NATHAN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - "IDIOT"

OCTOBER 8TH, MONDAY

"I KNEW I shouldn't have let him gone to practice! I-I-"

"Elliot, it's not your fault, just-"

"-Oh my god, I think he's waking up! Elliot, go get the doctor!"

I opened my eyes, the immediate, direct brightness of the unfamiliar environment caused me to squint. My mind spun in endless circles, the dizziness and lightheadedness washing over me as I took in a deep breath in hopes of soothing sickening nausea.

Just past the brightness, I could make out the features of my mom, a relieved smile formed by her lips. She sighed, putting her hands on my cheeks. "Oh thank goodness! Are you feeling alright? Do you need anything? How's-"

I blinked, confused at the unfamiliarity of everything as mom continued to bombard me with questions that I couldn't process. My throat burned, causing me to swallow harshly in attempts to regain some kind of moisture for the stinging.

I tried sitting up, supporting myself with my forearms but was stopped by the ache in my head, and the lightheadedness. Mom brushed back a strand of hair resting on my forehead, her palms still against my cheeks as she shook her head slowly.

"Mom?" I squeaked, perplexed at the suddenness of everything that was unfolding in front of my eyes. My eyes slowly adapted to the brightness, and I could see another figure standing behind her.

I raised my left hand, slightly bewildered as my eyes lingered on the IV drip attached into the back of it. "What happened?"

"Do you not remembering anything?" I shook my head. She frowned, clearly stressed. "You passed out during baseball, sweetie. Have you not been eating well?"

My mind flashed back to the times I had pushed away from the trays of lunch that the school provided, or the times when I had told Elliot that I wasn't hungry, and how the mere sight of food repulsed me.

The pit in my stomach dropped, sinking, sinking, and sinking.

"I-I guess not," I stuttered, ashamed. She didn't push further, since I guess searching and digging for a question that she already knew the answer to was deemed useless.

"Do you feel alright, hon?" Mom asked, concern dripping from her words. Her hands were removed from my cheeks as she asked, "Do you need anything? Water? Wait, hold on, let me pour you some."

I stayed silent, watching as she reached over and poured the water in a glass jug into a cup. Her hands trembled, causing the water jug to visibly shake alongside her hands. I reached out weakly. "Uh-"

Dad put a hand on the glass. "Laura, I'll do it."

He was still in his suit, the white shirt underneath contrasted with the dark, unbuttoned blazer jacket. He poured some of the water into the cup, handing it over to me with a small nod.

Mom sat on the edge of my bed, intertwining one of her hands with mine as I took a meek sip of the water. I looked down at the intertwined fingers, my mind running as I squeezed her hand, confirming that she was here.

It had been so long that I almost forgot what it was like to be with them, to reach out and actually feel something underneath my fingertips, to see them with my own two eyes and confirm it wasn't just me imagining everything.

I looked up and at my dad, who had already placed down the jug of water, instead, his hand was now wrapped around the shoulder of mom, giving soothing rubs as mom continued to hold my hand in hers.

They were here.

She clutched my hand harder, grasping it with a firm grip as her bottom lip trembled, making me realise that I had just been staring and gawking at them in shock and disbelief, my lips slightly parted.

In front of me.

"If we knew this would happen, we would've..." Mom trailed off, her voice quivering as she held my hand in hers. I stared at her, bewildered by the apology and opening my mouth to speak, but closed them before words slipped from it.

Dad looked down and continued giving her soft rubs before continuing for her, "Even without this happening, we should've been there for you through what happened, and-"

"Honestly, it's fine," I reassured softly, my voice still harsh even with the previous sip of warm water. I squeezed mom's hand again, still slightly dazed, but a smile still somehow managed its way onto my lips. "You two couldn't leave work, it's not like it's your fault or anything."

Mom opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by a knock on the door as all our heads turned towards it. The door was pushed open, and behind it revealed Elliot, still wearing his white football jersey underneath a black jacket, next to a lady in white who I assumed was the doctor.

"Hello, Nathan, seems like you've just woken up," She said, pausing beside my bed and looked at the monitor next to me. "I'm sure your parents have already addressed it, but to explain your situation in more detail, you haven't been sleeping or eating properly, and adding onto that, you were exercising abruptly on an empty stomach and while dehydrated."

"Your brother also told me that you've been stressed lately, correct?" She questioned. I nodded, biting down on my bottom lip as I glanced towards Elliot, whose hands were stuck inside the pockets of his jackets.

