Chapter Text
Erik had never stayed in one place for long. Truthfully, it had surprised him more than anyone else that he had decided to return to France after fifteen odd years running from his beginnings like an outlaw with a warrant out for his arrest, like some bandit in the night or gun-slinger with a fast hand– desperately disentangling himself from his roots as if they’d spring forth from the ground and grow around him if he didn’t. Nadir had raised a brow when he told him, stopping mid-sip and staring up at him with skeptical eyes over the rim of his steaming mug.
‘ May I ask why you’ve chosen now of all times to return?’ he had asked, eying his friend and roommate as though he’d sprouted a second head. It had been nearly three years since Erik had moved in, the longest he’d lived anywhere since leaving home just before his eighteenth birthday. That January had been bitterly cold, but that had been the extent of his teenage self’s surprises; he had seen first hand just how unkind the world could be. It was never very cold in Persia, and he liked to think that maybe that was why he had stayed for so long.
It was a simple enough reply, two facts that were relatedly unrelated. ‘The Palais Garnier put out a job listing for a new director the same day I received notice that my mother had passed. I don’t typically indulge the idea of divine intervention…but, then again, I hardly believe in coincidences, either.’
His boxes were packed within three days of hearing that the position was as good as his, the charming little flat he’d bought on the Rue Rivoli suddenly feeling more like a true and necessary investment than an impulse buy, though the reality of his situation hadn’t quite hit him until he was boarding the plane with Nadir at his side. ‘I'll help you through the first week, if you’d like; help you unpack and adjust,’ he’d said– Erik knew better than to think it was just an offer, Nadir was almost as stubborn as he was. It was going to happen whether he very well wanted it to or not.
He didn’t remember most of the flight, too anxious to stay grounded as his mind floated somewhere outside of his body, high above the plane and well into the stratosphere, he figured. In fact, he couldn’t recall a thing up until the point he was pulling up to the apartment complex, finally alone as Nadir had decided to take an hour or so to get coffee and stock the fridge– divvying up the work, as he’d called it. Erik had been quite alright with the suggestion, agreeing that it would be more efficient and a good way to conserve their collective energy, of which was already running dreadfully low– that was until he was reminded of his piss-poor parallel parking skills, where he found himself feverishly praying to a god that he didn’t particularly believe in to deliver him from the whole debacle. But, then again, maybe that was exactly what this was: divine wrath, some cruel and unusual punishment for not accompanying his miserable mother to church every Sunday when he still had the chance.
He really should have assumed upon first glance that the thing would be a bitch to park. It was hard enough to handle the shitty little second-hand Peugeot he’d bought as a teenager, nevermind the absolute unit of a moving van he now sat in. As was typical, he damned his lack of foresight with a quick curse under his breath and set to the task at hand. Assuming that he’d done well after a very strenuous five minutes of maneuvering the van to and fro, he stepped out into the street to assess his work. He was nearly four whole feet away from the curb. Got back in, redirected the van. Got out again. Right front tire on the curb. Once more. Back right tire on the curb.
Erik thought that perhaps there actually was a god when Nadir tapped on his shoulder, wielding a brown paper bag filled to the brim with groceries and a steaming cup of coffee, which he handed off to his companion with a small, knowing nod. “You weren’t joking when you told me you couldn’t park for shit,” he said dryly, glancing between the van and Erik.
“I wouldn’t dare to joke about such things, Nadir,” he muttered, taking a long sip from the coffee passed his way; strong and black and bitter, just as he’d always ordered it. His friend knew him well. “We both know I’m much too prideful to downplay the things that I happen to be good at.”
His friend’s answering shrug was noncommittal, the most polite way he knew how to agree. “Hand me the keys and put your coat back on, it’s freezing out here. I only really decided to come to your aid when you got frustrated enough to shuck the thing off and roll up your sleeves. I figure that I would have come to help sooner or later, but I got a good laugh out of watching your struggle,” he admitted, taking the glare shot his way in stride.
“I’m fine, just try to make it quick,” Erik sighed, reluctantly dropping his keys in Nadir’s patient palm. “If this doesn’t go any faster, we’ll be unloading boxes into the wee hours of the morning. I don’t sleep well to begin with, I hardly think that I need the additional stress to keep me up.”
“Don’t fret, I doubt that there’s so much as a sliver of a chance that I could fuck up quite like you did, my friend,” he replied easily, knowing that Erik would be more amused than hurt by the insult. The answering snort was all the confirmation he needed to affirm his theory. “Go and get your set of keys, sign the paperwork and whatnot. I’ll be in before you know it.”
Erik watched as Nadir slipped into the driver’s seat of the van, turning to do as was asked of him with an exhausted sigh and the mid-November chill nipping at his cheeks.
