26
Throwing himself into work after spending the weekend sulking had been reasonably easy for Nolan up until lunchtime on Friday.
Then he’d had to awkwardly explain that he wasn’t going to the sanctuary today to everyone he worked with, individually, because they all asked.
Nolan hadn’t realized they even noticed he was gone. He didn’t think anyone really cared.
He’d done enough work over the past week to last for six months, taking it home and continuing until he almost passed out and dreaming of server rooms full of sharp teeth instead of his bed, soft laughter, and a warm touch. Nightmares about work were much better than dreams about Finn.
In every moment he didn’t fill with another thought, his brain helpfully replayed Finn walking away from him, disappearing into the rain rather than spending another moment with Nolan.
He wished he’d been able to do something. Say something.
Find the right words to respond to Finn telling him he loved him.
It only occurred to him when he heard it that it was the first time for that, too. That no one had ever loved him before, at least not enough to say it.
Not even his parents. They’d either been proud or disappointed. He couldn’t remember them ever talking in terms of love.
But Finn had. Gorgeous, kind Finn, who Nolan knew didn’t have the capacity to lie to someone the way he’d accused him.
This was Gavin’s fault, but it was also Nolan’s fault. His fault for not dismissing Gavin outright, for not seeing this as yet another attempt to take something away from Nolan.
Hell, not even an attempt. A complete success. As always, Gavin had gotten exactly what he wanted, and Nolan was left to suffer over it.
Like Finn said, he was a mean, bitter bully. And one day Nolan would have so little faith in people that he’d become just like him. Gavin would find ways to steal all his happiness away.
Which was probably exactly what Gavin wanted. He’d always encouraged Nolan to be tougher with the people he managed.
Nolan had never wanted to be, though. He’d wanted them to have time off for birthdays and weddings and to feel like they could go home if they were sick, because work might have been all he had, and all Gavin had, but that wasn’t true of everyone.
Other people had families and loved ones and rich, full lives that they went back to when they left here.
And for a brief few weeks, Nolan had that, too.
And now he was still at work when everyone else had gone home because he couldn’t face an empty apartment. Not when it hadn’t been empty on a Friday night for weeks.
His phone vibrated just as he finished that thought, making him jump.
Finn?
No. Ezra.
Nolan’s stomach knotted up. What if something had happened to Finn?
He’d never forgive himself. Not if it meant Finn never knew how much he’d really meant to Nolan, how sorry he was about everything he’d said, how it was all out of fear that no one would ever love him, and that wasn’t an excuse, but it was a reason and he promised he’d do better in the future if they could just stay friends.
Nolan’s hand shook as he opened the message, a sigh of relief escaping him when he saw a picture of Ollie gnawing on one of the nutritional biscuits that smelled strongly of shrimp that Finn had been giving to him.
He looked like he was doing a lot better.
He missed you today, Ezra’s text read.
He was probably Ollie, but Nolan couldn’t help thinking of someone else.
Did Finn miss him? Nolan wasn’t sure whether he hoped he did or didn’t. On the one hand, he didn’t want Finn to be as upset as he was over this.
On the other hand…
We all did, came another text.
Tears Nolan hadn’t cried yet burst forward, a desperate sob escaping him as the dam broke and the weight of everything he’d lost finally hit all at once.
Not just Finn, but the family he’d been accepted into at the sanctuary. He’d been so goddamn happy there, but without Finn, that was gone, too.
And Finn. Finn was gone. And tomorrow morning Nolan would wake up without him, and run his hand over the empty spot where he should have been, and miss him.
Nolan folded his arms on his desk and let his head fall into them, gasping and sobbing as all the loss and sadness and anger—at Gavin, at himself—spilled over, his body shaking with each shuddering breath.
It felt like hours before he was done, his throat sore and his eyes red and stinging. The sleeves of his shirt were soaked with tears, and his brain was pounding in his skull.
Everything hurt.
And no amount of crying could fix what he’d done, either. There was no point in crying.
Finally ready to pull himself together, Nolan went back to the text Ezra had sent and considered his response.
I missed you too, he sent.
All of you, he added.
Please tell Finn I’m sorry, he finished, stomach knotting up at the thought of how badly he’d hurt him. He knew he’d said exactly the wrong thing.
Hell, he’d known he was saying it while he was saying it, but Gavin had gotten into his head.
He’d let Gavin get into his head.
I’ll pass it on, but you gotta tell him yourself, Ezra texted back.
Which was true. Finn deserved an apology regardless of whether or not he was likely to forgive Nolan.
Nolan even knew exactly what that apology needed to look like. He knew what would make this right—or at least, what had the best chance of making it right.
All he had to do now was work up the courage to go through with it.