Nemesis: Soulmates Never Die - 13. Chapter Thirteen: Passive Aggressive

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Passive Aggressive

Nick sneezed, and the sneeze turned into a cough. He blew his nose and dropped the tissue into the wastepaper basket next to his bed, before lying back against his pillow with a huge sigh.

The worst thing about having one’s birthday in February, was that it was right in the middle of flu season. It wasn’t the first time Nick had been ill on his birthday, but in the past it hadn’t mattered much, because he’d be spending it by himself anyway. That was something that could just as well be done in a haze of Lemsip and cough medicine as not. But this year, for the first time, Nick had friends; enough of them to have a birthday party, in fact.

And instead, here he was, stuck in bed with the flu, with no way of knowing if he would be well enough come the weekend to have his friends over or not. He had planned a party for Saturday. Everyone would be there. Dave, Mel, Matt, Stuart, Alan, Chas and Ellie, plus a few other people from college. That had been the plan.

He sighed once more. Today was supposed to be his seventeenth birthday. Instead, it just felt like Thursday, and a shitty one at that. He wondered if there was even any point in Dave coming over that evening, if he’d even be able to get out of bed. Either way, he didn’t want to get Dave sick, so any kind of intimacy was out of the question.

He heard the front door open, and a couple of minutes later there were footsteps on the stairs.

‘Nick?’ came Zoë’s voice. ‘How are you feeling?’ The door was ajar and she pushed it open a bit and peered into the room. ‘You okay?’

Nick shrugged. ‘I guess. Feel awful.’ He coughed feebly.

Zoë gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘Poor thing! Can I get you anything?’

‘Some water, maybe?’

‘Coming right up.’ She came into the room and picked up the glass on Nick’s nightstand. ‘So, what have you been up to all day?’

‘Oh, you know.’ Nick dragged himself up into a half sitting position. ‘Listened to music. Read a bit. Felt sorry for myself.’

Zoë laughed. ‘You’re allowed to feel sorry for yourself. You’re sick on your birthday. When’s Dave coming over?’

‘Around six, he said. Still not sure he should even bother . . .’

‘How about you let him decide that?’ Zoë ruffled his hair. ‘Time you stop trying to spare everyone else and just let them love you.’

‘I don’t—’

‘Yes, you do. It’s not like you have the plague, and it’s nearly half term. If he gets sick, it’s not the end of the world. Dave wants to be with you on your birthday, and you want him here. So, let him.’

Nick sighed, provoking another cough. Zoë set the glass back down and picked up the cough medicine, handing it to him. When the coughing had subsided, he relaxed again. ‘I guess you’re right.’

‘Of course I am. I’m always right. I mean, there was that time back in ’98, but other than that . . .’ Nick threw a pillow at her, and she dodged, laughing. ‘All right, I’ll get you that water.’

* * *

Nick was in a sorry state when Dave arrived that evening. Opening the front door in his dressing gown and slippers, he looked so small and frail that Dave just wanted to put him to bed and take care of him.

‘Are you sure you should be up, love?’ he said as he hugged him tightly. He was warm, clearly feverish, but other than that he felt the way he always did in Dave’s arms.

‘Are you sure you should be hugging me? You’ll get sick,’ Nick retorted, but buried his face in Dave’s shoulder anyway.

‘I don’t care.’ Dave nudged Nick’s chin with his hand so he tilted his head back and looked at him. He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on Nick’s lips. ‘Happy birthday.’

Just like last year, Zoë had cooked up a feast, this time consisting of roast lamb with all the trimmings and a port wine sauce, followed by a chocolate trifle so rich that Dave thought he might burst. He had worried that Nick wouldn’t be able to enjoy any of it, but he ate like normal.

‘I see your appetite remains unaffected,’ said Dave fondly, squeezing his hand. ‘You look a lot better than when I got here.’

Nick smiled. ‘Food and good company will do that. And I’m spending my birthday with the two people I love most in the world.’

‘Aww, sweetie,’ said Zoë. ‘Clearly, I have the best baby brother in the universe.’ She had a bite of her trifle. ‘Even if he does try and fix me up with men ten years my senior.’

