NATHAN

CHAPTER TWELVE - "FAMILIAR"

OCTOBER 1ST, MONDAY

I PULLED OPEN the door, the aching pang in my chest getting worse and worse by the second as the knot in my stomach got tighter and tighter, almost like someone was grabbing it and squeezing it as hard as possible.

Walking into the house, a concerned Elliot immediately greeted me, in his white shirt that I assumed he changed into after showering after football.

"Nathan!" He immediately ran towards me, placing both of his hands on either of my shoulders, looking at me up and down to check for injuries or bruises. "Where in God's name have you been for the past two hours? I've been looking for you everywhere! You wouldn't pick up my calls, I called the school and they said that you weren't at baseball practice!"

I looked down on the floor, my fingers grasping the dog tag around my neck automatically, fidgeting it between my fingertips.

I wasn't scared of him, my head was just filled with so many emotions and feelings, to the point where I didn't know how to react to anything anymore.

And of course, I wasn't going to tell him I spent the past two hours just sitting on a random park bench, rocking myself back and forth.

"Sorry," I choked out, unable to say anything else without the familiar tears escaping the corners of my eyes. My chest swelled with both numbness and anxiety at the same time, and my breath hitched.

The air around me thickened, and my hands began shaking on their own as my chest tightened. I took in harsh, large breaths of air only to no avail, and my lungs felt like they were stuffed with dry, burning cotton.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't breathe.

And I was sorry, I was sorry, I was so sorry, I made Elliot worry, I was sorry, and I couldn't breathe and-

"Nathan!" Elliot put his hands up to my cheeks. I could hear myself taking choked breaths of air, and the sound of my own breathing was loud and echoed in my ears.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I'm sorry," I cried, still trying to breath in whatever I could. "I'm sorry."

"Nathan, it's fine! I'm not mad. Just breathe with me, okay?" I nodded desperately, watery eyes burning with tears. I felt his chest rise as he breathed in, and I attempted to match my breathing pattern with his.

"You're doing amazing, Nate. Breathe in again for me," Elliot murmured. His voice was soft, and I breathed in.

"Now out." I breathed out. "There we go, in again."

I breathed in again, still shaking.

"There we go, there we go, there we go," He repeated, voice even softer than it had previously been.

My trembling hands scrambled for the front of his shirt as I buried my head into the crook of his neck, taking in shaky breaths. He smelled like orange body wash.

"It's okay, I'm here, don't worry," Elliot reassured, probably noticing my hastening need to just have something - someone - to grab onto. "It's alright, It's okay."

I broke down, crying and sobbing as Elliot gently placed his hand on my back, running it up and down like how he used to do it back when we were still toddlers, whispering comforting phrases as I continued to weep into his shoulder.

I tried my best to control my overwhelming emotions, and soon, my cries and sobs turned into quiet, soft whimpers.

"Mom and dad both know, they said they'd be back as soon as possible," He murmured, still patting my back soothingly. I nodded in response, not trusting my vocal cords to do their job.

"Sarah said the funeral's being held in two weeks," He said that quieter.

Pulling back and pulling down the hood of my red hoodie, he ruffled my mop of brown hair, somehow making it messier than it was before. "For now, just get some rest, okay? You look like you just got caught in a hurricane. I'll make dinner."

I nodded, tightening my grip on him for a few more seconds before dragging myself up the carpeted stairs, my head spinning and every fibre of my body screaming out of exhaustion.

I was too aware of the awful soreness through my body, my head pounding as waves of sharp and heavy pain throbbed through my temples.

I immediately dropped my backpack on the floor, throwing myself onto the soft surface that was my bed, hoping that it would relieve the throbbing headache, even if it was only momentary.

I allowed myself to sink into the comforting mattress, shutting my eyes and resting my palms above my eyelids.

My previous panic dissolved slowly, but steadily, into that familiar numbness again.

Maybe, if I just shut my eyes and go to bed, this will all disappear.

Maybe, if I just shut my eyes and go to bed, I'll wake up and he'll be back.

Maybe, this was all just a nightmare.

A horrible, horrible nightmare.

I cried into my pillow.

"Nate?"

A knock on the door made me stir, sitting up slowly and groggily. I rubbed my eyes with my hands, still drowsy as Elliot peeked into the room, holding a bowl and a fork in his hands. He was wearing a white sweatshirt, both sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black sweatpants.

Everything hurt.

