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It had been a freezing winter day, and as the sun began to sink towards the horizon, the world of West Egg slowly drowned in the cool waters of the night. Nick’s step quickened as the air started to nip his exposed nose. Stars swam around in the clear evening sky, gazing down upon him as sleek cars passed him by without a second glance. Why he hadn’t thought to bring a scarf was beyond himself, and he was thoroughly facing the consequences. The walk home had always been somewhat of an expedition, but as the air grew colder and colder as the light began to fade, he wondered why it had never been as torturous as it was then. The feeling in his fingers proceeded to fade as he shivered against the wind. The breeze rushed by in a hurry, and the leaves of trees reached towards him, whispering secrets to themselves in hushed tones. The world surrounding him was speaking, urging him to hear their wishes. For a moment, he almost forgot about the petrifying chill. The sound of a sleek tone broke his trance. “Old sport?” An all-too-familiar voice called. He turned to see none other than Jay Gatsby himself, sitting in his flashy yellow motorcar.
“Gatsby!” Nick called in response. “What are you doing in this part of town?” He raised his brows in surprise; he had never seen Gatsby on his way home from work before.
“Same thing as you, I suppose,” Gatsby remarked. “Heading home.” He paused for a moment, taking in Nick’s disheveled appearance. His hands were trembling, his face turning pink in the wind. It was freezing out, and Gatsby questioned how the man was able to trek as far as he did without the warm protection of a coat. “Say, would you care for a ride? I’d hate to have you walk all the way home in this weather.” Nick smiled at the offer, indefinitely cherishing Gatsby’s generosity.
“I’d appreciate that quite a bit.” He took in Gatsby’s soft grin–a smile that seemed far more real than the ones he presented at parties. It didn’t reach his eyes, but it had no need to. It was subtle and mellow, but natural. Nick seemed to sink into his gaze as he drowned in its warm waters. As he stepped into the passenger seat of the pretentious car, his foot slipped from beneath his stance and he reached out for support. To his dismay, the first thing he managed to grab ahold of was Gatsby’s shoulder. Gatsby caught Nick with elegance, his eyebrows raising in shock at the sudden turn of events.
“Are you alright there?” he asked with a soft chuckle. Nick flushed with embarrassment, regaining his balance as soon as he was able.
“Yes, yes, I’m just fine, thank you,” Nick replied in a panic. Gatsby didn’t remove his hand from Nick’s shoulder as he seated himself. The heat of his touch warmed his entire body, shielding him from the piercing frost. As the engine roared with life, Gatsby glanced over to Nick’s shivering form. He looked like hell, and Gatsby assumed it was for reasons other than the cold. Removing his hand from Nick’s shoulder for a moment, he shifted his grip on the steering wheel.
“Here,” Gatsby offered, slipping off his overcoat. “You seem to need it more than me. You always look so cool.” He tossed it to an unprepared Nick, who simply stared at him with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t appear to make a single coherent sentence.
“I…” He fumbled pathetically. “Thank you, Jay,” he managed. He carefully slipped the coat on and instantly felt warmth comparable to that of the sun radiate throughout his entire form. Hints of Gatsby’s cologne lingered in the air, a fresh citrusy scent that pierced through the crisp air.
“Of course, old sport.” Gatsby’s tone had shifted into something softer–something deeper. For an instant, their stares met. As Gatsby gazed into Nick’s sea green eyes, the world around them seemed to sink into something insignificant. Gatsby cleared his throat and ended the moment abruptly. The remainder of the ride was set in a comfortable silence.
***
The golden car pulled into the moon-soaked roadway leading to Gatsby’s house. There was a pause before anyone spoke; a shared reluctance to end the moment hung in the air. “Well, I suppose it’s my time to turn in for the night,” Nick began quietly. Gatsby’s hand slipped down from the steering wheel and rested on Nick’s thigh for an instant. His skin was cool to the touch as the wind flowed through his hair. Somehow, he was still shivering.
“Are you sure? You are welcome to stay for tea, if you’d like; it’s awfully cold out,” Gatsby urged, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The white light of the stars bathed the pair in smooth colors, adding to the crisp winter atmosphere.
“I’d like that very much,” Nick answered softly with a smile. Gatsby’s gaze shifted and his smirk deepened.
“Very well then, it’s settled.” The pair climbed out of the car and quickly hustled to the magnificent doors, the gravel path crunching beneath their feet. The wide doors opened, a cozy and welcoming air calling them in. Nick let out a relieved sigh as he allowed the warmth to encase his body. The house was largely empty, save for a few members of Gatsby’s housekeeping staff. Nick heard a soft chuckle escape Gatsby’s lips, and he couldn’t help but stare for just a beat too long.
