Chapter Text
Nick Carraway was in his early thirties yet he felt that he didn't do anything with his life. Throughout his twenties, after he graduated from college, he attempted a career in writing but beyond a couple short stories that didn't sell well, it didn't go far and he gave up on it.
When he turned thirty in nineteen twenty-two, the realization of having done nothing in his life hit even harder. He anguished over it, trying to figure out a way to find meaning. For a year or so, Nick wandered on several paths, taking on numerous jobs to try finding what fit him.
Eventually, on New Year's Day of nineteen twenty-four, Nick made a final decision.
He'll try out the bond business in New York City. It was something that in hindsight, he should've done before he turned thirty but it was better late than never.
With some help from his father and several months of preparation, Nick was able to move into a worn down cabin located within a neighborhood of New York, West Egg.
Upon arriving at his house, Nick prioritized settling in and reading the books about finance that he bought. Beyond West Egg and its counterpart, East Egg, being loosely oval-shaped hence the names, he didn't know much about them. He planned to learn more about the neighborhoods but he focused his mind on the bond business.
Yet, as when he moved boxes inside the cabin, something caught Nick's attention.
Across him is a magnificent castle straight out of Europe that's surrounded by miles of yawns. Ivy vines covered one of its pillars and there was a marble pool facing a doc.
Nick looked at the castle in awe, realizing that he was now neighbors with what seemed to be an enigmatic millionaire. The only thing Nick knew about that millionaire was his name.
Jay Gatsby.
He was one of the first things Nick had heard about upon moving into West Egg.
None could figure out what his past was like nor how he acquired his money and Nick wasn't certainly expecting Gatsby to be his neighbor.
Chances are, like any other high society folk, Gatsby would likely prefer that others mind their business but Nick developed an utmost curiosity about him. He wondered about what he was like as a person. Was he a humble gentleman or a prideful lord? Even if he turned out to be quite unpleasant, that would've been enough to satisfy Nick.
From that point forward, when Nick was supposed to be studying or sipping tea that his Finnish maid made for him, he found himself gazing at the mansion, fantasizing about what would be inside it and how Gatsby would spend his days.
On his first weekend night home, Nick was kept awake as he heard thundering jazz across him and luminous light shined through his bedroom windows. That's when he discovered that Gatsby liked throwing lavish, loud parties every weekend. Nick wanted to attend so he could get to know Gatsby but as he didn't get an invitation, he didn't want to come off as rude by showing up uninvited.
He desired to speak with Gatsby but he had assumed that the man would want his privacy to be respected, so he never progressed beyond his speculations.
However, in two days time, curiosity had swallowed Nick's being and now he must get to know Gatsby, even if it was through a simple greeting.
By afternoon, Nick put on his finest suit and combed his hair.
He intended to show up at Gatsby's gate and make a fine first impression.
Fidgeting with a pocket watch to try keeping his anxiety low, Nick walked over to Gatsby's mansion. He stood by its golden gate where the initials "JG" were shown off boldly. He then spotted a curvy woman with a puffy, bronze bob pushing a hand truck that carried decently sized wooden crates. A silver locket that she wore around her neck shone under the sunlight.
"Hello, is Mr. Gatsby here? I'm his neighbor and I would like to meet him!" Nick called out towards the woman.
The woman glanced at him and sighed.
"Sorry, Gatsby doesn't allow visitors unless it's for those parties of his. He's a private man."
"Hold it there, Edna! He said he's my neighbor, right? Then he's welcome to come over."
A tanned man in a white shirt and light brown suspenders appeared, walking towards Nick and waved at him. His smile glimmered in the sunlight, attracting Nick to it.
"Hello there, old sport. The name's Jay Gatsby? What about you?"
Nick couldn't believe it. He's seeing Gatsby in person and that smile of his was something he'd never seen before on anyone. It made him more fascinated with Gatsby than ever before.
Because of that smile, this encounter became a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
"O-Oh, my name is Nick Carraway, sir," He attempted to chuckle it off but that smile was drawing him in.
"Nick, this is Edna," Gatsby gently patted the woman on the back. "She's a secretary of sorts."
Gatsby edged closer to the gate to get a better view of Nick's face.
"Hmm, your face is familiar, were you in the Third Division during the war by any chance?"
"Why, yes I was. The ninth machine-gun battalion to be exact."
"I was in the Seventh Infantry until June nineteen-eighteen. I knew I'd seen you before."