Dave laughed. ‘Yeah, that was pretty devious, Nicky.’

‘Don’t think you’re off the hook, mister,’ said Zoë, fixing Dave with her best disapproving stare, and Dave felt himself blush. ‘I’m well aware you’re the one who put the idea in his head in the first place.’

‘Sorry,’ Dave murmured, looking away.

Zoë’s expression changed into a grin. ‘Well, as it happens, even though you guys went behind my back—after I expressly asked you not to, by the way, Nick—it may not have been the worst idea you’ve ever had.’

Dave perked up at that. ‘Oh? Do tell.’

She shrugged. ‘I may or may not have been on two dates with him. He’s really nice. Like, he’s a genuinely good person.’ She looked down at her plate and smiled, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks.

Nick grinned. ‘See? Told you he was into you.’

‘I’m happy for you,’ said Dave, finishing off his trifle. ‘Good shag?’ he asked casually.

‘Jesus, Dave!’ Nick slapped him on the arm. It didn’t hurt one bit. ‘You can’t ask my sister that!’

Zoë smirked. ‘Not bad, actually.’

They both laughed as Nick covered his ears and started to sing loudly. After a moment, though, he fell into a coughing fit. Dave thumped him on the back a couple of times and handed him a glass of water. ‘You okay, Nick?’

Nick smiled at him. ‘I’m fine. Thank you. Just . . . Never do that again.’

‘I will make absolutely no such promise,’ said Dave, ruffling his hair affectionately and placing a kiss on his temple.

When they had finished eating, it was present time. Dave watched as Nick opened a birthday card from his father, with the usual twenty pounds in it, a book from his aunt, Karen (‘Ooh, The Left Hand of Darkness! I’ve been meaning to read this for ages!’), and two Death Cab for Cutie t-shirts from Zoë. Then he gave him his own gift.

It came in an envelope. ‘What’s this?’ Nick opened it slowly.

‘It’s from both me and Mellie,’ said Dave, watching him expectantly. ‘I hope you like it.’

Nick pulled out the card, in which Dave had practically written a novel, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he stared at what was inside in pure disbelief.

‘You . . . how—?’

Dave felt himself grinning like an idiot. ‘It was Mellie’s idea, actually. She’s the one who saw that they were playing.’

Nick picked up the concert ticket, almost reverently. ‘Placebo, live in Manchester . . . I can’t believe it. I’ve never seen them live before!’ He broke into what had to be the widest grin Dave had ever seen on his face. There were actual tears in his eyes as he turned to Dave. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered. ‘This is . . . Thank you.’ Clearly forgetting to worry about infecting Dave, he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him, hard. Dave kissed him back. He tasted of chocolate still, and kissed the way he always did, all soft lips and velvety tongue.

‘Would you two like to be alone?’ said Zoë after a little while, and they broke apart, embarrassed. She looked amused.

‘Sorry,’ said Nick, breathlessly. ‘I just . . . This is the most . . . I can’t believe it.’

‘Yeah, you said that,’ said Dave, smiling. ‘Mellie and I have tickets, too. It’s not until next February, but . . .’

‘I can’t imagine two people I’d rather go see this concert with.’ Nick gave him another brief kiss. ‘God, I can’t stop smiling!’

Dave stroked Nick’s cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘I hope you never do. You deserve to smile.’

When it was time to leave, he hugged Nick tightly for a long time. ‘I don’t want to go home.’

‘Then stay.’

Dave sighed. ‘I can’t. School night. But . . . I can come back tomorrow night. Maybe stay over?’

Nick pulled back a bit and looked into his eyes, smiling. ‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

* * *

Nick was feeling a little bit better physically the following day, though mentally, not so much. It had been one year to the day, and he woke up feeling sad and upset, and unwilling to do much of anything. Still, he managed to drag himself out of bed and down the stairs to watch telly until Zoë got home.

‘Hey,’ she said, coming into the sitting room. ‘There’s a letter for you.’ She handed it to him, and he took it, frowning. Who would be sending him a letter? He didn’t recognise the return address.

