Summary: We used to be best friends, but we don't talk much anymore. At least, not in the way you think. NateMitchie. Can an old, slightly fading friendship turned to for comfort and certain other benefits become something more?
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or Camp Rock.
Chapter Two:
---
It seemed as if my uncle's bashings were getting worse and worse with every passing day. Dozens of new bruises littered my skin, making me wince in pain with every move I made. I was scared to leave my room, scared to stay, and I shuddered to think how things could get any worse.
So I made my way to my only safe harbour.
Nate's room.
I crawled into his window (as slowly as I possibly could, and trying not to trip in the darkness), but was surprised to find his room completely empty. I shouldn't have expected him to have been sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for me like he always does, because I hadn't exactly told him I was coming.
It had been a spur of the moment need for his comfort, and because he wasn't there, I considered returning to my room, but then shuddered at the thought. Instead, I moved over to his bed, sitting down right on the edge. I noticed Stevie Wonder on the floor, and felt a faint smile tugging at the edges of my lips. I picked him up and started playing with him on my lap absentmindedly.
Stevie Wonder was Nate's old Teddy Bear, in case you were wondering.
After a while, I began to think that maybe he had pulled a double shift at work. It definitely wouldn't be the first time.
I sighed, looking down to my lap. "Stevie, why is this happening to him?" I asked sadly, as if he would answer me. He just stared back with his unchanged beaded eyes.
I shook my head slightly, placing him gently down on the bed beside me. And then I heard muffled voices coming from downstairs. I could tell instantly that one belonged to Nate. The conversation sounded strained, tense, but his voice remained gentle, so caring. It always does, even when the situation calls for it not to be. The other voice sounded distressed and snappy, and I heard the shatter of something breaking. There was a long silence, and then came Nate's gentle voice again, only this time it had a desperate and pleading edge to it. There was another long moment of silence, and then I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. The other voice had been his mother's.
I stood up off the bed suddenly, and the movement caused Stevie to fall to the ground again.
Nate pulled his door open, closing it gently behind him, as he rested his forehead and palms against it.
He hadn't seen me.
And I just stood, eyes wide, staring at him for a moment. I was completely mesmerised. I could practically feel the anger and desperation boiling up inside of him, and yet he kept it so hidden, kept it behind closed doors for no one else to see.
His shoulders were shuddering now, and I took a few tentative steps towards him, feeling an indescribable urge to just take his pain away. And then, in an unexpected, aggressive move, he balled his fists up, slamming them both sideways up against the door. And again, and again...
I jumped back, pulling in a sharp gust of air, and then shot forwards, grabbing his hands and pulling them away before he could hurt himself. He looked up at me then, and I felt my heart silently shatter into a million pieces as my eyes fell upon his tear-streaked cheeks.
His name slipped from my lips, sounding so full of worry.
And for once, his face didn't light up, he didn't ask if I was okay, he just crashed his mouth to mine, pulling my body flush up against his.
The sudden movement made me gasp into the kiss with pain, and I tried to pull away, but his hand moved up to the back of my head, his fingers clinging to my hair like it was his only source of life; and he was silently begging me please.
I felt his chest shudder against mine as another silent tear escaped him. My heart broke for him for the second time that night, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down to the bed on top of me, giving in and completely losing myself in him.
---
After only ten minutes of being under my own covers, I heard my cellphone vibrate. And already knowing who it was, I reached over and grabbed it, reading the received message.
'Mitchie... I'm so sorry...' it said.
I felt a painful throb in my chest at his words. Whenever Nate said he was sorry, it meant he was really sorry. And whenever Nate said he was so sorry, it meant that he was completely drowning himself in his own guilt.
I hurried to reply.
'Please, Nate, don't be. You're my best friend. Always.'
And it was every part true. He was my best friend. All this time, we always had been, even if neither of us had stated it in years.
My body gave a slight protest of pain as I lowered myself back down again, but I didn't care. It was somehow a comforting sort of pain. I cared for him so much, more than I could say, and he had really needed me. And despite what he thought, I had really needed him, too.
I waited awake a while for him to reply, but he didn't, and so after a while, I drifted off to sleep.
---
I stood at Nate's door, bouncing up and down on my toes excitedly, his birthday present held in my hands.
My father chuckled from behind me, patting his hand on my shoulder gently, "Settle down, my little jumping bean."
"Sweetie, you only saw him a few hours ago," my mom added, clearly confused as to why I was so excited.
I rolled my eyes childishly at them, continuing my up and down bouncing on the spot. Hadn't they learned, that when it came to Nate, my bestest friend in the whole world, a few hours was always much too long. And plus, I had been so anxious to give him his present all day, which my parents had insisted I wait until tonight, at our weekly family-neighbour get together, to give to him. If it had been up to me, I would've given it to him when I had woken him up at five-thirty this morning. I smiled to myself, remembering how I had bounded in through his window and on top of him to be the very first to wish him a 'happy eleventh birthday', singing and all, as he had blushed and tried to pull his blankets over his head.
