Missing You

By Grace (purplemud)

Rating: M / 4 (strong language and some sexual content)

Pairings: Naley

Summary: Nathan's rambling, drunken thoughts while not-missing Haley

Spoliers: Season Two

Author's Note: I just added this to Halo, since it's sort of like a companion piece for it. Although I guess I'll just put all of my Naley one shots all in one place. I mean, if that's ok. Would love feedback. Thanks.

Missing You

It's driving him wild. Insane. Mad. Stark, raving, drunken mad. He feels like an animal caged and sometimes he just wants to break through the door and leave, but he can't. Won't. Because what if she comes back and he's not here? What if she thinks he had left too? What if she decides to leave him for good then? No, he has to stay here and wait for her.

Lucas thinks that this is some sort of cry for help, a desperate need for saving, for attention.

He sneers into the empty space, stertches his legs, bottle of beer, somewhere on the floor, toppling over. If it's empty, that's not a surprise. If it's half filled or, wait, is it half empty? He frowns, tilts his head. Is he being pessimistic or optimistic today? And what difference would it make anyway? It's not like being either or would change the utter shittiness of this day. Night. Whatever.

Motherfucker, what was wrong with him?

It's half empty, he decides gritting his teeth.

If it's half empty, it'lll spill on the floor and he won't do anything about it.

Ha! There's a huge beer stain on the floor, Haley. It's there and I'm not going to clean it up.

If it's true, if he's somehow connected to his wife and she can hear his thoughts, right here, right now, right this very second, this is what he wants her hear: A big stinking beer stain on your lovely carpet, oh, precious neat-freak wife of mine.

He sends her a mental vision too boot.

He concentrates hard enough his eyes starts to sting real bad.

Beer stain. Haley, baby, I'm messing up the apartment. Better come back home soon. Like, now.

He lets his head loll forward, watery, bleary eyes to the door.

Five, ten, thirty seconds, minutes, hours, days.

Nope, not happening.

Is he even surprised?

There is no connection, physical, mental, emotional, otherwordly, sixth-sense like between estranged married couples - specifically him and Haley - fucking, lying priest, pastor, whatever. He should have known. Nothing is ever real anymore.

Lucas comes in everyday and tells him: "You miss her Nate, I do too, but you've go to stop moping around."

And drinking. Lots of underage, afternoon, early morning actually, no, no make that all day, all night, 24/7 drinking.

Lucas leaves this all unsaid of course, the moralistic little pussy. What is wrong with his brother? Nathan wonders not for the first time in his life. They're a family of dysfunctional alcoholics anyway. It's his God given right to be sullen and depressed and angry and oh-so miserably alone.

Truly, he's the son - spawn - of Dan Scott.

And man, it's been pretty amusing watching everyone try to ignore fact that lately, he's been nothing but incredibly drunk. Like showing up at his parent's house at four in the morning with ridiculous hopes of maybe finding Haley there sort of drunk.

And he wants to stay that way too, thank you very much.

Which is why it's annoying, this sudden surge of trying to talk him out of his anger and depression and resentment and what was Coach's term? Ah yeah, immature behavior.

Yeah. Right. Like he'd listen to anyone of them. There's only one peson who could make him stop drinking and she's not here.

Bad ass Nathan Scott is back, baby. He is so totally done being the pansy assed husband left behind.

He's not going to be half-dead, half-crazy, half-bathed, half-drunk anymore.

Miss her. Jesus. For someone who likes to think of himself as incredibly, impossibly smart and better than everyone else, the Almighty, understanding Saint-slash-Hero Lucas Scott, his older bastard half-brother, by the way, could be a real idiot sometimes.

Asshat.

Miss Haley? Miss her? How could Lucas ever know how he's been feeling for the last two weeks, four days, seven hours, eleven minutes and six and a half fucking seconds since Haley left?

He wasn't missing Haley. Oh, no. Not at all.

