Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock or Peter Pan
He can't understand why people are outside, walking around, enjoying life. How can the sky be blue and sun be shining and people outside? The world should have come to a stop because Mitchie Torres is dead and there's no way the world can go on.
He turns from the window of his apartment and picks up the bottle. He isn't sure how much he's had and at this point, he's not even sure what he's drinking. He isn't sure of anything anymore because she is gone. He thinks it's funny that even after three years he still loved her.
He thought they were so good together. He was serious, hard working, and responsible. She was flighty, silly, and childish. He vaguely remembers high school chemistry. Aren't opposites supposed to attract? He scoffs because high school obviously taught him nothing.
He takes another hit from the bottle before he sinks down to the floor, overcome with anger, grief, and regret. He holds his head in his hands and lets out a sob. It's ironic that the one girl who made him happy also makes him cry. He continues to sit on the floor as memory after memory floods over him.
He remembers how she would always find his hand no matter what they were doing. Movies, dinners, autograph signings. Whenever they were together she would hold his hand. One time he questioned it and she looked him in the eye. I don't want to lose you she replied.
He remembers she would find joy in simple things. When she saw a laughing baby or a cute dog or a funny commercial. She would laugh and smile. She had the most beautiful smile. It could light up a whole room and when anyone saw it, they couldn't help but smile too.
He remembers the first time they met. At Camp Rock, on the lake. She was sitting on the dock, swinging her feet over the water. He sat down and they started talking. He almost fell in the lake when he first heard her laugh. He decided right there and then that it was his mission to make sure that sound would always continue.
He remembers she hated saying goodbye. Whenever he'd leave for tour, the word would be on the tip of his tongue before she'd silence him. Never say goodbye, she'd quote, because goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting. Peter Pan had always been her favorite book. After dinner, she would always curl up on the couch with him and read a chapter or two while he watched T.V. She firmly believed she was a Peter and embraced never growing up too much.
He remembers when she left him. He had come home after a long day at the recording studio to find all of her bags packed and waiting by the door. He wandered into the kitchen to find her sitting at the table, a full glass of wine next to her. She looked up at him and motioned for him to sit down. He sat in disbelief as she explained that they were too different and that it wasn't working out and that there was someone else. I'm a Peter, she argued, and you're a Wendy. You grew up and I need to let you go because I'll only hold you back. And Shane… he's a Peter too. And that's why we go together so well. I'm so sorry Nate. And before he could really register what was going on, she was gone.
She never said goodbye. He held on to a childish hope that she would come back because she never said goodbye. So he waited for three years, praying she would walk through the door, as if it never happened.
But now she can never come back. And he hates himself for holding on. And dammit, if he's a Wendy he might as well be a good Wendy. He never read Peter Pan, so he wracks his brain, trying to remember what she used to say about the story. And he realizes that Wendy left Peter. So he's stuck in some twisted, mixed up fairy tale. And all he wants is for it to all go away.
He wanders over to the mantle, where the little box with the engagement ring has sat for three years. The one that was hiding in his pocket the night she left him. It's been open for three years, facing the door, in case she ever decided to come back. He stares at it, just remembering, before softly closing the lid.
He turns away and heads for the door. He stops and looks around the apartment, glancing at all the pictures of the two of them together, before his eyes stop at the little black box.
"Goodbye Mitchie" he whispers, as he walks out the door.
He doesn't looks back.
Yes this is a far cry from my other fic. I had a bunch of cute, fluffy fics in the works but I just found out my grandpa is going to pass away today or tomorrow and this kinda came out of nowhere. And I know that doesn't really affect all of you but I'm pretty upset. So I promise I'll have some fluffy stuff out, but it might take me awhile. Sorry guys. Oh and yes, the no quotation marks is intentional. This is supposed to be Nate's mind and all of his thoughts are running together, so I thought it flowed better.