You Complete Me - 4. Chapter 4 - Carefree?

It was supposed to be a normal Saturday evening with Joey and Luke…until it wasn’t. As with most weekends, Nic’s parents were working, so it was his responsibility watch the apartment and take Joey to his afternoon therapy appointment. Afterwards, they lazed around the house for a few hours until Joey begged to hang out with their cousin – probably to get his hands on Luke’s PS5, which the Mathesons couldn’t come close to affording any time soon.

As for Nic, he’d been feeling off all day, which should have warned him that he was probably due for one of his “episodes,” as his mother liked to call them. He’d had another nightmare, Amos and Kathy were arguing that morning, and some anxiety about P.E. next week was starting to creep in. The apartment was starting to feel stifling, so Nic offered his brother very little resistance.

Like much of Glendale, the Ensings were fairly wealthy. They owned a small cottage behind their main house that was basically Luke’s second bedroom: a place that his parents rarely frequented, and, when Joey wasn’t present, where Luke and his friends could partake in a secret beer stash. With the sky darkening by the minute, they arrived just ahead of a torrential rainstorm, ensuring that they’d likely be there for a while. \

Luke only had two controllers, so Nic let Joey kick Luke’s ass at Mortal Combat while he played with his phone and chatted with Luke. After living in Maine for years and despite Luke not being the sort of person that Nic would typically hang out with, their friendship somehow survived. Luke was the kind of friendly that even the most laconic of people had a hard time resisting and the two of them had been close their entire lives.

The entire evening, Nic never fully relaxed. He put up a good front, smiling and nodding only somewhat absently when Luke spared a glance at him from the screen, but he was slowly losing control. A tremor was beginning to start in his right hand, forcing him to put down his phone and start taking deep breaths. Nic was approaching the point of no return, but he had almost managed to talk himself off the ledge –

Crack.

Outside, a tree branch must have snapped under the weight of its soaked leaves. Joey and Luke were a bit startled, which would have been the appropriate response, but that was all Nic’s body needed to be convinced that he was under attack. The sound was a little too similar to that of ribs cracking, and the connection made his breath catch in his throat.

Luke, who had been teasing Joey about the squeal he let out, heard Nic gasp. He looked over at him questioningly. “You alright?”

Nic tried to speak, but all that came out was a croaking sound.

Now Joey was looking at him, an eyebrow raised. “Nic?”

Nic tried and failed to force a smile; it felt more like a grimace. “Going to go take a leak,” he said, finally finding his very shaky voice. The tremor was starting to spread.

Luke looked unconvinced, but it seemed to work on his seven-year-old brother, who shrugged and turned his attention back to the TV. Nic pushed himself up off the couch, relieved that his legs were steady, and made a beeline for the hallway. He could feel Luke’s eyes boring into his back and forced himself to keep his pace even.

The florescent lights were irritatingly bright when he instinctively flicked them on, and his own stark-white reflection staring across the room from him startled him. Nic turned them off again and moved clumsily, blindly, towards the gleaming white tub on the side of the room.

Sometimes, when he had panic attacks at home, Nic found comfort in taking a shower. But the other boys would definitely know something was up if he turned on the water, so Nic would have to make do with just pretending. Not even bothering to take his boots off, he climbed into the tub and closed the curtain behind him. He sank to the porcelain floor and drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly to keep his limbs from shaking too much, and let the panic overtake him.

Joey had been there the first time this had happened, years ago. He had alerted their mother, who swiftly took Nic to the ER because he was convinced he was having a heart attack. When it turned out to be “just” a panic attack, Amos thought it was hilarious, and he was the only one. Joey, only five at the time, certainly didn’t think it was funny. He was inconsolable the entire drive to the hospital, while at Nic’s bedside, and was still sniffling on the ride home. Since then, Nic did his best to get somewhere private when he felt one coming.

They wouldn’t be so bad if they were always predictable. For the most part, Nic liked to think that was good at keeping a cool head during confrontation or at least avoiding situations where he didn’t think he could, but sometimes his attacks did not come after a clear trigger. It was scary enough to suddenly feel like you’re dying, but it was another matter to never be exactly sure when that feeling could take over.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. They used to be much longer and more frequent, but the last time had been over a month ago. Nic took this as an encouraging sign; maybe it meant that his mind was starting to move on from what happened. He stayed in the tub, though, reluctant to leave because he kept shaking long after he started to feel better.

