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It was nearly dark by the time Julian got back to his apartment. He ached inside and out. For the first time in months, he felt truly alone. His eyes were blurred with tears and fatigue.
"Nick..." Julian raked his hands through his hair and stumbled towards the couch, and collapsed onto it. He wished he *was* drunk, totally pissed; too drunk to care. But he was sober. He hadn't had the energy to go to the bar.
Julian grabbed the phone and wondered briefly who to call. Then his fingers dialed a number, and he wasn't sure what number it was until he heard the voice on the other line.
"Hello?"
"Albert -" before Julian had even finished saying the name, it all came spilling out in a terrible rush that made his chest tighten and head spin. "Christ, Al... I went out with Nick and we were in Times Square and drinking coffee and then Nick starts asking me weird questions like what if we never got famous, you know? So then he says..." Julian took a deep gulp of breath and let it out in a quick sob. "He quit. He fucking threw it in!"
Albert was silent. Julian, over his panicked breaths, heard the sharp twang of the guitar. The familiar sound calmed him slightly. Albert was never angry, never frantic. Nothing ruffled him.
"Did he really mean it?" Albert asked softly. Something about the way his voice dropped made Julian wonder if he knew about Nick's idea already.
Julian sniffled wetly, hating himself for being such a pussy about it. All good bands dissolved at one point or another, usually with a spectacular display. A heated legal battle that twisted the hearts of fans all over the world. Maybe Julian would commit suicide by jumping off the top of the Empire State Building, sending thousands of girls (and guys) into a tear-streaked frenzy. Maybe Nikolai and Albert would die in a plane crash, and the whole world would flock to their funeral and Julian, Fab and Nick would go into hiding in the Andes Mountains. But not like this.
Not like this.
"Yes," Julian whispered, voice taut with pain. "He meant it."
"Then let him do it," Albert murmured, and strummed his guitar slowly. "You can't hold him back. It's his choice. I know you love him, Julian, but whether he's with us in the Strokes or not makes no difference. He's still Nick."
"That's exactly what he said." Julian was now certain Albert had known about this before the rest of them. He felt like throwing up. Whenever Nick had a problem, it was always Julian he turned to. But something had gone wrong, Julian had fucked up somehow... Nick was retreating. Something about this was so wrong.
"Well, then, that makes it especially true." Albert sighed, for the first time sounding grieved. "I don't want him to leave either, but there's something in him that's itching to go. It's not because he doesn't -"
"It's not because he doesn't love us, yeah, I've heard that," Julian retorted bitterly. "He said fame was making him run... but I just don't believe it. There's something else, I'm sure of it."
"Call him and ask."
"Maybe tomorrow," Julian said tiredly. "I think I just need to sleep."
"It's nearly 2 AM. When you wake up tomorrow, come over here, okay?" Albert asked gently.
"Fine... whatever you say. See you tomorrow, man."
- - - - - - - -
If Sunday was thirty degrees, Monday was thirty below zero. Julian's breath came out in thick clouds, lost in obscurity by the murky curtain of snow. Huge, fuzzy flakes marked trembling, timid paths in the air and landed on the grimy sidewalks and dissolved immediately.
There were few things Julian loved in the world more than snow, and at the rate it was falling, there was plenty to gather into snowballs and hurl at passing cars like he did when he was seven. When snow got muddied or was turned into slush by feet and tires, a layer of new whiteness covered it. Julian picked out the cleanest handful of snow he could find and packed it into a tight ball. He had no gloves, and soon his fingers were burning with cold and he had to drop the half-melted snowball and curl his frozen hands inside his warm coat pockets.
Despite the distraction the snow provided, Nick wasn't nearly the last thing on Julian's mind. He kept running words through his head ("I'll still be here when you need me, I just won't be a part of the Strokes anymore"), unable to forget. The hurt, helpless blue eyes haunted him. He kicked a chunk of ice dejectedly. Nick had never been the opinionated one, and the decisions he'd made weren't momentous ones - even the decision to drop college and take up music hadn't seemed like much. But this...
Couldn't he have at least *talked* to Julian before making up his mind?
But he hadn't, Julian reminded himself. Which meant he felt guilty about his decision. That, fortunately, would make it easier for him to persuade Nick to change his mind and stay. But Julian had no idea *how* to go about this; begging would only irritate him, and it wasn't Julian's thing anyway. Money wouldn't work. Who paid off their friends, anyway? It was a band, not the Mafia. Maybe if he offered more reign in the songwriting? Julian could have certainly used a break. Now there was a thought; a good start. Now he only had to think of a REAL good reason to stay, and rely on his lost-puppy look and surprisingly persuasive whine to do the rest.
