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Name

Nicolas Tomasello

Age

28

Nationality / Ethnicity

Nicolas was born in Argentina to an Argentinian father with Italian heritage and a French Canadian mother. However, his mother left when he was very young, and his father moved him from Argentina to the greater Miami area so he could pursue greater business opportunities. He speaks English with an accent because he was taught by his father, and he does speak Spanish fluently, but he doesn’t remember much of Argentina–just little snippets here and there.

Appearance

Nicolas stands at about 5’10 with fluffy, thick dark hair that is a mess of curls. He has olive skin that is on the darker side, and he keeps stubble on his face which makes him appear older and messier than he actually is. He has dark brown eyes and is considered to be fairly handsome. His physique is very lean, and though he is strong, he is deceivingly so. He doesn’t pay much attention to fashion, often dressing practically but wearing flashy, bright, colorful clothing out of nowhere from time to time.

Personality

Nicolas is a fairly calm man, having learned to control his temper from his father. Despite this, he has a good sense of humor, though, like his clothing, it seems to come out of nowhere. A lot of what he does that is funny is situational, though he doesn’t take anything too seriously other than the horses. He is very cool, calm, and collected, an easy come, easy go type of individual. His personality metrics are 6w7 ENFJ.

Background

Nicolas was abandoned by his mother at an early age and moved to the states with his father. His father grew very sick and died, and he was taken in by the family of the farm he was competing and riding at. However, when he began to outshine the owner’s son, his best friend, he was sent away to Connecticut to ride for someone else as a hired hand. He continued to develop and moved all over the world pursuing eventing, but was recently in what has been deemed to be a career-ending injury. He was offered a job by the family that took him in right before his accident, but turned it down immediately. When it was reoffered to him while he had no other prospects, he found himself getting on a plane to Florida in spite of his better judgment.

Relationship to Love Interest

They were childhood best friends, until Nico was sent away for being a threat to him. He holds some bitterness and resentment toward him still, primarily because he once cared very deeply for this individual and had the closest relationship he had stripped from him.

Other

Nothing for now <3

Nico | Airport / Farm Grounds | Christopher, Costin, Nadia, Nadine

Nico arrived at the airport a bit before eight in the evening with the sky bruised purple and orange. Even from his seat inside the plane, he could feel the humidity and the thickness in the air, steam rising up from puddles in the pavement. The sky was cloudy, a distant thunderstorm rolling offshore and into the darkness of the night. It was still hot and sticky, even in the latest parts of August, but this time of year reminded him so much of his childhood in southern Florida. He wished he could say he was glad to be back.

Nico had arrived in Florida with a chip on his shoulder. He’d been everywhere in the last few years. Amsterdam, Hamburg, Madrid, Dublin–he’d been offered many, many opportunities to grow and develop his craft as a rider into something incredible. He’d been competing at the highest levels of the sport, had made something of himself as a high profile athlete. He had high profile sponsorships and high profile relationships to go along with this lifestyle. But it’d all ended abruptly, along with life as he knew it before.

The incident had been highly publicized. After all, Nicolas Tomasello was the person to beat in any eventing competition in the world. He’d slipped to the world’s number three, but only because he’d been spending time developing horses and getting into a breeding program as opposed to taking on the made horses that were already ready to carry him to the top. It didn’t happen at the Olympics, or Burghley, or any other competition of importance. It happened on a dreary day in late September at a lower-level schooling competition in Great Britain. He’d taken a younger horse named Eidolon who he was pushing to become his next competition mount, the one that would bring him a plethora more medals and accolades. The gray gelding was perfect to Nicolas, and that’s why he allowed himself to get swept up in the media hype and the trainers and everyone who told him to push the young horse’s limits. He was still young, but he was capable of getting to the level the Argentinian needed quickly. Nico’s impatience had cost them both their careers.

It had been almost a year now. He’d suffered a severe concussion, a brain bleed, and a plethora of sustained damage to his body that had never quite gone away. He’d been airlifted to the hospital unconscious, and in a way, he was still recovering from that incident even now. He found himself forgetful, some memories of names and faces and places were sharp, and others were gone completely. Eidolon had survived, but his career was over too. Nico had not been able to bring himself to visit the horse but once in the eleven months since the incident. Handling day-to-day tasks was difficult enough without reminders of what had happened.

Despite the beauty of the drive and the fact that he had done it a thousand times, Nico felt like this was the first time. As an adult of maturity and standing in society, it was the first time. He’d left Florida in his youth after being sent off by the very people who wanted to hire him now. His talent had outshined anyone in the Spencer family, and he’d paid for that. It wasn’t long after his father died, and his mother had never been in the picture, but it didn’t seem to matter to them that they were the only family he had left. Christopher Spencer was like a brother to Nico, they’d done everything together growing up. And, while the man could be petulant and cutthroat, it wasn’t all his fault that Nico had been sent away. In fact, he was fairly sure the man didn’t want much to do with horses at all. It’d been pushed by his family, but he’d never had the strength to set the boundaries he so desperately needed to. And it’d cost Nico. Tremendously.

