Title: Hurt
By: staticdisturbed
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Summary: This is pretty sad.Break-up angst. I don't know where it came from, I sat down to write a completely differnt story and this came out in about fifteen minutes. Not very happy. And the ending sucks but I just didn't know where to go with it.
Disclaimer: They certainly aren't mine. I just like to play, or in this case cause them severe heart-break.
A/N: Spelling and grammar mistakes are all mine.

***

It hurts. Hurts in his chest like running laps in gym class. Except different. Hurts in a way nothing has ever hurt before, like he's Humpty Dumpty and he fell off that wall. Didn't fall, Nick pushed him. Feels like Nick pushed him off a wall, watched him break into a million pieces and then just walked away.

The apartment is too big which is strange because they always complained about how small it was. About how they couldn't have company without everyone tripping over each other; about how there wasn't enough room for Greg's crates of Vinyl and Nick's nature books. It feels like the ceilings stretch to the sky and the hallway goes on forever. The empty chair at the kitchen table is mocking, hard wood against a backdrop of yellow tile; empty. Even when he lays in the bed with his arms and legs stretched out snow angel style he still feels like a spec floating in the ocean, no sight of land for miles.

One of Nick's t-shirts, gray and worn with the Dallas Cowboy's logo fading out of existence, is at the bottom of the hamper he never uses. The hamper Nick bought and the hamper Nick left. The shirt was big on Nick so it practically swallows his torso whole when he pulls it over his head. It's wrinkled and hangs awkwardly but Nick's smell has permeated and settled in the cotton that he pulls up to his face. He's so sick of crying but the tears come regardless, rolling down his cheeks, some settle between his lips and the taste is all too familiar.

Three days out of work and when he gets back everyone wants to know how bad his flu was. He fakes a few coughs and wears a mask while handling samples for effect and he's glad no one expects a sick person to be in a good mood. Sara stares at him a little too long so he suspects she knows but she's the only one who knows there's something to know anyway. Nick saunters into the lab halfway through shift still expecting the temporary DNA tech and then freezes; plastic baggy of hair samples dangling between his thumb and index finger, stares hard at the floor like a kid caught misbehaving. Greg expects to feel what was left of his heart crumble into the pit of his belly, instead he feels his knuckles strain beneath his skin, feels his jaw clench and snatches the bag, turns his back and sets to work. Didn't expect to be angry but he's tired of being sad.

Word spreads fast in the crime lab, always has. He's hanging his lab coat in his locker when Archie tells him about some 'crazy chick holding Nick at gunpoint'. The hurt in his chest is back, but it's different again. He hangs around, pretending to be looking for something in his locker until Nick comes in. He looks shaky, unbalanced and Greg just stares. Watches him struggle with his lock for a few minutes before it finally gives. Nick stands there, one hand braced against his locker. He looks broken, maybe not into a million pieces but sufficiently cracked.

"Greg..." Nick starts but turns to find an empty room staring back at him, the walls wider and ceilings higher then he's ever remembered them being.

***