Author's Notes: Thank you so much for all of the feedback-the reviews, alerts and more. I really appreciate it all, I can't tell you how much I do. I hope you enjoy this next chapter as Nathan and a bit of his story is introduced. These first two chapters were relatively short, but from here on out, the chapters should be longer.
Thanks again for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Chapter Two – I Get So Lost, Sometimes
He blinked his eyes wearily, the muted flicker of the television providing little light in the darkened room. Empty beers were strewn along the coffee table, a stray pizza box, its contents long discarded, joining the clutter. Hastily kicked off shoes were tangled amongst the mess of dirty clothes, mail and other unidentifiable garbage littering the floor. There was a faint odor in the air, of stale beer and unwashed clothes. The room was a disaster but it couldn't compare to the man sitting on the couch.
He sat alone, his gaze dull and unfocused on whatever was showing on the television. His brown hair, normally kept short and neat, hung in longish, unruly waves. A five o'clock shadow threatened to become a ten o'clock beard as he hadn't bothered to shave in a week or two.
He sat alone, as day turned into night into day again, his company the alcohol and whatever shitty television show was on. He ignored the phone whenever it rang, not even bothering to look at the caller id, knowing it would be his brother calling to check on him yet again. For the last month, his brother was the only one who ever called. The other calls—from his agent, his friends, and his girlfriend—abruptly ceased about three weeks after the incident. The only one that surprised him was his agent; Nathan figured the money-grubbing asshole would have stuck around a little bit longer. The fact that his friends and girlfriend dropped him wasn't a shock. The only shock was that they stuck around for as long as they did. After all, what good was a washed-up basketball player who was the architect of his own demise?
After seeing his dream of playing in the NBA blow up in his face, Nathan retreated to his New York apartment, hiding away from the world and drowning his sorrows in whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. His life, which had once been, if not perfect, at least happy at times, turned into a blur of drunken days and even drunker nights. Over the last four months, the only thing that numbed the pain was the alcohol. The physical pain was something he could easily deal with—growing up as an elite athlete and with Dan fucking Scott as a father taught Nathan to ignore and fight through any physical pain. The emotional pain, however, was a different story. Nathan didn't do feelings. He played basketball, he partied, he fucked, he indulged in the benefits that came with being a fairly well-known, recognizable star in the NBA. Emotions weren't a part of his life. Other than his brother and his mother, he didn't love—except for the perks his status brought him. He drifted through life, not desiring anything more than what he had in front of him.
Then the accident happened, and he watched as his world crumbled around him. The alcohol allowed him to forget, at least for awhile, that he once had everything he had ever dreamed of within his grasp and that he had thrown it all away with one single decision.
As the phone rang for the fifth or sixth beer that day—Nathan no longer measured time in hours but rather in beers—he ignored it, reaching instead for the nearly empty bottle on the table in front of him.
It would only be Lucas, inviting Nathan over for dinner or to meet his new girlfriend, Brooke Davis, and Nathan wasn't interested. This was his life now—alone, drunk and hurting.
Nathan Scott didn't feel as if he deserved more.
The loud banging on the front door, echoing the pounding in his brain, woke him. He raised his head, wincing as the early morning light pierced his eyes. He rubbed a hand along his jaw, idly noting that maybe today he'd shave. Or not. Fuck it, who did he have to impress? No friends, no girlfriend….
The incessant knocking broke him from his thoughts. Goddamn Lucas and his hero complex, always having to check on him. Nathan slowly stood, taking a moment to gather himself so he didn't fall flat on his face. He stepped around the debris on the flutter, cursing under his breath when he stubbed his toe on a leg of the coffee table.
"Alright, Lucas. I'm coming!" He yelled as he approached the door. "Goddamnit, do you have to come by so early?"
"And good morning to you too, sunshine," his older brother greeted when Nathan opened the door. "Aren't you Little Miss Pleasant this morning?"
"Fuck off," Nathan snarled as he turned and stalked back to the couch before dropping onto it. "I don't need your shit, Luke."
