23
By Grace (purplemud)
Pairing: Naley and a bit of Leyton and Brucas
Summary: Nathan Scott is done playing basketball. In fact, if he's going to be honest about it, he's done with living. But one funeral just might change that. AU. Totally.
Warning: Character death. Strong language. Some sexual content in the future. Maybe.
Author's note: Much thanks for the awesome feedback. I really appreciate it. It's slightly different from the first one - I don't know if that's a bad thing but yeah, I hope this does not disappoint.
Disclaimers: Standard disclaimers apply. Me don't own. Lines from the show shamelessly borrowed. Please don't sue.
Six
Nathan stands at the farthest end of the Roe's receiving room. It's a small house and it's filled to its every corner. He stands there silently, keeps his eyes in front, hears snippets of conversations about how great of a guy Lucas was, how everyone had loved him, how badly he'll be missed, how he's always been so helpful and kind and how he had broken so many girls' heart just 'cause he wasn't into leading them on and would tell them from the start that he only wanted to be friends with them. He had a way of saying it that it was even okay to be romantically rejected by him. There were pauses in between and Nathan realizes that it's because someone has to wipe their eyes or clench their jaws, clench their fist, look away, gather a few precious seconds to compose themselves, to not let the sorrow over come and choke them. There were mention of Lucas's basketball skills but very rarely, it was mostly about how he was such a gracious player, always the first one to shake the hands of the winning team.
It's his turn to briefly look away and clench his jaws; teeth grinding against each other as he remembers the last time Lucas tried to shake his hand. It was the night the Ravens won the State Championship and when the hand was offered to him, Nathan had only stared at it long and hard before silently walking away. For some reason, even back then he already knew that everyone in Oak Lake thought so highly of Lucas - hell, everyone in Tree Hill still fondly remember Lucas and this honestly irritated him to no end. Lucas so pure and noble and then there he was, spawn of Dan Scott, arrogant, self-assured Tree Hill High Jackass of the Year. All he wanted was to be better than Lucas but he never quite got there. At least not at the pedestal Lucas had somehow gotten himself into. Hell, the guy could be canonized. Saint Lucas Scott, patron saint of Abandoned Sons.
Had Nathan been younger, he would've sneered at this but since the arrogance of his youth had long faded away, all he feels is the sharp tugging of real, burning envy. He wants to be better but for all the wrong season - so why bother?
He thinks back to that night, the last night he saw Lucas and he knows that he would've gladly shook Lucas's hand, maybe even allowed a tight little smile, a slap on the back (not too affectionately, though) or maybe even the customary fist-bump. He would've done all that had Lucas not approached him when no one was watching them and not when Nathan had been the only one left standing on the court littered with a thousand colors that had rained on the mighty, mighty Tree Hill High Ravens. And without the audience he so desperately wanted, without anyone out there to see that he was capable of grace, of kindness - what was the point? He didn't bother then and now it's a little too late for that.
And well, that little anecdote from the past is certainly not the kind of story he would like to share. He lets out a humorless little chuckle and shakes his head. Nathan tries to think of a single moment in his life when he had acted with grace, had been decent enough, at least to Lucas and surprisingly, this one memory comes up, unbidden and sharp: it was the week before Lucas left Tree Hill and Nathan, aware of the floating, yet never really confirmed rumor, had spotted Lucas ambling towards the Rivercourt, the slightly smaller, slightly older boy had been wearing the gray sweatshirt from his Uncle Keith's auto-shop. The name Scott proudly emblazoned at the back and seeing Lucas walking around town, wearing his - their - last name, it sent Nathan reeling and not in the angry way, more like in a 'there he is, my brother' kind of way. And he had wondered then - not the first time in his life - how it would be like to have Lucas as his brother, as part of his family. Would it be so awful?
At that very moment, he thought it didn't seem so bad at all.
Nathan thinks back to that afternoon, the sun fading quickly into the horizon, sinking over by the river and he ponders on how different it might have been if he had at least nodded at Lucas's direction, had at least given his older half-brother a half wave - a little something... brotherly.
He lets out a low growl, brings his hand to his temples and grimaces. Fuck. Fuck this. He's getting a fucking headache.
Regret is such a bitch.
Guilt is even worst.
He presses his back further into the wall, tries his best to hide, to stamp down the urge to go running out of the door. He's pushing his luck, he knows it. Any moment now, Keith or Karen will spot him and he doubts he's going to be welcomed with wide open arms.
