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Nick Carraway heard the shot while he was walking back to his house. He stood frozen on the spot, his heart skipping a beat. Then, before he registered it happening, he felt himself turn and his legs move as fast as they could back towards Jay Gatsby’s house.
He ran up the stairs as fast as he could, eyes flitting over the area. When he was at the top his eyes rested on the body in the water. His heart stopped.
“Jay!” Nick’s voice was shrill with dread as he ran over to the pool. He instantly dived in and grabbed Gatsby’s cold, bloody body, then pulled him up onto the concrete.
“Jay,” he called again as he climbed out of the pool and knelt down beside his friend. There was no answer.
“Jay!” He picked up Gatsby’s head and placed it in his lap, hands on the man’s face. He was as cold as ice.
“Edgar! Edgar!” Nick yelled as loud as he could, hoping to get the butler’s attention. His heart was racing in his chest. Tears were forming in his eyes. His friend had gotten shot. His friend was dying .
“EDGAR!” After his third call he heard footsteps come running, clacking against the floor.
“Mister Carraway? What-” Edgar’s eyes stopped at Gatsby, widening at the sight. Then he instantly ran back into the house, presumably to call an ambulance. Nick stayed with Gatsby, holding him and talking to him in an effort to keep him alive.
“Jay, stay with me now. You’re going to be okay.” A tear fell down his cheek and onto Gatsby’s face, not that it mattered for how wet he was already.
“Stay with me, please…”
Minutes later Nick heard an ambulance’s siren and vehicles pull up into the drive. His heart lightened at the sound. He turned to Gatsby with a hopeful smile on his face.
“You’re going to be okay. The ambulance is here. They’re going to take you to a hospital.” His voice was small and hoarse, but it didn’t matter. His friend was going to be okay.
“Over here!” Edgar’s voice broke through the noise and Nick looked up to see medics running down the stairs to where he sat with Gatsby.
“Sir, are you alright? What happened?” One of the medics knelt beside him as the others took Gatsby from his arms. His hand lingered on him as long as it could.
“I-I heard a shot. Found him in the pool,” was all he could manage as he watched Gatsby being taken away to the ambulance.
“Alright, well you better come with us too.” The man grabbed him and pulled him up off the ground. Nick’s legs wobbled.
“Easy now.” The man’s hands wrapped around Nick’s waist and shoulder and helped him walk up the stairs through the house to one of the ambulances that stood out front. Nick’s eyes flicked to the ambulance that was driving away. Jay .
He was lead to the ambulance and helped inside before he, too, was driven off to the hospital.
When Nick got to the hospital he was escorted to an examination room and asked a lot of questions about how he was feeling. He said he was fine to all of them, even though he wasn’t. The nurse probably knew he wasn’t, but she didn’t say anything. When she was done she left him to his thoughts.
Nick’s mind whirled with what had just happened. Gatsby . Jay Gatsby had been shot. His friend had been shot. There had been blood, so much blood. He looked down at his hands, remembering the crimson red that had covered them. His heart raced and his breathing grew faster. Images flashed through his head of Gatsby clutched in his arms, but soon evolved into something more gruesome. Scenes of bodies lying on the ground, blood and gore dripping out of them. Their eyes hung open, lifeless and dull.
Tears dripped down Nick’s face as he grasped the back of his head, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward until his head laid on the cot. Then he tried to reassure himself that Gatsby was going to be okay, giving himself pictures of him and Gatsby laughing and smiling together, healthy and happy.
After a while of this his breathing slowed and his mind calmed. He let out a breath as he sat up and looked out the window to the city block beyond. The sound of cars and people’s voices filled his ears, further calming his head.
A few minutes later the door opened, Nick opening his eyes and swiveling his head towards it. The visitor was a nurse, her face round and rosy with youth. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders.
“Nick Carraway,” she asked hesitantly, looking up from her clipboard. He nodded minutely. “Doctor Shelton told me to tell you that Jay Gatsby is stable. You can see him now. He’s in room 104.”
That lit a fire in Nick’s heart. His eyes widened and he rose from the bed in a hurry, almost falling from his legs still feeling wobbly. The nurse rushed to help him, but he waved her off and gained his balance. He then turned to her for a brief moment.
“Thank you,” he said before heading out of the room and into the corridor. The hospital was a bustling place, he noticed, with doctors every which way he looked. Patients were walking from place to place, nurses behind them just in case the need arrived to give assistance.
Nick’s eyes searched the doors for numbers and followed them down the hallway. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103… 104. He paused in front of the door, looking at the number. The nurse said Gatsby was stable, but… He shook the thought from his mind and pushed the door open.
