‘The Scientist’ is a song by British rock band Coldplay. It describes a broken relationship. The music video is famous for its reverse chronology. [Source: Genius Lyrics]

****
FFANC: Nathan's first concert was a Coldplay concert.

****

Chapter Eighteen: The Scientist

I woke up with something bright over my eyes. I felt enveloped in warmth. This was not something I usually woke up to. I knew something was wrong about the whole situation.

Wrong and hard. Those were muscles, not pillows, that I was hugging, or more like hugged by – my brain slowly registered.

My senses returned one by one, and I felt the legs tangled around mine, the arms around my waist, and the nose brushing the sensitive spot on my neck. There was a warm, soft rush of breath falling on the valley of my chest. It definitely belonged to that one boy whose bedroom I was currently sleeping in.

To put it simply, Nathan Callahan was sleeping soundly, hugging me, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

I swallowed as I opened my eyes. His silky black hair came into my view. It was right beneath my nose. I could smell the fresh scent of his shampoo. My eyes strayed down. I saw his white shirt with holes around the shoulders and the gray sweatpants.

He probably thought he was hugging a side pillow to sleep.

I needed to get away before he woke up. I tried to move.

“Mhm,” Nathan groaned. It reverberated right into my body.

Shit.

I breathed through my mouth, slowly, and counted to ten. Then I tried to move again.

“Ugh,” Nathan said, “Em.”

Em. He knew it was me, not a pillow.

The window was open, and the soft light of dawn was filtering in. I looked at the nightstand and found my phone lying right beside his. I had no memory of keeping it there.

I glanced down at Nathan’s sleeping face. He looked peaceful in his sleep, nothing like the devil he was when he was awake. His lips were in a straight line. The messy strands of his hair were all over his forehead. Something in me wanted to brush them off, but I held it in.

As I stared, his arm tightened around my waist. He pulled me in tighter, with my chest flush against his shoulder, burying his face deeper into my neck.

My heart started thudding so loudly I could hear it in my ear. I placed my shaky hands on his shoulder, “Nathan.”

He didn't respond.

“Nathan, wake up, please. I need to go home.”

I had texted mom last night. She hadn't replied by the time I fell asleep. God knew what storm was waiting for me at home.

I shook Nathan in panic, “Nathan!”

“God,” he mumbled, “What's wrong with you?”

Said the guy who was hugging me to death in his sleep.

“Nothing is wrong with me. Everything is wrong with you,” I said under my breath.

“Mhm,” he muttered into my skin, “I know. Why else would I dream of you?”

What?

He thought this was a dream.

It was further confirmed when I felt something soft brushing the front of my neck. It was his lips.

My nerves jolted at the contact, and I shuddered involuntarily.

Then I watched in horror as his eyes fluttered open. He squeezed my waist as he blinked in surprise.

I opened my mouth and closed it. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, our heads resting on the same pillow, inches away from each other.

Nathan Callahan then decided to ruin everything.

“Why are you in my bed?” he asked, his eyebrows pinched together.

Great question, I thought to myself.

I had had enough.

I pushed him away with as much force as I could muster. In my anger and rush of adrenaline, or maybe because he too was moving away, I was free. I got down from the bed, tied my shoes, and grabbed my jacket, shrugging it on. I picked up my phone from the nightstand. He stayed in his bed as I opened the door. Then he jolted up.

I walked out of his room. Nathan followed me quickly.

“Hey, wait.”

I quickly climbed down the stairs, making as little noise as possible.

“What if Mom is around?”

So, that was his primary concern.

I headed straight for the front door.

“Emily!” he whisper-screamed in a hurry.

I opened the door and stepped outside. He followed me in his slippers, almost running.

I crossed the gate when Nathan finally caught up with me.

“Em!”

I turned around. I met his eyes for a brief second.

“It’s Kingsley to you, Callahan.”

Then I left without a backward glance.

****

Life fucking sucked, I thought as I bundled myself up in the blanket. It was 85 degrees outside. I was in our living room, regretting my whole life and hating everyone.

It was Monday. I had skipped school.

