Waste All My Time Just Thinking of You, Part Two

[amberdowny]

Part One

A bubble popped inches from Nick’s nose as he spun in a slow circle, looking around the park trying to find Joe. Over to his right, three kids chased each other with bubble wands in hand. To his left, an elderly couple sat on a bench sharing the morning’s newspaper. Behind him was the park entrance, and in front of him was the playground. Joe was nowhere to be found.

And yet, still on the screen when Nick looked down at it again, the text from Joe clearly read i c u :-P

Growling in frustration, Nick slid the plastic bag holding a plastic container of potato salad and two cans of soda from his hand to his wrist and then texted Joe asking where he was. A moment later, Nick heard his name and he looked up again to spot Joe waving at him from the top of an elaborate set of monkey bars.

It wasn’t surprising that Nick had missed him on his first glance around the park. A black beanie covered his curls, and he was wearing glasses. But rather than making him look dorky, the glasses looked good on him. Actually, Nick mused, Joe just looked good in general. In addition to the beanie and glasses, Joe wore a tight, black, long-sleeved henley shirt, a couple necklaces, and tight dark jeans.

Nick shook his head and made his way over to the base of the monkey bars, then looked up at the other boy. “Are you coming down?” he called up to Joe.

“You could always come up here,” Joe suggested.

Nick looked at the brightly painted metal doubtfully. “I could, but it might be a little hard to eat up there.”

Joe laughed. “Maybe you’re right. Here, stand back.”

Nick took a step back as Joe leaned down, holding the top of the bars with one hand, and dropped an honest to god picnic basket on the ground. Then, rather than climb down like Nick expected him to, Joe leapt from the top of the monkey bars, landing neatly in front of Nick, bending his knees to cushion his fall. He scooped up the picnic basket and grinned brightly.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Nick replied wryly. “Were you trying to give me a heart attack or what?”

Joe shook his head. “Nah, where would the fun be in that? Then I’d have to bring you to the hospital instead of on a picnic.”

“Speaking of,” Nick said. “Why do you even have a picnic basket?”

Joe shrugged. “I saw it at a thrift store for like a dollar, so I figured why not, it might come in handy someday. And now it has.” He opened up one side of the top. “Wanna put your stuff in here? There’s plenty of room, this thing is huge.”

Nick removed the potato salad and cans of soda from the bag and set them carefully on top of a bag of baby carrots in the basket, before tucking the plastic bag on top (maybe they’d need it for trash later) and closing the basket back up. “So where are we picnicking?”

Joe shrugged again. “Wanna just walk around until we find a place we feel like sitting?”

Nick nodded. “Sure, sounds good.” They headed off, passing the couple on the bench before either of them spoke again.

“So have you thought any more about starting that band?” Joe asked.

Nick looked at him, startled. “You remember me mentioning that?”

“Well, why wouldn’t I? It was only a couple weeks ago. Besides, I think of you and music is the first thing to come into my head.”

Nick fought down a grin at hearing that. “Oh, well then, in that case. Uh, I actually mentioned it to my parents last week, just as a ‘what would you think, hypothetically’ kind of question.”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “And what did they hypothetically think?”

Nick scowled, remembering the argument that that conversation had turned into. “My dad told me that I didn’t need anything else to be responsible for right now.”

“You know,” Joe ventured, “you do have kind of a lot going on right now. I mean, with all the extra schoolwork, and all the music lessons and everything.”

“And diabetes. Can’t forget that,” Nick grumbled.

Joe nodded hesitantly. “That’s true too. So maybe your dad was right?”

Nick glared at Joe. “Whose side are you on?” he demanded.

“I…didn’t know there were sides?” Joe replied, sounding confused. “I’m on yours though, of course I am.”

Nick’s glare faltered. “But you-you just said that-”

“I said that you have a lot of responsibilities as it is, so adding more would just be stressful,” Joe said.

“Oh.” Nick was quiet for a minute, looking down at his feet. Joe hadn’t meant it the same way his dad had, Joe actually cared about him and was worried that he’d have too much to do, not that he couldn’t do it. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood.”

Joe hip-checked Nick lightly. “It’s okay. Hey, does this look like a good place to you?”

Nick looked around. They’d wandered over to a far corner of the park. There was no one else around, and the ground was flat and grassy. “Sure,” he agreed, and they both stopped. Nick started to sink down to sit on the grass, but Joe stopped him.

“Hang on a sec,” he said, opening the basket and rummaging around in it. “I have the perfect thing…ah-ha!” Joe pulled a cheap plastic checkered tablecloth out of the basket and shook it out, unfolding it and spreading it on the ground before sitting down and beginning to unpack the basket.

Nick walked around and sat on the cloth on the other side of the basket “Wow Joe,” he said, impressed. “You thought of everything.”

Joe pulled a stack of paper plates and napkins from the basket and his face fell. “Not everything. I didn’t bring forks.”

Nick surveyed the food laid out in front of them. Sandwiches (turkey if he remembered right) carrots, strawberries. Drinks. “What do we need forks for?”

Joe lifted the last item from the basket and held it up. “Potato salad?”

Nick groaned. “Right. Sorry, I should have thought to bring forks, I brought the potato salad.”

Joe shrugged as he set the salad next to the carrots. “It’s okay, we can just. Improvise.”

As they filled their plates, it soon became apparent that Joe’s idea of improvisation was to use their fingers. Nick wrinkled his nose when Joe dipped two fingers into the container and scooped potato salad out onto his plate, and Joe just chuckled. “Oh, whatever, just don’t stick your hands back in it after you’ve licked your fingers.”