“What?” Nick pressed sarcastically. “What’s the matter?” Gatsby shook his head with a grin.
“Nothing, old sport,” he laughed. “It’s just that–well, you seem so relieved. How long had you been wandering about in that cold before I came and rescued you?” Nick sighed, fighting the urge to smile as he stared deeply into the oceans that were Gatsby’s eyes. He found it increasingly effortless to slip into his gaze and become hopelessly lost.
“Oh, not long at all, maybe an hour or so?” Nick confessed casually. Gatsby’s brow creased in concern.
“You were out for that long with nothing–not even a scarf or a coat?” He fretted. Nick nodded slowly, not seeing the problem. Yes, he was cold, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t previously been exposed to. Living in Minnesota had taught him a thing or two about inclement weather. “I simply cannot allow my closest friend to be subject to such discomfort. Look at you! You’re still trembling!” Gatsby exclaimed dramatically. “Come now, I’ll send for some tea and get you a new set of clothes; one that isn’t freezing to the touch.”
“Really, I’m fine, I promise!” Nick said feebly in an attempt to assure Gatsby (sadly, to no avail.) Gatsby grabbed him by the shoulders, leading him through the vast corridors that led to countless rooms. Eventually, after venturing through a long, dark hallway lined with antique photos, they reached the library–one Nick recalled well. “Wow!” He gasped quietly despite himself. Gatsby smiled softly as Nick glanced around the room. The only thing that managed to capture Gatsby’s regard was the look of awe on Nick’s face. His eyes shone in a brilliant emerald color under the dim light. They were a beacon, guiding him through perilous seas. His gaze remained trained on Nick as he gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I thought we might start a fire as we wait for the tea,” Gatsby began. “I figured the library would be the perfect place to do so, considering I don’t use it much anymore.” Nick met his eyes for a moment, a bright eagerness radiating off his person. Gatsby let his stare drop to Nick’s soft lips. “But first, we must find you something warmer than your current attire. I’m positive I have plenty to spare,” he stammered, abruptly stepping away and removing his hand from Nick’s shoulder. He led Nick through the halls once more, this time to his very own bedchambers. He ruffled around in various closets and drawers until he found something suitable enough for Nick to wear. “Here you are, old sport!” He smiled as he handed Nick the clothes.
“Thank you, truly. I’m not sure how to make it up to you,” Nick muttered softly. Gatsby shook his head in response.
“Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all, really: I actually enjoy the company.” Nick offered a small smile at his reassurance. Gatsby left Nick to change and started the fire in the library. After changing, Nick stumbled about the halls, beginning to think he had gotten himself lost before physically running into Gatsby. “Oh…!” Gatsby exclaimed as Nick let out a soft grunt. “There you are. I was starting to think you had lost your way for a moment,” Gatsby chuckled. He held Nick by the shoulders for a beat before looping his arm through Nick’s. Gatsby gracefully guided him through the halls until they reached the extravagant doorway to the library. A mellow orange light poured out of the room, reaching out desperately to light the corridors. They sat down on the couch, a small gap separating their warming bodies. Nick noticed the way Gatsby leaned towards him, though he wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not. The fire was softly crackling in the background as they sipped on their tea. The orange glow radiated throughout the room.
Before long, Nick had finally warmed up enough to lay his head back and faintly shut his eyes. He allowed his aching form to relax, his head lolling to the side gently. As he shifted in his sleep, his head tipped enough to rest on Gatsby’s shoulder. Gatsby glanced over, his eyes softening at the rise and fall of Nick’s chest, like the gentle rocking of a ship at sea. His presence was comforting. He shifted Nick slightly so his full weight was slumped on Gatsby’s body. His head seemed to fit into the crook of his neck perfectly—two puzzle pieces that slipped into cohesive alignment. The fire cast flickering shadows upon the two, revealing depth and details hidden by the light of day. Gatsby gently brushed a strand of hair off Nick’s forehead with tentative fingers. He looked so… peaceful. He slowly stroked the back of Nick’s hand and took a hold of it, allowing the weight to calm his racing mind. This was the most at ease he had been in a while. Nick stirred in his sleep, muttering something to himself before burying his face deeper into Gatsby’s neck. Gatsby smiled fondly as he gently laid his head on Nick’s. He pressed a light kiss on Nick’s head. Not long after, the two fell fast asleep, warmed by the flickering embers of a fire slowly burning out.
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