The first site he saw when he entered the room was an unconscious Gatsby, bandages wrapped around his upper chest and shoulder; it caused Nick’s heart to pang uncomfortably and overwhelming sympathy to enter his chest.
He stepped towards the bed, eyes never leaving his friend.
Gatsby’s chest rose and fell, breath hitching every few seconds before going back to normal. Every time this happened his face contorted with pain. It made Nick’s heart sting.
Once he was standing directly over the bed did his eyes linger away. His gaze searched the room for a chair, spotting one in the far corner. He grabbed it and carried it over to the bed before setting it down, careful not to make any noise.
A sigh escaped him as he sat down, his eyes moving back to Gatsby’s pain stricken face.
“Oh, Jay…” He rubbed his face with his hands before continuing. “Jay, I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have left.” His voice was quiet and towards the end became hoarse, tears beginning to threaten him again.
“I should have stayed with you. I should have comforted you.” His face was now in his hands, so his speech came out in mumbles. “I should have been a better friend.”
“And I should have moved on…” The soft, ever so familiar voice came from the bed beside him. Nick’s head snapped up in shock, his eyes meeting Gatsby’s.
“Jay!” His eyes went alight with joy and his heart soared. His friend was okay!
“Hello, Old Sport,” the man said with a tired wink. A smile spread across his face until it contorted into a frown. His eyes scrunched as he gasped in pain. “Holy- What happened?” Gatsby’s gaze turned to him, confusion on his face.
“You don’t remember?”
“No, Old Sport, I don’t.” Nick sighed, preparing to tell what happened in the past few hours; it was something he’d hoped he wouldn’t need to think about.
“You… you were shot.”
“Shot!?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know who did it, though. I was more worried about you…,” he admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.
“You were worried about me?” A trace of a smile crossed his friend’s face at Nick’s words. Nick frowned.
“Of course, I was! You were dying, Jay!” His arms lifted into the air in frustration before letting them fall to his lap. “I was so worried…” It came out in a mumble.
“Nick…” Said man looked up at Gatsby’s words. Then he sighed, realizing it was a prompt to say something.
“I- It was terrifying... I saw you floating in the pool…! It-....” He paused, breathing in unsteadily before continuing. “I thought I was going to lose you…” As tears began to form in his eyes he rested his head in his hands again. He let out another wavered sigh.
Silence followed for the next few minutes, then Gatsby spoke.
“Thank you… for saving my life.”
“I did what I needed to,” Nick replied automatically. Gatsby scoffed.
“You didn’t need to save me, though. You had a choice. When you were looking down at me, floating in that pool, you could have just called me dead, but you didn’t. You dove in and saved me.” Nick looked up, eyes still filled with tears. His gaze met with Gatsby, who wore a wide smile on his face; it was infectious.
“Jay…” Nick breathed out the word as a smile formed on his own face. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
A few days later Gatsby was released from the hospital, and Nick picked him up in Gatsby’s yellow car. He thought it would be nice for a familiar sight.
As Gatsby walked out of the hospital doors his eyes fell on the yellow car and a wide smile rested on his face before his gaze moved to Nick.
“Hello!” Nick waved to him happily.
“Hello, Old Sport!” He waved back, then walked over to the car, resting a hand on it affectionately.
“How are you , Jay?”
“Better than I was, thanks to you!” He clapped the hand that was on the car to Nick’s shoulder, gripping it for a moment. They both relished the contact.
Once they got into the car Nick drove off to get Gatsby home. His eyes were on the road, but his ears listened to his friend while he chattered about people in the hospital he met that he probably would have invited to his parties if they had been well enough to join then. Nick hummed and nodded every once in a while to let Gatsby know he was listening.
This continued for a while until silence fell, leaving Nick time to think about the past few days. Instantly what the two men talked about the first day came to mind, and it rose a question for him.
“What did you mean when you said you should have moved on?” It was a simple question prompted by a curious scenario. The day Gatsby was shot they’d spoken about Daisy. She hadn’t come to the window or anything; however, his friend never said there wasn’t hope at all for the two of them.
His question must have caught Gatsby off guard because he sputtered then stared for a few moments.
“When did I-?”
“The day it happened, when we were at the hospital. Don’t you remember?” This made Gatsby laugh.
“To be honest, Old Sport, I don’t remember much of the past few days. I’m trying not to think about it too much.” Nick turned to look at his friend, a wave of concern befalling him. Gatsby was facing slightly away, but Nick could tell he was in pain.
“But… I think what I was trying to say was that I was chasing shadows, a memory. It wasn’t worth the effort.”
“But didn’t you have fun with her?”