Nick and Gatsby chatted about their time in the Great War, particularly about the gray little villages in France while Edna resumed pushing the hand trucks. Gatsby was a smooth talker, quickly but clearly speaking whatever was on his mind. Nick found himself getting charmed by Gatsby's words but he shrugged it off, not wanting to face those feelings directly.
"So, old sport, do you want a tour of my house?"
"Sure."
"Well, come on in, then!"
The gate opened and Gatsby led Nick inside his mansion.
Within the mansion, lies luxurious rooms with geometric patterned marble floors, delicately crafted stairs, bold chandeliers and lacquered surfaces. The furniture consisted of curved, vibrant sofas and exotic wooden tables. There was a library that was filled to the brim with towering shelves carrying thousands of books, an elegant piano looking over the sleek ballroom and the gardens had a wide variety of flowers from roses to hyacinths.
Standing at the edge of Gatsby's dock, Nick looked over the shimmering lake. He thought about his tour of Gatsby's mansion, finding it impressive but overwhelming in how gaudy it is. Gatsby only has himself, Edna and his servants to occupy the giant space the mansion took up, which Nick found pointless even with the parties.
"So, what do you think, old sport?" Gatsby snuck up behind Nick, catching him off guard.
"Oh! Well, it's certainly elaborate and large."
Gatsby chuckled, taking what Nick said as a compliment and patting him on the back.
"As I said earlier, you're free to come over whenever you want. That includes the parties I throw every weekend but then again, everyone shows up uninvited. So, I suppose you're special for actually being invited."
Gatsby smiled again. Alongside his words, the smile lit something within Nick's heart. Glancing into Gatsby's sapphire eyes, Nick felt his heart flutter, dancing within his chest. He turned away, hiding his blushing face from Gatsby.
Nononono, this isn't right.
"Are you alright, old sport?"
Nononono, why am I feeling like this?
Nick shook his head quickly before facing Gatsby. His cheeks were no longer a vivid reddish-pink.
"I'm fine, Gatsby. I'm fine. Anyway, what time do you throw your parties? Seven? Eight?"
"Nine AM. They usually end by midnight."
"Alright, I'll come."
"Good to hear, old sport!"
By Saturday evening, Nick headed over to Gatsby's mansion, dressed in sleek white flannels. He spotted many luxurious cars parked near the mansion. He walked towards the entrance where he found himself in a crowd of dozens trying to get inside. It was suffocating but Nick wanted to attend Gatsby's party and hang out with him, so he marched forward.
Inside the mansion, Nick found a sight to behold.
There were dozens of buffet tables garnished with spiced baked hams, pastry pigs and turkeys accompanied by a deep gold, an orchestra that played a clamorous symphony through oboes, trombones, saxophones, piccolos, drums and so on, and a lengthy bar with a brass rail was set up in the main hall, carrying numerous gins, liquors and cordials. The bar was a hot spot for the partiers with many chugging down cocktails and getting drunk silly. Nick felt pressured to join in despite no one asking him but reminded himself that he shall be seeing Gatsby at this lavish party.
Moving his way through the hundreds of guests which consisted of the wealthy elite and fabulously-dressed flappers, Nick overheard many laughter, chatter and rumors about Gatsby.
"He was a German spy during the war," One party goer said.
"Oh no," Another replied. "He was in the American army during the war, so it couldn't be that. But I bet that he killed a man. Look at him!"
Unable to find Gatsby, Nick asked around but was pushed aside. Getting frustrated, he settled down at the bar and ordered himself several drinks. Within twenty minutes, he'd gotten himself just as drunk as his peers at the bar. Up until now, he wasn't the type to get drunk, so this was an experience he wasn't used to. He danced around foolishly and said some rather questionable hot takes but no one was bothered by him. They were as equally drunk as him and laughed alongside him.
After dancing with a woman clad in feathers and jumping into miniature indoor pools, Nick regained some sobriety.
Back on his quest to find Gatsby, Nick stumbled into the colassial library where he found a woman wearing a simplistic blue evening gown, which ironically made her stand out more amongst the extravagantly dressed guests. A decent amount of her face was covered by the book she was holding but by a glimpse at her eyes, Nick soon recognized her as Edna.
"Edna, do you know where Gatsby is? I'd been trying to find him for some time."
"Yeah, I know where he is, follow me."
Leaving the library, Edna headed over to a table where a well-groomed man in a tuxedo was chatting with a couple of young women.