He walked into the room and closed the door behind him before placing the bowl and fork on the nightstand next to me.

"I made you some pasta, do you feel like eating?" Elliot asked, his tone gentle and soft as he sat down on my bed.

At the moment, merely looking at the very sight of anything that I could ingest made me queasy, so the last thing I wanted to do was to eat, even when the food in hand was Elliot's infamous pasta. So I shook my head, leaning against the headboard.

A soft knock made me open my eyes again.

Both our heads turned at the sound of the door creaking open, not wide, but just enough for a head to peek in and take a glimpse inside the room. The figure then pushed the door open a bit more before entering the room.

"Ro?" I questioned, blinking in confirmation that the girl was really standing in my room. She was wearing her pastel pink, oversized sweatshirt and her sky blue jeans. Her black hair was in a ponytail, with matching dark glasses framing her brown eyes.

She waved at me and nodded politely at Elliot, her gaze not meeting his.

I asked further, "Wha- What are you doing here?"

She had been in my room before but had always been accompanied by the rest of our friend group, and could never stay after seven, which I assumed had already passed judging by the darkness outside the window, because of her parents' rules.

"It's...Complicated." She smiled softly, the smile not reaching her eyes. "We had this whole big debate in the group chat about visiting you, a lot of calling and crying, and blah, blah, blah-" Ro's hand moved in midair as she spoke. "-Long story short, the others are downstairs, worried about you but scared that they're gonna wake you up, so I was kind of dragged upstairs because apparently I was the only one who knew how to be quiet."

I blinked. "Oh."

Ro nodded.

"How long have you guys been downstairs?" I asked, and Ro tilted her head side to side as she contemplated the answer to the question. She looked down at the digital watch on her left wrist, humming quietly.

"About an hour and a half?" Her eyes were still on the watch, her voice quiet, soft and slightly breaking towards the end. She chuckled weakly, swallowing. "Yeah, we're not... the best at time management."

Ro glanced between me and Elliot, brown eyes darting nervously across the small distance between us. She pointed to the staircase behind her over her shoulder. "Should I call them up?"

Elliot turned to me, to which I nodded.

"You can stay here, I'll get them up," He stated, pointing to Ro and gesturing for her to move from in front of the door, to which she hastily shuffled away and allowed him access to the door.

She then walked towards the side of my bed and to a swivel chair that she always sat on. Much like the other items that the others would frequently toy with or sit on with their often visits, it had practically belonged to her at this point.

The spot on the carpet in front of the television belonged to Alex, the couch that laid in front of a shelf full of books and novels that I never read belonged to Spencer, the wall next to the door, decorated in red wallpaper, belonged to Myles.

And the beanbag on the floor belonged to Lucas.

I'd sit on my bed, leaning back against the headboard and listen to him read his novel aloud as he sunk further and further into the beanbag. Then, I'd ask him to sit on my bed, and he'd always decline first before giving up and just sit on my bed.

And I'd wrap my arms around him, smiling quietly to myself as his voice continued to wash over me.

Sometimes, he'd fall asleep, and I'd find his back still against the headboard, his pale blonde hair draping over his delicate features because of his head's tilted position. His book would still be in his hands, his face would look as if he was eternally in peace, and I'd hug him closer to me.

And now, I would never be able to do that again.

I wanted to deny the fact, to scream and say that he was still here, and that it was just all an elaborate prank pulled on me.

But as I remembered his boney frame, pale skin, and the exhausted look constantly on his face, my heart ached and began to push away the excuses I had made.

Both Ro and I sat in silence as we watched Elliot walk out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Everything started to hurt again.

"How's it going?" Ro asked, cutting the silence between us after the close of the door. Her already soft voice had never been more gentle as she asked me, "Rough?"

I nodded, swallowing hard.

My chest ached again. The sharp pain pierced through me unforgivingly, reminding me over and over again on the fact that the beanbag in the corner would now be forever empty.

"I- I just-" I hesitated, taking in a breath.

I struggled with the words, feeling myself choke up.

I stared down at the blanket, hoping for the red that covered every inch of the room to bury and drown me, leaving me as nothing more but a small drop in an ocean of red.

I grasped desperately at the sheets, just wanting something to hold onto as the memories overwhelmed me. The warm tears began to rush out without warning, the red from the beanbag burning into me.

Ro didn't question my silence. She didn't make me speak more.