Costin had gone to fetch Nico, and the younger man flinched under the weight of the older man’s pity. Of course, everyone at the farm still saw Nico as the half-feral teenage boy who slept in tack rooms and rode everything handed to him. The one who was far braver and more ambitious, yet followed Christopher around like a dog, always at his heels. Now he walked with a crutch, exhausted, thin, and with a stiffness and fragility that he’d never had growing up, even when he’d been injured. Costin was one of the head barn managers, his official title Nico could not recall, nor any pertinent memories with the man despite the knowledge that there were some. Thankfully, the man’s name came to him and he remembered his face, so it wasn’t as awkward as previous experiences had been for him. Still, there were massive gaps in his memory, like an image where the lines exist but only half are colored in.

The return to the farm was the same mix of pain, grief, and nostalgia. He had been around horses for a time before returning to Florida, at a psychological rehabilitation program in Sweden that had taken him in for most of the summer. He hadn’t ridden, hadn’t wanted much to do with the horses, couldn’t. Still, it wasn’t a professional environment. It was sterile, Scandinavian–it hadn’t been home.

The humidity hit him when he opened the car door, bringing an even sharper pain to his joints that shot down his leg and caused him to momentarily grunt and pause before regaining his composure. He murmured something stale to Costin to fill the air, engaging in more small talk with the two women that greeted him. Nadine was another office member who worked very closely with Costin, and she’d been more of a mother figure to him than he’d ever had. The feeling he remembered, the memories he forgot. Nadia was also there, a working rider who’d come up with Christopher and Nico, although she’d always been a few years too old to relate to them, and a level behind Nicolas’ equestrian capabilities. Another man walked up, one he recognized immediately. Christopher’s father.

“Mr. Spencer,” Nico greeted formally, shifting his weight on his crutch to offer his hand. The man was cold, perhaps sorrowful, perhaps guiltstricken. He murmured something about it being good to have Nicolas home, which landed poorly considering he’d sent him away in a fit of rage and seemed to believe that time had erased everything. He immediately went into a discussion of logistics of where Nico would be staying and how nothing would be expected of him until the following afternoon when lessons would commence. While he was training all of the riders at the stable, his primary focus was to follow Christopher around, to influence his every move into becoming a rider at the level Nico had obtained. He’d be eating meals with him, monitoring his workouts, and otherwise influencing all areas of wellness. For that reason, and probably in a poorly-received attempt at empathy, he’d be returning to sharing the old rider wing above the stable with Christopher. In previous years, he’d shared it with Nadia until she’d moved into an off-grounds apartment in town, and when that had occurred, it’d solely been his. Christopher had lived in the main home with his parents at that time, but he spent so much time with Nicolas, it was like they’d both been roommates. Apparently, when Christopher had become an adult, he’d moved into the loft himself to place some distance between himself and his parents and create some autonomy.

What they hadn’t thought about was the fact that the stairs would be a challenge for Nico. But, he hadn’t had any interest in attempting to drive since the accident, so it wasn’t like he could get his own place. He couldn’t afford it, anyway. So, there was no room for complaining, only the discomfort of the other adults waiting eons for him to drag himself up the staircase by the railing despite the fact he’d once cleared the very one with ease. The gradual thumping of his leg dragging up the stairs created a bit of a ruckus, but no one emerged who wasn’t already there. They showed him past the dirty kitchen that had never been remodeled through the narrow hallway between the adjoining rooms until finally, he arrived at the unoccupied room on the right. His luggage had been lost by the airport, so there wasn’t anything to unpack beside his backpack and his carry-on bag. He said the niceties that were necessary, and finally, he was at peace and alone.

Which was nice, at first. Until it wasn’t. Nico laid in bed for minutes which turned into what felt like hours. The pain was shooting from his leg into his back, the scar tissue from various surgeries still settling and irritating his skin. He’d already taken more painkillers than he should, and they hadn’t done anything to dull the pain. He didn’t want to watch television, didn’t want to read, there was nothing he could do to fix the ache in his joints and the unsettling feeling in his chest. He wondered many times where Christopher was, what he was up to, what he thought of Nico now. They hadn’t left on the best of terms, but it wasn’t like it mattered now. He heard a thud, then footsteps. Up the stairs, into the room across. It was close quarters, so Nico could hear Christopher’s every move. He stood up, paced the floor, then decided to investigate. He talked himself out of it, then back into it many times. Finally, he opened the door. He stood there for longer than he should’ve, hesitating. Finally, he knocked. He wasn’t sure if the man would answer the door, let alone how he would react to seeing him in such a poor state. Still, it had to be done, and he had to try.

