the idea of you, of being with you. The rest is all bollocks. It doesn't mean shite to her.
You're drunk, Nick said.
She doesn't want you to be happy, Alex answered. That's not love.

He was gone the next morning before Nick woke, bound for the airport. Nick imagined Alex's hangover had to be at least as bad as his. If so, the tosser deserved it. He didn't know Manuela. And he didn't know Nick. Alex didn't know anything.


Mistake #4: divorce.

It was over in a year. Manuela went back to Munich and didn't look back. She was glad to leave Nick, sick and tired of the touring and endless fighting and the life in general.

I don't know what I ever saw in you, she sighed into the phone on an international call.
I wanted you to help me change, he sobbed.
How can I help you change if you don't listen to me? You never listen to me. You only listen to your precious Alexander.
You don't want me to be happy, he cried.
Goodbye, Nicholas, she said.

Everyone was understanding, lending their support. If Alex had a chorus of "I told you so's" ready to unleash upon him, he kept them quiet. He was more interested in getting to work on the third album. In that sense, Alex was good. In another sense, he was awful. He pushed Nick to work on his worst days, when all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and pity himself because the woman he loved the most had never loved him. Alex insisted on deadlines, on artistry. Nick felt more like a bum than an artist.

They sat down over coffee one day.

Your heart's not in this anymore, Alex mused.
I'm having a hard time of things. Why can't you give me a break?
The best thing for you is to work through this.
You won't even give me a chance, Nick shouted.
Lower your voice, Nicholas, he admonished.
You're just like her, Nick murmured, acquiesing.

But it was the last time, he told himself. The last time he would oblige anyone. The problem was, he loved Alex, just as he'd loved Manuela. He'd always wanted to give them both anything they requested. And they both wanted things from him, but they didn't want him.

Find a new guitarist, Nick scrawled on the first clean page of Alex's notebook. He paused before writing the next bit: I was happy with you.


Mistake #5: moving to New York.

It was big and he was small. Or he felt small, anyway. Everything made him feel small. His spacious brownstone apartment and his long, one-way street. The fact that he sent Manuela his new contact information and she never called him. Not once.

He didn't contact Alex. He wrote short notes to Bob now and then, who promised not to disclose Nick's location to Alex. Sometimes they spoke on the phone. Bob understood what it felt like to be under Alex's thumb. Though he constantly mentioned in conversation that he thought Nick had made a huge mistake.

Alex can't go on without you, he once said. He tries, but it's hard for him.
Well, I'm sorry about that, Nick said, knowing he didn't sound genuine when he was.
I think you should come back, Bob murmured.
I'm sure you do.

He bought a modest studio space and promised himself he would work on his own music, on his own terms. No Alex around to tell him what to do. No Manuela to say his notions were childish. He invited friends in the area to come by and play with him, usually forgetting to record any of the output. When he was there alone, he sat on the floor with his guitar, feeling wholly uninspired. He laid down and counted the cracks in the ceiling. He laid down and thought of Alex and how easy it had been back then, when they worked together. How the music had flowed so freely from his fingers. That silly pop music.

One day, he sat in bed, watching game shows. The phone rang and he picked up. It was Alex.

Oh, hi, Nick said, as if nothing had happened.
So you disappeared, Alex said flatly. That was brave of you.
Are you being sarcastic?
You tell me.
How did you find me? Nick asked, his voice breaking.
I know you. I was bound to find you sooner or later.

By the time they hung up, Nick knew Alex would be arriving soon.


Mistake #6: taking too long to answer the door.

Alex walked back down the stairs to the street. He was halfway down the block before Nick followed and shouted after him. He'd been nervous when the doorbell rang and he pushed back the window curtain, spotting Alex. Still statuesque and solid. Some things never changed. That scared Nick.

Come back. I was in the shower, he said, tugging on Alex's hand.
You're all dry, Nicholas.
Please just come inside.

He was loathe to stay with Nick then, but finally agreed. There was tea and catching up. Alex fiddled with things he found around the sitting room. Picture frames, awards, half-read books. Nick never finished the books he started. They sat stacked like towering to-do lists.

So you've got your own studio, Alex said, crossing his legs. How's the music going?
Oh, it's great. Really great. I've been churning out lots of things.
That's great, Alex said.
I know, Nick nodded.
But you're lying.

Nick felt uncomfortable. Uneasy, the way he always felt uneasy around Alex, like part of him could explode at any moment. The way he wanted it. He knew Alex could give it to him.

I've come to take you home, Nicholas.
This is my home now, he whispered.
But you're not happy here. I only want you to be happy.

Nick's first instinct was to refuse. But his instincts had never been good. Just one mistake after another. He told Alex he'd think about it and offered him a place to stay for the night. Alex moved to set up camp on the sofa until Nick waved him into the bedroom.

Late at night, dark and under the covers, Alex ran his hand through Nick's hair.

I won't pressure you, he whispered. I just want to make you happy.
You always did, Nick sighed.
Let me try again. You won't regret it.

Nick looked into Alex's eyes and thought about what it would be like to do the smart thing. For the first time. He closed his eyes and the kiss felt like a reward.