Thank you to bookerdimwitt for the inspiration to write this. The drawings of blind Gatsby was too much for my fragile heart.

Idea Credit would have to go to her.

None of the characters belong to me.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Famous party thrower of West Egg, Jay Gatsby was shot this last Saturday by George Wilson, owner of Car Garage. Gatsby was coming out of his pool when Wilson shot. Luckily, the bullet missed Gatsby's head but the bullet seemed to have grazed Gatsby's eyes, blinding him for life. Shooter claims that Gatsby had a love affair with his wife, Myrtle Wilson, and had then done a hit and run on her.

After an investigation, these claims were proven false with the assistance of Nick Carraway who told it all.

"Gatsby and my cousin Daisy had decided to leave our small get together but Daisy had driven them back, saying it would help calm her nerves. It was Daisy who had run into Myrtle. It was Daisy's husband, Tom, who had been having a love affair with Myrtle."

Read more of this shocking passion crime on Page 6.

Nick curled his lip in disgust as he saw the headline of the New York Times. He knew he shouldn't have opened his mouth. Now, not only would Daisy and Tom hate him, but Gatsby too, considering his need of privacy. He had just wanted for them not to blame Gatsby, his one friend nowadays. He sighed and looked over at the mansion through his window.

It seemed that everything was so much quieter now. He hadn't seen Gatsby for a week now and he was starting to get worried. Maybe he should go visit. He knew Gatsby was still in the mansion because he would go out the bay with the assistance of one of his butlers. It was time to go talk to Gatsby. With his mind resolved Nick stood up, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

He took the short cut through their yards and walked up to the door and knocked. At first, only silence returned his ask for entrance but then he heard some feet shuffling towards the door and a butler opened the door. He looked coldly at Nick and he winced.

"Mr. Gatsby isn't seeing anyone today." the butler informed him.

"Could you tell him it's Nick Carraway?"

"Mr. Gatsby isn't seeing anyone today, Mr. Carra-"

"Henry!" Gatsby's voice was muffled from being upstairs. "Let him in please."

The butler turned to him with a suspicious eye but opened the door enough to let him in and Nick took a grateful step forward, the door quickly closing shut behind him. Nick followed the butler up the stairs and was soon in front of Gatsby's bedroom door. He hadn't been in here since Daisy.

Nick took a step inside the room and it found it in a disarray, shirts that Daisy had complimented thrown haphazardly across the room, some torn and others mangled. Broken glass littered the floor and alcohol stained the once richly colored carpet. The only place left bereft of the tornado that had passed was the bed where Gatsby was sitting quietly, looking in the general direction of the door.

"Are you there, Nick?"

"Yes." He replied and carefully began making his way across the broken battlefield.

"I rea- heard of the newspaper this morning."

Nick's face flushed in remorse.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to get blamed."

"It's fine, old sport. Thank you for defending me." Gatsby looked so broken, a mere vessel of the exuberance he had seen just last week. Daisy must've moved away, never calling Gatsby.

"Yeah." Nick said with a hollow voice.

To see Gatsby reduced to such a pitiful state because a girl who loves like a whore hurt Nick more than anything. It hurt more than knowing Gatsby would never return his affections. He took a hesitant step towards Gatsby who was folded into himself, slouched on the edge of his bed, taking in shuddering breaths. He had never looked older than he did now.

The Gatsby that everyone knew from the party was gone. The award winning smiles and finesse seems to have left with his eyesight, and Nick wanted to take him into his arms. This man had seen more than enough pain in his life than he needed to. He needed more than what Daisy could offer. His attention was brought back to the blond as Jay leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, head towards the ground.

Gatsby let tears fall down his face as he leaned his head into his hands. His hair was in a disarray from the amount of times he had run his hands through it.

"Jay?"

A sob choked its way out of Jay's mouth and Nick flinched with it, watching as a tear fell to the polished floor.

"It's all over now, Nick. All that I've worked for, it's all-" His breath caught, his hands forming fists as he pressed them into his eyes. "All a waste. I worked all my life for this, and right when it was so close, I was so close, old sport... It's not fair. She won't come back. What do I do now?" The last part was said in a broken whisper as more tears joined the floor.

Nick didn't know what to say, and he took a step towards the millionaire who was staring hopelessly at the ground

"Daisy won't love a blind man, old sport. Never." The last word was breathed out in contrast to the previous angrily said words. Gatsby fisted his hands in his hair and Nick broke, reaching for him. Nick disentangled Gatsby's hands from their deathly grip in his hair. Once they loosened, he cupped the back of his head, bringing Jay's head up as he knelt in front of Gatsby until they were eye to eye.

"O-Old sport?" Gatsby's breath fell over Nick's face, and the writer leaned his forehead towards Jay's until they touched. Gatsby's clouded eyes searched blindly in front of him and Gatsby's hands fell to his knees.

"Maybe she won't... But I will." Nick leaned forward and brushed their lips together. For a second, Gatsby's lips froze under Nick's for a mere second, before his shaking hand rose to touch Nick's face. They were questioning in their placement but Nick tilted his head a little, leaning into the warmth it offered. This was all the initiative it took for Gatsby to suddenly lean closer, pressing his lips to Nick's in a mad frenzy.

Gatsby gripped Nick's shirt in one hand and slotted their bodies together as comfortably as he could considering their positions. They tore apart from each other, foreheads still touching, breaths coming out in quick pants. Nick was kneeling between his legs, their chests heaving against each other.

"Gatsby, I-"

"Jay."

Nick looked up questioningly.

"What?"

"Please... call me me Jay. I changed my name to Gatsby f-for her. I just... I don't want to remember her any more." Jay buried his face in the juncture between Nick's neck and shoulder. The stutter that had slipped his lips made Nick clutch him closer and he stood up.

Jay's face twisted in panic and he reached out to Nick who instantly took his hand while pushing Jay back onto the bed. They fell back against the pillows and the blond bit his lip. Nick arranged their body until they were put together like a puzzle and leaned forward to give him a kiss.

"Nick, I've never-"

"We don't have to do it today." Nick assured gently.

Jay seemed shy suddenly and he raised a hand to touch Nick's face but lingered over it like if he wasn't permitted to touch him. Nick lifted his hand and placed it over Jay's, giving him permission.

"It's a terrible thing being blind, old sport." Jay's fingers slid across his cheeks and nose, down to his lips and circling around his eyes. Nick felt tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

They both stayed silent after that and just breathed each other in, Jay's fingers exploring what his eyes could not, and Nick closed his to share in the darkness, feeling hope rise in him. After a few minutes, he hazily realized that Jay had stopped and he opened his eyes to find the other sleeping.

Nick gave a bittersweet smile and pulled him gently closer, giving one last kiss on his collarbone before joining him in sleep.

Maybe their green light would be the darkness.

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