Missing her would be the farthest thing. Impossible. No fucking way.

Luke, bro, man, to so flippantly say that I'm missing Haley - my wife, love of my life, wait no, check that, my life - is like, belittling everything that I am feeling right now. Making it seem so.. so pathetic. So fuck you, Lucas, I don't miss her at all. And mind your own fucking business.

He's going to have to remember all that so that the next time he sees his brother, he'll be able to say all those and maybe even some more.

Lucas obviously doesn't get it. Nathan thinks he never would. Not even if both Peyton and Brooke and oh, half of the girls Luke had dated in the span of six months all ran out on him, all together - middle of the night, nothing but tear stains on her pillow case and a bracelet left on the table, no note, no good bye, no I'm sorry I have to do this but I'll miss you so much baby, nothing like that all, God Haley, do you hate me that much? - Lucas will never ever know how he was feeling right now.

Miss her?

How could a man miss the very air that he breathes, the very fucking sustenance of his life? The reason why he's even breathing?

God, he was still breathing.

And yeah, reeking of alcohol too, but Jesus, still breathing. How is that even possible when all he could feel inside his chest is a raging, aching, always, always aching empty gap.

And to add insult to injury, drinking doesn't help at all. Did everyone around him think that he's been drinking to numb the pain away? It's always there. Every time he takes in a deep breath, mumbles her name in his sleep, stares hard at the door, willing, wishing, waiting, hoping, dreaming it opens up and she'll be there, standing there, preferably, soaking wet from the rain, but he'll take her any which way, just as long as she's there, she's back and she's never ever going to leave again.

His Haley. His wife.

Who, little footnote here, buddy, left you and your marriage for the dream that you've taken away from her.

Nathan hisses out some worldess curse. How was he supposed to know that by marrying her, by making her his, he'd be stealing away her dreams? He didn't know it then. And he hadn't meant for it to happen this way. If she had just told him to wait... oh, wait, wait, she did! She did tell him that they were too young and what did impulsive, selfish Nathan do? He made her marry him. He tricked her into marrying him and now she's gone and there's no getting her back.

Afterall, Nathan thinks, bitter, angry and sorry, so sorry for ever making her choose, for running away when she was trying to hold him to her, tear stained face, eyes so dark and warm and brown and oh-so-sorry for kissing Keller, God, help him, if he ever sees that fuckbag Keller ever again he's going to pummel his sorry scrawny little emo-poser ass to the ground. Burry him. Or drown him. Yeah, he'd like to see that: pale flapping, gangly bony, little arms slowly sinking into oblvion. He smirks, balls up his hand in a tight fist, imagines Keller's head going underwater. He'll have to push the fucker off a boat or something but Nathan thinks he could manage that no problem.

But wait, after all what? Dammit, his thoughts were spiraling.

After all, Haley had made it perfectly clear that her dreams are lovelier, way better than him, than their marriage. Why else would she leave everything behind? Why would she leave without even saying goodbye? Maybe all he would have wanted was a farewell hug, one last kiss, a promise to promise to keep their always and forever always and forever.

If she only waited for a few minutes for him, she'd know (she should've known) that he was going to take back everything that he had just said. He didn't mean it. God, he didn't it mean it when he told her to leave and that they're over.

He was so fucking stupid.

It's his father's stupid fucking genes.

The Scott genes that repels the people that loves them the most.

Nathan swallows hard, closes his eyes. He knows that everyone had always secretly thought of it, that eventually, he'll leave Haley, cheat on her, knock her up and then abandon her. No one thought that she'd leave him because she had kissed a guy and that same guy had her packing her bag ang riding off into the horizon on a fucking tour bus.

Kissing Keller was awful but forgiveable. In fact, Nathan is ready to admit that he had already forgiven Haley for kissing that slimy, manipulative bastard. He forgave her the moment he stopped out of their apartment. That she didn't want him to be part of her dream, that was what destroyed him.