Nick sighed, but scooped out a serving of his own when Joe offered him the container. When he was done, Joe set the container back down, and then set about sucking the excess mayonnaise from his fingers, one at a time. Nick forgot about the mess on his own fingers as he stared at Joe, utterly captivated by the slide of his finger over his pouty lower lip, the way his cheek moved with the suction of his mouth, and finally the small connecting strand of saliva that snapped as Joe finally pulled his finger away from his mouth. Joe looked up and caught Nick staring, and they both looked away, blushing.

When Nick chanced a look up again, Joe had just popped a whole baby carrot in his mouth and was crunching away. Nick considered the mayonnaise on his fingers, then leaned over and swiped it onto Joe’s nose.

Joe’s jaw dropped, a few pieces of chewed up carrot spilling down his shirt. He hastily closed his mouth and swallowed, then said, “Did you really just-you did not just do that!”

Nick smirked, but tried to appear innocent. “Do what?” he asked, wiping his fingers on a napkin.

Joe just shook his head and took a napkin for himself. “I will have revenge,” he warned. “So you’d better watch out.” He crunched another carrot to emphasize his point.

Nick scoffed, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. “You wish,” he garbled around his mouthful of turkey and bread.

“Very classy,” Joe teased.

Nick was tempted to stick his tongue out at Joe, chewed up sandwich and all, but he decided against it. It wasn’t usually recommended to do that around guys you had a crush on.

Joe suddenly dove at Nick, sending his plate flying, and pinned him to the ground, knees on either side of his thighs. He held up a small, overripe strawberry and gave Nick a truly evil grin, before unceremoniously smooshing it into Nick’s hair. Nick yelped and bucked his hips, shoving at Joe trying to dislodge him. It worked, and Nick immediately scrambled up, tackling Joe in turn and straddling him. He reached down to his overturned plate and scooped a handful of potato salad from the grass. With his clean hand he snatched Joe’s beanie from his head.

Joe’s eyes widened. “Nonono, Nick, please-!” Nick just rubbed the potato salad into Joe’s hair, trailing his hand down Joe’s face and getting mayonnaise on the lenses of his glasses as he went. “Craaa-aaap,” Joe moaned, reaching up to pull his glasses off and feel gingerly at his hair. “Oh, it’s on now.”

The next second, Joe had surged up and out from under Nick, and both boys were shoving at each other and laughing as they grabbed whatever food they could reach and threw it at each other. After Nick dumped almost a full can of Diet Coke over Joe’s head, though, Joe picked up his beanie and waved it before tugging it back onto his head. “Okay, okay, you win. No more,” he panted. He retrieved his glasses from where he’d tossed them and started wiping them with a clean patch of his shirt.

Similarly out of breath, Nick reached for the unopened can of soda, cracked it open, and guzzled half of it before offering it to Joe. Joe accepted it and drank the rest in three long swallows. Nick was so preoccupied with watching the motion of Joe’s Adam’s apple that he didn’t notice Joe eyeing the can speculatively, and didn’t even have time to duck as Joe splashed the last remains of soda in his face.

Nick blinked and licked at the droplets clinging to his lips reflexively. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to kick your ass at food fighting again.”

Joe shook his head and chuckled. He looked over the mess between them, then finally picked up the bag of baby carrots that neither of them had really touched during their food fight. “Carrot?” he offered.

Nick snorted, but took a handful of carrots to munch on as he began to clean up the mess. The ruined plates and soiled napkins went into the plastic bag, as did the empty cans. The food strewn around in various states of squashedness, he wasn’t so sure what to do with.

“Here,” Joe said, apparently noticing his dilemma, “leave what’s squished into the grass; either birds will eat it or it’ll decompose anyway. If anything on the tablecloth is still edible, like carrots, then eat it. If it’s not, leave it and I’ll just toss out the tablecloth on our way out.”

Nick bit his lip as he tied the top of the bag shut. “Um, I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly, still staring down at the bag. “I didn’t mean to ruin the tablecloth.”

Joe sounded confused. “What are you talking about? I’m the one who tackled you and smashed a strawberry in your hair.”

Nick shrugged, still resolutely not looking up. “Yeah, but I got you with the potato salad first. And I didn’t have to-”

“Nick, stop,” Joe interrupted. “It was fun, and it’s not like the tablecloth was some kind of expensive, only-used-at-Thanksgiving thing anyway.”

Nick chanced a glance up at Joe. He was smiling, and Nick finally nodded. “Okay,” he said softly.

Joe stuck a couple more carrots in his mouth, then looked down at the crumbled remains of a sandwich mournfully. “Of course, we are out a lunch now. I’m not exactly a bunny, I can’t live on carrots alone.”

Nick snickered. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m not a bunny either.”

“Oh shit, Nick,” Joe said, suddenly looking serious. “Did you get enough to eat? Is this gonna fuck with your diabetes?”

Nick pulled his testing kit out of his back pocket. “I think I’m good for now,” he said. He went about pricking his finger and feeding the strip into the machine. A few moments later, it beeped back at him, and he read the number there. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, turning it so Joe could see.

Joe looked at it, then shrugged helplessly. “I’m gonna have to take your word for it. I don’t know if that number is good or bad.”

“It’s fine,” Nick assured him. “It’s a little bit on the low end, but still definitely in the normal range.”

“You sure?” Joe asked. Normally, Nick would find anyone who questioned him about his levels that much to be annoying, but for some reason, this time was different. Maybe it was because Joe honestly didn’t know and was genuinely asking, as opposed to just not trusting Nick to know his own body.

Nick nodded. “I’m sure.” He hesitated, then said, “I can show you if you want? Give me your hand.”

Joe didn’t hesitate, just offered his hand to Nick, palm up. Nick took it carefully and pulled the lancet back out. Joe eyed it apprehensively but didn’t say anything, so Nick went ahead and pricked Joe’s finger with it. Joe flinched, but still didn’t make a sound. Nick got a test strip set up. “I probably should have made sure you didn’t have some horrible disease first,” he joked as he waited for the meter to beep.