Nathan looks furtively around. Just how long is someone supposed to stay at wake? Is thirty minutes polite enough? If he left now, would it be a tell-tale sign of a man fleeing from something awful, terrible? Like maybe regret. Or guilt. Or both? He shifts from one foot to the other, thinks it's pretty stupid how he doesn't know this sort of thing. He had been at his father's own wake after all and he had always thought that everyone had lingered until the very end, until their apologies had started to grate on his nerves and surely, there's, like, a required minimum amount of time for grieving. Or at least for trying to grieve.
From his right side, he hears the door open, distracting him and Nathan frowns at the sound of fresh muttered, muted welcomes. More people are coming in and he has yet to see someone leaving. Great. Just great. He plants his feet firmly on the worn carpet, fiercely tells himself that since he's already here, he might as well do this the right way.
Just a few more minutes, he tells himself, repeating the phrase over and over inside his head, like some sort of mantra. A reminder to stay put, wait it out. Leave when it's polite to leave. After all, that's the least that he could do for Lucas.
"Dude, check out the hair." Tim says in a horribly loud voice, as he discreetly nods at Lucas's senior picture. Lucas is squinting at the camera; his white-blonde hair all gelled up, sticking up in tiny spikes.
"What man, you have like, the same hair now." Jake hisses and to be fair, Jake is truly being honest about it.
"I do not!' Tim says indignantly, quickly running his hand across his head, furiously flattening out said tiny-spikes.
Nathan tries his best to ignore them, but feels his lips curving a little.
"Dude, tell Jake my hair is so not like that." Tim whines at him and Jake is of no help either as he tries or ultimately fails to muffle his snickering.
"Shut up." Nathan tells them in a low voice, elbowing Tim sharply in the rib, immediately halting the unmanly giggle. He isn't sure which is more disturbing: that Tim and Jake are goofing around at a wake or that they were laughing in a completely, girly kind of way. Rolling his eyes at Tim's look of concern, he shifts his attention to a built-in cabinet at the far end of the room, very much like the one he has in their house. It has four rows in all, each one has gold and silver trophies proudly lined up and in between them were numerous mementos from Lucas's life - a little corner to tuck the memories away, although now, given the current situation, that little corner looks like a small impromptu shrine to Lucas.
Actually, Nathan pauses, looking around, check that. The whole house seems like a shrine to Lucas. Every corner has something of Lucas and Nathan almost half expects to see his brother suddenly walk into the hallway, pick up the discarded bag sitting on top of a stool, head over to the kitchen, take a drink from his mug, put on those battered pair of basketball shoes tucked underneath a table, grab the green and white jacket hanging at the coat and umbrella rack at the corner of the room, slip out of the house and gently close the door behind him - eyes squinted, like in the picture - all completely oblivious to everyone around him.
Nathan shakes his head, forcing the ghost-like image out of his brain.
This is shitful, fucked up weird and he is suddenly desperate to get the hell out of here.
He can't do this. He's a stranger here. What the fuck had he been thinking? Strolling into the funeral, lurking at the wake. He doesn't know anyone here, especially not Lucas. And more than that, does he even have the right to be here? At all? He needs to get out of here. Now. He jerks to his right, takes the first tentative step forward and when he realizes that he could still move his feet, that he isn't forever stuck to this wake - as he sometimes often felt about his father's own wake, like he had never left that day at all - he wordlessly starts to walk away.
I'm going, I'm gone. He thinks, leaving Jake and Tim. That's right, just keeping his feet moving. It's like being on auto-pilot. One step forward. Right then left foot, then right again. He's breathing heavily, heart beat racing, pounding and with a wave of panic, he realizes that he's deeper into the house instead of getting out of it.
Fuck. He turns around, half blinded by the terrifying thought of walking into Karen or Keith. Being here is wrong. They'd be the first one to tell him that. He didn't want to have to face Karen. Or Keith. Or Peyton. Or anyone for that matter. And goddammit, where's the fucking door? Where's the Exit to Madness sign?
The voices fades away, words wafting gently over to him and he thinks, well, shit, he can't go back there again, everyone would wonder where he'd been, so he decides to find the bathroom, instead. Yeah. Lock himself in there for a few minutes. Calm down a little. Splash some water into his face. Wake up from this dream.
He walks on, barely seeing anything. The hallway is dark, unfamiliar and then, finally, at the end of it, a slip of light. He practically runs toward it, blindly gropes the door knob, pushing it open.
