Chapter Text
April, 1942.
It was a clear, silent night in Stanford, California, where hardly a rustle of wind tousled the leaves of the tallest trees. A sea of stars shone from overhead as late-night strollers made their way home from the bars in the middle of town, the scent of whiskey on their breaths and staggers in their steps. An occasional car came rolling down the streets, but there was no one else traipsing on the sidewalks to witness its passing.
The University, usually full of life on the weekends, was quiet. Only one window on the male's dormitory building had golden light leaking out of its panes. The rest remained dark and dead to the world.
The grainy music from a gramophone permeated the modest room, filling every crevice with its heavy richness. Within the room, a slight, dark-haired man lounged on his bed, poring over a textbook of modern law and ethics.
He drummed his pale fingertips on the page in boredom before pausing to push the frames of his glasses up the bridge of his freckled nose, his brown eyes distracted. With a defeated sigh, he closed the book and removed his glasses, using his thumb and forefinger to rub his tired eyes, heavy with frustration and impatience. Over the smooth notes of Al Bowlly and Ray Noble that he used to distract himself, he could hear a woman shriek from pleasure in the other room.
He clenched his eyes shut in disgust and, instead, tried to focus on something else rather than what was occurring on the other side of his door. He wished he could envelop himself in the music streaming from his gramophone, but it was impossible. Even more so, he wished to regain the innocence and ignorance of his roommate's overt activities.
His concentration depleted and his brain fuzzy, he decided to take a much-needed rest from his studies. He reached for a cigarette in the pocket of his coat, which was hanging over a knobbed bedpost of polished, chestnut wood. He sighed uncomfortably and, with a shudder, he approached his window and opened it, letting the cool night breeze rustle through his dark hair and chill his skin. He struck a match and lit the cigarette hanging from his mouth, taking a long drag and exhaling his stress and the minutiae of his mundanity.
Finals were a nightmare, but there he stood above the rest, victorious—a champion. He battled through the countless tests and essays with deprivation of sleep and many cups of coffee as his weapons, and he conquered them all. Well, he liked to think he did. He was modest when the subject was discussed, but he spent hours upon hours studying in the library. He knew he did well, despite his roommate constantly distracting him and encouraging him to loosen up. While it was true that he practically lived in the piles of books, it was only so he would get a decent grade. Any grade below an A- was unacceptable in the di Angelo household. He knew what they said: all parental disappointment ended with a law degree, but, in his case, he was not sure if it was true.
Since his freshman year began, Nico found that his friends would often interrupt his plans to study or to stay in and read, greatly to his dismay. There was his roommate, Leo, who had a girl over every other night, and there was Jason, who sometimes acted more like his mother than a friend.
Despite having close friends, he felt alone. His roommate tried to set him up with girls—constantly, it seemed, but he always refused. He used the front that he didn't have time for dating, but he knew otherwise that he had spare time during his days off of school. He had loneliness tailing him like a starved, stray dog, and he did not know how to appease it.
Suddenly, the noises ceased from the other room, and he sighed in relief, putting out his cigarette butt in the ashtray that sat on the windowsill. The music faded and the only sounds that remained in the room were the record spinning and the slight breeze whispering in the night, accompanied by the rhythmic chirping of crickets in the grass, painted silver beneath the brilliant moonlight.
After he heard the door to the main corridor close, he decided to settle back into bed and catch up on the sleep he had sacrificed for studying. He pulled the heavy blanket aside, sat on his bed, and swung his legs onto the plushy mattress, hoping that sleep would beget tolerance the next morning.
He folded his glasses and placed them on his nightstand, preparing for rest, but as he reached to flick off the lamp beside him, he heard a knock on his door. A groan came from his lips as he sat up in his bed. The door swung open, and he raised an annoyed eyebrow at the other man who stood in the doorway, whose face was adorned with a goofy smile.
"You should've seen her, man," the curly-haired man began to boast. "Total dame. She was all over me."
"I'm sure," Nico responded with a resigned tone, replacing the glasses on his face so he could see properly. Despite not looking at him, he could feel Leo's censuring gaze from across the room.
"C'mon, Nico, you gotta go and do something," Leo said. "Finals are over, so you have no excuse to be a hermit anymore."
"Leo," Nico sighed. "I'm tired."
"Louise invited me to a party," he ignored him, referring to the blonde girl that just left. "You can be my plus one. It's better than moping around here. You're going to go mad from seclusion, and where will that leave me?"
Nico chose to ignore his melodramatic nature, a skill which he had refined extensively since they'd been introduced the September before.
"Send her my best wishes," Nico grumbled, clenching his blanket in his fists and beginning to lie back down.
"Nico," he sighed. "Seriously, is there something wrong?"
