A/N: Just a short fic, set in season one, describing the emotions of Haley and Nathan after the whole incident with Nathan's experiment with performance inhancers. The first half will be told in the point of view of Nathan, the second in the point of view of Haley. I will denote these changes in POV. I couldn't resist putting some lyrics in before each of their sections, but it's more of a description of their feelings than it is a part of the story. Hope you enjoy!
When the World Fell Down
Nathan
"I was fading last night
Lost out in the cold
Couldn't see the light
Then she opened up the doorI came in from the dark
Fell into her arms just in time
And now I know that I have left the past behind
Won't let it go."
--Clay Aiken
It's pretty common consensus among the teenagers of Tree Hill, North Carolina that I'm perfect. Well, if I must be technical, it isn't me that's perfect—rather, it's my life. In fact, I'd have to say that most people would call me anything other than perfect. I'm sure you all know my type—I'm the guy who has it all. I'm rich, my parents are influential, I'm the star of my high school varsity basketball team, and I'm popular. Everyone wants to be me, to have what I have. And hell, I'll admit it—I love it. When I walk down the hall, the other guys practically salivate, green with envy, all of them hoping in some pathetic, distant way that I'll talk to them just so they can say that I did. I can have my pick of pretty much any girl in the school; practically every one wants me. But no one really likes me, if you get what I mean. The girls want sex, the boys want to trade me places . . . it's your classic case of lust and envy. Sure, they'll follow me, listen to me, hang around me, but only for those reasons. Deep down, they all don't care—even worse than the simple indifference is the fact that often times they despise me.
Sometimes you'll run into someone who's seemingly perfect in every aspect of life, and you usually hate them. You hate them because they can do anything and everything, including the things you can't. Because they get the better grades, are the better athletes, are more popular. Because they're things you're not, and never can be. But often times if you ever really get to know that person—a step most people rarely take—you'll see they aren't half bad. Then you can say they've got the perfect personality, too, one more thing to tally up that's great for them, but it makes it harder to hate them when they're a decent person. Let me wash away any uncertainties here by saying that I'm not that kind of guy. I'm one of those 'perfect' people, yeah, but if you ever try to get to know me, you'll never find anything you'll like. All you'll find is Nathan Scott, a cold-hearted bastard who seems to have no compassion, no feeling, and a drive to destroy and hurt.
But no one really understands—no one ever tries. They give up before long, and that's the way I like it, the way I keep it. The fact is, my life isn't so perfect. I'd trade places with any one of those average guys any day. I may be a basketball star, but I can't say I even enjoy the game anymore. I remember when I was younger and all I wanted to do was dribble the ball all day and all night. I loved every minute of it—until my father came along.
He saw in me the talent he once had, and ever since then he's lived through me, trying to rekindle his own years in my position. He lives in the past, and uses me as his link. He wants me to be where he was, but at the same time, he can't deal with the fact that I might be his equal or even his superior. No matter what I do, it isn't good enough for him. He pushes me to do better, as though I'm below his standards, which of course in his mind I am and always will be, regardless of how hard I try. Some parents push their kids hard to give them an edge, to get them to a high level of performance, but not my dad. My dad wants me to be at an impossibly high level of performance, a level of god-like proportions, a level I can never attain, and he knows it. I think he loves to push me, to see the anger burn in my eyes when I've grown sick of it all, to teach me that I can never be as good as him by setting standards that are too high—standards he couldn't reach himself. I've grown to hate him, but at the same time, I still love him. He's my father; it's hard to just drop such feelings in a trash can along with my empty cardboard Coke cup and keep walking. I don't want to care what he thinks of me, how he feels about me, but I just can't help it. That's what makes it harder—the caring.
I've stopped liking basketball for the most part. The last time I could still enjoy it to the fullest was before I ever made varsity. It was when I made that team that my father started acting the way he does now. Not to say he wasn't the same before—he's always pushed my limits, pushed me to the brink of hatred for him and for everything, but it's only grown worse. I only keep playing because I'm honestly afraid of what my dad would do if I tried to stop—that incident with the Little League game I told Lucas about wasn't the only one of its kind, I can assure you. But just as much as I am afraid of my father, I am also afraid of what would happen to my life. I can deal with the pressure and the stress by getting it out at school. Like I said, I love the perks of popularity—I get high off of it, and I take advantage of it often. But again, my personality is hardly even C-quality. If I quit basketball, that popularity wouldn't stick around for long. I know it's shallow, but I don't really know what I'd do without it. Along with that, any shot of a scholarship I may have would leave as well, and I need to go to college, a college that's far away from North Carolina, and far away from Dan Scott. My grades aren't good enough to get me accepted to anything better than a community college, and any help my father would provide would hinge on my continuing to play basketball. In a word, I'm afraid of myself. Basketball is both my salvation and my undoing, and the conflict of these things has been tearing me apart for years
All I've ever been able to do is deal with it, pretend it doesn't matter, and discourage people from trying to find out. Because even less than I want my father's criticism do I want people's pity. The last thing I need is people who call themselves friends and try to help when they just can't. That's why I never let anyone in, never let them get too close. I've been with girls, yeah, but they were never anything more that just a one-night stand. Peyton was different and the same. It started out because she was beautiful, but escalated into something more. I honestly considered trusting her with how I really feel sometimes, though I never ended up doing it. I'd start to let her in, realize what I was doing, and push her away again. In the end, I was a little too mean to her, a little too much of a jerk to be forgiven. That left a void for a while, a slight ache that I'd never before experienced, but it wasn't anything I couldn't move past.