Nathan half-stumbles inside, still breathing heavily. He silently shuts the door, presses his forehead against it and wills his heart rate to slow down. He does it like he used to whenever he gets really nervous about a basketball game. He takes huge, almost half-gasping breaths. He imagines the slow receding sounds of the roaring crowd just a step outside the locker rooms. He thinks of nothing but an empty court. No one there to watch and judge him, scrutinize his game in miniscule detail. No one to check if he's keeping his points right above his father's scoring records. No one screaming/jeering/cheering/cursing his name. No one. Just him. Just him and the empty court.
He starts to calm down. Somewhat. He shakes his head, furious at himself. So very fucking pissed that he had chosen this day to finally grow a conscience.
Add this to your many lists of bad ideas. Nathan grits his teeth and shakes his head. Face it Scott, you're nothing but a trespasser here. The only reason why he hasn't been duly kicked out of this house is because no one knows who he is. No one knows the truth. And how odd is that? It looks as though he was also Lucas Scott's rotten little secret. Suddenly he's the half-brother that did not exist. He's the phantom here. Erased. Forgotten. He is absolutely nothing here. He's the ghost in this house.
"Hi."
Startled, his heart jolted back to banging painfully against his rib cage, Nathan almost jumps a foot away from the door. He turns to look around the room, searching for the voice that sounded too broken, too gentle and too soft to belong to anyone. He tilts his head and wonders, inanely, if Lucas is going to haunt him, he wouldn't do it in that kind of voice. Would he? Nathan isn't sure. Maybe Lucas is the sort of guy with that sort of humor. Not that he'd ever know now. He takes a tentative step, heads straight towards the bed and frowns. It's a small room and it's obviously empty. His mind is tripping out on him.
"Here"
Nathan uses all his will power not to vault out of the room. He whips his head down, so fast, he feels his neck muscle snap, and he finds himself staring at a girl sitting on the floor, at the foot of the bed.
The first thing that Nathan notices is she's the only one he has seen not wearing black. She's wearing a pale yellow dress - so pale it's almost white - all bunched up around her legs. He notices the way the light from the window, the bright early morning yellow sun light, filtering through slanted lines from half drawn blinds – drawing all those bent/curved/straight lines across her face: underneath her eyes, on top of her lips, on the edge of her chin. And that yellow-white dress and that hazy yellow sunshine, all those shades of yellow, it's making Nathan feel light headed.
She looks all lit up. Wonderful, yellow fading light.
"What?" She asks him, this time the tone of her voice far from being dream-like.
"You're real." It's more of a question really, voice so low, she didn't seem to have heard it at all.
Again, she frowns up at him. "What?"
And then it hits him. Like a ton of bricks. The realization, that no, she's not really a mirage. Nor was she a really a girl. Even sitting down, legs folded underneath her, he could see the curves of her body and curves like that does not - should not - belong to a girl and he almost automatically winces and berates himself. It's completely in-fucking-appropriate, being at his brother wake and noticing things like that.
Great. Attend a funeral and lose your mind. Thanks, Lucas. Like I really needed anymore shit like this.
The thought comes to him automatically, but strangely enough, without any trace of that seething, angry tone he always used to have whenever he blamed Lucas for his sorry fucked up life. Still, Nathan feels apologetic. You're not supposed to go blaming the dead for things that they have no control of. Right? At least that was what his mom had preached to him anyway. Something she had picked up her therapist.
Nathan shakes his head and takes a deep breath. Not your fault dude, he thinks out loud, as though talking to Lucas, that my mom is a now grieving widow and I highly doubt it that you had anything to do with the way our ass of a father had turned out to be, so… yeah, I guess, I owe you an apology.
Sorry Lucas.
It's his first real apology meant for Lucas but this doesn't really register to him, though. He's too busy watching the woman-girl.
She motions with her hand for him to sit down, patting the spot right next to her. And because frankly, Nathan still isn't even sure if she's real or not – not that that is making any sense to him, but since the day had started with nothing making sense at all – it takes him a fraction of a second before he wordlessly crouches down, folding his right knee and settling down beside her.
He's a little too close to her, he realizes, as he feels his jeans-covered knee grazing the skin of her own knee. He notices the brown worn out teddy bear sitting on her lap, her free hand clutching it so tightly; her knuckles has turned white. It has two dark buttoned eyes and it looks sad, mournful. And old. And if this is some ghostly apparition, well, this is certainly taking the bizarreness of this day to a whole new level.