He looked back at me, his brows furrowed in worry as I listened to the beeps from the vital signs monitor. I tried my best to smile at him, attempting to reassure him that I was alright.

All I could give was a weak, sad and forced raise at the corner of my mouth. I hoped it was enough to cover the ache that I was feeling in my chest.

"That's also another factor, but besides that, there doesn't seem to be any other issues." The doctor explained, pulling away from the monitor and smiling at me. "Depending on how your situation progresses, you should probably be in the hospital for about a week, and I don't recommend doing any sort of vigorous exercises for the next month and a half or so."

I nodded, and the feeling of dread slowly seeped up as I thought about the baseball team, and how they were going to manage for the upcoming game.

My body accepted it as if it was an old friend, and I simply let it mix in with the original, simmering layer of sadness.

"And that should be it," She said, looking at the watch at her wrist before she turned to the others. "You guys can stay with Nathan for time being, and I'll come back to check on you guys later."

Before leaving the room, she patted me on the shoulder gently, giving me another smile and saying, "You're doing just fine, Nathan, don't worry about it."

As the door closed, Elliot immediately took an enormous, deep exhale and I heard him say, "Oh my god." under his breath before wrapping his arms around me, murmuring, "I should've known, I really should've known, I should've had even let you gone to baseball in the first place."

And after I finished convincing and reassuring Elliot that I wasn't dying with panicked words that I didn't even know existed in the English vocabulary, I got a good look at the room that I was in.

There was a couch by the other end of the room, two cushioned, grey chairs next to it, with a small table in the middle of all the furniture, a vase of flowers on top of the wooden surface. There was also a large television positioned on the wall that I was directly across, the screen still dark.

It was nice, but different.

It made me want to cry.

I began wondering why, but then it hit me - It was different from Lucas's.

Suddenly, it didn't look as nice.

I wanted to cry.

Then, abruptly, mom stood up, standing next to dad and holding her white handbag, almost as if she was preparing to leave.

"Don't look so panicked, hon, we're not going back to work until another week and a half." Mom pat the top of my head and laughed, to which I nodded and looked down sheepishly, embarrassed at how easy I was to read, and the fact that they had to ask to leave work for another week and a half to attend to my injuries.

She grinned brightly and said, "It's about time we go get dinner and go back home, since you did pass out for an awfully long time."

I tilted my head to the side, curious. "How long?"

"It's seven-thirty, we were called at five, and you've been awake for half an hour or so, so..." She checked her phone to confirm the time, her diamond ring shimmering in the hospital light. "About two hours," She replied, shrugging.

I was stunned, the amount of time confounding my head as I failed to grasp how I passed out for a whole two hours, for what seemed like a mere flash of a second.

"Oh."

"Yep."

"Oh."

"Mhm."

Mom grasped at dad's arm, tugging and grabbing at Elliot's with her other as she hummed cheerfully, the mood in the room immediately brightening. "Okay, let's get back home! We've been here for way too long and I haven't had Chinese takeout for way too long."

And as she strolled towards the door, still pulling and dragging Elliot along as dad walked beside her, she turned back and towards me. "Oh! Right, Myles is still outside!"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"He's been outside for pretty much the entire time you've been out," Mom casually mentioned. "I haven't seen him for so long, he's so tall now!" She exclaimed, gesturing with her free hand. She shook her head, sighing softly. "He's a lovely young man, I don't understand why you don't hang out with him more."

Before I could reply, mom opened the door and immediately invited the aforementioned boy in, smiling and grinning the entire time.

My eyes darted around between the four figures in the room, still completely perplexed at the situation at hand and in front of my eyes. Myles was in a black letterman jacket, smiling politely as he greeted my parents, and shared a quick nod with Elliot.

"I-" I managed out, but was too quiet for mom and dad to notice before they all walked out of the room. I looked up at Myles, who had pulled over a cushioned, grey chair and was now sitting by my bed. He crossed his arms against his chest, his blue eyes burning into me.

And finally, after a few moments of just staring at each other, I smiled.

"Hi."

Myles let out a small, genuine smile as he chuckled at my short greeting. He took a breath in, still smiling. "Yeah, hi."

"You've been here for two hours?" I questioned, reaching over and getting the cup of water that had been placed on the nightstand and taking a quick sip from it. He nodded, and I frowned. "Why didn't you just, you know, go back home?"

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Underneath, he had already changed into a black t-shirt, and the corners of my lips raised at the one thing that he still hasn't changed - Wearing all black.