“Nah,” Joe replied, sounding a little subdued. “I’m disease-free.”

“Are you okay?” Nick asked, ignoring the beeping for the moment.

Joe nodded. “Yeah, I just, not the biggest fan of needles, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry, why didn’t you say something?”

Joe shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal. I’m fine. Not even bleeding anymore.” He showed Nick his fingertip and gave him a small smile.

“Good. You’ve also got normal blood sugar,” Nick said, showing Joe his number, only slightly higher than his own. “See?”

Joe studied it for a second, then nodded. “All right, I guess you are okay. I’m glad.”

Nick snorted. “Me too.”

“Hey, do you wanna get out of here? Maybe go do something else?”

“Dressed like this?” Nick asked incredulously, looking down at himself. He had berry juice and seeds all over his jeans from where he rolled on top of strawberries, and there was potato salad smeared all over his blue plaid button up and the white v-neck underneath it. He didn’t even want to think about what his hair must look like, with more strawberries and who knew what else in it.

Joe looked down at himself too. He didn’t look any better. “Or maybe not. We could go hang out at my place for a little while. Unless you’d rather just go home.”

“No, going back to your place sounds good,” Nick agreed. He stood up, ready to pick up the picnic disaster area and get headed, but he nearly toppled over again when Joe exclaimed excitedly.

“Hey, a strawberry!” he said, lunging across the tablecloth and then leaping to his feet, holding a whole, untouched strawberry aloft triumphantly. “Do you want it?” he asked Nick.

Nick shook his head. “Nah, you can have it.”

Joe considered for a second, then bit into it, juice oozing out. He licked the sticky liquid off his lips, then offered the rest of the berry to Nick. “Share?”

Nick accepted the fruit and pulled off the leaves before putting in his mouth and chewing. There was still a smear of bright red juice at the corner of Joe’s mouth, and he reached forward to thumb it away before thinking about it.

Joe looked at him in surprise, and Nick felt himself blush. “Oh, you had a-strawberry juice,” Nick muttered.

Joe shot him a little grin. “Well, thanks then.” He leaned down and picked up the picnic basket and handed it to Nick before balling up the tablecloth: garbage bag, smashed food detritus and all. “Come on, my apartment is close enough that we can walk there,” Joe said, tucking the wad of plastic under his arm and leading the way towards the park entrance.

As Joe promised, his apartment was only a ten-minute walk from the park. As they entered the building, he turned to Nick with an apologetic look. “I hope you don’t mind a little more exercise. I’m up on the fourth floor and there’s no elevator.”

Nick just shrugged. “It’s no problem. I think I can handle a few stairs.”

Joe grinned. “Then follow me.” He bounded up the stairs, Nick following at a slightly slower pace. At the top, Joe led the way down the hall a short distance before coming to a halt at the door of apartment 4F. Joe pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, pushing it open and allowing Nick to enter first.

“The bathroom is just through there if you wanna clean up a little while I take care of the picnic basket,” Joe said. “I can loan you a shirt too, if you wanna get out of your gross one.”

Nick nodded. “Sure, that’d be great. Would you mind if I washed my hair?”

“No, go for it. Shampoo is on the shelf in the shower, towels are under the sink.”

Nick nodded again and headed into the room Joe had indicated. The bathroom was cluttered but clean, an array of products scattered on the small sink. Deciding it would be easier to wash his hair in the bathtub rather than risk knocking something over, Nick pulled aside the dark purple shower curtain and located the shampoo on one of the shelves amongst several other bottles. He knelt down beside the tub and turned the water on, shrugging out of his plaid shirt as he waited for the water to warm up. When it was ready, Nick ducked his head under the water, then squeezed a generous amount of shampoo into his hand. He lathered it into his hair, massaging his scalp and grimacing as he worked his fingers through matted strawberry and drying mayonnaise. He rinsed the shampoo out and then started the process over again, just to be sure he had gotten all the food out of his hair.

When he was finished, Nick found a towel under the sink and rubbed his hair vigorously before wrapping the towel around his head. Then he located a bottle of liquid soap next to the sink and set about washing more strawberry juice and mayonnaise from his face, neck, and arms. Finally, he removed the towel from his head, dried his skin with it, and then hung it neatly on the empty towel rack.

Nick exited the bathroom, calling out to Joe as he did so.

“In here!” Joe called back, and Nick headed in the direction his voice had come from. He found himself standing outside what had to have been Joe’s bedroom. Nick stopped dead when he saw Joe, though.

Joe had to have washed up in the kitchen sink, because his arms were clean, although there still looked to be chunks of potato in his hair. His torso though, was what really caught Nick’s eye.

Because he’d found Joe in the middle of changing his shirt.

Joe had his back to Nick, his old shirt in a pile by his feet, and another shirt, pink this time, draped over his arm. Joe beckoned Nick inside over his shoulder. “Come on in,” he said, pulling the shirt over his head, and half turning towards Nick. Nick caught a glimpse of black smudged low on Joe’s hip, mostly covered by his jeans, before the shirt fell into place and Nick firmly told himself that no, he was not disappointed to see so much of the tan expanse of Joe’s broad back and shoulders covered by the pink material as he stepped inside.

“Do you have a tattoo?” Nick asked, but Joe appeared not to hear him.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing around the room.

Pulling his eyes away from Joe’s body, Nick focused on looking around Joe’s room. Much like his bathroom, his room was cluttered but clean. There were a few dirty clothes scattered around the floor, though most of them were contained in a hamper. The bed was made neatly, and Nick noticed more purple there, in the deep royal shade of the sheets. Taking up the most space though was a vanity, complete with mirror, up against one wall. It was absolutely covered in various types of makeup, but the tubes and jars seemed to be arranged in some kind of order.