He looks back up at her face. Her skin is ivory-magnolia white and her eyes... and her eyes, man, they are so brown. And huge. Her face is serene, calm, so very... delicate. And pale. She tilts her head, watching him intently. Brown-blonde waves and curls tumbling to the side of her face, brushing past the gentle swell of her breast underneath her yellow dress.
And again, Scott, you are un-fucking-believable. Stop checking her out that way. And then it clicks inside his head. The flicker of recognition. She isn't a ghost. He sees that familiar flash of memory inside his head and he knows, is quite damn certain, that this is the same girl he had last seen Lucas with. The girl Lucas had been hugging the night Oak Lake lost the State Championship to Tree Hill.
Fantastic, Nathan thinks in mild annoyance, another run in with one of Lucas' ex-girlfriend. Like seeing Peyton had not been enough. If this was his karma for all the years of being a jackass then Fate has got an awful, twisted sense of justice. Forget humor, this has gone way past funny.
"Hi." She repeats, this time, her voice slightly stronger, more real.
What to say to that except: "Hi."
Not that he has a whole slew of words to greet her, his vocabulary, admittedly, is pretty limited. And anyway, he could barely think. The way she's looking at him, it's more than just distracting.
Her brown eyes are fixed on his face, her gaze unwavering. Nathan feels a little bit self-conscious. He swallows hard and tries his best not to look away. He thinks that any man would find himself so utterly lost just looking into her eyes. He might forget his name - or at least his last name and the history tied to it. Her eyes are that remarkable.
And that's actually a word he has never ever used before to describe a girl. Woman-girl. Well, just anyone ever before. He isn't like the smartest person in the room and he guesses there's a more appropriate word to describe her eyes, but right now, it's all that he could think of.
Remarkable and so very, very sorrowful.
"What are you doing in Lucas's room?" She finally asks after a few seconds of silently scrutinizing his face.
Nathan opens his mouth, is about to tell her that he's looking for the bathroom but her words shakes him out of his dream-like stupor.
Wait, what? Lucas's what?
Nathan blinks, startled back into reality. Holy crap, he thinks a heartbeat later as he starts looking around, quickly noting the greenness of the room. A handful of posters of some bands he's familiar with, all thanks to Peyton and her unrelenting schemes of trying to get him to listen to her music. But it's a boy's room, definitely. The wallpaper is green, the carpet a darker, dirtier, if not a worn out shade.
It's Oak Lake High's color: deep green everywhere.
He scans the room, sees the old jersey, draped almost carelessly at a chair. It is still being used apparently. Number 3 in forest green. The name Scott stitched at the back in white-stark-white and all around them are small green flags with the Oak Lake High logo. At the far end of the room are pictures pinned against a cork board; smiling, faded faces. There were torn off pages from a notebook, a drawing of Peyton's (Nathan knows Peyton's art work when he sees it, recognizes it almost immediately: lots of bold, heavy black ink and a spattering of deep green blood). It's a roaring Lion wrapped in green, coiling veins. The Oak Lake Lions. Roar, Lions, Roar. Underneath the drawing, is a scribbled note: To Lucas, Heart of a Lion, love HJ.
His eyes sweeps across the room, past the green and white and gray pillowcases and bed sheet, his attention drawn to a bedside drawer pushed against the wall and sitting on top of it is a huge framed picture of Lucas and the very same girl who is still currently staring at him (and oh, how he could feel her heavy, heavy stare). In this picture, Lucas is carrying her, piggy back style and they're both wearing huge, identical, playful grins.
Nathan glances back at her, noting that she looks slightly different, a little loss, without that smile on her face, before concluding that this is fucking surreal. How he managed to wander into Lucas's room is beyond wonder. Fate is obviously, seriously yanking him around today.
"I... ugh." He tries to explain, but even this is unexplainable. She patiently wait for him to continue, still looking up at him and he watches her watch him with an almost burning intensity. He feels his face flushing and internally, mentally curses himself.
"You look kind of familiar." She says finally, blinking slowly, as though waking up from a long, deep sleep. Her lashes, long and thick brushes against her skin. "Have we met before?" She asks frowning, twisting the corner of her mouth and raising her eyebrows more out of confusion than anything else.
