23| Ache

He left about 2 hours ago. Before he left, I had him give me his number because, wow, I didn't even have his number.

It was almost 9 right now and I had a bad feeling.

I don't know if that's just because I know almost for a fact he's gonna show up here drunk, or if it's because I'm just freaking myself out for no reason.

I mean, he's not a little kid, he can handle himself, and his relationship with his dad is none of my business. But I'm freaking out thinking of it.

There is no way he just fell or ran into something when he had that cut and bruise on his face that day. It had to have been from his dad. And as sick as that thought makes me, it's quite possible they just had a fight. He may have said something wrong, his dad may have done something wrong.

Maybe I should call him.

I grabbed my phone and called him up. It rang for a really long time and I didn't get an answer. He could be asleep.

Does he seem like the person to be reading bedtime stories by 9 PM?

No, no he doesn't.

"Emmy," my mom peeked her head in through the door. "You've been pacing around for over 20 minutes, what's going on?" she asked.

"Sorry," I sighed, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Is this about Nathan?" she questioned, sitting beside me.

"Kind of," I mumbled.

"Honey," she cleared her throat and hesitated, "I don't wanna be intrusive, but... honey, is he all right? At home, with his parents?" she asked.

"I um, I don't know. He came to school one time with really bad bruises on his face, and I know he lives with his dad but I don't know anything about his mom, I uh, I don't think she's there," I admitted, running my hand through my hair.

"Is that why he stayed here?"

I nodded hesitantly. "But mom, you can't tell anyone, he can't know I told you, nobody knows he stays here."

"He's done it more than once?"

"Just twice but, he may have to do it a couple times more," I huffed.

"That's okay, but um, do you wanna give him a call to check up on him?"

"I tried but he's not answering."

"Oh..." She fell into silence, slowly nodding. "Well, how far off does he live?"

"Two doors down," I chuckled.

"You can go check on him," she shrugged.

"Mom, I'm literally going to come off as a stalker," I deadpanned.

"Honey, you care about him. I'm not blind and I'm your mother, you clearly like the boy."

"I don't know that much about him though," I mumbled, looking at her with uncertainty.

"You don't need to know someone to like them, what the bloody hell?

I'm not saying you're in love with him, I hope you aren't," she looked at me weirdly, "But he's your friend, you like him, you care for him.

And he's a pretty boy," she smirked. I laughed, shaking my head.

"You can go check on him, he won't think it's weird, I promise. I think he'd rather appreciate it."

"Really?"

She nodded again. "Go," she encouraged.

I stood up and pulled my flip flops and a cardigan on before taking my keys and phone and leaving. There's probably something I should have asked my mom. What the hell do I do if his dad opens the door?

I stood there, shifting my weight from one foot to the other while I waited for someone to answer the door after I just rang the bell. The door opened and his dad answered. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"I'm uh, I'm looking for Nathan, is he home?"

He stiffened, "Last I checked, he's up in his room," he said. He's still not letting me in.

"I need to see him, it's urgent," I said. He eyed me quizzically. Oh my god, will he move? "Uh, excuse me?" I asked, getting impatient. He finally moved aside and I went in and upstairs. I just guessed and went right and thankfully, that was his room. I tried the handle but it was locked.

I knocked and he groaned, "Dad, go away!" I knocked again. "We already had enough arguing for the night, what the hell do you-" The door swung open and he stared at me in shock. "Oh, hi," he cleared his throat.

"Hi," I said. I suddenly had no idea as to what I was doing here.

Oh, my God, why did I let my mom convince me to do this?

"Are you okay?" we asked in sync. "I'm okay, are you okay?" I asked while stepping inside when he moved to give me space.

"Yeah, I'm okay. What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I was bored," I lied, shrugging.

"You look this nervous when you're bored?" he smirked.

I sighed in defeat, sitting on the foot of his bed, "I was worried."

"About me?" he asked, sitting beside me, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"No, about the Mona Lisa," I rolled my eyes, looking at him.

"Why were you worried?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I just had a bad feeling." It's the truth, I had a horrible feeling. And judging from the mess his room is, and the mess he is, I think I was right to feel that way. "And now I have a bad feeling saying I was right," I cleared my throat. "Did you fight?"

"Yeah," he sighed, falling back onto his bed. He put his arms over his arms, taking in deep breaths. I was looking at him and I noticed his shirt rode up. Then I noticed the bruise on his abdomen.

"Physically?"

"Huh?" he looked up at me.

"Did you fight physically?" I asked, pointing to the bruise.

"That's from a few days ago, he didn't..." he trailed off, shaking his head slowly.

"But he hit you a few days ago?" I raised my brows at him. He didn't answer me and that was an answer on its own. "You're coming with me," I stated.

"I can't," he huffed, sitting up, resisting a wince. His face contorted into pain, I can read it. How dumb does he think I am?

"Yes, you can," I furrowed my brows in confusion, "You did last night."

He looked down at me, his eyes scanning my face, lingering on my lips for a little longer than they should have. "It hurts," he mumbled.

"What hurts?" I asked.

"It's aching."

"You have an ache?" He nodded. "Where?" I asked, scanning him up and down.

"There's an ache in the bruise, in my head, my back, my stomach hurts too, and my heart hurts," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Nathan," I sighed, running my hand through my hair, "I can't help you if you don't come with me."

"Why are you helping me?" he frowned.

"Cause I care about you," I shrugged.

"Why? You don't even know me."

"Don't use that card, I know you more than a lot of people, especially considering we only met a week ago."

He smiled, scratching the back of his head. "Emma," he chuckled, "Go home."

"Pack a bag."

"I can't," he shook his head, "He'll get mad."

"I don't care," I said through gritted teeth, glaring at him. He stared at me with a small smile. A sad smile. A broken one. A heartbreaking one. "Nathan, please?" I sighed.

"I can't," he whispered, shaking his head. I let out a low breath, staring at the floor. "I'll be fine though, you can check for any new injuries tomorrow," he joked.

"Nathan, this isn't funny. This is..." Abusive. But I don't have the heart to tell him that.

"I know," he nodded gently.

"Run away," I shrugged, "I'll cover for you."

"I'm not 18, my mom isn't my guardian, I don't have anywhere to go, but when I turn 18, I promise, I'll run," he said, holding his pinky out. I locked my pinky with his.

"And if you don't... then I'll kidnap you and... hide you in Miami."

"Okay," he laughed.

"You're really not gonna come with me right now?" I asked. He shook his head slowly as a reply. "That's... that's deranged, you know that right?"

"You're a walking thesaurus I swear to god," he chuckled.

"I hope you know I'm not getting any sleep because of you tonight," I said while standing up.

"Don't stress yourself out, if it really gets bad, I'll drink and then show up at your window, okay Juliet?" he laughed. I rolled my eyes. I can't comprehend what he's going through and how he's so nonchalant and composed about it.

"Please, just show up at my window, I'll be happier then," I scoffed, turning to face him as he stood up beside me. I know he doesn't do hugs, but I need to give him one. So I did. And he didn't even hesitate to put his arms around my waist. We just stood like that for a minute. It felt serene.

I felt and heard him take in a deep breath and I told myself he wasn't just smelling me. But he was.

I smiled to myself, biting down on it. "I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked, still not pulling away.

"I don't wanna let you go," he mumbled.

"I'll leave the window open," I whispered, "Okay?" I pulled away enough to look at him.

He nodded slowly, looking at me.

"Bye, Nathan."

"Bye, Emma."

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