Joe chuckled when he noticed Nick looking at it. “There’s no room for all this stuff in the bathroom.”

“Are you a clown or a drag queen?” Nick asked, grinning.

“You’d be surprised at how much of this stuff can be used by both groups,” Joe replied.

Nick laughed. “I see you avoiding the question.”

Joe smirked. “Well,” he drawled, “I won’t lie, I’ve been known to wear eye makeup on occasion.”

Nick swallowed and tried to ignore the flare of heat in his belly at the thought. “So, uh…shirt?” he asked finally.

“Oh, right.” Joe crossed to the closet and pulled out a black shirt of some kind.

Nick took it with a, “Thanks,” then turned his back and stripped his v-neck off, pulling Joe’s shirt on. He found that it was another v-neck, a size smaller than he normally wore, and Nick tugged at it self-consciously as he turned back around. He noticed Joe’s eyes lingering on his torso, before snapping back up to meet his own.

“Looks good,” Joe said, and Nick blushed. “Here, we can go back out to the kitchen. Do you need something else to eat?”

Nick shook his head. “I think I’ll be okay with just a glass of juice.”

Joe plunked a glass of juice down on the table in front of Nick, then pulled out a second chair for himself, taking a second to shove his backpack off the seat of it first. When it hit the floor with a decidedly loud clunk, Nick looked at him curiously over the rim of his glass. “It’s just a textbook, don’t worry,” Joe assured him.

When Nick had swallowed his mouthful of juice, he asked, “What are you studying, anyway?”

“Um, nursing, actually,” Joe mumbled. He didn’t think Nick would be a jerk about it, but he’d dealt with enough ‘Hur hur, nursing is for girls and fags,’ type of remarks that the mumbling was just instinct by that point.

Nick didn’t disappoint him though. He actually looked interested and maybe even a little proud. “That’s great,” he said. “So what made you want to be a nurse?”

Joe shrugged uneasily. “I guess I just wanted to help people. You know.”

“And that’s why you’re a clown too?”

Joe nodded. Nick eyed him like he didn’t completely believe him, but he didn’t press the issue. “How about you? I know you’re still in high school, but do you have any idea of what you might wanna do later?”

“I want to double major in English and music,” Nick answered immediately. “I’d love to do something with music professionally.”

“Wow,” Joe said, impressed. “I wish I’d been so sure of myself when I was sixteeen.”

Nick tilted his head slightly. “So you didn’t always know you wanted to be a nurse?”

Joe shook his head. “No. I only decided like a year and a half ago.” After everything changed. After he’d turned down acceptances at several well-known universities. After he’d moved several states away from home, needing a fresh start out on his own.

“Joe?” Nick questioned.

Joe sighed. Then he pulled his shirt up a few inches and tugged the waistband of his pants down.

“What are you-?”

“It’s an F.”

Nick looked down, then hesitantly reached out and traced the ornate letter with his thumb. “What does the F stand for?”

“Frankie,” Joe said softly, choking on the name. “It stands for Frankie.”

“Who’s Frankie?”

“Franklin Nathaniel Jonas. Born September 28, 2000. Died-” and here Joe had to clear his throat, swallow around a sudden lump. “Died January 18, 2007. He was my little brother, and he was six.”

Nick scooted closer in his chair and wrapped an arm around Joe. “What happened?”

“Cancer,” Joe managed in a whisper. “Since he was four. He was in and out of hospitals for over two years. In them more than he was out, really. He’s the reason I became a clown. He loved the clowns that came into the hospital so much, I just wanted…” Joe cleared his throat again and blinked rapidly. “I just wanted to do something to help other kids like him. And maybe in a way, it’d be like I was helping him too.”

“That’s great, Joe,” Nick said softly. “It’s good that you can remember him like that. So he’s why you want to be a nurse?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah. I’d be a doctor if I could, but I know that it’s unlikely I’d discover the cure for cancer, and the nurses actually interact with the patients a lot more. Doctors save lives, but nurses make your day, you know?”

Nick nodded.

“And then, after Frankie-after he died, my mom was so upset, and my dad started working a lot more, and I just couldn’t stay there anymore. I had to get away from everything. So I came out here with no plan, hardly any money to speak of. My mom wasn’t crazy about losing me too, but she let me go. And here I am.”

Nick moved even closer and pulled Joe into a proper hug. “I’m sorry.”

Joe shrugged. “It was two years ago. I’m mostly okay.” He fell silent for a moment. Then, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For listening. For being here. For a lot of things.” Joe shrugged. “So, um, anyway, what do you want to do? I’ve got movies, and more movies, and oh hey, more movies.”

“I know! Let’s watch a movie!” Nick suggested with pseudo-enthusiasm, accepting Joe’s change of subject with no complaint.

Joe gasped dramatically and covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh my gosh, Nick, that’s such a great idea!” But then he looked at Nick seriously. “You don’t mind?”

Nick shook his head. “Nah, I’m good with watching a movie. Seriously.”

Joe grinned. “Great, then you can go pick something, then meet me on the couch.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Joe headed over and flopped down on one end of the couch while Nick knelt in front of the shelf containing the DVDs. After a few minutes of perusal, Nick held up Casino Royale. “Is this okay?” he asked, and Joe nodded.

“Yeah, it’s been awhile since I’ve watched that one. You can go ahead and put it in.” He reached for the remote and turned on the TV and DVD player, hitting eject so Nick could load the disc. When it was in, and the player whirring away, reading the DVD, Nick joined Joe on the couch, taking the middle cushion instead of the far one.

“I love Daniel Craig in this,” Nick said, shifting around to get comfortable.

“God, me too. I have such a man crush on him,” Joe gushed.

Nick seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second, before he smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

Joe grinned back in relief, then hit play on the remote.