I was in bed all day yesterday and only came down for dinner. When I did, I found my mother, with her nose buried in stacks of paper, busy grading her students’ assignments. She didn't even spare me a glance.

It was one in the afternoon now. Mom had been gone for hours. She didn't even check up on me as she left.

Today, I felt even worse than yesterday. Probably because I didn't take any meds for the cold or fever, whatever was coming on.

I had thrown up twice. And there was a big, fat pimple right on the tip of my nose. I had looked into the bathroom mirror once and hated my reflection.

I hated my mother for not taking care of me, my friends for not sending me a single text, and most of all, I hated him.

I wouldn't even bring his name to my mind.

I refused to check my calendar. Because that would prove how illogical my feelings were, that they were hormone-induced, that maybe they were not that justified, and that I was overreacting. I really didn't care if I was.

If I started my period anytime soon, I'd break something.

I had tried reading a book. I had picked up A Curse for True Love by Stephanie Garber, but something about people finding love was really getting on my nerves. So I snapped it close and left it on the tea table.

I turned on Netflix as background, even though I wasn't watching, on mute. I was hungry, but I didn't want to move a limb to get something to eat.

My mother should have known I was sick and made me something for breakfast.

I hid my head underneath the blanket and stayed there. I couldn't tell if I fell asleep or stayed in a state of delirium until the doorbell rang. I wondered why mom needed to ring the bell when she had a key.

But the bell kept ringing. I angrily got up from the couch, and at the last moment before opening the door, I remembered my big, fat pimple and covered my face, leaving only my eyes. Then I opened the door a few inches and peeped outside.

“There you are,” said a cheerful-looking Nathan Callahan.

I tried to slam the door in his face, but he jammed his foot in.

I cussed, and he laughed. “Why are you dressed like that?” he said, pushing the door open. He stepped inside, and I glared at him, bundled in the blanket.

“You were absent from school, and there was supposed to be a quiz today. I wondered why the hell you missed it.”

I kept glaring.

“Let me see your face, would you?” Nathan came towards me, with both of his hands going for the blanket. I tried to fight him off, but of course, he succeeded.

“Come on, Kingsley, what is-” his hand pressed on my face, “What the hell?”

Nathan pressed his palm on my forehead.

“You are running a fever,” he said, with concern etched into his face. Or it must have been my imagination. Why would he ever be concerned over me?

I pushed his hand away, “Why are you here?”

“I came over to tell you today's chem quiz was canceled, and we have to do a project in a group of two. I put your name with mine for convenience.”

I walked away from him towards the couch, “You could have just called me.”

He followed right behind me, “I don't have your number.”

I glanced at him, “Yes, you do.”

Nathan scratched the back of his head, “Do I?”

I rolled my eyes. I couldn't deal with his bullshit today. I sat down on the couch. I turned over the photo frame on the coffee table and rested my head on the back of the couch. Then I closed my eyes.

“I also forgot to return your scrunchie.”

I slowly breathed out.

What nice reasons to come to my house!

“Leave it and go away.”

I pulled my legs over the couch and lied down again.

“You know,” he started, “you don't look so good right now, Kingsley.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Callahan.” I murmured, “Did I fucking ask?”

There was silence after that. When I opened my eyes again, I found him inches over my face, looking down at me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I shrieked.

“I didn't mean it as in you're not pretty. I meant that you look kinda weak and ill. Your coloring is weird.”

“My coloring!” I rolled my eyes.

I pressed my hand over his shoulder and pushed him away. He straightened and then set his backpack down on the recliner. “Have you had lunch?”

I didn't even have breakfast. But he didn't need to know that.

“I don't think you did.”

My stomach chose that exact moment to make a sound.

Of course. Just my luck.

“I am also assuming you didn't take meds?”

I raised my hand and gave him the finger.

“Thought so. Describes a lot of things. You're acting like hangry Sawyer, but on steroids.”

I wanted to fall asleep and forget this ever happened. This must be a fever-induced dream. Nathan Callan at my house asking about my wellbeing? Definitely a dream.

“I know how to solve that problem.”

“I wonder why you would need to solve any of my problems,” I bit back.