"Well, I can't just leave you to die, can I?" Myles pat the top of my head like how mom did moments ago, only giving a few extra, soft pats alongside the first."You feeling alright?"

I nodded, giving him a toothy smile.

His hand remained on the crown of my head, still and motionless as he continued to glance down on me. Not with the usual, sharp stare that I've seen him give people times after times, but soft, tender, and kind.

"Uh." I put my hand on top of his. "Is everything okay?"

Myles sighed, pausing for a few moments before flicking me on the forehead with his middle finger, causing me to flinch back lightly even though there was no sense of pain whatsoever. "You, Nathan Smith, are a damn idiot."

"Wha-"

He wrapped his arms around me, and I was taken aback by his unexpected display of affection that has never occurred before, sitting there, slightly dazed and confused as to what I should do. His chin was rested on my shoulder, and both his arms were around my waist as he continued to engulf me in an embrace.

I hugged him back, and suddenly began giggling.

It wasn't from extreme joy or happiness, but just a spontaneous wave of laughter. I basked in it anyway, since If I was smiling, I couldn't be crying.

He pulled away, bewildered at my show of amusement. I grinned widely, trying not to entangle the IV drip with the objects in the way as I grabbed his forearm, still smiling to myself.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Myles questioned, one of his brows raised as his gaze drifted down to our wrists, with my fingers wrapped around his covered forearm, and the corners of my lips still raised.

I nodded again.

"I'm just..." Confused, upset, beat, and so, so confused. "Yeah, you get the point."

Before he could question anything, I grasped at the material of his jacket excitedly, suddenly reminded of the markings that laid underneath.

"Do you still have your tattoos?" I asked.

"Well, Nathan, surprisingly, tattoos are permanent and don't just disappear over time."

I smiled at his sarcastic attempt at lifting the mood. I asked, "Can I see them?"

He opened his mouth, probably to refuse the idea, but as I looked at him through my lashes, giving him my best puppy dog eyes, he started chuckling and shook his head. "Sure."

I cheered silently as he took off his jacket, rolling up the left, short sleeve of his t-shirt to show the entirety of his black, dark markings that contrasted against his skin. He placed the black jacket on his lap, his hands rested, faced down onto the black fabric.

I sighed in admiration at the patterns.

I liked them. They distracted me.

"I don't get why you always cover them up." I reached out, tracing one of the inkings with my fingertips. He looked at my hand that was rested against his skin, his eyes following the movements of my hand. "You always wear jackets over them, but they're like, super, super cool."

He paused, inhaling a deep breath.

"They... " Myles trailed off, his voice quiet. He shook his head, sighing again. "I don't like looking at them."

I trailed my fingertip down onto his upper arm, smiling at the pattern of a fluttering butterfly, lingering on the red, inked wings with my index finger. "Why not?"

"I think you know why."

I paused, tracing back in my memory index, and I let out a sharp gasp of realisation, remembering when I had first met him in the back of the school. "Oh my god, I remember when you used to just stay in the back of the school and-"

His eyes widened in surprise as if he didn't think that was the subject I'd mention, and then he immediately covered my mouth with his hand, repeating the words, "No, no, shut up, no," Over the murmuring of my voice, muffled by the palm of his hand.

I laughed as he pulled his hand back, leaning back into the back of the chair as he ran his fingers through his black hair, flustered.

"They're still cool, though," I said, still distracted. "I mean, I know they're like, kind of illegal since like, you know, law and stuff and everything- "

Myles laughed at my attempted explanation of the required age to get a tattoo.

I smiled back, continuing, "-But honestly, I think they're awesome."

He raised one of his brows sceptically at me. "Nathan, may I remind you that I got them using a fake ID that I got from a guy that called himself Azazel."

I called back to when he had shown me the said card around a year ago, and remembered how I had bombarded him relentlessly with pleading questions in order for him to finally show me it.

I had gawked at the card and the fake name against the white background, secretly wishing that I looked as mature as him to be able to pass off as someone two years older than I actually was.

I shrugged carelessly to his statement, to which he sighed.

"Emma cried when she saw it, and really, if anything, they don't even look that good, and this should be a reason why you don't-

I interrupted him, "First of all, they look amazing, don't be rude."

He opened his mouth to question my logic, but I continued before he could.

"Second of all, even if you don't think they don't look good, I think they still show the things you've been through." I pressed on the red butterfly, and his right hand clutched at his left wrist.