“Nic?” Luke knocked on the door, but Nic felt too numb to speak just yet.

Luke let himself in anyway after he received no answer, and Nic heard him pause as he scanned the apparently empty room for him. His footsteps approached the tub and pulled the curtain to the side, causing his cousin to flinch sheepishly at the sound. Luke’s sigh as he gazed down at Nic was from a mixture of exasperation and pity, and Nic kept his eyes glued to his knees, worrying a loose strand from his jeans.

Luke made himself comfortable on the edge of the tub, respectfully keeping his gaze on the wall across from them as Nic tried to get his nerves back under control. Nic tiredly rubbed his face, choosing to focus on his cousin’s hair instead of talking. It was a similar color and texture to his own, but shorter. When they were younger, they were often mistaken for brothers until puberty, when Luke became tall and broad-shouldered like his father.

While Nic spaced, Luke eventually decided to break the silence. “I think Jake is going to break up with his girl, Megan,” he said conversationally, as if they were still sitting in front of the television in the living room.

Nic let out a huff of surprised laughter. He knew Luke was trying to distract him, and he appreciated the effort. “That’s too bad, I guess.”

“Not really, she’s kind of a bitch.”

“Why are they breaking up?” Nic hugged his legs a bit tighter, wishing for a smoke.

Luke shrugged. “He met her dad; it didn’t go well. I don’t know, he didn’t really want to talk about it. Speaking of, when are you going to talk to a therapist or something?”

“Nice segue. I don’t get them often.”

Luke finally looked over his shoulder at Nic, his eyebrow raised.

“I really don’t,” Nic insisted, more firmly. He didn’t want to remind Luke that there was only room for one person’s therapy – Joey’s – and that already stretched them pretty thin. He didn’t want to tell his mom that Prozac simply wasn’t enough, or hear Amos grumble about Nic still being affected from something that happened almost two years ago, something that most people thought was a simple assault.

Wanting to get out of this conversation, Nic got to his feet. He carefully climbed out of the tub and peered into the bathroom mirror across the room from them.

A startlingly pale face stared back at him, the dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks appearing stark in contrast, and his eyes were too wide. Luke was watching him from his perch on the tub, his brow furrowed.

“Maybe you could stay here for a bit.”

Nic frowned at his reflection. “For the night? I’ll be fine.”

“No, like…for a while. A few weeks or something. If you need a break from Amos.” Nic was silent, and Luke rushed forward with his argument. “I know you won’t accept money from my parents, but we have this cottage that’s almost as big as your entire apartment and it’s not like we need the space – ”

“What about Joey?”

“You can bring him, too.”

Nic snorted and turned on the faucet to splash his face with water. “My mom would think we’re abandoning her.” It was no secret that Kathy was threatened by Aunt April. She already got a little grumpy about her sons spending so much time at the Ensings as is.

“Well, just consider it, okay? You’re always welcome here and we could figure out something to tell my parents—”

“Luke, it’s fine.” It was tempting, but Nic couldn’t allow himself to think about it too long. That would be admitting defeat.

Luke dropped it with a scowl, but Nic knew this wouldn’t be the last time the offer came up. “Fine,” he muttered, and walked out of the bathroom without another word. Nic took another minute to collect himself and followed him.

“Nic’s going to kill you,” he heard Luke telling Joey as he rounded the corner.

“What did he do this time?” Nic sighed.

Joey and Luke were glaring at each other on the couch, and Luke was holding Nic’s abandoned phone out of the boy’s reach. “Apparently he was doing some snooping,” Luke told Nic, tossing him his phone.

“I was just playing a game!” Joey squeaked.

“Just games, huh?” Nic growled suspiciously as he checked to see what apps had been opened recently. If Joey had seen his nudes – or worse, Vince’s nudes – he was going to lose his shit. He needed to switch to a pin number – Joey had proven himself more observant than he seemed by figuring out Nic’s lock screen for the second time now. As he was holding it, a new message from none other than Arnie came in: they back yet?

