Chapter Text
That had been, without a doubt, the shittiest day of his life and that included the time he got shot in the head in Bucharest.
He was freezing his ass off, bleeding all over the place and, on top of that, had managed to get lost in a damn park. Who got lost in a park?
Life fucking sucked. It sucked big, fat dick and Nigel was utterly fed up with it. The thing with Gabi and that little wimp Charlie had very nearly cost him his life. What good was love if it left you with a bullet to the head and nobody to warm your bed at night?
If anybody had told Nigel that he'd miss fucking Bucharest a month ago he would've laughed and then socked them in the face. Now, he wasn't so sure anymore. Coming to the US had been a spontaneous and undoubtedly stupid thing to do, but it meant he'd be far far away from Bucharest, Gabi, and the little fuckhead Charlie Countryman. It seemed like a good idea back at the time.
Who would have thought that it was so much more difficult getting by in the States? Everybody here thought they were big shit - Nigel included - and while he had the skills to back his claim up, he had no reputation to speak of. It had been a rookie mistake, but respect had been something he took for granted, not as something he had to earn first. After all, he had plenty of it back at home.
Here in California things were different. To put it bluntly: he was a nobody. And nobody gave a fuck if he could make a grown man shit his pants with a simple glare in damn Romania.
Hell, he hadn't even meant anything by it when he told the asshole who wouldn't stop staring at him in the club to suck his dick or get lost. As it turned out, people in Flintridge were less forgiving when it came to dick-related insults and Nigel had promptly earned himself a punch in the face that sent him and the girl on his lap tumbling down on the seedy floor.
It came as no surprise when it all ended with him being kicked out of the club, blood from half a dozen people dripping from his knuckles and his nose clogged up with his own. The assholes kicking him out hadn't even had the decency to throw his leather jacket after him as well, which had left him with neither his cash nor his ID. A shame, he had really liked those forged papers.
Fuck, he hated the States. And he especially hated this fucking park with its fucking trees and fucking noisy raccoons that were, well...fucking.
Nigel shivered, pulling his arms around his own torso to keep himself warm. Whoever had said California was mild in winter was a damn liar. Things like that wouldn't have happened in Bucharest, he lamented as he barged through the dark.
He roamed about until he stumbled upon a park bench half obscured by shadows, half illuminated by a single street lamp with the lights flickering in steady intervals, attracting a multitude of buzzing critters. He dropped down on it with a pained groan and none of his usual grace. Fuck, they got him good.
"Are you here to watch the stars as well?"
Nigel almost fell off the bench.
"What the fuck?" he spluttered and turned with a force that made his spine crack.
There was a boy sitting next to him, tightly curled up in a blanket and with a scarf around his neck, pulled right up to his nose. He sat on the far end of the bench, careful not to let the light from the street lamp reach him. From what Nigel could tell he had brown, neatly combed hair and bright eyes looking at a point somewhere above Nigel's own.
"You shouldn't curse like that," the boy reprimanded, his nose scrunched up in displeasure.
Nigel would've exploded into another violent rant if he weren't so surprised.
"You're also bleeding. That isn't good," he added in afterthought, before returning his attention to the sandwich in his hands.
"No shit, Sherlock."
Nigel tried to sound scathing and failed miserably, not in small parts due to the blood in his nostrils that made him sound like fucking Dumbo with a cold.
The boy blinked, brows furrowing a little.
"My name is not Sherlock."
Nigel, in the middle of wiping blood off his nose and onto his shirt, turned to stare at him. Was this kid for real?
"Smartass," he huffed and immediately regretted it when the motion sent another fresh wave of pain surging through his skull.
"My name is Adam," the boy provided little helpfully as Nigel cursed under his breath, still trying his hardest to get the damn bleeding under control.
"Good for you, Adam. Now if you'd just let me bleed out in peace?"
Nigel didn't need to look to know that the boy who had introduced himself as Adam was fidgeting next to him, picking little crumbs off his cheese sandwich.
"Look kid, I know it's fucking weird to have a guy covered in blood sitting next to you on a park bench in the middle of the night, but you either stop staring or you’re gonna fucking help. You got a tissue?"
Adam blinked, his long lashes fluttering, and his eyes widened in realization. A breathy little sound escaped his mouth that made the short hair on Nigel's arm stand up.
"Oh," Adam gasped. "I have a tissue."
"Hand it over then," Nigel scoffed, fed up with the way Adam avoided looking at him with pointed insistence. He knew he wasn't exactly a sight for sore eyes, but this guy was overdoing it.
To Nigel's honest surprise, Adam did hand him a handkerchief made from cotton and with the initials A.R. stitched into one of the corners. Nigel felt almost sorry when he pressed it to his nose, dyeing the pristine fabric red.
"Thanks," he mumbled under his breath.
Adam nodded and turned away a moment later, his gaze following a trail of stars high above them.
For a while, Nigel was content just sitting there, blood seeping into the handkerchief as he watched Adam out of the corners of his eyes. A young man in his late twenties probably, though dressed as if he were forty with his heavy winter coat and the horrible grandpa sweater peaking out from underneath it, with thick brown hair and lashes so long they cast a small shadow underneath his eyes.
