strange dream .

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Freya is wrapped up in her cocoon with no desire to move. She hopes neither of them stir the pot again, because she doesn't even think she has the strength to raise her voice let alone storm out of another room. At the beginning of the school year both she, Nick and Naila contracted the flu. Her illness seemed to drag on longer than her counter parts, as Naila flew around singing while Freya withered in her bed. Nick was a big help then, even while he was also dying with the flu. This hangover felt worse than that because she wasn't fighting the flu but she was fighting her teammate. His weight at her feet make her more cozy, especially as he takes her legs. He asks how she is and she quirks her brow, passing on a look that's says, 'pretty shit'. She fixes her eyes back on the television but smiles, "it was just so boring." He's bringing it up again and she's trapped with no motivation to move away. Good old Nick, trying to get down to the route of it. Freya doesn't fight it, "sorry for being cranky.... And for not being the easiest person to understand." She kicks a leg up, a sleepy attempt to show a little liveliness and affection. "We have a good thing and it'd suck if we ruined it."

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Nick settles back down into the couch and it’s like he has deja vu. Wasn’t this how it all started last night? Thankfully the looming presence of twin hangovers makes any repeat performances unlikely, so he tries to relax. He knows he’ll have to leave soon to see his friend, but then August has yet to reply and is probably grabbing a few hours of sleep. It was the morning, after all. Briefly wondering how he would be managing to make it to early college classes when the two of them were so used to just heading to bed when most people got up, he’s stirred from his thoughts by her reply. “You have no taste,” he says, meaning it. Whilst they were a good double act most of the time, they disagreed about a lot of things that didn’t really matter - where to go for dinner, what to watch on TV, whether Naila was a Gryffindor or not. Nick had long suspected this was a form of negging from Freya, who enjoyed sparring a whole lot more than he did. He nods along with her apology, not so much in agreement as simple acknowledgment. “It’s not your fault your brain isn’t working,” he said, smiling at her as he took the opportunity to swipe the TV controller from her hand. He flicks it on. “Yeah. No need to make it messy... right?”

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"Excuse you," she retorts and rolls onto her back so she can look at him properly. Nick looks fresher than she does, like he's skipped the wreckage of the hangover. She wonders if not drinking has made her more susceptible to the effects of alcohol when she does drink it. He's definitely easier to look at than he was an hour ago when she was running away from him and avoiding looking at him. When she finds herself admiring him a little too much, she has to turn back to the television.  "Uhm. Actually it's your fault," she's playing and lifts her foot to poke him in the side. "Come to California, Freya. Just us, it'll be fun! Let's pretend to be couple, let me cuddle you and play Sam Smith and give you goo-goo eyes," she raises her eyebrow and smirks, "your fault." She makes a feeble attempt to steal the controller back, lifting herself a little off the couch before collapsing onto the pillows. She shrugs, "I think it's a little late."

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The shower was transformative, turning Nick from a sluggish wreck to... a sluggish bro. He scratched at his stubble again, wondering whether or not he should shave the moustache today. Inevitably August would show up with one drawn on, a clownish version that he’d be brazen enough to draw in Sharpie. Would it be any less funny if Nick showed up clean shaven? It would lessen the joke for sure, but just as he decided to do it, he remembered one key detail: Freya loved the tache. Glancing at her lazing next to him, he decided he’d let it live another day. He grins at her nudging him, wincing in an exaggerated manner. “Are you saying it hasn’t been fun?” he asked, grinning at her as he pulled the towel away from his neck to chuck it on the floor. “I didn’t give you goo-goo eyes, that’s just my eyes. It’s a serious condition and I’d appreciate you not making light of it.” He holds the controller away from her, still flicking through the channels. He’s passed a thousand things she’d hate, cartoons of course but even worse, politics. He thinks about settling on a news channel to punish her but decides against it. Not looking at her, he shrugs too. “Let’s just let bygones be bygones.”

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She frowns at him, "It's as if you weren't woken up by me puking." She laughs at him and kicks out, pretending to be offended. "Way to make me seen like any other New York girl." She watches the channels as they flick, they slow down on a news channel and she almost makes the full effort to lurch forward and tickle him for the remote. But it's really out of her range athletically right now. He looks away and shrugs, an action that she probably over thinks as she wonders if it was intentional. She thinks for a moment, her blue eyes lifting and setting on him. "Do you really think that?"