“So you get well faster and do my share of the group project as well as yours.”

I opened my eyes and found him in the kitchen.

Nathan met my eyes and smiled, “Kind of like a payback.”

I breathed out, “You want me to do the whole project by myself in payback for what?”

“Making you the best food you have ever had,” Nathan winked with his palms resting on the kitchen counter.

I thought of the groceries we had left at home. Probably nothing of much value or taste, since mom and I lived mostly on food that could be thrown together in less than 10 minutes or so. Nothing gourmet had ever left our kitchen.

“Good luck, Callahan,” I said, raising my thumb.

Nathan took that as my vote of confidence.

He started moving around the kitchen. I had half a mind to watch him, but then I fell asleep.

****

I woke up to the sound of pots clinking.

“There you are, Kingsley, wake up.”

Nathan was hovering over me again with a bowl in his hand. I wanted to go back to sleep.

My stomach made a sound again. My body felt weak, and it was screaming for food.

So I huffed and sat up.

“That looks like radioactive shit,” I said as he placed the bowl on my lap and plopped down at the other end of the couch.

Nathan was stunned into silence for a second. I guess nobody had ever insulted his culinary skills. There was a first time for everything.

After getting over his initial shock, he started laughing, “I'm so offended, but that was actually funny. Radioactive shit. Are you for real?”

“Yes. I'm never eating that,” I said, looking down at the blob of food in the bowl. I had a vague sense that it smelled delicious, but my nose was clogged.

“Despite what it looks like, it is filled with what you need.”

“It looks like a mush.”

Nathan shook his head in disappointment, “Superficial beauty is an illusion, Emily. What matters is the inside. Just like this bowl of porridge that looks shitty but is full of nutrition your body needs.”

I rolled my eyes, “So deep.”

“It is.”

I wondered if that was an innuendo. It was hard to tell with Nathan.

I made a face but picked up the spoon. I faced away from him towards the TV as I put the food in my mouth.

My taste buds weren’t working well, but even so, I could tell it was probably the best porridge I ever had. I made no comment on that. Nathan didn't need his ego stroked.

“So, how is it?”

I grunted and kept eating. Nathan laughed.

He kept watching me. My eyes were glued to the TV. It was an episode from Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

Some moments later, when I dug my spoon into the bowl of porridge, it came away empty.

I looked down and realized I had wolfed down the whole bowl. I didn't even need to look at Nathan to see his cocky smirk. I could feel it.

I put the bowl down on the coffee table.

He was smiling when I glanced at him. Sitting with one of his legs folded on the couch and his arm stretched over the back, he looked totally at home.

“I want to lie down.” I muttered, avoiding his eyes.

“Wait a few minutes. I'll bring you water and medicine.” Nathan stood up. He stretched, and his shirt rode up a few inches. I looked away quickly.

“So, where's the medicine cabinet?”

I groaned.

After he came back, and I gulped down a paracetamol, Nathan Callahan picked up A Curse From True Love from the coffee table and started reading it like it was no big deal. I kept my eyes on him and muttered, “You should go now. I want to sleep.”

“What's stopping you?” he said with his eyes still on the pages.

I couldn’t believe he was reading it.

But as I stared at him, he looked up. He sighed, placed the book on the table, and came towards me.

“What are you-”

I said as he crouched, and grabbed both of my ankles, not before leaving me a wink, and pulled them over.

“Nathan!” I said as I turned. He placed my feet over his lap, covered them with the blanket, and grabbed the book again.

My feet were on his lap, over his thighs, thighs that felt strong.

His thigh was over my thigh last Saturday. So I guessed it was no big deal anyway.

I turned towards the TV. Jake Peralta was leading a prison rendition of I Want It That Way to find out the suspect. It was one of my favorite B99 episodes. But I couldn't concentrate.

Because Nathan Callahan was absently rubbing my feet while reading.

I glanced towards him as a sigh almost escaped my throat. It felt nice, his cool hands touching my skin. It felt soothing.

“Nathan,” I said softly.

He didn't pay me any attention.

“Why are you here, Nathan?”

*****

A/N: we are sooo backkkkkk