“You were talking to Arnie?”

“Oh, what’s Arnie up to these days?” Luke asked. Seconds from fighting, both brothers ignored him.

Joey flinched from Nic’s ire. “I was bored! You guys were in there forever – what were you doing, anyway?” he added, in an effort to deflect.

“Puking,” Nic answered, without missing a beat. “Luke came to hold my hair back. It was green and chunky – ”

“And it smelled like dirty socks,” Luke supplied. Nic gave him a look and he shrugged.

“Gross!” Joey wouldn’t hear any more of it, and that was the end of his line of questioning. Nic returned to his phone, turned away from Joey so he couldn’t see him typing a response to Arnie.

It’s Nic, Joey stole my phone.

You ok? He said you were in the bathroom with Luke for half an hour

Nic paused as he tried to decide how much to tell Arnie. The novice tattoo artist knew more about Nic than anyone else, even Shiv. Wasn’t that long. Had a panic attack, he wrote back.

Arnie’s response was immediate. Talk to me, he demanded. Not “Wanna talk?” Nic felt that when most people asked that, it was out of obligation, never because they actually expected him to talk. Arnie didn’t offer things unless he meant it, and Nic appreciated that about him.

So they talked. Not about anything deep or the root cause of Nic’s panic attacks – Arnie already knew about a lot of that, and it didn’t need repeating. They talked about inane things, their mutual friends, Nic’s first week at Glendale High, their art – quite literally anything else, and it felt just as freeing. They hadn’t talked like this in almost a year, and it wasn’t until now that Nic realized how much he had missed his friend. Slowly, he started to feel better and the residual shakiness subsided. Without him even noticing, another hour had passed in the little cabin and the rain had become a very light drizzle. That’s when Nic finally put his phone down, leaving Arnie on “read.”

It was nearing Joey’s usual bedtime, so when Nic dragged his now-drowsy brother back to his beaten-up little Nissan, he promptly fell asleep minutes after Nic started the car. Nic didn’t mind; it left him alone with his thoughts.

When they arrived back at their ratty apartment complex, Nic’s heart sank when he spotted Amos’s old pickup truck in the parking lot. He let out a deep sigh to encourage patience. Amos and Kathy had driven together that morning, so hopefully that meant his mother was also home. Nic hated being home alone with Amos. Or anywhere with Amos, really.

It wasn’t easy walking up a flight of stairs with sixty pounds of dead weight, but Nic somehow managed without Joey even stirring. “You’re getting way too big for this, kid,” Nic muttered, leaning heavily against the railing for support as he fumbled for his keys.

They were greeted by the smell of cheap beer and baked beans, which Amos was heating up on the stovetop. He turned his head towards the door as it opened, in mid-sip and tottering precariously on his heels. It would have looked a bit funny if Nic wasn’t well aware of the fact that Amos was much more irritating when he’d been drinking.

“Where the fuck were you two?” Amos growled, his words slippery.

“Swear…” Joey murmured sleepily against Nic’s shoulder.

“The Ensings’,” Nic said.

Amos harrumphed without comment. He didn’t like his wife’s side of the family, and the feelings were very much mutual.

Nic carried his brother down the hallway to the kid’s room. To his exasperation, Amos followed them, beer still in hand and not making any attempt to help. Nic tried to ignore him and nudged the door open with his foot.

He dropped Joey rather unceremoniously onto his bed, but the boy only mumbled something and sucked on his thumb. He could be cute when he was sleeping, Nic thought with a faint smile.

Amos stood behind them, leaning heavily against the doorframe and watching as Nic wrestled off Joey’s shoes. “It’s not like he’s your son or anything,” Nic muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Where’s Mom?” Nic straightened and waited for Amos to move out of his way.

“Out for a walk, she said.”

Not a good sign. It seemed that their fight that morning was still going strong. “Before or after you got wasted?”

Amos waved his beer bottle at Nic. “Hey, I don’t need lip from you, too.”

