Chapter Text
“Why does everybody hate you Nick?” Troy said, obviously holding back laughter, “Sounds like you were a real treat back in the day.”
Nick refused to look at the man driving, and just stared out at the paved road and buildings. He thought of an unrevealing answer, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “Old news, and not your business.”
“Besides, Alycia’s wrong. That’s not why I stayed at the ranch.” He mumbled after a pause.
“No? Why did you stay?”
“Travis was dead, and Luciana was sick, but my mom was falling apart.” As Nick spoke, Troy broke out into a smiling laughter. Nick finally looked at him, lip curled in disgust. Why the hell was he laughing?
“So, I had to keep it together…” His voice began to trail off as Troy kept chuckling.
“That’s bullshit, it’s bullshit,” Troy threw his hand up in a gesture and looked Nick in the eyes.
“Then why don’t you tell me why I stayed?” Nick still held a look of repulsion on his face.
“Alright, you stayed at the ranch because you love me. It’s alright.” Troy declared in his always casual, charming tone, raising his hand to suggest his statement was obvious.
Nick furrowed his brows for a split-second, but couldn’t pretend and let out a soft laugh himself.
“‘know, you and me, we’re more alike than you think,” Troy continued to talk, filling an awkward silence, “black sheep, children of violence. It’s just you wish you weren’t.”
Nick looked at Troy, an overwhelming sense of realizing that this man, this man who he’d originally feared what he was capable of, was now his best friend. His only friend. Peculiarly, it didn’t unsettle Nick in any way.
He knew what Troy said was true, they were both unwelcomed by others: Nick, a good-for-nothing druggie, and Troy, a violent, manipulative psychopath. That was only the tip of the iceberg though, they were both so much more than that, and they were both able to see that in each other.
“Take the mattress, I’ll take the floor.” Troy told Nick.
“I’m used to floors. You think I haven’t woke up on enough of them without a fucking clue where I am?” Nick couldn’t stop thinking about taking the brain stems again, an itch in the back of his mind that he wasn’t able to reach.
“You think I haven’t slept on enough earth out on expeditions? Take the damn mattress, let me repay you.”
“Repay me for what?”
“Last night. Last night was the first time I’d felt real fear. Holy shit; it was exhilarating. I’ve spent all my time in this new world embedding fear into others, and now that I really, truly felt it…” Troy trailed off, and Nick didn’t push him to answer.
“Fine, but don’t complain when you’re sore in the morning.”
“Since I’m one to complain..”
One side of Nick’s mouth curled into a smile, but he looked away from Troy and got settled onto the mattress, getting underneath the single thin sheet. Troy shut off the gas lamp, and laid on the floor a couple of metres away from the mattress in the corner of the dingy mud room.
Nick gave it a couple of minutes before tossing the sheet at Troy, who scrunched it up and used it as a makeshift pillow.
“You know, Nicky, I could come and get real close to you on that mattress.” Troy is, once again, unable to hide the smirk with his voice.
“Shut up. You got the sheet.” Nick said, and drifted off. Troy fell asleep once he heard the slowing of Nick’s breath and the creaking of the springs stop, mind easing and body no longer tense.
“I’m the only one here for you, Troy. If those people knew what you are, they’d slit your throat and laugh as you bled out.” Jake said.
“I hope they’d time me.” Troy looked up, unsure if he was being ironic or honest. In an instant, Jake was on him, and they fell through the ground.
“The grounds soft. I could dig a grave for you real easy.” Jake’s voice was loud, a blaring gunshot in Troy’s ears. Troy rapidly blinked, eyes coming into focus - it was dark, hard to tell, but he made out the features of Nick's face hovering over his...
“I don’t want you to die.” Nick’s voice was soft and rich.
“You need to leave.” Troy’s lips moved, but it wasn’t him talking. It was Jeremiah Otto controlling his words, Jeremiah Otto’s voice coming out. Troy tried to take it back, but hands on his neck, strangling him, stopped anything from slipping past his lips.
Nick moved his knees from Troy’s sides, and stood, rising like the Eiffel tower.
“Nick. I can’t lose you.” Troy finally gained the ability to communicate.
Nick spit acid, burning holes in Troy’s clothes and skin. Troy reached his hands upwards, but he found himself falling. This time, into a grave.
Troy woke up, and instinctively looked in Nick’s direction. It wasn’t the nightmare that
stirred Troy.
It was the cigarette smoke swallowing the clean air in the room. Nick sat on his mattress edge, the roll between his index and middle finger.
“That shit’ll kill you.” Troy said, propping himself up on one elbow.
“I’m suicide-proof. You know that.” Nick extended his arm, offering the stick to Troy.
“Okay, poet.” Troy snatched the cigarette and took a long drag, then proceeded to cough. Violently. Nick burst into a contagious laughter, and Troy cracked a smile of his own. He passed it back to Nick.
“I woke up awhile ago. Can’t go back to sleep.” Nick stopped laughing, a seriousness overcoming his entire appearance. He pushed up from the mattress, and walked out of the door-less room. Troy agreed to Nick’s silent request, and effortlessly rose from the ground, then followed right behind his heels.
Nick threw a half-smile over his shoulder at Troy, having a definitive plan of where they was headed.
“Tell me we’re not going to El Matadero again.” Troy said half-heartedly - he actually kind of hoped for it.
“Wait.” Nick said.
He led them to the stands of the bullfighting arena, and went to the seats farthest up, away from the bustling scene of prostitutes and drug-addicts that found their purpose at the trading post in the nighttime.
Troy wanted to ask questions, but knew it best to not interrupt Nick’s thoughts - Troy was always able to tell when Nick was engulfed by his thoughts, the subtle changes in his body language which were invisible to others was all that Troy could see.
Nick sat in a randomly chosen seat, and patted the one beside him. His cigarette was down to a stub, so he tossed it over the edge of the stadium and it went tumbling a couple hundred feet down, hitting the ground without a sound.
Troy was fixated on Nick’s face, who was staring up at the vast array of stars.
“It’s fucking hermosa.” Nick stated, turning to look right back at Troy. Troy just stared, his intrigued expression unwavering.
“What? You find death beautiful, I find the whole fucking universe beautiful.” Nick smirked, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth.
“Fair enough.” Troy chuckled, kicking his feet up onto to chair in front of him and examining the stadium with his eyes. He’s never laughed as much with anybody else than Nick. Yeah, he’s always ironically chuckling after remarks when he’s ticked off, but they’re not in good-nature. Although it seems impossible, Nick brings out the benevolence in Troy.
And that’s quite possibly the most unnerving thought Troy has ever had - Nick makes him feel vulnerable, because Troy has something to lose now.
“I wouldn’t mind taking another one of those nuclei from the brain cell tonight.”
“So you can go tell walkers about your screwed up relationship with your mom?” Troy’s smile faded as he slowly turned to face Nick again. His lips were twisted into a frown, unable to speak.
“I’m sorry.” Troy whispered, and Nick visibly flinched.
Nick paused, then said, “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say sorry.”
He raised his chin to the sky.
Troy just shrugged, trying to play off the fact that he didn't really mean to say it, it just slipped out without warning. His own tongue betrayed his morals, but he wondered if it was actually a mistake at all.