Downtown (auston matthews x oc)

-twenty-nine-

𝓝𝓸𝓻𝓪

Nora sat in stunned silence as Lex closed her laptop. She slid it to the foot of Nora's bed, where it was out of their reach.

"That was—" Lex paused "—something."

It took Nora several long seconds to gather a coherent thought. "He was just doing what he had to do," she squeaked. Finally, she lifted her chin to meet Lex's gaze. "That's all," Nora added.

Lex nodded slowly and looked away. There was no other explanation, Nora was positive, for why Auston would have bothered to say so much in his post-game interview. The plan was just for him to make some quick, off-hand comment—but what he actually did certainly helped their charade even more. Nora knew better than to read further into it. Nothing had changed.

Still, Auston's absence from her life was tugging at Nora more than she wanted to admit. She'd even been watching his games on her laptop, curled up in her bed, the volume low enough that Lex wouldn't hear.

As if she could read Nora's mind, Lex asked gently, "Do you miss him?"

Nora didn't move, for fear that the slightest motion would shake the tears free from her eyes and send her spiraling. She whispered, "No."

It was then that Nora's phone buzzed on the bedside table. Lex's did, too.

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Messages

❌ liars ❌

Mitch
press ate that shit up

William
yeah seriously

Mitch
some of us are hitting blue llama
downtown. might be good to get
some shots there if u wanted to nor
and auston

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Nor put the phone down. She knew that she would have to be seen out with Auston at some point, but she couldn't do clubs. Especially not when she was just a couple days away from the two-year anniversary of the phone call that destroyed her life—the one she still thought about every day.

Lex, without saying a word, wrapped her arms around Nora, pulling her into an embrace. That was all it took to reduce Nora to tears. As she sobbed quietly against Lex's shoulder, her phone on the nightstand just kept buzzing.

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The anniversary of her parents' death was a quiet day for Nora. She had no family with which to grieve, no gravestone to visit. It was a particularly rainy day, especially for mid-November, when there probably should have been snow. Before his shift that night at the Castle, Trick came over, and Lex made early dinner for the three of them.

It was good and comforting, to some extent, Nora supposed, and she appreciated more than anything that her friends understood how difficult of a day it was and so worked to make it a little easier. Of course, there was only so much anyone could do to make it better; for the most part, grief had to be experienced in silence.

That night, as she lay in bed watching the Maple Leafs victory at home against the Bruins, Nora held the framed photo of her parents close to her chest. Occasionally, a tear or two would escape her, though she was quick to wipe them away—not that anyone was around to notice them. Lex still didn't know Nora watched Auston's games, which is why, when she knocked lightly on the door in the last minute of the third period, Nora slammed her laptop shut.

"Come in," she hurried, scrambling to wipe her eyes.

Lex creaked the door open and leaned against the frame. "Are you okay?" she murmured.

Nora returned the photo to her nightstand and offered Lex a shrug. "Yeah, I'm okay," she breathed, though it wasn't at all convincing.

"I'm about to go to bed," Lex began. "Are you sure you don't want to do anything? We can watch The Office? Or just talk?"

"It's okay, Lexi," Nora promised. "I'm just gonna go to sleep, too, I think."

With a sigh, Lex nodded and approached the bed. She gave Nora a long hug and assured her, "Tomorrow will be better."

"Yeah," Nora agreed shakily. "I hope so."

When Lex was gone from the room, Nora dragged herself from the bed and prepared for sleep. She felt equal parts sad and anxious, her body achy. Still, she changed into more comfortable clothes, brushed her teeth, and then slipped under the covers with a sigh.

Tomorrow will be better, she assured herself.

First, though, she had to make it through the night.

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Just past midnight, the world seemed to collapse all over again. As Nora slept, she dreamt of that phone call—the one that woke her so violently from a quiet slumber two years ago. Nora trembled and moved to cover her ears, and it was the sensation of the touch against her own skin that drew her to reality.

It wasn't a dream.

Her phone was blaring loudly on her nightstand, screaming that her parents were dead.

"No, no, no," Nora gasped as she reached for it. It was an unknown number, which sent her into a fit of sobs. "No, no, no," she repeated, shouting now. Still only half-conscious, she slammed her finger down on the screen and brought the phone to her cheek. She cried into the receiver, "What? Hello?"

The voice said exactly what the doctor had two years earlier: "Is this Nora Mallone?"

Nora didn't have the strength nor the coherence to respond with anything more than a stuttering, "Yes," followed by a sob.

It seemed to confuse the man on the other end of the call, who hurried, "I'm—I'm sorry. This is Frank Alton—I'm with the Toronto times, wrapping up a story for the morning. I've got a deadline. Is it true you're in a relationship—"

"Nor," Lex's voice came from the doorway, and the phone fell from Nora's hand onto the bed. "What's going on?" she exclaimed, eyelids heavy from sleep. Nora cried harder, which prompted Lex to snatch the phone off the bed and demand into the receiver, "Who the hell is this?" Nora could only just make out the mumbled response on the other end, which prompted Lex to yell, "Don't ever fucking call this number again."

Seconds later, she yanked Nora into a hug, whispering apologies that were not hers to offers.

"I thought," Nora stammered, "I thought it was—it was the hospital. They were dying again. Please, please don't tell me they're dead again."

Lex's grip on Nora tightened. "I'm so sorry, Nor," she breathed.

Nora didn't know what prompted the words that came from her lips then. Maybe it was exhaustion or panic or desperation. Whatever the reason, she knew with absolutely certain that only one person in the world could possibly bring her some comfort then. To Lex, she croaked, "Please—can you call Auston?"