They had been arguing in their bedroom early that morning, but the walls were thin and Nic didn’t sleep much. It sounded like it was about money. It always was. He turned his back on his stepfather and headed for the kitchen, intending to see if there was anything to eat besides beans. “Did she say when she’d be back?”

Amos was still following him, which made Nic uneasy. “You sure you were just at the Ensings’? You look like you’re on something.”

Nic lifted one shoulder in feigned nonchalance. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to – Don’t dodge the question, Nicholas.”

“Oh, we’re using full names now? I’m not on anything.” The beans smelled like they were starting to burn, so Nic moved them off the stove, his nose wrinkling.

Amos leaned against the counter, not showing any signs of retiring to his armchair like Nic wished he would. “You came in late, you didn’t tell anyone where you’d be, you look like shit, and you expect me to believe you were just at your cousin’s?”

“I told Mom where we were. You know what? Fuck this. I’m going to bed.” His appetite was gone anyway.

Amos almost let him go. “I just want to know if you were doing drugs in front of my son or—”

Nic spun around, his skin prickling with heat. “I would never. Who the fuck just put him to bed so he wouldn’t see you like this?”

Amos peered down at him, haughtily slurping at his drink, and Nic knew he was working on the nastiest thing his inebriated brain could come up with. “I’ve had just a few drinks. You’re a known pill popper that waves his ass at anyone that might stick their dick in it.”

Nic was lucky he had moved away from the stove because the pot of beans probably would have gone flying. “Fuck you,” he said, quietly, and started moving back towards the door.

“Oh, did I strike a nerve?”

Nic didn’t answer. Right now, his goal was to get out before Amos could get the satisfaction of seeing his eyes get watery. He slammed the door behind him, forgetting that it would probably wake up Joey if the fighting hadn’t already.

Leaning against the door, Nic took a deep, shaky breath and pulled out his phone. He considered calling his mother, but Amos would just deny what he said or blame Nic, and Joey didn’t need to hear more arguing. He thought of going back to Luke’s, but he was worried he would never leave. He just didn’t want any more drama from within his own family.

Nic opened up the chat with Arnie. Are you at your shop?

***

Capaldi’s was a bar downtown that had been open for fifty-five years, since the first Capaldi arrived on American shores from Sicily. Since then, it had been passed down through several generations of owners before currently being in possession of Ant Capaldi. The relic had been around for almost twice as long as he had been alive, but as the oldest of five, he was next in line once Anthony Capaldi Sr. decided to retire and focus on his growing tattoo business. Ant slaved away at Capaldi’s every night, working just as much as anyone else despite being the owner, but he obviously loved every minute of it. His tenacity was a trait he shared with his youngest brother, Arnie, who furiously worked at his craft in the downstairs basement.

Despite the name sounding like it could be some sort of pizza joint (and the Capaldis resented anyone that pointed this out), the bar served only snacks and appetizers. Nic never got a chance to eat, so he snagged a basket of unattended tortilla chips on the counter as he breezed through, not quite unnoticed by Ant.

“I’m charging Arnie for that!” he yelled playfully, waving a bar towel at him.

Nic acknowledged him with a distracted wave as he weaved through the crowd with his prize, hiding his red-rimmed eyes. He headed for the opposite end of the bar, brazenly walked through a door marked “employees only,” and went down a flight of concrete stairs leading into the basement of the building. The further he descended, the stronger the smell of weed became, which meant that Arnie was in the middle of some pretty intense designing. He insisted that he did his best work while high, and Nic was inclined to agree.

The lower level was mostly dark save for the desk-lamp over Arnie’s workspace. Arnie himself emerged from the shadows on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by tendrils of smoke from the blunt between his fingers. He was dressed in fewer layers than usual: baggy jeans with a wallet chain and a close-fitting wifebeater, showing off some extensive inkwork. He approached the stairwell with a lazy smile in place and reached out to Nic, who had paused a few steps above him.

“About time, Hook,” he said jovially, using one of his pet names for Nic. He liked to give people nicknames whether they liked it or not. Though that one sounded vaguely sexual, it was in reference to Nic’s habit of getting into fights.

Nic descended the rest of the way, ignoring the proffered hand and nibbling on a corn chip. “I came straight here.”