That and the fact that she still left even though he had said that they'd be over if she did.

How could she not know that? If she loved him, she should now that this is killing him. This distance. This space in between them. It's getting bigger by the second. Everytime her tour bus reaches another destination, everytime she sings in front of adoring (for who could not adore Haley James-Scott?) crowds, every night he goes to sleep without her in his arms, every morning he wakes up, turn to his side, reach out to pull her to him only to realize that she isn't there, every time he ends up drunk and alone in their apartment, trying to hold on to her fading scent, it gets worse.

It's getting worse Haley. He mumbles into the darkness. Baby, I don't know how long I can take this anymore.

There is only silence.

The phone calls are never enough. They always end up bickering and he and Haley never ever bickered before. And everytime they say goodbye, he wants so much to call her back and say he's sorry and that he wants to make it right but the only way to make it right is if he could hold her, if he could be with her, if he could just kiss her...

So he never calls back. He lets the last argument and the last one after that and the last before that hang in the air, weigh them both down.

Nathan is starting to get scared that he just might end up willing to let her go. That one night she's going to call him to tell him that she's finally coming home and that this time, he might not want her to come home anymore.

He groans out loud, presses his skull with his hands and realizes that he's becoming more irrational by the minute but that this has been by far the most sense he had ever made out of this senseless parting, this ridiculous separation from his wife.

He gropes blindly by the table, knocks a glass (or vase?) down before finding the cool, cold bottle of beer? No definitely not beer. Stronger. Burns his throat, goes straight down his stomach, past his empty rib cage, past the place where his heart once was. His hear that was now ripped, shredded, somewhere in a crummy tour bus listening to her as she sings her sad lullaby.

She's got such an awesome voice, his Haley. It's clear and soft and all sorts of sexy and deep when she wants it to be and really, really, dream-like and strong and vulnerable and just Haley. And now everyone wants her voice. But not just her voice. They want all of her. And now everyone is going to try and steal her from him. Had already stolen her from him. It's ineveitable, Nathan thinks, after all, did he really think he could keep her locked inside their bedroom (even though he once had that secret fantasy) all to himself. But he would've appreciated it if Haley had put up a fight. She could've at least not ran away so soon, she could've at least waited a few more years, when it became too obvious that she's way better than him and she deserves so much more. After all, before him, she's destined for greater things and he knows even though she never says it, that she's not supposed to be seventeen and married in high school. She's not supposed to be working on all the possible shifts at the cafe to pay their rent and food and practically everything else. She's supposed to be hanging out with Lucas, having roof top golf, having fun, dating smart guys, planning her future.

Everything that the Scott men touches, they ultimately ruin.

He takes another great big gulp of vodka.

Vodka's nice. No, actually, vodka's great. It's Brooke's favorite alcoholic drink, next to gin and rhum and Brooke is totally an expert when it comes to drinking all her loneliness "my parents abandoned me for money, guys never really love me" woes of misery. Brooke is probably a semi-closet alcoholic but since she's not a miserable drunk, only a slutty one, it's totally ok for her to get wasted and sleep around. No one gives a shit or gives her sad, sorry little looks, tells her to let it go and get his life back on track.

Peyton might have become an alcoholic too, come to think of it, but she opted for snorting coke instead and, oh, look see, there's another example of the Mighty Scotts' Fucking Midas Touch. Tim has it all wrong and backwards. But whatever. Vodka is still great. Plus it's free. His mother has plenty of everything tucked underneath kitchen sinks and unused bedrooms, just gotta know where to look. His parents unknowingly financing his downward spiral to oblivion. Nathan can so feel the love.

And, vodka, by the way, is also his mother's favorite drink.

Ah, well, what do you know, he's also his mother's son.

The realizations today are just fucking stellar.

Lucas might disagree and say it's actually quite sad and profound, but Nathan isn't really into all that profoundness bullshit. He tilts his head back, tilts the bottle, doesn't wipe the liquid running down from the corner of his chin, dribbling down into his shirt, and then maybe on the couch as well.