“Oh, of course I did! But I had a dream of our future together. I don’t think she had one for us.” That was probably true, Nick thought. Thinking back Daisy had always gone back to Tom at the end of the day. Gatsby wasn’t something permanent to her. It made Nick’s neck hair prickle with anger. He was glad Gatsby hadn’t gotten to Daisy. She didn’t deserve him.
“Mhmm,” Nick affirmed. Then he paused a moment to think for a second time about the conversation they had that day. “But why did you say it then?”
“It- it must have been a heat of the moment thing.” At this a weird feeling settled itself in Nick’s chest. Gatsby didn’t sound very confident in that answer.
“Jay,” he asked.
“It’s nothing. Nothing at all.” The man waved his hand dismissively.
“Have you had feelings for someone else? Is that why you said it?” His question made his friend go stiff. On Nick’s lips then formed a small smirk. He was always overly observant, and even though people thought it annoying, it was a very helpful tool to get the truth out of someone.
“I- Let’s talk about this at my house.”
“But-”
“Nick, please.” That pleading tone was not something he’d heard from Gatsby before. His eyebrows furrowed and he nodded solemnly.
“Alright,” he said, which lead the rest of the ride to be silent.
Nick pulled up into Gatsby’s drive a few minutes later. The two of them got out of the car. Gatsby was still stiff, probably with nerves, but Nick was confused why. He quietly followed his friend into the house and into one of his parlors. Gatsby sat down on a chair, motioning for Nick to do the same. He did.
“So-”
“Old Sport, I’ve got to tell you something.” Gatsby’s words were fast, and Nick had to take a moment to interpret them.
“Something to tell me?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“Well,” Gatsby fidgeted with his hands, his knee bobbing up and down. “I have… feelings…”
“Feelings for who?” Nick was intrigued by this. He wondered who his friend had feelings for. Jordan? Someone from one of his parties? While he was thinking Gatsby had mumbled something he didn’t catch.
“What,” he asked.
“I’ve got feelings… for you.” That made Nick stop. He stared at his friend, his mind reeling.
“What?” His question must have irritated Gatsby because he jumped up and swing his hands in the air.
“You! I’ve got feelings for you!”
“You… You do?”
“Yes!” After that his arms fell by his sides before he sat back down. “God, Nick, for an observant person you sure can be a sap.”
“But Jay! How- since when?” Now it was Nick’s turn to stand.
“I figured it out the day I was shot. It was after we’d talked about Daisy. I was thinking about all if this-” he gestured vaguely- “and how through all of it you’d been so kind and supportive. The realization just… sort of struck me.” At that Nick sighed and sat back down.
“That’s…”
“Awful, I know.” Gatsby placed a hand over his face in defeat.
“No, it’s just… a lot to take in.” He ran a hand through his hair as the gears in his mind turned. Gatsby had feelings for him? Gatsby of all people? The thought was like a punch in the gut. Gatsby was- was magnificent. He was handsome and sociable and just all around amazing. Nick on the other hand? Nick was an observer, an outsider. He was short and just plain awkward. What did Gatsby even see in him? He sighed. “I just… Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why me of all people?”
“Oh God, Nick!” Once again Gatsby stood, exasperated at his friend’s idiocy. “There are so many things! Can’t you see them?” Nick shook his head and Gatsby scoffed. “For one, you’re kind! I’ve never heard you speak bad about anyone before! Secondly, you’re so very very observant. You could look at a person and tell what they’re feeling just like an open book! And you notice the smallest of things! I could have a speck on my coattails and you’d notice. Third, you hardly even knew me when you said it was okay for Daisy and I to have tea. You welcomed me into your home without a problem and treated me like an old friend. Hell you even tried to comfort me! God, Nick! There are so many reasons why I have feelings for you!” Once he finished he closed his eyes and sat back down, elbows on his knees.
“Jay, I-”
“It’s alright to say if you don’t feel the same way. No man ever would.”
“No. Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Assuming I’m going to reject you.” Gatsby looked up, confused.
“Well you are aren’t you?”
“I’m… not sure.” Nick frowned at his own words. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He’d just reacted. Did he feel the same Gatsby did? Maybe he did, thinking back to all the times he’d admired the man from afar and all the times he’d look at him and Daisy together with a twisting, strange feeling in his heart he didn’t understand.
“Maybe… Maybe I do.”
“You do what?”
“Have feelings for you too.” At this Gatsby’s eyes went wide. Then a broad smile came over his face. Nick cocked his head in confusion.
“What is it?”
“Oh, Nick!” Before he could respond, Gatsby surged forward and wrapped him in a tight hug. Nick sat there for a moment, shocked, before he slowly wrapped his arms around Gatsby.
“Thank you, Nick,” muttered Gatsby in his ear.
“You’re welcome, Jay,” he replied as a content smiled settled itself on his face.