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"I can't imagine a better way to start my day," he says, though he feels sorry for her in her rough state. She never had been much of a drinker. "I'm sorry, what's your problem with the other New York girls? I'm a big fan of them, myself." Finally he settles on an old rerun of Friends, a show he believed to be deeply overrated but at least inoffensive. The canned laughter rings around the room as Joey says something stereotypically Ross-ish and Chandler calls him on it. Were he and his friends this predictable? When would he stop seeing parallels between himself and fictional characters? Mentally deciding he was definitely more Joey than anyone else, he's stirred from his thoughts by her question. He hadn't meant it as a definitive ruling but it's clear that she's taking it seriously. He thinks for a moment before speaking. "What's the alternative?"

voer

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She laughs at this and isn't able to help bringing up his serial dating, "you're a big fan of any girl." She knows he's put on Friends before she glances at the television. Are you not a person until you've watched Friends? She swears she knows no one who has not seen it. And although she hates it, she has seen every episode because it's on Netflix. There's a long lull of silence between his question and her answer. She's too dead inside to panic but she takes a deep breathe anyway, "you know I love you and I like you. I don't think I'm mentally ready though." Admitting fragility takes it's toll on Freya, she's usually try to prove she's not. "Maybe one day."

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He feels a twinge of irritation at the accusation, lighthearted though it is. It was something that he got defensive about, especially lately - perhaps it was how he'd felt about Elena, or the complication of how his relationship with Corinne had developed, but something had changed and he no longer felt very amused by the accusations of womanising. It made him feel like a fuckboy, and whilst he dressed like one, he felt he was very much the opposite. What she says makes his stomach churn... he hadn't really realized what was on the table, and so hadn't had a chance to process it. There's a flash of panic on his face at what she says, though he looks back at the screen, pretending nothing had happened. "Like I said, let bygones be bygones. I don't really want to talk about it anymore."

voer

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She's a bit shocked and a little embarrassed by his reaction. Her cheeks twinge rouge and her forehead creases with concern over it. But ultimately she leaves it and isn't going to push it, because you can lead a horse to water but you definitely can't make him drink. She instead pretends to take it light heartedly, her bare foot giving him a playful nudge. "Go pull August out of bed and have a better day. I'm going to pass out any minute."

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He's so childlike he'd be embarrassed if he could see himself. Accused of being one thing, he decided to shun that trait altogether, trying to prove some sort of point. She'd called him a serial dater, so here he was being emotionally distant, as if this one example were enough for him to shake off the title. He can feel the energy change between them, first his decided coolness and now her forced attempt at pretending she hadn't noticed it. He doesn't know what's come over him but something definitely has, he feels like he's being patronized in some way, though he can't say how. "He'll still be sleeping, he hasn't texted me back. You can nap, though."

voer

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Freya nods, "okay," and her legs retract from his to curl up to her chest like a cat. This is fair, she supposes. As she accepted and rejected him all in the same sentence, she gave him very little wiggle room. What would she have said back in his position? Probably very little as well, maybe she would have scowled at the television just as he was doing. Freya doesn't close her eyes. Her mind is too busy for sleep but too tired for much else. She stares at the screen, hating the friendship between the characters. Real people weren't like this and these characters weren't relatable whatsoever.

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As she recoils from him a pang of guilt spreads across his chest. Nick isn't a cruel person, and up until this weekend, Freya had been someone he had worked hard to protect. He didn't want her to feel bad, he didn't want anything to change between them. God, he wished he could undo it all. There's a tense silence between them and it fills him with dread. Was this what it was going to be like now? He can't stand it. Unable to bear it, he broke the silence. "C'mere," he said, stretching out so that he was next to her, his frame almost pushing her to the floor. he adjusted himself so that he was lying down, pulling her on top of him, putting an arm around her and giving her a squeeze. "I love you, don't be sad."

voer

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To be so distant felt very unlike Nick. This was a side she hadn't seen, but of course you can know someone for years and not know every angle, though you think you do. This was just a fresh side, just as last night was. The screen is filled with colourful blurs, she's too lost to focus on the characters. But everything becomes more cozy a Nick smooshes his large frame between her and the couch. She smiles a little, the ice feels like it's thawing bit by bit. "I'm okay, honestly," and she mostly is. Her arm holds his and she shrugs into his frame. "You win some, you lose some. Just don't move too much or I'll vomit."

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He's unsure what to say to her. This whole thing has felt led by her, and he's grateful for that - the guilt he'd have felt if he had been the one to lead them down this sorry road would be immense, though that wasn't to say that he thought she shouldn't have. Nick valued harmony above all else, a trait that sometimes annoyed his friends, since he would pretend things were ok so stubbornly that eventually they'd have to play along. He didn't want to play that game with Freya, but he was worried about saying the wrong thing. Still cradling her in one arm, he held three fingers up with his other hand. "Scouts honor, I'll stay as still as I can." Of course Nick was a boy scout. He paused, deciding what to say. He and Freya had always been honest with each other, so that's what he decided on, not wanting that to change. "Freya.. it's not that I don't want to date you. It's just annoying that you'd assume I do without asking."

voer

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"Oh Nick," she says for what feels like the millionth time. It suddenly makes more sense, she's misinterpreted and word vomited. She shakes her head, "I didn't mean it like that." She feels more stupid now, but she's unsure how to clarify what she did mean. "I really didn't assume you'd want to date me.. honestly, the opposite!" She's struggling. How do you make words make sense? "I didn't know how to say it.. like how to say how I felt. Of course I don't think you'd jump to date me. I just suck at words."