Vodka on the couch and beer on the carpet, Haley. Better get back soon before I spill pink paint all over the house.

Everyone around him pretends that they know him but they're all wrong. He drinks to keep himself from waking up from this confused angry daze. It's better this way. Because once he stops drinking, once he tries to focus on other things, things that did not involve this constant pain, he might end up loosing his only anchor to Haley and if he lost that, then he's certain, he's going to honest to goodness lose her and that scares him fucking shitless, more than anything else in the world. Because not having Haley... it's going to be not even a half-life it's going to be utter, daily, emptiness. The kind that even basketball would never be able to fill. And where would that leave him?

Exactly like his father.

He's not going to end up like Dan Scott. No. Never.

Which is why, for now, he has to keep on drinking. He has to keep himself focused on the pain, on the needing, on the wanting, on the desiring, on the not missing of Haley. It's the only way to keep her close to him. Maybe when she's ready to return to him, maybe then he could let go of the pain, that way when she's back, he won't have any resentments towards her, that way all the bitterness would've bled out from him and they could both work on saving their marriage. On trying to regain everything that they have lost over the past few weeks and the coming months.

And, ok, so maybe this particular way of dealing wasn't the best, wasn't the most adviseable, Lucas would certainly agree, no doubt, but what else is there for him to do?

All his life, he had been impatient. Always greedy. Always rushing to get things done, to have things for himself.

Nathan snorts, finds himself actually smiling. Leave it to Haley, even away, she still had something to teach him. He could practically see her now, hear her now: she's sitting by the dock, that awful poncho around her shoulder, her hair darker (he likes it better when it was darker) and she's leaning over to him, eyes bright and she'll say: "Nathan, somtimes love is never enough. I'm sorry, but it's true. Love is hard work. Marriage is tough."

And maybe it's time for him to learn that love goes hand in hand with a plenty of patience and forgiveness.

Maybe if he learned them well, maybe when she comes back it will even be better than before.

It might even be perfect.

Or he just might be really, really incredibly drunk tonight.

Either way, if there's one thing Nathan was sure of, he's going to fight to have his wife back and he's going to fight his damnest - even if it means fighting his own self, his own little insecurities and fear and maybe even then, he might not still be the best man for her, but he'd be a better guy and he's damn fucking certain he could work on being the only man for her.

Nathan closes his eyes, leans his head deep into the couch, struggling to find Haley's favorite spot, the spot where her scent is the strongest. He takes a deep breath, but doesn't get greedy, since already, her pillows no longer smell like her and her scent here is quickly fading too, so he doesn't inhale everything all in, just a sweet little sniff: lavander, mint, clean, Haley, Haley, Haley.

Ah, blissful oblivion.

Tonight, he dreams.

He'll dream.

He'll dream of her and the many wonderful scenarios of how she'll come back to him, or how he'll come to her and everything would be ok and they'll make love.

No, no, Nathan sleepily shakes his head, first, he'll fuck her real good, make her talk dirty, he likes that a lot, it just gets him all the time, especially when she whisper it so raspy-like, so un-Haley and Haley-like all at the same time: soft, shy, sweet and fucking Haley-sexy (cause there's no other way to describe it) and God, he'll make her beg a little, make her scream his name, be so deep inside of her, there'd be no way for her to ever leave him again and then, then after that, he'll make love to her.

Real tender and slow and careful and sweet, like their first time.

And then he'll say that he loves her so much and he knows he gets awfully greedy and possessive but he's so very, very sorry, he'll try to be more understanding and patient and that she can have all of her dreams, everything that she wants, he'll follow her anywhere, every where, never ever let her leave him again.

Tonight he dreams of her and admits, somewhat grudginly, that he does in fact, heart-wrenchingly, painfully, honestly miss her.

- end -