By the time the movie was over, they were both half off their own couch cushions and half sinking into the gap between them, bodies pressed together from hip to knee, the popcorn bowl Joe had plunked down in Nick’s lap half an hour into the film balancing precariously on both their thighs.

As the James Bond theme played though, Joe moved the popcorn bowl to the floor, stretched, and turned off the TV with the remote still beside him. “Best Bond ever,” he commented.

Nick nodded. “Definitely.” He stood up and stretched too, then his face fell as he stared at the clock. “Crap. I’m supposed to be home by four.”

Joe stood as well, checking the clock for himself and seeing that it was already almost three-thirty. “I guess you have to get going then?”

“Yeah,” Nick sighed. “I don’t need to give my dad another reason to complain about how irresponsible I am.”

Joe frowned. Nick, irresponsible? He was on track to graduate high school a whole year early, he was dedicated to learning multiple instruments, he managed a life-changing illness, he basically had his whole life planned out, and he was only sixteen. If that wasn’t responsible, Joe didn’t know what was. Nick was practically the poster boy for responsible. It didn’t make any sense.

“How are you-” Joe began, but Nick just shook his head.

“Later, Joe, okay? I have to get home.”

“I-yeah, okay,” Joe agreed. “But text me later?”

Nick smiled. “Definitely. And we have to hang out again soon; today was fun.”

Joe grinned back. “Yeah, it was. Come on, I’ll walk you down.” Joe grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, then led the way out of the apartment and down the stairs to the street.

“So let me know when you wanna do this again,” Joe said when they reached the sidewalk. Then he pulled Nick into a hug. Nick tensed at first, apparently not expecting it, but then he relaxed and hugged back.

“I will,” Nick murmured into Joe’s ear. Then he pulled away. “See you, Joe,” he said as he set off down the street.

Joe waited outside until Nick had turned the corner with a wave, and then he went back up to his apartment alone. Once there, he gathered up his dirty clothes, as well as Nick’s shirts that had been left behind, grabbed the jug of laundry soap, and headed down to the basement and the laundry room.

Joe sorted his clothes into darks and lights, tossed both loads into washers, and set them going. Then he hopped up onto the table in the middle of the room, ignoring the chairs set around the table, and pulled out his phone. He could have just gone back up to his apartment while he waited for his clothes to wash-and maybe washed his hair, Joe thought, wrinkling his nose as he ran his hand absent-mindedly through it and felt all the nastiness still there-but he’d had clothes come up missing before, and he was not about to lose any more of his favorite shirts.

Joe wiped his hand on his pants, then looked down at his phone. He had a text from Demi, saying u having fun w ur bf? ;), which he just rolled his eyes at and ignored. He also had a text from a girl in one of his classes asking what the assignment was for the next night, which he quickly replied to. Then, all messages in his inbox taken care of, Joe opened up a new message to Nick.

u get home in time?

Nick's reply was immediate, as usual. yup just walked thru the door.

Joe checked the time on his phone. Ten of. good timing, he sent.

i kno, i’m awsome.

so what r u up to?

y, do you miss me already?

Joe chuckled. The thing was, he really kind of did. i'm doing laundry, he sent instead, by way of explanation .

so u just need some entertainment?

basically.

A moment after Joe had hit send, his phone rang. Joe nearly dropped it out of surprise, then checked the name to see if he wanted to answer. Upon seeing "Nick" staring back at him, Joe pressed talk immediately.

“Hey?”

Nick laughed. “Is that a question or a greeting?”

“A greeting,” Joe replied. “You’ve just never called me before.”

“You’ve never been desperately in need of entertainment before,” Nick said, and Joe chuckled.

“Well, that’s true,” Joe said. “You know, you never answered my question.”

Nick sighed into the phone. “Joe…it’s complicated.”

Joe frowned. “What do you mean, it’s complicated?”

Nick didn’t answer for a moment. Finally he asked, “What do you mean, I never answered your question?”

“I asked what you were up to a couple minutes ago,” Joe said slowly. “Why, what did you think I meant?”

“Uh…”

And then Joe knew. “Oh. You mean, what I started to ask you earlier?”

“Yeah,” Nick sighed.

Joe chewed on his bottom lip for a second. “Well, I would like to know what you meant, but if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t make you.”

Nick was silent for a moment, before he finally said softly, “Later, Joe.”

“Okay, Nick,” Joe replied, equally as soft.

“So, uh, I’m not actually doing much of anything. I was thinking about going online and goofing off on Facebook or something.”

Joe took the abrupt change in subject in stride. “That’s always a good way to spend an afternoon. Speaking of Facebook, why aren’t we Facebook friends yet?”

Nick sounded surprised as he answered, “You know, that’s a good question. I’m going to go stalk you and send a request right now.”

Joe laughed. “You do that.”

“I will.” Nick was quiet for a few minutes, and Joe could faintly hear a sound like keyboard keys clacking. Then Nick exclaimed, “Ah-ha!” triumphantly.

“I take it you found me?”

“Yep. Joe Jonas. And this picture definitely looks like you. And. Is this your girlfriend?”

Joe couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing at that. “Demi?! No way. We’re just good friends. We work together at Starbucks. Besides, my relationship status says ‘single,’ doesn’t it?”

“I don’t actually know, because your profile is mostly private and you haven’t accepted my friend request yet,” Nick retorted.

“Oh right, sorry. You’re gonna have to wait to Facebook stalk me until later then, I don’t have a computer in the laundry room.”

“What good are you, then?” Nick asked.

Joe shrugged, even though Nick couldn’t see. “I dunno. I can make you laugh?”

“That is a useful skill,” Nick allowed.

The washers stopped then, one after the other, and Joe maneuvered the phone between his shoulder and ear as he opened them up. “Hey, Nick? Hang on a second, I’ve got to put the wet clothes in the dryer.”

“No problem,” Nick replied, so Joe set the phone down on top of the washing machine as he quickly transferred the clothes into the dryers across the room.