"Hey, Gatsby, your neighbor has been lookin' for you!" Edna called out.
Gatsby turned to face the two.
"Oh, hello there you two!"
"Hello, Gatsby."
Gatsby scooted over to the left to make room for Nick and Edna who then sat down.
"How are you enjoying the party, old sport?"
"I'm having fun. I got myself quite drunk, which was a first."
"You never got drunk even once in your life?"
"Indeed."
Gatsby let out a series of thundering laughter and Nick followed along with his own chuckles.
"Say, how old are you, old sport? You look like a mid twenty-something but I'm not sure." Gatsby asked.
"You're kind, Gatsby, I'm actually due to turn thirty-two in a couple months. So, that makes the fact I haven't gotten drunk even once in my life until now more remarkable and sad."
"Don't worry about it, at least you still got to experience it even if it's a little later than others," Gatsby smiled again and patted Nick's shoulder.
That smile.
That smile shone radiantly and Nick sensed its utmost importance. Under its dazzling gleam, he felt highly relevant and that Gatsby would give all of his attention to him. For a reason that he'd refused to admit, it allured him and tickled his fancy.
If someone like Gatsby can–
Nononono, this isn't right.
"O-Oh, well thank you for your words, Gatsby."
"You're welcome, old sport. Say, I happen to have a hydroplane I would like to try out. Want to go with me? It's just along the shore."
"What time?"
"Whatever suits you best."
"Hmm, perhaps Sunday afternoon."
And just like that, on that scheduled Sunday, after the party had concluded, Gatsby took Nick on his brand new light amber hydroplane. The motorboat hightailed across the shore and back without breaking a single sweat, often moving in twists and turns. Adrenaline pumped through the men's veins out of the sheer thrill but Nick in particular was worried over being sent flying out of the boat and violently landing face first in the water. By the end of the ride, Nick's affections for Gatsby grew.
Sure he was a materialistic, ostentatious man but his charm had a hold on Nick that tightened over time. Nick often attempted to bury these feelings as it's the type to make you stand out against society's norms and thus get ridiculed for it at best but he found himself longing for Gatsby.
Thus, everyday from now on, he went to visit Gatsby and spend a good few hours chatting with him. Gatsby enjoyed his company, albeit it seemed to be platonic. Edna every now and then, peeked at the men and made some snarky remark before resuming whatever work she was doing. Nick was content to only have a friendship with Gatsby, denying his deeper desires.
This would go on uninterrupted for a week before Nick received a call when he just woke up.
"Hello?" Nick asked, yawning and stretching his arms.
"Hello Nick, this is Tom Buchanan," A husky voice responded. "I just heard that you moved to New York. Are you free today by any chance?"
Nick contemplated his answer. He was in the mood for spending the whole day with Gatsby but he realized that he should be socializing beyond him and the occasional Edna.
"Yes, what's the occasion?"
"I'm thinking of inviting you to dinner with me at five PM. Does that sound good?"
"Yes, but also can I bring a friend of mine? His name is Jay Gatsby and he's my neighbor."
Tom paused for a few seconds.
"Sure…"
"Great! We'll be coming!"
Tom gave his address and hung up the phone. Nick hurriedly dressed himself up as he rushed over to Gatsby's house. He asked a nearby servant where Gatsby was, who then told him that he was in his bedroom. Following the servant's directions, Nick found Gatsby's bedroom and knocked on the door.
"Gatsby, are you there? It's me, Nick."
After a couple seconds, Gatsby opened the door while adjusting his tie.
"Good morning, old sport," He greeted.
"Morning, Gatsby. So, I came here to tell you that a college friend of mine has invited me to dinner tonight at six."
"Oh, who is it?"
"Tom Buchanan. He's a polo player and the head of one of the wealthiest families in America. He married my cousin as well. It's been a while since I spoke to him."
"Your cousin?"
"Yes, my cousin. Her name was Ginevra. She died three years ago if I recall correctly."
Gatsby's eyes widened in shock before he looked away in a somber manner.
"Gatsby, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, old sport, just thinking about something."
"Well, anyway, I asked if I could bring you with me and Tom said yes."
"Great, I'll get ready by five. I still have most of the day ahead of me. I'll make sure to tell Edna about the dinner right now."
Several hours later, both men are prepared for dinner. Gatsby offered to drive them in one of his many flashy cars, but Nick insisted, as he was the one that Tom invited, and Gatsby was just an addition.