"You always say such sweet things to me, Nate," Lucas said as he sat next to his brother on the couch. He glanced around the room, disappointment evident on his face as he took in the signs of just how far Nathan had fallen in the last several months. Gone was the charismatic, dynamic basketball player who lived the high life, indulging in all that fame and money had to offer. In his place sat an emotionally broken man, who wasted each day mourning the life that was.
Nathan frowned when he noticed Lucas looking around the room. The last thing he needed was another one of his brother's "talks." It was the same routine every couple of days: Lucas would come by on the pretense of bringing Nathan groceries, or with an invitation to join him for dinner or some other bullshit. He would look around the room, at the obvious failure of Nathan's life, and then lecture Nathan about how he was wasting his life, he needed to get back to physical therapy, he had to stop drinking, blah blah blah, other shit Nathan didn't care to hear. He loved his brother, he did, but he didn't need Luke to remind him of just how messed up his life was now. Nathan lived with that knowledge every day.
"What the fuck ever, Lucas. I'm not in the mood for one of your pick-me-up bullshit talks, alright?" Nathan muttered as he leaned his head back against the sofa cushion. Fuck, his head was killing him right now.
Lucas rolled his eyes. "Wonder why? Isn't this getting old, Nathan?" He asked as he motioned to the room and its clutter. "The drinking all night, the random hookups—wait, there's not a girl here, is there?"
Nathan shook his head. "Nah. At least, not that I remember. Last night is a blur."
"This is exactly the crap I'm talking about, Nathan. Aren't you tired of it all? I mean, wasn't that the whole point of you coming back to Tree Hill? To get away from that in New York?"
"No, Luke," Nathan bit out, anger in his voice. "That was your point. You didn't leave me much choice. It sure as hell wasn't my idea to come back to this place. Believe me, I never imagined I'd be back in Tree Hill."
After the accident, after his girlfriend left him ("You are pathetic, Nathan" were the last words she said to him as she slammed the door behind her), after his friends deserted him ("Nate man, we're just so busy" or "We didn't think you'd want to get out" were the most common excuses for not calling), after his agent dropped him ("I have to focus on clients who are actually playing" and then a dial tone), when Nathan was holed up in his apartment, he was perfectly fine being the drunk loner who needed no one. Then Lucas appeared on his doorstep one day, bag in head and determination in mind. Over the next week, he tried to think of a way to help Nathan break the hold the alcohol and depression had on him as he watched his only brother spiral even more out of control. Nathan resisted any attempt of help—suggestions of AA were ignored ("I'm not a fucking alcoholic, Luke"), pleas to open up and talk were ridiculed ("What kind of girl do you think I am?"), and offers of moving back to Tree Hill were laughed at ("Back to Tree Hill? Who's the drunk one here?").
But desperate times called for desperate measures. Lucas took advantage of a hammered Nathan one night and somehow got his brother to agree to return to their hometown. Within a day, and using Nathan's financial resources, he broke Nathan's lease on the apartment, packed the necessities for the move with plans to have everything else shipped down at a later date, and secured plane tickets for the ride home. Nathan wasn't fully aware of what was going on until he was back in Tree Hill, in the house his mother bought when she divorced Dan years ago. Until he awoke that first morning in Tree Hill, Nathan was sure it was all some crazy drunken dream he had after passing out one night.
But no, it was real and he had been in Tree Hill for a little over two months. And he was still angry with Lucas for bringing him back, although he had to admit some of that anger was fading. Not that being in Tree Hill would ever be his first choice, fuck no, but deep down, Nathan knew his brother was only trying to help the best way he knew how. Nathan realized from a very young age that this town had always meant more to his brother. It was Luke's safe place, his haven, something Nathan could never understand. For him, it was just the town where he grew up, nothing more, and nothing less. He knew Lucas hoped being in Tree Hill would heal Nathan, would somehow give him the desire to turn his life around; that some way, somehow, Tree Hill would save him.
Like everything else in his life, Nathan didn't hold out much hope. Nothing in this small town could save him.