He opened it and began to read.

Dear Nick,

Happy birthday, love! I can hardly believe that it’s been seventeen years since we brought you home. You were a month premature, and so tiny. I promised myself to love you and look after you for the rest of my life. My baby boy.

I haven’t been able to keep my promise, and I’m sorry. It’s been a year now, and I’ve had plenty of time to think. I know you deserve better. I wish I could give you that. You and Zoë both. I know it’s been hard for you, as hard as it’s been for me. I wish I could come home, be a proper mother to you. But you are nearly grown up now, and I’m institutionalised. I don’t know if I’ll ever get out. If I’ll ever get better. I might not.

But even if I don’t, I hope you can forgive me. I am still your mother, and I still love you more than anything on Earth. No matter what, I want you to know that. I will always love you.

You are my greatest treasure.

Love,

Mum

Nick’s hands shook, and he felt like he might be sick. Throwing the letter down on the coffee table, he ran upstairs to his room.

‘Nick? Are you okay?’ Zoë called after him.

He didn’t answer, slamming the bedroom door behind him and throwing himself down in the bed. It hurt, so much, all of it, and he screamed into his pillow, banging his fist on the mattress, before he broke down into desperate sobs. How dare she? How could she tear open this wound that way? Did she really think he could just forgive her, after what she had done?

When he had managed to calm himself down, there came a knock on his bedroom door. He sat up, pulling his knees to his chest and wiping the tears from his face. ‘Come in,’ he said softly. He wondered if he had been too quiet for her to hear, but then the door opened and Zoë came inside.

‘Hey, little brother.’ She sat down next to him on the bed. ‘You okay?’

He shook his head. ‘Not really.’

‘Do you want to talk?’

Nick closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t, but he felt like he should. He supposed Zoë might need to talk about these things as well.

‘I’m just still . . . angry,’ he said at last, opening his eyes again. ‘You know?’

‘I know. So am I.’ She took his hand.

‘I dreamt of her last night,’ he continued, remembering suddenly. It had been gone when he woke, but now it came back. ‘I haven’t had a dream like that in months. I haven’t had any of the bad dreams since just after the trial, not even the Craig ones. But the one last night was like a combo-dream.’ He drew a deep breath and let it out again, slowly, trying to calm his pounding heart. ‘Remember the hospital room?’ His voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper. ‘Remember what he said?’

Zoë nodded.

‘He was . . . kind. That time. To me, not just to you. Afterwards, when I had left the room, he told me about his mum, about how she died when he was a kid, and I identified with him. You know? I wish that hadn’t happened. It would be so much easier if he were just fucking evil.’

Zoë reached out and squeezed his shoulder. ‘This isn’t something you should be worrying about. Craig is locked away, so you shouldn’t be thinking about him, and Mum is safe in an institution, and hopefully she’ll get better, but you shouldn’t need to worry about her either.’

Nick met her eyes. ‘I don’t,’ he told her earnestly. ‘I hate her. I wish she were dead.’

Zoë pulled her hand back, as though stung. ‘You don’t mean that,’ she whispered, and he saw her eyes well up with tears.

‘Don’t I? It’s as if she died, anyway. If she’d just done it properly . . .’

‘What, you think this would be easier then?’ Zoë stood up and glared down at him, angry tears flowing freely now. ‘She’s our mum! What she did was awful and selfish and shitty, but I still love her. Don’t you dare say things like that!’ She let out a sob, burying her face in her hands.

Nick bowed his head in shame. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, crying again, too. ‘I just . . . I can’t stop seeing it . . .’

Zoë sat down again, putting her arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. ‘I know . . . I know. I’m sorry.’ She gave a shuddering sigh. ‘She really shouldn’t have sent that letter.’

‘There are a lot of things she shouldn’t have done.’ Nick hugged his sister tightly.

‘Hey,’ said Zoë, pulling back a bit once they’d both stopped crying. ‘I love you. You know that, right?’

Nick gave her the best smile he could manage. ‘I know. I love you too, Zoë.’

When Dave showed up that night, Nick let himself be taken care of. Let himself be held. And let himself be loved.