"And even if others don't see it, I do." I smiled. "And I think they're pretty."

Myles was quiet.

"I- uh," He started, stumbling over his words, which I didn't even think was possible. "I don't think pretty is exactly the best way to describe it, but, I guess I'll take it."

His words had a coldness to it, but the tone that he said it in was so warm and tender, with a certain softness to it that was incredibly unusual from him but was certainly welcomed.

"Ding!"

Myles pulled out his phone from his pocket, tapping on the screen and typing something down. I tilted my head to the side, trying to get a view of what he was doing on his phone. When I realised that my actions were fruitless, I asked, "Who are you texting?"

He continued texting as he answered, "The group chat. Everyone's worried out of their minds about you." More messages popped up on his screen.

I leaned back into my stack of pillows, guilt washing up in waves. "What are they saying?"

"Spencer is telling you to get more rest and sent an entire list of foods you should eat and vitamins that you need, Ro says she's going to physically shove food down your throat the next time she sees you not eating during lunch, and Alex asks if he can be captain of the baseball team when you pass out again in the near future."

A smile tugged at my lips, but it quickly faded when I remembered that a familiar name was left out of the list of people.

"So, uh..." I said as he put his jacket back on, looking towards me, expecting a statement or a question. He slipped his phone back into his pocket as I sunk more into the pillows. "Why did you stay for two entire hours? Are Emma and Lisa, like, worried at all?"

"Well, first of all, they know what happened, so they're fine." I nodded, waiting for him to continue. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair again, almost in a stressed, anxious manner. "And-"

Myles opened his mouth, but closed it before he said anything, diverting his gaze away from mine and leaving me confused and perplexed.

"I- " He hesitated, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed harshly, his eyes focused on anything but my face. I leaned towards him, worried, but didn't comment on the glossiness of his eyes as he continued to speak.

He chuckled humourlessly, sighing again. "I guess I was just scared."

"Scared?"

He nodded, but still refused to meet my gaze. "Really, really scared."

"You know how I feel about death, and I- and Lucas..." He struggled to find the proper words, his usual, cool demeanour slowly fading away as he took in a deep inhale before continuing, "And I just, couldn't bear to be anywhere else, knowing that you were unconscious on a hospital bed."

"Really, really overdramatic, but-" Myles paused, taking in a shaky breath. "-I guess I was just afraid to lose you, like him."

The softness in his voice returned, but instead of being warm and tender with gentle affection, he sounded weak, nervously frightened, and unsure of his every word, like if he said something wrong, it was going to scare me off.

It was vulnerable.

He was vulnerable.

The boy who I thought had just been completely emotionless, who I thought was always just calm, stoic and collected, whose features never quite expressed what he was feeling, just said he was afraid.

Myles Fidel, the boy that took me five whole months to get close enough to so he'd accept my invitation to sit at my lunch table, was afraid.

It felt unreal, like some sort of glitch or error that was never supposed to happen.

But maybe, that was just one of the downfalls of not showing your emotions.

I reached over, this time, wrapping my arms around him first. He held onto me like I was going to slip out from between his arms if he didn't hold onto me hard enough and that if he stopped clutching the back of my hoodie, I'd fade from his view, never to return.

Soon enough, he pulled away first, a small, almost unnoticeable smile dancing on his lips.

A period of comforting silence between us, with the both of us not saying anything, but enjoy the comfort from the other's presence.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, surprising the both of us.

My mind raced, and I struggled to find the words to describe the phrase and idea that I had wanted to tell him, but I still managed out, "I- I just realised something."

He stayed silent, but I continued anyway.

"No one was there to comfort you, so you were just alone, and I was too busy being an emotional mess, and-" My mind flashed back to last Monday, and the painful pang in my chest burst into flames. I buried my face into the palm of my hands, murmuring against it, "-I even yelled at you in the bathroom on Monday, oh my god."

He laughed at my panic, and after a brief moment of silence, with me nervously shifting around in the bed in pure shame, still with my palms to my face and resisting the urge to scream, he chuckled softly.

"I'm used to it," He said, leaning in towards me. I looked down, guilt slapping me across the face.

"Me yelling at you?"

Myles sighed, flicking me on the forehead again, causing me to pout and huff playfully. He smiled, tugging and pulling the hood of my red hoodie over my head. "No, you being an emotional idiot."

I smiled, just barely looking at him through my lashes. "Fair enough."

He pat my head over the hood. "Fair enough, indeed."