He feels his stomach clenching nervously, folding upon itself. He shoves his hands deep into the pocket of his jeans, shifts his legs. He feels what might be the beginning of a cramp and he abruptly stands up, shaking his head. From this vantage point, with him looking down at her, he notices that her is hair longer now, lighter somehow - not the dark shiny mahogany shade it had been years before in the picture, from when he had last seen her, but it's just as wavy and curly as he remembered it. The expectant puzzled look she's giving him is enough to make the words tumble out of his mouth. "Ugh. No," Nathan mutters, taking another half step back. "I don't think so."
It's not a lie, he tells himself, fighting off the odd, weird feeling that he should not be lying to this girl, here inside Lucas's room. It feels wrong. Disrespectful. But it's not a lie, his mind insists. They hadn't actually met, even though he had seen her years ago. But meeting and seeing is totally different. So he's being honest. Sort of.
"So you know-" She pauses, swallows hard, winces, smiles - the brave kind of smile, in defiance of tears that's threatening to spill but will not be spilled. She takes a deep breath. "You knew Luke?"
"Luke?" The nickname is said affectionately, warmly. Nathan thinks of all the time he's been called 'Nate' and how he had always, always hated that nickname. "Luke," he murmurs almost to himself, as though testing it. "I... Well, no. Not really. We weren't close. We played against each other a couple of times. High school basketball." He adds stupidly as an explanation.
She doesn't respond right away and something flickers in her eyes, it is as though she knows that he's not being completely honest with her, it is as though she knows him - truly knows who he is - but she doesn't say anything, she twists the corner of her mouth in a smile-frown. "Basketball," she says sounding lightly amused. "Of course." She murmurs to herself, nodding her head.
Nathan feels his own forehead creasing. He opens his mouth, even though he isn't sure what he wants to say, if he has anything to say, but the voice that comes out is harsh, different, startling them both.
"Nate, where the fuck - Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean..." Tim stands at the opened door. He looks at them in confusion but not before letting his gaze linger over to the girl in yellow. He's pushed into the room as Jake pokes his head, eyebrows rising.
"Oh." Jake echoes, in the same tone and Nathan balls up his hand in a fist, wonders how this looks, particularly to his friends who had seen him at his worst, who had on several occasion drunkenly stumbled into a room a few years back where he'd be half naked on top of a girl, or vice-versa and his only reaction had been a smirk and a muttered: 'Oooops, someone forgot to lock the door.'
He's never felt guilty all those years before, never thought about how the girl must have felt but now, on this very room, he feels and thinks about it and he winces, knowing that this doesn't look any different and he painfully wonders if they are snickering at the back of their heads and thinking, well, this is certainly a new low for Nathan Scott, at a his bastard half-brother's funeral too!
Nathan doesn't really blame them if they're thinking exactly along those lines, especially since he isn't quite capable of explaining this to them. He glances apologetically at the girl but her attention is no longer on him and he finds himself, startlingly somewhat a little bit disappointed.
"Tim Smith." Tim introduces himself, taking another step inside, followed by Jake who also states his name.
Nathan is torn between wanting to slam the door on his friends' faces and going over there to safely stand with them, away from her and her impossibly brown eyes.
"Hi." She says and then frowning, she asks once more: "What are you all doing in Lucas's room?"
Nathan curls his tongue inside his mouth, bites it fiercely. He very quickly looks away, stepping over to Jake and Tim, silencing their questioning looks with a glare. He turns his attention back to Lucas's - well, he didn't know what she is exactly to Lucas - another thing he doesn't and probably will never know about his brother. "We're so sorry; we didn't mean to bother you. We'll, ugh, we'll go now."
Her eyes widen and she's quick to stand up. "Wait, no. Don't."
She's so small, Nathan immediately thinks as she smoothens out her skirt, the brown bear dangling by her hand, lightly brushing her legs.
"It's okay, really. I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, it's just that…" She takes a deep breath and smiles at them, a genuine thankful smile. "Thanks for coming." Her voice is gentle but he feels her sincerity resonate all across the room and Nathan feels like a total fake. Like he didn't deserve to have her say that to him and he automatically, sadly shakes his head.
"No, it's-" he starts off in a mumble, and Nathan is never the type to mumble, but Tim is quick to cut him off.
"We saw it in the papers." Tim says.
The girl politely nods her head. "He had friends everywhere; it was the only way to let everyone know."