In his busted up Dodge, Nick drove over to East Egg, where he considered it 'fashionable' compared to West Egg, finding the houses there more sophisticated.
The men soon arrived at Tom Buchanan's residence; a polished red-and-white Georgian Colonial mansion that overlooked the shimmering bay. Its yard rivaled Gatsby's in size, yet defeated it in grace. The two left the car and walked to the entrance, examining the place.
A towering, bulky man with straw-colored hair mounted off his horse and went over to greet Nick.
"Nick!" He said, patting Nick on the back. "Glad to see you here!"
"Glad to see you too, Tom."
Tom overlooked Nick's shoulder and spotted Gatsby.
"And you must be Jay Gatsby."
"Indeed, nice to meet you, old sport," Gatsby extended his hand towards Tom.
Eying him suspiciously, Tom shook hands with Gatsby.
The three then went inside where they walked down a long hallway and entered a room.
The windows were wide open and the curtains flew elegantly with the breezing wind. With the sofas completely unoccupied, something nagged on Nick. There must be someone else here that wasn't a servant occupying this room. Even with a dead wife, Tom must've at least had someone over due to his wealth and power. If someone like Gatsby can casually allow hundreds of people into his home, then surely Tom can do something similar. He couldn't shove this gut feeling away.
Someone is missing and I don't know who it is.
Nick and Gatsby sat down on the sofas while Tom ordered for the windows to be closed. The servants shut them loudly and Tom stood in front of his guests.
"So, Nick, when was the last time we spoke before I made that call earlier today?"
"I think it was a couple years ago."
"That long?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'd be damned. Then again, I tend to move around frequently, so in hindsight, I should've expected it."
"I do recall that you were in France for a year then returned to Chicago. Didn't you just move to East Egg relatively recently?"
"Correct. I swear that this will be a permanent stay. I'll be a damned fool otherwise."
Gatsby laughed while Nick internally called bluff on Tom's statement.
"I traveled quite a bit myself, old sport!" Gatsby said. "I went to Europe, Africa, the West Indies, the Barbary Coast and so on! I collected a good amount of treasures and hunted mighty beasts."
"Bullshit. All of that is bullshit." Tom replied.
"Nono, it's all true, trust me, old sport."
"Don't you 'old sport' me."
"Apologies, old sport."
Nick gently elbowed Gatsby.
"Gatsby," He whispered. "You shouldn't be calling him 'old sport' any more."
Nick then turned to Tom with an embarrassed chuckle.
"I'm sorry about Gatsby. He really likes saying 'old sport' a lot."
"No kidding; it's getting annoying," Tom said.
"Anyway, Tom, how are you doing?"
"I'm doing fine. Is there any business that you're doing?"
"Bonds."
"With who?"
Nick gave his answer.
"Never heard of them."
"You will if you stay in the East."
Nick became agitated at Tom's response but Gatsby placed his hand on him. His gentle gaze calmed Nick down.
Shortly afterwards, a butler announced that dinner had been served. The men got up and went outside to sit on the porch where they had their meal. As the candles flickered, Nick still retained that nagging feeling about someone being missing and hesitantly enjoyed his meal.
"So, I want to ask you something but it might be quite sensitive... Is that alright with you?" Gatsby asked towards Tom.
"Go ahead."
"I heard that you had a wife who passed away a couple years ago. Do you still miss her by any chance?"
"I got over her." Tom responded nonchalantly. He didn't give much thought in his answer and Gatsby sensed it.
" What ?" Gatsby said, looking him dead in the eye.
"Gatsby, sometimes people move on from their loss quicker than expected. It's been three years since her death, so a reasonable enough time frame for Tom to be able to move on," Nick attempted to step in, seeing that an argument would soon break out.
"I know. I'd understand if he already moved on but he said it in such a way that it showed that he didn't care."
"I loved my wife!" Tom slammed the table, shaking the utensils. "I cared for her and I was upset when she passed away."
"Then was she willing to marry you?"
"Of course!"
"Are you sure? Are you sure that she agreed to the marriage? Are you sure that she wasn't FORCED!?" Gatsby had snapped at Tom, stood up aggressively and stared him down.
"Let me guess, what you said about her was a complete lie. You didn't love her, you didn't care for her and I strongly doubt that you shed a tear at her funeral."