“Time passes slowly down here. Sometimes.” He snagged a handful of the snacks as Nic walked past him. “Make yourself at home, as always.”

“Did you tell anyone I was coming?” Nic sat the bowl on the thrifted coffee table in the middle of the room before climbing into a messy daybed. It was the only soft furniture in the basement and Arnie regularly stored other random items there; as Nic moved, a handful of magazines slid to the floor and went ignored.

“Why would I?” He followed Nic to the daybed and joined him in a cross-legged position, his knee lightly touching Nic’s thigh.

Nic shrugged, deciding right then and there that he didn’t really care. If he and Arnie were “friends,” then it wasn’t a crime for them to hang out alone. In the middle of the night. His other friends were presumably in bed or home with their parents, but Arnie was the only person he knew that was also a night owl. It was only logical to come here.

Arnie reached over and smoothed some of Nic’s damp hair off his forehead. He was close enough for Nic to smell the tortilla chips he’d eaten over the smell of weed. It wasn’t the most appealing combination of scents, but Nic was distracted by how close he was and his hand on his face. He was usually a bit touchy-feely, but not this much; Nic was beginning to suspect he’d had something a little stronger than weed before he’d arrived, and he didn’t mind.

“Not that I mind the movie cliché look on you,” Arnie began, “but care to explain why you rushed over here in the rain?”

Something about the question made Nic’s frayed nerves unravel just a bit more. He’d managed to fight off the tears once he’d left the apartment, but they were still close to the surface. They started to pour, and he turned away sharply, embarrassed at his display, but it was too late.

“Oh, hey.” Arnie caught Nic’s chin and gently pulled him back. Their eyes met for a long moment, honey-brown meeting watery green, and Nic noticed Arnie’s gaze flickering briefly to his lips. “One sec.”

Arnie drew way to stretch to the coffee table, retrieving the blunt he’d let idle on an ashtray. He took a long drag as Nic watched, feeling silly as the tears still leaked freely. Arnie took Nic’s face again, his long fingers splayed across his cheekbones as he used his thumb to run over Nic’s lower lip. Nic opened his mouth, understanding what Arnie wanted him to do, and his friend drew even closer.

Arnie exhaled slowly as Nic inhaled, letting the slightly diluted smoke enter his lungs. Their open mouths were millimeters from touching and their eyes were closed during the transaction. Nic felt his lips tremble, wanting to close around Arnie’s mouth, and he sensed that Arnie wanted it too. This was confirmed when, at the end of the shotgun, Arnie flicked the roof of Nic’s mouth with his tongue, causing him to recoil in surprise.

“You could have just let me have a drag,” Nic complained, discreetly running his own tongue over the spot Arnie had licked.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Arnie shrugged. “Besides, I wanted to touch you. And you stopped crying. Win-win.”

There was nothing Nic could say to that, so he didn’t. Arnie was smirking at him, knowing exactly what he was struggling with.

“Come here. I can make you feel better.”

“I had sex the other day,” Nic said, trying to muster up some defiance but instead just sounded petulant.

Arnie couldn’t even feign surprise. “But he wasn’t me.”

Internally, Nic knew better. He knew that he should politely reject Arnie’s advances (again) and make his leave, because indulging him could destroy their relationship for good. It wasn’t like Arnie was the type of person to force him to do anything. But he also knew that if he resisted this time, there would be another time. Next time, it could be Nic that was high and horny, and Arnie most certainly wouldn’t resist – he never could. In some ways, perhaps knowingly, Arnie was doing Nic a favor: if this went badly, the onus would be on Arnie this time.

They both knew that Nic didn’t come here to cry about his problems. Arnie wasn’t the one to go to for free therapy – he was the one to help you forget, even if just temporarily. Nic simply didn’t want to feel anymore, and Arnie was offering him a way out of his own head for just a while.

Without further argument, Nic crawled towards his friend, watching his smirk slowly grow into a sly smile. Arnie’s lips descended hungrily upon Nic’s with a needy groan, and Nic responded in kind, their tongues fighting for dominance over the kiss. Normally, Nic didn’t like kissing; it felt more intimate than sex, and he met few his age that were actually good at it. Arnie was one of those people. It was as if Arnie had activated a nerve that ran directly from Nic’s lips to his cock, which he felt was swelling by the minute.