“Hi, sorry,” he said, picking up the phone again when the wet clothes were tumbling away.

“It’s okay,” Nick replied. “You gotta have clean clothes.”

Joe snickered. “Well,” he began, mock-seriously, “I guess I could always go naked.”

Nick made a weird noise then, like he was choking on something. “Uh-I guess you could,” he finally managed to say. “If you wanted to go to jail.”

“That wouldn’t be good. Especially if I was naked.”

Nick snorted. “No, not really.”

“Lucky you didn’t mind waiting then, huh?” Joe teased.

“Yes. I saved you from going to jail,” Nick replied dryly.

Joe laughed. “And from having to be naked. My hero.”

“That part, I’m not so sure was heroic,” Nick mumbled, and Joe blushed, glad that he was only talking to Nick on the phone and not in person.

“Anyway,” he said awkwardly. “Um-” Joe was momentarily distracted by a flash of bright blue in the window of the dryer, and he trailed off. “Oh! That reminds me. I washed your shirts along with my stuff.”

Nick sounded surprised. “Thank you. I meant to bring them home, but I completely spaced on it.”

Joe shrugged again. “It’s no big deal. I mean, I was doing my own anyway. So now they’ll be here whenever you come by again. You are coming by again, right?”

Nick laughed. “Yes, Joe, I am coming by again. I told you before, today was fun.”

“Food fight and all?” Joe wondered.

“Food fight and all,” Nick replied. “Just maybe next time, we can do more eating than throwing?”

“Absolutely,” Joe replied, grinning. “Maybe even with forks.”

Nick gasped dramatically. “Wow, Joe, with forks even?”

“You’re right, maybe that’s a little too fancy for us,” Joe replied. “How about sporks?”

“Good compromise.”

“I thought so.”

“Yeah, I-hang on a minute.” There was a scuffling that sounded like Nick putting his phone down, and then his voice, far away, calling, “What?” Joe heard some indistinct voices, and then Nick got back on the line. “Sorry, Joe, I’ve gotta go, my mom wants me to help her make dinner.”

“It’s okay, I guess I can get through the rest of this dryer cycle by myself.”

“Bye, Joe,” Nick said, a smile audible in his voice.

“Bye,” Joe replied, a smile of his own on his face. Joe closed his phone and flopped back to lay on the table, watching the clothes tumbling around through the window in the dryer door.

Nick shut the front door behind himself as he got home from school. He didn’t pause to say hello to his mother, didn’t even stop to check if she was in the kitchen or living room or somewhere else, as he headed straight to his room. There’d been a melody on the fringes of his consciousness all day, and now that he was home, he wanted to play with it on his guitar and see if he could turn it into a song.

Nick shrugged off his backpack as soon as he got into his room, then took his guitar from its case. He sat down on his bed and fingered the strings, playing one chord, then another, trying to decide which would be best.

He was just getting into it when there was a perfunctory knock on his door, and his dad came inside.

“Hi Dad,” Nick said, stopping playing. “I didn’t know you were home.”

“I had the day off,” his dad replied. “Nick, what are you doing?”

“Writing a song?” Nick replied, confused. What did he think he was doing?

His dad frowned. “Do you really think that’s a good use of your time right now? Don’t you have homework?”

“Yeah, but I was going to do it later. Maybe after dinner,” Nick said defensively.

His dad sighed. “Nicholas. If you’re serious about wanting to graduate early, then you have to be serious about it. You know that your mother and I will support you no matter what. And if you decide that you don’t want to graduate early, then we’ll be fine with that-if you honestly can’t do it. But it’s another situation entirely if you’re just goofing off and can’t be bothered to do it. You need to consider your responsibilities first, and I’m not sure you’ve been doing that lately.”

Nick’s jaw dropped. “What? It’s not like I’m not going to do my homework at all, I’m just not doing it right this second. I just barely got home from school.”

“Yes, but if you get your homework done now, you’ll have the evening off to do what you like, instead of having your schoolwork hanging over your head.”

“I know, but-” Nick began to argue, but his dad cut him off.

“Nick. Schoolwork before music. Take more responsibility for yourself.”

At that, Nick snapped. “I am responsible for myself!” he half-shouted, leaping to his feet. “Just because I wanted to relax for a couple minutes and write the song inside my head, that doesn’t make me irresponsible.”

“Nicholas-” his dad began warningly, but Nick just shook his head furiously and strode past him, out of his bedroom, through the kitchen, and out the front door, letting it bang shut behind him. Then he took off, walking quickly down the street and around the corner.

Nick leaned against the brick wall of a building and breathed deeply. He just needed to relax for a minute, and if he couldn’t find relaxation in music, he’d have to find it in something else.

Nick walked aimlessly for awhile, occasionally people watching but mostly just thinking, first of how unfair his parents and especially his father was being, then of the song that still wanted to be written, and finally of how much trouble he was going to be in when he got home. Just as he was starting to get into full-fledged worry mode, Nick looked up at where he was.

And maybe he hadn’t been walking quite so aimlessly as he thought, because he was standing in front of Joe’s apartment.

Nick pulled out his phone. It was almost 3:30, and it was Wednesday, and Nick knew that Joe went down to the hospital on Wednesdays, so there was a good chance that he wasn’t even home, but Nick scrolled to Joe’s name in his contacts and pressed call anyway.

Joe answered on the third ring, sounding a little breathless. “Nick? What’s up?”

“Are you-have you gone to the hospital yet?” Nick asked, cursing himself when his voice wavered a little bit in the middle.

“Not yet-are you okay?”

Nick nodded, forgetting that Joe couldn’t see. “Yeah. Just. Um. Can you come down and let me in?”