"So, you often sit in a park all by yourself, looking at the stars and eating sandwiches, or..?"
"Yes."
Fuck him sideways, the kid sure as hell knew how to make one feel awkward. If Nigel hadn't be so amused by Adam's brutal honesty then he would've given him a piece of his mind for being so damn rude.
"Why?" he tried once more. This time, Adam deigned to look at him, his attention shifting from the star-studded sky to Nigel.
His nose twitched and his jaw clenched with how tightly he pressed his teeth together and Nigel couldn't suppress the grin tugging at his mouth. Adam looked downright scandalized.
"It's winter," he said as if that explained it all. "You can see Orion, Taurus, Auriga, Perseus, Cassiopeia, Gemini, and Canis Major. These constellations are rich with stars and star clusters. In January and February there are numerous stars visible: Capella, Castor and Pollux, Procyon, Sirius, Rigel, Aldebaran, and Betelgeuse. Orion is the feature constellation this time of year in both hemispheres, and it makes a good base to find other constellations. It's easy to imagine the silhouette of a hunter. There, above the little line of three stars in the belt are two stars marking his shoulders. His left shoulder is the bright orange-red star Betelgeuse. Below his belt are two feet; the right foot is the bright blue star Rigel. Hanging off his belt are three fainter stars. This is the Sword of Orion. The middle star of this sword is actually not a star. It's a nebula, a patch of glowing hydrogen gas where new stars are forming. You can see it when you use the 100-inch telescope at the Mount Wilson Observatory. That's where I work."
The boy stopped all of the sudden, his enthusiastic speech stumbling to a halt, and he returned his gaze to the stars above.
"I'm sorry. I talk too much when I get excited about things."
Well, that had been educational if nothing else. Nigel shook his head, intrigued more than put off, his eyes never leaving Adam's flushed face.
"You're a strange little fellow, aren't you?" he asked.
"People always say that. I don't think I am," Adam mumbled into his scarf.
"Nothing wrong with it, darling. Most people are idiots."
"I'm not though," Adam said with an assurance that left Nigel barking with laughter.
"No, you're not. You're clever as fuck, right?"
Adam didn't answer, but his full lips curled into a faint smile, and after a moment of hesitation he took one of his sandwiches and held it out to Nigel.
"Would you like to have one of my sandwiches? It's cheese. I don't like anything else."
Nigel took it, if only because he was too surprised to refuse.
"Thanks?"
He took a bite, the taste of cheese and bread mixing with the blood in his mouth. It wasn't too bad, Nigel had eaten worse stuff in his life.
"Name's Nigel, by the way."
"You sound strange, Nigel. You have an accent."
"Could have something to do with me being from fucking Romania. Bucharest to be precise."
Adam's eyes lit up, visible even in the dark and he leaned over to Nigel, the fluorescent light spilling over his flushed face.
"Did you ever visit the Admiral Vasile Urseanu Astronomical Observatory?"
Nigel stared at Adam, mouth full. "The what?"
"The Admiral Vasile Urseanu Astronomical Observatory. It's the only public observatory in Bucharest. The Equatorial Zeiss telescope, installed in 1910, is the main instrument of this observatory and it is still fully functional. However, it's used only during special events and sometimes on Saturdays. I'd really like to see it."
"Never fucking heard of it before."
"Oh..." Adam turned away, his shoulders slumped forward in obvious disappointment.
"You want to visit one day?" Nigel asked and Adam nodded, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. "I'll take you then. Pay you back for the sandwich and all that."
Adam didn't answer, too caught up in watching the stars, but the blush deepened and spread over the bridge of his nose as Nigel leaned back to join him in his silent observation.
He left Nigel an hour later, shuffling his feet as he wished Nigel a good night, all prim and proper despite the ridiculous sight he made with his blanket pulled around his shoulders and the scarf muffling his words.
"I have to go now," he explained. "Usually, I am alone when I eat my sandwiches and watch the stars, but it was alright with you. You don't interrupt me when I get excited about things."
Nigel swallowed the last bit of his sandwich and offered Adam a cheeky grin. "Glad all the blood didn't put a damper on our blossoming relationship, kiddo."
"It was a little irritating," Adam admitted. "You should wash the blood out off your clothes as soon as you get home. Blood stains can be very difficult to remove, because the hemoglobin in the blood acts as a binder when it hits the air and binds with the fibers in your clothing."
"First a cheese sandwich and now household tips on how to get blood out of my clothes. Strangest fucking picnic I've ever had," Nigel laughed and Adam returned the gesture with a shy smile of his own before turning away. He didn't look back as he made his way through the park, Nigel's eyes on his retreating form until he was swallowed by darkness and Nigel was left alone with his thoughts and swelling nose.
What a strange kid.
It was already too late when Nigel remembered the bloody handkerchief in his hand. He looked at it, at the drops of blood forming an unknown constellation and he couldn't help but wonder if Adam would've recognized it. He took it home with him, for the lack of any better ideas, back to his shitty one room apartment where he threw himself onto the unmade bed, laughing underneath his breath as he drifted off to sleep with the constellation of Orion dancing bright behind his closed eyelids.