Just when I thought I had everything under control, basketball season started. Lucas stole my spot on the team, and since then my father's been harder on me than ever. He hates Lucas so much—I can't understand what right he has to hate Lucas, or even why he does. I hated Lucas because of what his arrival did to my father, and in turn what it did to me. My father's controlling streak has gotten to the point of being unbearable at times, all because he wants to prove that I'm better than Lucas—and by way of some twisted connection that only Dan Scott is capable of seeing, to prove that he is better than Lucas.
In spite of all the bad things that came with Lucas, one good thing came—Haley James. Haley is different from everyone I've ever met before. She's the only person I can truly talk to, who can understand me, who I can trust. I want her in a way I've never wanted any other girl. It's more than just sex here; she's the person I want to be with. When I first got her for a tutor, my mind was abound with possibilities of how I could use her to hurt Lucas. As I've said, I've grown used to taking advantage of my situations. But as it progressed, as things changed, I saw her to be so much more that Lucas's geeky tutor friend. She is the one person I've ever met who can understand me without trying to help me, who can help without getting involved.
That's why I came to her tonight, when I was weak and vulnerable and in a state I couldn't allow anyone but her to see me in. For anyone else to see it, my façade would be broken. But with her, there isn't a façade—or at least, not much of one. I didn't fear that she would judge me or hate me for what's happened. She would understand me and help me when all I wanted and needed was to be with her.
And she did.
Haley
"It was late in September,
And I've seen you before
You were always the cold one
But I was never that sure."
--Mandy Moore
Love has never been a predictable or understandable thing. It's always been tumultuous, rocky, difficult—and that's at best. I've learned that through Lucas's escapades, and from movies, rather than through my own experiences. I've never been popular, and I've never really cared. Some might call me a bit sheltered, I suppose. Brooke does a nice job of summing me up with the title "Tutor Girl". That's really all people see me as—the smart girl. It's never bothered me before. Even my somewhat dull day-to-day life is something I've always been content with. My life, while not the epitome of excitement, has always been rock steady and happy.
But since I've met Nathan, I feel like I'm in a boat that's adrift at sea. Sometimes I can distantly see land, but at others a storm rages around me. It's an earthquake, where the ground is constantly shifting, and just when you think you have your bearings again, another tremor rocks your world and knocks you off your feet. And wow, was that overdramatically stated. See what he does to me?
From the first time I really started talking to him, I knew there was something there. For Lucas's sake, I didn't pursue it for quite a while. When I did, all anyone could tell me was to be careful. I guess they made me more wary than I perhaps would have been with another guy, or even with Nathan had they not warned me. I immediately believed Brooke—not something I make a habit of doing, especially when she's drunk as she's unreliable enough when sober—when she told the story about Nathan and the note I wrote him, because I was almost expecting something like that. If I was expecting him to hurt me, you may ask why I continued to try. Defiance, perhaps; the need to prove them wrong. Or maybe I was too attracted to stay away. More likely it was some combination of the two. But I kept trying with him, regardless of the reason. I felt lost and completely unsure, but I put all my faith in my heart, something I can never remember doing before. Logic has always primarily ruled my world. I'm just not a spontaneous risk-taker.
After he stopped being embarrassed to be seen with me in public, I really began to release that fear of betrayal. I really cared about him, more than I'd ever cared about a guy before. I knew it was forbidden, that it was crossing a line. He was my lifelong best friend's enemy, which is a combination that may as well just spell out 'disaster' in flashing neon letters. Beyond that, he had indeed proved himself to be a total jackass on frequent occasions. But I saw something deeper inside of him, more than Lucas or anyone else could see, and it was in that which I placed all my trust.
Lately, I've begun reconsidering. I just didn't understand his rash behavior, and I wondered if I had been seeing the real Nathan Scott all along, and that the front he put up with me was the act I thought I was seeing through. When he tried to push me beyond what I was ready for the night we were studying in my room, I really began to wonder if all he felt for me was lust, or even if this was some twisted way to get back at Lucas. But still I held out the hope the he would surprise me, that he could explain it all. I wanted so deeply to believe that he would prove that I hadn't been a fool, that I was right to love him.
And he did.
DISCLAIMER: All properties, titles, characters and locations used are the possession of Warner Brothers and One Tree Hill. I am making no profit from the above short story, it is an individual venture for entertainment.