Tim cocks his head to the side, gives the girl his Tim Smile, friendly but almost always bordering on creepy. "Well, looks like a lot of people read the newspaper, huh?"
Nathan now very much wants to slam the door on their faces. He shoots Tim a dirty look. "Jake, could you-" He motions over to Tim and Jake nods knowingly.
"I'm on it," Jake takes a hold of Tim's arm and starts to drag a baffled looking Tim away.
"What'd I do, man?" Tim gives Jake a look, "I'm not thirsty, hey."
"It was nice meeting you." Jake tilts his head towards the girl, talking over Tim's protest and Nathan quickly closes the door behind them.
"Sorry about that." He apologizes, clasping his hand in front of him and then realizing how foolish he must look, he quickly gestures over to the closed door "Tim's well... he's, uhm, Tim." So lame, Nathan thinks, wondering why he hadn't followed Tim and Jake out. What's the point of staying here, inside Lucas's room anyway? He lifts his eyes to look at her again and feels that same odd feeling of... of wanting to stay in the room and not leaving her alone like she had been earlier.
Nathan isn't sure why, but he doesn't really like the thought of her sitting on the floor, all by herself, surrounded by memories of Lucas, all of which, given the circumstances, would be nothing short of torture. The painful, heart-rending kind. God knows, since he's never been able to go inside his father's office ever since he died and Nathan didn't want her to go through that alone.
She gives him a strange look and then shakes her head, sitting down at the bed. She takes a deep breath before glancing back up at him. "So you played basketball with Lucas." She tells him conversationally.
Maybe she doesn't want for him to leave just yet, Nathan thinks. Hopes, actually.
"Must be where I saw you." She continued looking up at him, as though sizing him up, "You look like a basketball player. I mean, you've got the height and the shoulder for it, I guess. Not that I know what sort of body type basketball players have. Like, Luke for example, he's not really all..." she straightens her shoulder, pushes her chest out, like it's supposed to make her shoulders look broader... or at least something, Nathan isn't really sure.
"Lucas is kind of tall, I suppose. But Damien always said that Lucas wasn't NBA tall and that he needed to add a few more weight." She squinches up her nose. "Or muscle. I'm not sure which." She turns her head to look at him, "When did you get to play with Luke? I try to go to all of his games and he gets into a fit if I miss one. He always says I have to be there, that it's for luck but sometimes, even if I watch, they would still lose a game, so I don't know about the luck thing. And besides he knows that I've got to help out at his mom at the café or do some tutoring." Something flashes in her face, as though remembering something and her attention shifts from him to something just beyond Nathan's shoulder. "You know, all of his high school teammates are here. I even tutored some of them and, oh gosh! I haven't even said 'Hi' to them," she states quietly, absentmindedly running a hand through her hair. She glances back at him, "Maybe you know them too. I don't know where they are now though." She scrunches up her face, "I think they're all kind of huddled over some corner in the house. Tall bunch of guys, you think they'd never get lost in a crowd, but it's a tall crowd anyway and oh, wow, I'm..." her voice falters as she blinks up at him, giving him once again her full attention.
"Rambling?" Nathan offers with a strained smile. He's never known anyone who could talk up a storm and branch out from one topic to another, almost seamlessly. It's strangely... refreshing.
She juts out her jaws, looks down and almost smiles sheepishly. "Yes. Sorry. I do that. A lot. Usually when I'm really stressed. Or just in bad situations. Not that having you here is bad," she says when she noticed his raised eyebrows. "Just the reason why you're here." She finally takes a pause and bites her lips before continuing on half a second later, "It doesn't even calm me, you know, rambling. It makes it actually worst. As you can see. Clearly. I can't seem to stop. And I am stopping now." She bites her lips again, this time latching on to it. She frantically nods her head, as though she's trying to keep all the words inside her mouth, trying to stop them from going past her lips and flying away.
Such a strange woman-girl, Nathan thinks. He's never met anyone like her. She's clearly not from the type of crowd he used to hang out with. He's too busy trying to figure out that he belatedly realizes that she has stopped talking and it's suddenly very silent. He starts clenching and unclenching his fist, not sure of what to say. He has to say something or else, the silence will swallow them up and she'd feel uncomfortable being with him, sharing this awful stillness.
"I'm Nathan." He suddenly blurts out and the moment he told her his name, he wanted to kick his head in. He isn't sure why, of the many things he could've said, it just had to be that. He doesn't know why he felt it necessary that she knows it. It could only mean trouble. What if Lucas has told her all about him and what a bastard he had been? And then she'll hate him now and she'll ask him to leave, maybe even call Karen or Keith...