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Erik’s arms were terribly sore and his back ached in a way that he’d only ever heard his great-grandmother describe by the time he and Nadir had managed to haul half of his boxes up and into the flat– if he didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn that he’d developed early-onset arthritis in those grueling six hours. Nighttime had stolen in with a haste that he was yet to re-adjust to, and the duo were soon at the mercy of street-lamps and the light emanating from the apartment complex. Not particularly fond of the idea of tripping over something or another in the dark, or, God forbid, losing something, Nadir suggested that they call it a night, and, for once in his life, Erik did not put up a fight. Well beyond the point of exhaustion, he nearly cried when he opened the door to the flat once more and was reminded that he hadn’t any bed or mattress ready for use. Truthfully, he was hardly even certain that they’d brought his mattress and bedframe in in the first place.
“I’m on the verge of a stroke, I swear– or maybe a heart attack…whatever it may be, it’s going to kill me. I’m going to keel over dead and it’ll be a mercy,” he grumbled out, pinching the bridge in his nose through his mask as though it would alleviate his mounting headache, that dull throb behind his eyes that had threatened to rear its head since he had first stepped into the airport finally sharpening to a stabbing pain. “Did we even bring in a blanket or two, or have we neglected to attend to that as well?”
Already having started on unpacking, Nadir shrugged and cast a quick glance to his friend. “You had the foresight to label your boxes, if we did, it’ll be under one of the others,” he answered, pulling Erik’s record player from the box titled music (listen), which was, of course, not to be confused with music (play) . Erik nearly screamed bloody murder when the record player was set (gently) down on the floor. “Christ, Nadir, you lunatic! That thing cost me an arm and a leg, genuine vintage from the fifties– have you gone mad?”
“Yes, I’m sure that the pristine hardwood floor will do this thing irreparable damage– my apologies, my liege,” he retorted, rummaging through the boxes to find Erik’s essentials.
“Oh, well, then,” Erik scoffed, snatching the record player up and off the ground, thankful for the open floorplan when he didn’t have to open a door to the kitchen. “Forgive me for wanting my things to be treated with the dignity and respect they’re due.” Gingerly, he set the record player down atop of his new countertops, fussing over it for a moment longer before deciding that it hadn’t been damaged.
Nadir rolled his eyes so hard that he worried for a moment that they’d gotten stuck in the back of his head. “Stop bitching and come help me, I’m not going to dig through your things on my own,” he called out, thankful to hear Erik’s footsteps trailing back into the foyer not a moment later.
“Right,” he sighed, running a hand through his mussed raven hair and eying his friend from the doorway. “Have you found the box with all my blankets yet? Or do you suppose that we left them in the van with my sectionnelle and dining-room table and whatnot?”
“I think they’re under the box of all your fine china,” he murmured, lifting said box up and away from the blanket box. “I was right, they’re right here. We won’t get your bed set up tonight, I’ll take the recliner if you take the chaise lounge.”
Erik nodded, satisfied with the suggestion as he knelt at Nadir’s side to rifle through the box, spindly fingers passing over fleece and quilting. “That’s doable, yes,” he confirmed, fishing out his comforter and silk duvet.
“You have the most expensive taste of any man I’ve ever met,” Nadir muttered, watching as his companion fussed over adjusting them accordingly.
Erik shook his head, releasing a long sigh as he folded the blanket. “You know that I come from very little, I see no problem in indulging in what I have now,” he replied, shooting Nadir a look. “Besides, I think I’ve earned it. I was paid handsomely for my work as a senior architect for a reason.”
“It was just an observation,” Nadir clarified, unphased and unsurprised by Erik’s defensive response. He was patient when possible, knowing that his life had not been an easy one and that it was bound to manifest in a couple snappy remarks or unnecessary arguments. “What color are you planning on painting these walls? The wallpaper the previous renters chose is hideous.”
Erik sighed out a laugh at that, digging through his suitcase for his toiletries. “I know, it looks like something they would have chosen at my late grandmother’s nursing home,” he paused to assess the room, thinking a moment before he answered. “You know as well as I do that I’m not particularly fond of light colors– not for my space, anyway. I thought about maybe a wine red, but I figure that I’ll end up putting that in my bedroom; makes more sense to have my favorite color in my room, I thought.”
“It’s your flat, I figure that you can do whatever you please with it. If you want red in two rooms, you can have red in two rooms,” Nadir pointed out, pulling out a heavy woolen blanket for himself.
“Yes, I know,” he mumbled, trying to remember where they’d settled on putting the chaise lounge. “I don’t really want to, though. It’d be nice for each room to feel just a little different from one another– variation and whatnot.” Nadir nodded, satisfied that he’d pacified his friend enough for them to have a good night’s sleep.
“The guest bathroom is the second door down the hall on the left, yes?” he asked, beyond ready to shower and settle in for the night.
“Yes, that’s right,” Erik murmured, getting up from his spot on the floor to find the drawing room, hopeful that they’d set the chaise lounge in there. “Did we bring my piano in? I can’t remember.”
“No, it’s still out in the van,” he sighed back, knowing that Erik would be insufferable until they could haul it in the following morning.
“You might have told me as much before we decided to call it a night,” he grumbled, irritable as ever. Nadir shot him a look, some silent question of
and what exactly do you expect me to do about it at this hour?
“Don’t worry about it, not right now, anyway. I’ll make dinner, go take your shower or do whatever it was that you needed to do.”