A few weeks ago, some unsettling news had traveled from mouth to mouth, all over the stables and right into Christopher’s ears. A certain someone from his past was making a comeback, a movement apparently orchestrated by Christopher’s father. It sounded completely made up, a fairytale fabricated by someone who probably held a one-sided grudge. He had let it go immediately; frivolous rumours like that one arise constantly in competitive spaces. Perhaps someone was trying to mess with his head, to crush the nerves of steel he worked hard to train. Whoever it was, the trick worked wonderfully. He had spent an entire week anxiously fidgeting with the keys in his pocket and pacing way more than usual. His ears, which were usually focused on his own business, couldn’t help but get caught up in strangers’ conversations. Until yesterday, when his mother broke the news after inviting him to share a cup of plain coffee. “Nicolas is coming back. He had an accident, but he is fine now.” The young man had had a million questions swirling in his head after, but none of the courage to actually show he had always cared, he had always wondered. His mother’s sentences were too short, so short they left no space for questions or comments. He knew about the accident, of course; what kind of monster wouldn’t keep tabs on a close friend? It was a secret, of course, because the memory of his father sending his best friend away was still fresh. And, despite everything, he had never truly gone against his father’s instructions.

Christopher’s morning started before sunrise, not because he wanted to, but because his nervous system wouldn’t stop firing all kinds of signals. He was feeling every emotion under the sun all at once, and he only had about twelve hours to address them all. So he changed into some old clothes to go feed the horses. He didn’t have to; there were many stablehands to do so, but going back to the basics of horse care was relaxing. He could do that automatically while focusing on his feelings.

First, he worked on his fear. Fear of what, he wasn’t really sure. He felt threatened by Nico’s presence; at one point, in the past, Christopher thought the other would become the favorite son, even if they weren’t related at all. He was the embodiment of everything his parents wanted him to be. He was the type of guy to be comfortable in any situation, or at least appear so. Very charming, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, an excellent rider. Although Christopher had desperately tried to be like him, there was an obvious difference between them: one was born talented, the other was born with the right surname and not much else. Fear of being replaced again. But also, fear of confirming that he was hated by the person he once felt closest to. After Nico was kicked out, Christopher never contacted him again. He didn’t have the words to do so; there was nothing left to say. Apologizing wouldn’t have been enough, and even if he did apologize, the bond was permanently broken.

Addressing his fear became too much, so he moved on to his nostalgia, which was ever present but heightened at a time like this. Meanwhile, he had breakfast at his apartment. Well, it wasn’t an apartment, but he liked to pretend it was. In reality, he lived above the stable. He moved there in a desperate attempt to get away from his parents and closer to the family members he liked the most: the horses. Now, what was the real cause of his nostalgia at a time like this? Any other person, he imagined, would be delighted to see an old friend. Any normal person would be excited to share stories and new experiences with a person they missed a lot. But Christopher could only wish they were silly teens again. Light bodies that didn’t carry much emotional baggage and could serpentine around the obstacles in life with agility.

Again, remembering the old times was too much, and Christopher washed the dishes along with this heaviness that settled in his chest. He decided, at last, that he’d deal with whatever emotions arose at the sight of Nico when he finally had the man in front of him. Hours and hours passed him by in slow motion as he tended to the chores of the day, which weren’t taxing enough for him to forget the big event of the day. He worked three horses on the flat absentmindedly, then lunged one of his sisters’ mares, put eyedrops on a rebellious retired gelding, and occupied the rest of his afternoon by painstakingly cleaning tack. None of the tasks made him feel anything, not even riding his favorite youngster. Before the sunset, Christopher returned to his bedroom, going up the stairs nonchalantly, as if he didn’t want to rush inside and hide. If he did the math correctly, Nico’s plane had already landed, and he could be here at any minute.

The internal battle against his own emotions left him exhausted, so he fell asleep while scrolling through news portals, reading about Nico’s accident. He had a short dream where he switched places with the other rider and took the fall instead. Being unable to ride felt strangely liberating, but he knew he wouldn’t address it while awake. A knock on the door took the man out of his dream and plunged him into reality. Could it be the unexpected guest? Christopher stood up slowly, quietly, as if Nico were a feral animal he could scare off with a sound. With the same care, he opened the door until he could fully see the man on the other side. He imagined he’d find a lively man, a grown-up copy of the cheerful teen he so fondly remembers. Perhaps richer, maybe a bit better looking now that he had managed to enter the elite circles of equestrian society. But he found a weak shadow, a husk that kept the man he wanted to see hidden.

Out of habit, Christopher offered his hand. “Nicolas, it’s great to see you.” He greeted everyone like this now, a sign of his maturity, of his adulthood. He wanted a hug he did not think he deserved. He wanted to spit out an apology he didn’t know the other wanted to hear.