The door opened then, and I shot inside. "Evening, Mr and Mrs Patterson! Hi there, Mikey," I made a face at the one-year-old, and he gurgled at me, bouncing up and down in his mother's arms happily. "Bye!" I called back to everyone, turning to race up the stairs as fast as my legs would take me.
I heard our parents let out a faint chuckle from behind me, all happily greeting each other afterwards.
Whatever they always did after that, I never knew, I had already barged into Nate's room, finding him sitting on the edge of his bed, playing around with the guitar his parents had given him for his birthday.
At the sight of me, his face lit up, and he practically dropped his guitar as he stood up. I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms excitedly around his middle.
"Happy birthday, Natey!" I smiled.
He blushed slightly, wrapping his arms around me, too. "I think you already said that today... four times."
I just shrugged, pulling away with a bright smile. He always got so embarrassed, it was pretty entertaining.
"Guess what, I already learnt a couple of chords," he told me, excitement lighting up his hazel-brown eyes.
"Wow, you're going to be, like, the next Stevie Wonder," I told him with a proud smile.
His eyes narrowed at me. "You do know Stevie plays the keyboard, not the guitar, right?"
I laughed at how defensive he had gotten. "Hey, he's your favourite singer, not mine. Would you have liked it better if I had said you were going to be the next Delta Goodrem?" I teased with a huge grin on my face.
He put his hands on his hips in an I'm-so-much-smarter-than-you way, "She plays the piano."
I rolled my eyes at him, putting my hands to my hips too. "Um, and she's a girl," I stated the obvious, which he had missed, "But okay."
Both our arms dropped then, and we laughed a little together.
"Anyway," I said, holding out my present to him, "Here you go, birthday boy."
He blushed, "Seriously, don't call me that again."
"Okay, birthday boy."
He glared at me, and I just smiled back innocently. He rolled his eyes, and then sat back down on his bed, placing the wrapped present in his lap.
That's another thing about Nate; he unwraps presents like a fifty-year-old lady.
When he had unwrapped it, he picked it up by the ear, raising his brow at me. "You did know you were buying a present for an eleven-year-old guy, right?"
"Yep," I grinned, "And you've had mine for three years now, so I thought it was time you had one of your own."
He blushed at that.
"Look," I pointed out, "He's even all scruffy, so he'll match your hair."
He glared at me, standing up. "Fine, you can have yours back. I didn't even know I had it."
I smile to myself, seeing my blue care-bear sitting up against his pillows.
"This one's cooler anyway."
"That's 'cuz I picked it out," I grinned.
He glared at me for a moment, and then smirked. "I think I'll call him 'Stevie Wonder'."
My mouth dropped open. "What? You can't call him that?"
"He's my bear," he stated, still smirking.
I was speechless for a moment. "Well that's a really dumb name," I said finally, crossing my arms in front of my chest stubbornly.
"Admit it, it's the coolest name you've ever heard for a bear," he smiled, moving forward.
"No way! It's, like, the worst name I've ever heard."
"Are you sure about that?" He said, stepping forward again, a mischievous look in his eyes. And before I realised, it had been too late.
In a split second, he had dropped Stevie to the floor, grabbing me by the waist and pushing me down to the bed with him, full on tickle-attacking me.
I let out a scream, squirming around, but he was stronger than me.
"Okay, okay!" I barely managed to scream out.
"Okay, what?"
Grr, he was clearly enjoying this too much.
"It's the coolest name in the history of teddy bears!" I screamed, barely being able to breathe now.
"And...?" he smirked, not easing up on the attack.
"And I love your scruffy hair!" I screamed anything, desperate for it to be over.
"Good enough," he said, sitting up off of me.
I caught my breath, sitting up too. Then I said quickly, "Just kidding. Stevie Wonder is still the worst name I've ever heard, and your scruffy hair looks stupid."
His jaw fell, and I raced out of the room with him chasing right after me.
---
I was awoken by something all of a sudden, and I sat up in bed, the warm memories of the dream quickly fading. I shivered, feeling cold for some reason.
I picked up my phone, but there were still no messages, so it hadn't been that that had woken me. I looked out the window. It was pitch black and there was a soft patter of rain falling against the glass. But again, it was too quiet to have woken me.
And then I heard it.
My uncle's booming voice calling me from downstairs. I froze up, completely terrified, because for some reason, I had a terrible feeling churning in my gut this time.
My uncle was storming up the stairs now, and the most eerie feeling I had ever had in my life fell over me, and I didn't know why. I glanced back to my window, to Nate's window, and I shoved the blankets off of me, making a break towards it.
But it was too late. I heard my door crash open, and a second later two rough hands crushed around my ribs, ripping me back.
AN: Review? It will make me update much faster if I know that there is a reason for me to.