He sat in the darkened room, numb and slightly sickened by the scene to which he had been an unwitting observer. Tears gathered at the back of his throat, but he swallowed them and roughly rubbed at his eyes with a closed fist. He would not cry. Not ever him. He wouldn't further the fucking drama that the whole damn thing was turning into. This was NOT how it was supposed to be.
Nick brought the half empty bottle to his lips and took a deep swallow of the smooth amber liquid. It burned all the way down his throat, but he barely acknowledged the sensation. He couldn't shake the feelings of betrayal. He was the one who belonged in that bed, in those arms, in that kiss.
As he drank more, he felt less. It was better that way. He didn't want to think about it.
A knock invaded the dullness surrounding his brain and he groaned inwardly. It was one of two people and he didn’t want to talk to, much less see, either of them. Maybe if he was quiet he would go away. Nick embraced the silence around him like he would another body.
The knock was repeated. "Ah know you're in there, Nick. Might as well open then door."
Shit. His headache intensified tenfold at the mere sound of the voice coming from the hallway. "Nick, it's me. We need to talk." He felt like a deer in headlights. Could he hide? But it wasn't like it was all going to go away in the morning.
"It's open." And in Brian came. Nick refused to let himself acknowledge his presence and, instead, continued to stare blankly at shadows.
"Nick." Brian sounded apologetic already. "I'm . . "
"Fuck you. AJ was drunk. End of story. He's with me."