"Yes," Nico replied. "There is an annoying person standing in my doorway, wasting the few hours I have to sleep."
Leo cast him a sarcastic look. "Very funny. So, it's either you come to the party with me, or I stand here and continue to waste the few, very precious hours of your sleep."
Nico stared him down with the dark, intimidating glower that he inherited from his father, but the other didn't flinch. He must've developed some resilience during the past year they had roomed together. He growled and stood from his bed, not feeling in the mood to argue with him. Leo was an extremely stubborn person. He gave even his sister a run for her money.
Leo gave a victorious grin (that grin was usually reserved for when he was able to get Nico to do something for him) before he beckoned Nico to follow him. Nico pulled his coat over his shoulders and pocketed some extra matches and a pack of cigarettes. He would need them, he thought.
He abhorred going to parties with Leo because he knew he was going to have to spend the entire night following him around, primarily because he knew no one else and to keep him from doing something reckless and stupid.
As the two walked down the sidewalk in silence, heading for the party Leo was excited about, Nico felt a strong feeling of foreboding. Usually, when Leo was excited about something, he was in danger either of potentially getting arrested or puked on. He hadn't experienced the former, but he still considered the possibility.
Eventually, they stood before a two-story house that reeked of sweat and booze. He could hear a muffled Andrews Sisters song playing, despite that he was standing on the sidewalk. Normally, he would stroll right on by, but, now, he had his roommate as an anchor. He raised an eyebrow and turned to his friend, unimpressed.
"A fraternity party? Seriously, Leo, the cops are gonna show and we're gonna get arrested," admonished Nico.
The curly-headed man waved it off, instead beckoning him to follow him. Resignedly, Nico huffed. He knew he was going to regret his decision of joining him rather than walking away and spending a quiet evening at home. Any forming plans to abscond flew out the window as he anchored his hands in his pockets and followed him into the house.
* * * * * *
Nico held his glass to his lips, surveying the crowded room for his friend, who had gone missing as soon as they came through the door. His mind was swimming and his eyes were glazed over with inebriation, the heady taste of alcohol lingering on his tongue. He should have known he would drink too much; he always did. He always found himself by the keg with a cup full of beer and a desire for more once he drained his glass. He figured he would be more careful next time, but that was what he told himself the last time, and the time before that.
The crowd of dancing people blurred past him as he moved his way through the sea of elbows. Knowing his roommate, he figured that he had found a girl and was kissing her on one of the couches that was pushed aside. All the furniture was pushed against the wall so the floor was clear and people could dance to the lively music. He thought he would find him there.
He tried to move toward the other side of the room to search for him, only seeing blurry figures of people and empty seats. He shouted his roommate's name, but his voice was drowned out in the blaring music and unintelligible chatter. He wondered how none of the neighbors had complained about the noise yet as he made his way out of the crowd. Now that there was no one shoving him upright, he felt himself stagger and lose his balance, but he caught himself on something before he was sent plummeting to the floor. Rather, he thought he caught himself.
He looked up at the person who held him upright, his vision liquid. He could see a blurry image of styled raven hair and tanned skin before his vision cleared slightly, and he beheld a pair of green eyes staring down at him like his drunken state was amusing to him.
"Whoa, there," joked the stranger with a playful grin, loudly enough so the inebriated boy could hear him. "Don't fall. How much have you had to drink?"
"I dunno," Nico slurred, and it was true. He lost track after his third glass, or maybe fourth.
The man smiled and rolled his eyes knowingly as he tried to help him back onto his feet. He said something else, but his words were unintelligible, drowned by his daze of drunkenness, like everything else had. The sounds of bright music and clustered chatter were irritatingly subdued, and he tried to shake the fuzziness away from his mind, to no avail.
The stranger waited for a response, but he only received the boy's unfocused gaze. God, his head was swimming. Where was Leo, anyway? As he rubbed his head as if it would chase away his stupor, he felt a retch in his stomach. The stranger gave him a concerned look. Realizing what was happening, Nico covered his mouth before he felt the acidic bile ascend his throat and stream out onto the stranger's shoes and the hardwood flooring around them.
The taller man let out a noise of disgust, before trying to mask it with a sympathetic and reassuring smile. He wrapped an arm around his back to help him walk steadily out the door.
"C'mon, let's get you out of here," he said as they moved through the forest of dancing people, careless elbows swinging and excited legs kicking.
Nico accommodated him, placing his hand on his shoulder, and leaned against the warm body. He felt the rough fabric of the stranger's tweed jacket through his clothes, allowing him to escort him outside. He thought the fresh air would shake his delirious state, but his vision blurred further instead. He closed his eyes and shook his head so he could rid himself of his daze. Then, his subconscious gave in and he fell limp in the stranger's arms.