Nic boldly reached for Arnie’s crotch, smiling into the kiss when he felt that his friend was in a similar state. This elicited another small moan from Arnie, who broke the kiss just long enough to demand Nic take his clothes off. Nic retreated onto his back to do just that, starting with his jeans, and Arnie followed him, impatiently continuing his assault on his mouth as Nic struggled to disrobe.

This was nothing like his encounter with Vince. That had been mediocre at best, and the most memorable part of it had been when Jake walked in on them. Sex with Arnie was a different beast entirely. They’d hooked up shortly after meeting a year ago, and Nic knew immediately that Arnie was different from all the others. He was a generous lover, skillful, and he knew it. He may even be the best Nic had ever had.

Maybe it was the contact high, but events seemed to happen in a blur of succession: clothes littered the floor, Arnie’s fingers were inside Nic, twisting and scissoring as he writhed beneath him. A condom was produced from seemingly nowhere. Arnie had one of Nic’s legs haphazardly draped over his shoulder, and they both sighed in what sounded almost like relief once Arnie was fully inside.

They were fucking in earnest when the basement door opened above them. “Arnie? You still down there?” Ant called from the flood of light that poured into the other half of the room.

Nic flinched at the sudden intrusion, but because of some chemical influence or perhaps just his naturally unflappable demeanor, Arnie barely missed a beat. He slowed down so the bed wouldn’t creak as much, but clearly had no intention of stopping. “Yeah, still here.” His voice sounded remarkably steady – only Nic would detect just a hint of breathiness.

“We’re about to close up. If you’re staying much longer, don’t forget to lock the door behind you.” Ant paused, perhaps listening to the faint, rhythmic creaking of the daybed. “Is Nic still with you?”

Nic shot Arnie a quelling look, but he didn’t seem to notice it in the darkness. “Yeah, he’s here, all right.” Nic gave him a slap on the chest, which only earned him a quick gleam of a grin.

The brief silence was palpable. The next time Ant spoke, his voice had a hint of laughter in it. “Well, uh, don’t keep him out too late.”

“He’ll - we’ll be done in a few minutes,” Arnie assured him. Nic wanted to strangle him.

Ant left them alone, and Nic grew warm with a rare, fleeting sense of shame. Being walked in on by a near stranger was one thing, but he quite liked Ant. If the things Arnie was doing to him right now didn’t feel so good, he’d push him off and leave. “A few minutes, huh?” he said dryly.

Arnie was sucking on his nipple in a way that made Nic’s stomach clench in pleasure. “We can make it a race if you want.”

“You’re on.”

Naturally, Nic lost, but he wasn’t mad about it. With Arnie on top, he could control the pace: the bed rocked threateningly as Nic was pounded into the mattress for what somehow felt like an eternity and ended far too soon at the same time. Arnie pummeled his prostate into oblivion, bringing forth Nic’s loud orgasm first; the spasming made Arnie quickly follow and he collapsed onto Nic once he was done, enveloping him in his stringy arms.

This was another rule that Nic broke for Arnie. He didn’t like missionary or any position that made him feel powerless. His friend was a head taller, but he was built like a scarecrow; Nic knew from experience that he could hold his own against Arnie if he ever felt unsafe. Currently, being held like this, warm lips lazily dragging across his cheek, he felt the exact opposite for the first time tonight.

Arnie stroked Nic’s thigh. “I won.” Nic suspected he was talking about more than Nic’s earlier challenge.

“Because I let you.”

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he purred into Nic’s ear. "You're trouble, haven't you heard?" He didn’t sound particularly regretful.

Nic made a noncommittal noise, not interested in getting into the same old discussion again.

“We can’t tell anyone about this,” Arnie continued, tracing some sort of invisible pattern up Nic’s side.

“No,” Nic agreed. “And this can’t happen again.”

“Right. After tonight?” He raised an eyebrow suggestively.

The laughter that bubbled out of Nic’s throat was slightly hysterical. “After tonight.” He slid his body down the bed, using his tongue to draw a path from Arnie’s chest to his favorite part.