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Gatsby loved Daisy, he loved her since he met her.
Gatsby continued to love her even after the time he spent away at war. He loved her after she got married to Tom. He still loved her after he made a fortune.
He pretended she was his wife somedays. He imagined cooking breakfast for her every morning, pretending she was still asleep in what he wished was his shared bed.
Somedays Nick would bring Daisy over with him to his house. On those days he had to fight himself to keep his eyes off of Daisy. He knew that if he stared too much, she would leave early.
He could stare at her for at most 5 seconds straight without her noticing, but then he had to wait at least 21 seconds to stare again. If she was turned away then he could stare for 34 seconds before she would turn around to face him after feeling his eyes burning into the back of her head. If he could tear his eyes away from her beautiful locks of hair then he would only have to wait 108 seconds, although if he didn't and Daisy noticed his eyes on her, then he’d have to wait triple that.
Gatsby wondered if Nick cared, or even noticed. Nick always seemed to be in his head.
On the days where just Nick came over, he would imagine Nick as Daisy. They had a very similar face shape and eye colour. Nick never seemed to mind either.
At night, Gatsby would dream of her laying beside him in bed. As if she was his wife, and Tom was laying in his bed alone, in his position.
On the days where his bed felt too empty and cold, he would go out on the balcony and watch Daisy’s house. Sometimes the light was on, others it was off. On rare occasions he even saw movement from behind the curtains of her window.
Oh how he wished she was his.
His closet had a collection of pictures of Daisy on the inner wall. There was more pictures than he could count. Some photos were big, others were small. Some of the photos were from the media, some were taken of Daisy just walking by or of her and Nick at his house, Nick was cut off of every single one. That wall was reserved for Daisy only.
He showed Nick the wall once—he didn’t seem to care—although he did give Gatsby some photos and stickers.
“Most are from when we were kids.” He said when he gave Gatsby the pictures, one random morning. “Daisy gave me the stickers long ago, I have no use for them.”
Maybe he will get to show Daisy the wall one day. One day when she is betrothed to him.
~*~*~
Nick loved Gatsby.
He didn't want to.
He hated being stuck in this hell.
Gatsby loved Daisy and would never back down on that fact. He stared at Daisy every chance he got, even when Daisy wasn’t there.
The only time Gatsby even looked at Nick was when he pretended he was Daisy. He would almost call him Daisy. They didn’t even look that similar. Although some days it upset Nick, others he just went along with it, too feeling the same stares that Daisy got.
Not to say it wasn’t creepy, but his cousin deserved all the attention, she was what one would call ‘perfect’.
Nick wished that he didn’t hope for Gatsby to look at him like that, he wished he didn’t enjoy it when he did.
Nick hated that he loved Gatsby.
The feeling was just a fluke. Something that shouldn’t exist.
Something that should be thrown away like a piece of garbage.
But it was more than a piece of garbage, because it made him feel when nothing else would.
But the feelings it created were not always good ones.
Some nights he could only manage to sit and cry at his kitchen tables. Or most nights more that manner.
He cried to get rid of those feelings, to give them to someone else. Someone else who could value them more than he could. Someone who was worthy of those feelings.
Nick and Gatsby were different.
Gatsby was noble and he had virtues, all Nick had was his honesty, the honesty that he didn’t even use most of the time.
Gatsby loved Daisy because he could, he never gave up trying to pursue her love. Nick didn’t want to love Gatsby, he gave up on trying before he could even start.
Gatsby never stopped trying to pursue Daisy's love even after Nick died.
Daisy was far more closed off after he died, yet it didn’t stop Gatsby.
Daisy knew why he died. She had no right nor reasoning to blame Gatsby. No matter how much she blamed Gatsby, he wouldn’t come back, nor would it change who was at fault.
He knew Daisy wished it could have gone differently, but in truth, it couldn’t have. Nick died on his own accord. The only who could have changed anything was Nick, himself.
Nick and Gatsby were never meant to be.
Just like how Daisy and Gatsby are never meant to be.
~*~*~
And then Daisy was gone.
She and Tom were gone.
They weren’t coming back.
Daisy said they couldn’t bear to even walk past the house.
The house that held a ghost of her cousin.
That house that never felt empty anymore.
Gatsby went over twice since his passing, the house remained as it was. As if Nick never left, perhaps he didn’t.
The house was eerily cold during the day.
Although one spot remained warm, it was a chair at the kitchen table. Sometimes drops fell onto the table in front of the chair, but the ceiling wasn’t leaky.
When he left the last time, he bid Nick a farewell.
He could have sworn he heard Nick wishing him luck. But Nick was dead.
~*~*~
Daisy was his love.
Daisy was his joy.
Daisy was his everything.
But,
Daisy didn’t want to see him.
Daisy refused to make eye contact.
Daisy didn’t answer his calls.
Daisy was the one who found Nick.
Daisy was the one who screamed when she saw him.
Daisy was the one who called the police.
Daisy was the one who suffered from his death.
Daisy was the one who knew why.
Tom was the one who comforted her.
It wasn’t Gatsby.
He couldn’t help but think it would never be Gatsby.
But Gatsby wouldn’t have moved next door to their new house, if he believed his thoughts.