"I'm Haley." The girl says, offering her hand. Nathan reaches out to shake it, feels how soft her skin is, how wonderfully warm. "Haley James." She went on, squeezing his hand a little before loosening her grasp. "I'm Lucas's best friend."
Love, HJ.
Lucas' best friend and yet she doesn't seem to think it odd that he's here. Unless Lucas has never told her about him as well, in which case, Nathan is strangely, slightly disappointed and guilty. She's been lied to by one Scott already and now here he comes, another liar in the family. "I'm sorry." Nathan feels compelled to apologize for everything.
Haley smiles a little, "Well, don't be, he's a good guy. He takes... took real good care of me."
Nathan shakes his head. "No, I meant, I'm sorry about..." He gestures vaguely around the room.
"Oh, yeah." Haley looks down and stares hard at the floor, "Me too." Her voice is so low, Nathan almost didn't hear her. "I just... I can't believe it. I still can't believe it."
Nathan sucks in a deep breath. "How'd he..." He swallows hard and hopes that his voice hadn't crack, like he thinks it had, he winces, hopes that she didn't notice. She looks up at him, her face a picture of complete, utter misery and Nathan wants to kick himself. He shouldn't have asked her. The way she's looking up at him now... he feels his throat tightening and he shakes his head. He is such a jackass. Some things will never change. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have." They both wince at the same time and Nathan feels his throat going dry. "You don't have to..."
"It was... it was a car accident." She mumbles out. "A stupid car accident." There's a hard edge on her voice and she quickly looks away, biting her lips so hard it's bound to start bleeding. Nathan wants nothing more than to go over to her side and do something... like maybe hold her but he keeps his distance.
"He was going to pick up Karen," Haley went on after a few seconds, releasing her bottom lip that had paled and then reddened in an instant. Nathan has to shake his head to clear his thoughts and bring his focus on Haley's eyes. "That's him mom," she tells him and he has to bite his own tongue to stop himself from saying: 'I know.'
"He was about two blocks away from the airport when it happened." Haley shifts her gaze and it falls on the wall with pictures and postcards pinned on them. "Karen got accepted to this amazing cooking school in Europe, she's been gone for a whole month and... and..." she explains, her voice going softer once more, "it was supposed to be a happy day." She turns her gaze back to the worn out bear that she's still holding, placing it gently on top of Lucas's pillow.
"I'm really sorry." Nathan says yet again. He has never hated the word 'sorry' so much in his entire life which is ironic since he has never said it this much.
"Yeah. Me too." She reaches out to touch the bear once more. "We've been friends ever since he moved here. He's more like my brother. He practically is...was my brother. God," she lets out a strangled breath, her hands covering her face, wiping away the tears that she wouldn't let fall. "I keep having to correct myself." She lets out a half-chuckle, which sounded more like sob. She shakes the hair from out of her eyes that had suddenly gone bright, lit up by memories of Lucas. "Luke, he can be very protective and really stubborn and... we... he had always been there for me. We used to have breakfast or dinner together at the café every day and I just, I just keep thinking that now I'm going to have to eat all those meals alone, without him. And no one's going to force me to eat healthy food anymore. I'll be eating cookie dough for the rest of my life and no one would be able to stop me." She stops, smiling wistfully.
"He's supposed to be packing now." Haley informs him, "He's going to Florence with Karen for a whole month and he promised me that he'll send me one postcard a day. He said he was going to write another novel there, at the balcony of his hotel room, sipping coffee and he just..." Haley looked up to him, her eyes red-rimmed, swimming with tears. "He had so many plans. This wasn't supposed to have happened at all!" She makes helpless hand gestures, her wrist flexing gracefully, before closing her hand in a tight fist, so tight her nails must be digging into her delicate palms.
Nathan shakes his head; he wants her to go on, to not stop talking. When she's rambling like that, she doesn't look so lost and alone. "It's ok." He takes one step forward, "t's okay Haley."
"No," Haley says brokenly, looking up at him, brown eyes so fierce, so dark, it's enough to stop him in mid-step. Nathan feels his arms falling uselessly to his side as Haley shook her head, her wavy-curly hair falling past her shoulder, the ends grazing the skin of her closed fist. "It's not. It's not okay. This is so far from okay."