“You’re-” Nick heard, before the phone went dead. Somewhere around thirty seconds later, the door to the building opened. Joe, dressed in full clown regalia, held it open while Nick stepped inside. The moment the door was closed, Joe turned to Nick urgently. “Nick, what’s wrong?”

Nick shook his head. “I just had a fight with my dad. That’s all.”

“What about?” Joe asked, as he started up the stairs.

Nick followed, and told Joe everything that had happened that afternoon. “…And then I just, I don’t know, came here,” he finished, as they stepped inside the apartment.

Joe looked at Nick consideringly, then at the clock. “Come with me to the hospital,” he said, looking back at Nick.

“I…what?”

“Come with me,” Joe repeated. “It’s a lot of fun, the kids love it, and making someone smile who really needs it is amazing. I guarantee you will feel much more relaxed when we’re done.”

Nick shook his head slowly. “I don’t know…I hate hospitals. And I’m not a clown.”

“I’m not a big fan of them either,” Joe said quietly, like he was confiding a huge secret. “Not after spending so much time in them with Frankie. But it’s only for an hour. And I can make you look like a clown, whether you are one or not.”

Nick hesitated only a second longer, before he said, “We better hurry if you’re gonna get me in clown makeup before we have to leave.”

Joe grinned, then ushered Nick to his bedroom. He gestured for him to sit at the stool in front of the vanity, then picked up a container of some kind of white makeup. “Now, I don’t have time to do a whiteface on you like mine, so a hobo face is gonna have to do. Close your eyes.”

Nick obeyed, and he felt Joe’s fingers smoothing the cold, thick makeup in circles around his eyes and around his mouth. Then the fingers were gone, replaced by what was apparently a powder puff. “A little warning next time,” Nick managed to say, through coughing up the powder he’d accidentally breathed in.

Joe chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, as he brushed excess powder off Nick’s face with a brush of some kind. Then, “Shit,” he said under his breath.

“What?” Nick asked.

“We’re running out of time, that’s all. You’re not gonna look as good as I’d like,” Joe replied, drawing something, presumably eyebrows, above Nick’s actual eyebrows. A moment later, he was doing something with a brush all along Nick’s jaw line. “I’m gonna put on more powder,” Joe warned, a second before he actually did. Then the brush was back, dusting away more extra powder. “Okay,” Joe said, moving into the closet and starting to dig around. “In that drawer, there should be an extra nose. Put a little adhesive in it, then put it on your nose and hold it for like thirty seconds or so.”

Nick did as Joe said, locating the nose and the adhesive with no problem. When he’d gotten the nose stuck on, he looked in the mirror and checked himself out. He looked pretty good, he thought, white around his eyes and mouth, high black brows, stubble all over his chin, and of course, a red clown nose. If that wasn’t as good as Joe would like, then he wanted to see what he’d look like if Joe gave his best effort.

When he turned away from the mirror, he found Joe holding a bundle of clothes. “Put these on, and quick, we’ve got about two minutes to get down to the bus stop.”

Nick didn’t have time to be shy as he stripped down to his boxers and white v-neck. He quickly redressed in the clothes Joe handed him, pulling on a pair of torn blue striped cotton pants, a stained white button up shirt, and a suit jacket that had definitely seen better days. Finishing the outfit off was a beat up black bowler hat and a scuffed pair of brown loafers. Joe eyed him critically, before sighing. “It’ll have to do. Come on, we have to hurry.”

Nick followed Joe as he literally ran out of the apartment and down the stairs, bursting out of the door and dashing over to the bus that was just closing its doors. They reopened to allow Joe and Nick entry, and Nick breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t made Joe miss his bus. As Joe pulled out his wallet to retrieve his bus pass though, Nick’s stomach sank.

“Joe, I left my wallet in my jeans.”

Joe flashed a quick smile at him over his shoulder. “No worries, I gotcha covered,” he said, and he took out enough money for Nick’s bus fare along with his pass.

As they made their way to their seats, Nick mumbled his thanks. “I’ll pay you back as soon as we get back to your place.”

Joe just shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Whenever is fine. Now, we have to talk about a few things.”

“What kind of things?” Nick asked, with some trepidation.

“Clown things,” Joe answered. “For example, you better think of a clown name.”

Nick tried to think, and in the end, said the first name that popped into his head. “Jerry.”

Joe cocked his head. “Not bad. I like it.”

“It’s my middle name,” Nick mumbled. “Is that bad?”

“Nah, my clown name comes from my real name too,” Joe said. “Obviously. Great, so we’ve got that settled. Now, we need to talk about our act.”

“Our act?” Nick repeated, a little panicked. “Can’t I just play piano for you like last time?”

“Is that what you want to do?” Joe asked, and Nick nodded vigorously. “Okay then, we can do that. Before I perform in the playroom, I usually go around to the kids who can’t make it down there for one reason or another. Do you think you can handle doing that, or would you rather just go straight to the playroom and talk to the kids before I get there?”

Nick considered it. “I think-I’m not sure I can handle it,” he admitted. “Not if I have to keep smiling.”

“That’s absolutely fine,” Joe told him. Then he nudged Nick’s shoulder. “Come on, Jerry. This is us.”

Nick followed Joe off the bus and up to the front doors o the hospital. “Joe, I don't know about this…”

“Nick,” Joe sighed, turning to look at him. “You’ll be fine. The kids will love you.”

“I guess,” Nick replied. “Sorry, I’m just nervous.”

“I don’t see why,” Joe said, touching Nick’s arm and leading him over to the elevators. “You’ve done it before.”

The doors slid shut and Joe pressed the button for the seventh floor. Nick played with a hole in the cuff of his sleeve. “But that time, I was just Nick, I didn’t have to be anyone else. And I didn’t know I was gonna do it, so I couldn’t psych myself out first.”