Instead, she simply nodded, placing her hand on top of my mine soundlessly.

I grabbed desperately at her hand, my body immediately reacting to the touch of a friend instead of the sharp pain that I had grown accustomed to in the last few hours. I squeezed Ro's hand with both of mine, letting my head hang down as I cried.

My hands were still around Ro's, my hold excessively tight around her fingers. I couldn't let go, as the feeling of finally having someone that understood the empty dread that lingered inside my chest flickered just a bit at the contact.

I squeezed her hand even tighter, but she didn't seem to care as she put her other hand on top of mine.

I continued to sputter gibberish as I cried, eventually tugging on her hand hard enough that she let me wrap her arms around her torso. She said nothing, only nodding at my nonsense and running her fingers through my hair comfortingly as the tears refused to stop.

The smell of roses washed over my sense, bringing me relief as I finally found a familiar aspect of my life that still remained.

I heard the door open again but refused to unwrap myself from Ro, unwilling to let go of the one person that I had finally found comfort and some sense of familiarity from.

"Nathan," She whispered, unwrapping one of her arms around me to look towards the door. I kept my arms wrapped tightly around her, refusing to open my eyes or look anywhere else, scared that the sense of comfort would slip right through between my fingers and disperse into nothingness.

She pulled softly at my arm, and I swallowed again. I kept my head down, wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand and sniffling quietly.

I felt the mattress sink down next to me, followed by a hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles as I exhaled deeply.

He was next to me, and his hand was still on my back. Without looking, I still couldn't distinguish who the person was, but it brought in another sense of security into the frenzied labyrinth in my mind nonetheless.

"We're here for you." Alex.

His usually energetic and loud voice turned hushed and tender, layered with a bit of hoarseness. He had been crying, like everyone else in the room.

"We-uh, we tried calling you," Spencer stuttered, which I never thought I would've heard in a million years. I could hear him shuffle in his spot. His voice was also raw from crying, although not as raw as Alex's or Ro's. "You didn't pick up, and we got worried."

I looked up, rubbing my swollen eyes.

Spencer stood next to the bed, right behind the spot that Alex had sat on. Ro was still standing next to me, an arm wrapped comfortingly around my bicep, and Myles was standing against the wall, next to the door.

I picked up my phone from the nightstand, still rubbing away at streams of fresh tears.

6:42 P.M.
17 Missed calls from "Eli Baloney 🎓 👨🏻‍🍳"

7:26 P.M.
14 Missed calls from "Edgy Confetti Myles Spaghetti 🍝🕴🏻"

7:35 P.M.
12 Missed calls from "Ro Ro Ro Your Boat 🌸 👩‍💻"

7:47 P.M.
8 Missed calls from "T-Rex Alex 🐉👨🏼‍🎤"

7:59 P.M.
5 Missed calls from "Smarty Spencey 🌟🙇🏾‍♂️"

Below those were messages. From both individual direct messages and multiple group chats.

The tears trailed down my cheeks, and I put both my hands up to my face. I sobbed, loudly and uselessly.

They were all worried about me.

I made them worry.

I made everyone worry.

I blindly reached my hand over for someone - anyone - to hold onto, and as soon as I felt a set of callused fingers, I held onto it as tight as possible. It was my lifeline, the only thing that resisted the pull into a depths of emotions, filled with endless crying and never-ending regret and sorrows.

I didn't know who they belonged to, but they felt familiar, so I just continued holding them close.

My cries were full of sadness, anger, heartbreak, and everything else that ranged from guilt to pain. With every cry, my body shook, and every shake just brought me further discomfort.

It was torture - to have your friends stay in a room with you, trying their best to comfort you, while you wished for nothing more than somebody else. I felt selfish for not feeling better, but the ache in my chest knew no difference.

And even after an hour or so of murmuring bittersweet comforts, different warm hands and arms holding me, and sounds of cries tangling together, I still felt empty.

It stabbed with a dull, but also sharp pain.

Everything stung and burned, and he can't be gone, he just can't, he's not, please don't leave me alone, please come back, don't leave-

Everything still hurt.

And after they all murmured their goodbyes, rubbing tears away from their eyes, they finally left.

Greeted with the bleak silence, I just pulled my blanket over myself and cried harder.

I didn't go back to school for another two days, just drowning and slowly suffocating in my own sorrows.

I cried, and I cried, and I cried.

The red bean bag stayed in the corner of my room the whole way through.