He nearly got lost on the way to Nick's apartment. This surprised him, as he had been walking back and forth from his own apartment to Nick's, almost every day, for the past few years. Maybe it was his subconscious at work. A bad omen. Julian pinched himself. What an idiot he was.
Julian found that he didn't require any part of his brain to climb the three flights of stairs that brought him to Nick and Fab's apartment. He also found that his brain was completely out of commission as he walked down the hall, stopped in front of their door, and knocked loudly.
Nick came to the door, shirtless and haggard. His curly hair was mussed and hung in his face. When his eyes met Julian's, he recoiled slightly, but his face betrayed how much he wanted to grab Julian into a hug and never let go.
"Hi Nicky." Julian leaned against the doorframe and smiled a little, trying to keep his voice gentle. Tentatively, Nick smiled back.
"Come on." Nick stepped back, away from the door. Julian could smell eggs - he must have been making breakfast. He strolled in and leaned against the wall, watching Nick with curious eyes. The two of them were silent, facing each other, when Nick shifted a little, uncomfortably.
"I was worried you hated me," he whispered, sounding ashamed.
Julian's heart jumped, and he suddenly grabbed Nick and pulled him into a crushing, desperate hug. Nick stiffened momentarily in shock, but relaxed and buried his face in Julian's neck. His warmth, his scent, the softness and harshness of his skin and the muscle beneath it.
Nick's eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into Julian's embrace. "I missed being with you every minute. I missed your potty mouth. Hell... I even missed those fag cigarettes you smoke. I'm gonna miss it even more when I'm gone for real."
Julian slumped, but his arms tightened around Nick. His earlier resolve to persuade Nick was gone; the longer he made him stay, the more it would hurt when he finally did leave. He just wanted to hold the skinny little kind with a guitarist's long fingers and a saint's heart in his arms forever.
"What if you stayed... just for a while... and we kept out of the eye of the public?" Julian knew he *was* begging, just like he had vowed not to do, but there was no other way. His heart was breaking.
"Julian, I'd..." Nick started to say "I'd do anything for you", but stopped himself. The way Julian was holding him, as if he'd die if Nick stepped out of the circle of his arms... God, it just made him want to give himself to Julian, knock down all theose bullshit pretenses, see the Julian Casablancas who hid behind half-lidded dark eyes and a sexy come-hither smile.
Nick didn't *want* to leave the Strokes. He didn't want to let down all his closest friends, and he certainly didn't want to let down Julian. But the thing was Nick had sat on the couch, playing cards with Fab or trying to sleep, for too many nights while Julian got a cheap thrill from a willing fan. The girls would scream and the boys would moan, and Nick would try to hide his head under the pillow without making it too much like he was trying to hide from the sound that was breaking his heart. Julian's promiscuity became like a joke between the five of them, though Nick was not amused. Julian played up the part of the sexy, self-absorbed lead singer until that was what he actually became. And Nick was still in love with the chubby-cheeked rule breaker he met in high school, the one who had no image to uphold and was perfectly happy just pissing off authority and being himself. The one who found solace in loud, brash music, who could sing along to all the Lou Reed songs (even before his voice started to change). The one who loved life, but not people, and hadn't yet tasted the forbidden fruit of fame and glamour. Julian had always been hardworking, but only if what he was striving towards was something that benefited him. Selfish, yeah, but human.
"Nick?" Julian's voice came out broken and helpless.
"Julian."
In the dark shadows of the tiny hallway, Nick pulled Julian closer. He never intended to let go.
"I wish you'd just wait and try to work this out with us - we'd do anything to keep you," Julian said softly. His words were hopeful but his voice was pained. "I'd do anything to keep you here."
Julian... Would you drop everything just to hold me like this? Would you find room in your confused heart for me? Could you tell me you loved me and always mean it? Take me away, Julian; take me away from all this shit. Love me back, or I'll die...
Nick couldn't say anything. He was afraid he might slip up and let one of these silent pleads fall from his lips. He kept his face buried in the crook of Julian's shoulder, where it was so warm and felt so right. Nick could feel Julian's chest vibrate when he talked. It made him want to melt.
When Julian took Nick's silence as a blatant no, he tried to make himself give up. He tried to ignore the fact that he couldn't go on without Nick. He nearly jumped as Nick spoke again.
"I'll stay," Nick said, deadpan. Julian blinked once or twice as this registered.
"You'll... you will?"
"Yeah."
There was something unreadable in Nick's voice that bothered Julian, but he said nothing of it. "You'll stay? For *real*?!" he exclaimed.
"For real," Nick said, a slow smile spreading over his face. "I want... I want to be with you."
With a whoop, Julian picked his bandmate up in his arms and swung him around. "Fuck! I thought I had lost you for good!"
Nick laughed, but inside he was torn up and crying.