The doors slid open, no one else having got on the elevator, and Joe and Nick got off. Instead of heading down the hall to check in with the receptionist though, Joe pulled Nick aside. “You must perform a lot though, Nick, with all your music. So why are you so nervous about this?”

Nick shrugged. “I just...I’m a musician, not a clown. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Just be friendly and childlike,” Joe advised. “Kids love clowns, you won’t have to work too hard to impress them.”

Nick nodded, although it wasn’t really the kids he was worried about impressing. “Okay," he said, sucking in a breath. “I can do this.”

Joe grinned at him and they both walked up to the reception desk.

"Hi, Jojo,” the receptionist greeted him. “And who’s this?”

“Hi, Maria. This is my friend Jerry,” Jojo introduced him. “He's gonna help me out today.”

“Great,” Maria said. “Go ahead and sign yourselves in.”

Jojo picked up a pen and started filling out the form she handed him. Nick looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see he’d filled in most of Nick’s information too. “There are just a couple things I didn’t know,” Joe said apologetically, but Nick just shook his head.

“No problem,” he said, taking the pen and filling it in himself.

Maria handed Jojo a piece of paper, some kind of list it looked like, along with two volunteer badges, then waved as they walked down the hall.

“Here,” Joe said, handing Nick one of the badges. “I’m gonna go see these kids,” and he waved the list, “and you can head down to the playroom. Unless you want to come with me?”

Nick shook his head. “I’ll just go down to the playroom, if that's okay.”

“That's absolutely fine,” Joe assured him. “I’ll meet you in about half an hour.” Then Joe took off one way down the hall, and Nick went the other, and he was on his own.

He found the playroom with no problem, and stepped inside to find a handful of kids scattered around on the floor. It took a second for anyone to notice him, but when they did, they abandoned their toys in favor of crowding around him.

“Are you a clown?” one little boy asked him, and Nick nodded.

“I sure am,” he said. “My name is Jerry.”

“Where's Jojo?” a girl asked. “He’s always the one who comes.”

“He's coming,” Nick reassured her. “He'll be here in a few minutes.”

She frowned. “So why are you here?”

“Jojo is my friend. He asked me to come help him out today,” Nick explained.

The girl suddenly grinned at him. “Yay!”

Nick grinned back. “So, what do you guys say we play some music until Jojo gets here? I don’t really have my own act, I just help Jojo, but I do know a few songs.”

Another little boy, maybe about four and the youngest in the room, tugged on Nick’s pants. “Do you know the song from The Lion King?” he asked shyly.

Mentally cataloging the Disney songs he had memorized, Nick crouched down so he was on a level with the boy. “I know some songs from The Lion King,” he replied. “Which one do you want me to play?”

“The one where the birdie gets squished at the end.”

Nick smiled as he stood back up. “Sure, I know that one,” he said, walking over to the piano, followed by the kids as though they were ducklings. He sat down and began playing and singing “I Just Can’t Wait to be King,” immediately joined by a chorus of young voices.

Nick played a few more Disney songs, then moved into standard kid’s songs, the stuff he’d learned when he first started taking piano lessons. More and more kids had trickled into the room, no doubt to see Joe, and twenty minutes after Nick had first sat down, the kids were starting to fight over whose requests would be played and whose wouldn’t.

“Hey now guys, don’t fight,” Nick said. “We’re supposed to be having fun, not fighting. Besides, Jojo should be here any minute, so it’s really about time I stopped playing anyway.” Nick’s words were met with a collective groan from the kids clustered around him. Nick fought back a grin. “You guys know Jojo usually performs up there, right?” he asked, pointing to the front of the room, and the kids immediately scrambled to rearrange themselves.

Nick turned around on the piano bench, watching the kids sit down in new places on the floor, or drag their chairs across the room. He glanced at the clock. Joe really should be along any minute.

But then Nick caught sight of something else. Two boys, probably seven or eight years old, hovered in the doorway. One of them was trying valiantly to tug the other into the room, while the other looked straight up terrified. “But I don’t like clowns!” Nick heard him wail.

Not quite sure what to do, but deciding he ought to do something, Nick got up and approached the two boys slowly. The first boy looked at him in awe, while the other seemed rooted in place, unable to move for fear.

“A-are you coming in here?” Nick asked, purposely letting his voice quaver.

“If Sammy would stop being a baby,” one boy muttered.

“Is Sammy scary?” Nick asked the other boy in a stage whisper.

He scoffed, while Sammy looked at Nick wide-eyed. “I’m not scary!” he exclaimed, forgetting his own fear for a second.

“I’m kind of afraid,” Nick confided to Sammy’s friend, still in the stage whisper.

Sammy giggled. “That’s silly. I’m not scary!” he repeated.

“You’re not?” Nick asked.

Sammy shook his head. “No!”

Nick let himself relax. “Oh. That’s good. ‘Cause I’m not scary either. So do you guys wanna come in? One of my friends should be here any minute to tell some stories and stuff.”

Sammy hesitated a moment longer, before finally nodding. “That sounds fun. Come on, Ben.”

Rolling his eyes and mumbling something about, “I told you so,” Ben followed Sammy into the room, Nick turning to watch them settle down with the other kids.

“Good job,” someone said from right behind him, and Nick jumped as he spun back around.

“Don’t do that!” he said, seeing Joe standing there grinning.

Joe chuckled. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. But I mean it, you were great with them, you totally got him to relax.”

Nick shrugged. “Well, I just thought maybe…if I acted like I was scared of him…he wouldn’t be so scared of me.”

“That was really good thinking,” Joe said. “Now come on, let’s go entertain some kids!” With that, he stepped fully into the room amidst excited squeals. “Hey guys!” he said to the kids, striding across the room to stand in front of them. “I’m Jojo, and I thought I’d come hang out with you guys and Jerry today-whoa!” The kids all laughed as Joe tripped over his shoes.

Part Three