"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DOUBTING MY LOVE FOR HER?! SHE WAS SO HAPPY WHEN WE GOT MARRIED!"
By now, unless there was any intervention, a fight between Gatsby and Tom became highly likely. Both men already clenched their fists, ready to throw the first punch at each other.
"Stop it you two! Let's change the subject, alright? You're all acting uncivilized." Nick stood at the side of the table, trying to get the others in control. He was panicking over the situation but tried to keep a cool face.
Tom sat down right away while Gatsby was still standing.
"...Will you mind if I be excused and go take a look around your place? See what you have and such." Gatsby requested in a calmer tone.
"I don't mind," Tom replied.
Gatsby went inside and Nick returned to his seat.
"Tom, I'm so sorry about Gatsby. I'll talk to him once we leave. In fact, if you want us to leave right away, tell me," Nick said, highly embarrassed over Gatsby's behavior. He didn't want to confront Tom over Ginevra, as that had become an off-limits topic and he didn't want to resume the fight.
"No, it's fine. It's not your fault. The worse you did was bringing Gatsby over. We can still talk over dinner."
"Good to hear."
Nick and Tom chatted some more as they dined.
"So, Nick, have you read this book by Goddard? It's called The Rise of the Coloured Empires ."
"Why, no."
"Well, you ought to. Civilization's rotting away and this fine book explains why. The idea is that if we don't look out, the white race will be utterly submerged. It's all scientific and it's been proven. It's all up to us, the dominant race, to watch for each other or else the other races will take over."
While Nick became uncomfortable from Tom's discussion but listened on to be polite, Gatsby explored the Georgian mansion. He found a case containing Tom's numerous medals that he'd won from his polo games and many eloquent rooms filled with adorned furniture and flashy wallpapers.
Continuing his tour, Gatsby stumbled upon a room at the end of a hallway. The door was partially opened and Gatsby knocked on it, taking a step inside.
Inside the room was a little girl sitting on the floor playing with toy cars. Her blonde hair was bobbed just above her chin and she wore a white dress with yellow accents.
Noticing Gatsby walking in, she glanced at him curiously.
"Hi, I'm Daisy!" She greeted him with a smile.
The illuminating innocence of the girl unearthed something within Gatsby.
An instinctive need to protect her at her costs.
It was something that he never felt towards anyone before, yet alone a child that he just met. But here he is, already making a promise to keep her safe.
He crouched down to her level, smiled and extended his hand towards her.
"Hello, Daisy, I'm Jay Gatsby."
Daisy giggled and shook his hand.
"Hi, Mr. Gatsby! Are you one of my daddy's friends?"
Daisy is
Tom's
Ginevra's daughter.
"Oh, I'm just a guest of his."
While they shook hands, Gatsby spotted some faint bruises on Daisy’s wrist.
"Hey, what is that on your arm?"
Daisy rolled up her sleeve and showed the bruises to Gatsby.
"Oh, that's from Daddy. He's really scary when he's mad. He yells and he sometimes hits me. But it's okay, he doesn't mean to and he apologies for it. That's what I get for having a big, hulking man as my daddy!"
Gatsby looked on in horror while Daisy shrugged it off with a series of giggles.
His protective instincts were justified.
Tom had been abusing this child for who knows how long. He couldn't let it go on for any longer.
He couldn't let Tom continue hurting Ginevra's child.
Placing his hands on Daisy's shoulders, Gatsby gazed into her eyes.
"Daisy, fathers should not be hitting their children. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Daisy couldn't help but glance away.
Gatsby then lets go of her, worried that he grasped her too harshly.
"I'm sorry if I held your shoulders too tightly. I didn't mean to."
"It's okay, it didn't hurt."
"Gatsby! It's time to go! Where are you?" Across the room, Nick had been calling out for Gatsby.
"I'm coming, old sport!"
Before getting up, Gatsby turned to Daisy.
"I'll have to go, Daisy. We'll see each other again soon."
"Goodbye, Mr. Gatsby!"
Gatsby waved goodbye as he left the room. Upon stepping out, he saw Nick wandering the hallway.
"Oh there you are, Gatsby," Nick spotted him. "Let's get going now."
"Very well, old sport."
As the two left Tom's house and entered Nick's car, Gatsby couldn't stop thinking about Daisy.
From her sweet, innocent smile to the bruises from Tom's abuse, Daisy had already made a lasting impact on Gatsby's mind.
He'll do anything for her wellbeing.