Unedited Chapter 3 [1]

       Nathan sat at the small dining table in the small kitchen of his small home. His father sat at his right hand as his mother was at his left. They were having Indian food tonight, although he hated spicy foods, he complied just for his father's sake. The curry was burning his tongue, and his glass of water was being emptied quickly.

       No one had said a word to each other once they sat, and it felt painfully awkward.

       "How was school today, Nathan?" Catherine asked her son, her pink lips turned up into a smile.

       His father glanced up at him, and Nathan felt pressured to give her an honest answer instead of a snarky remark. So, with every aching breath he had in him, he breathed out, feeling like a worn out dragon, his mouth burning, but no fire.

       "Ran into some bitchy girls."

       "Nathan..." His father red flagged him. Nathan ignored him, though, and continued to tell his mother about his day, since she politely asked.

       "That's pretty much it. I wish I hadn't run into them, though."

       "Is that all that happened?" She asked.

       "Yep," Nathan nodded.

       "Your father tells me that you're doing really well in school. I'm glad, and you're into music?"

       Nathan shook his head and took another gulp of his water, empty the last drop; his mouth was on fire, and he couldn't talk without taking long pauses.

       "Everyone's into music," pause, "I'm into making music."

       "Have you made any music so far?" She asked with a smile. "I'd love to hear something."

       Nathan hesitated with an answer: so far, he hasn't made any music of his own. Stupid and stinking lyrics that weren't good enough; speaking of which, he had to go meet with Seth later on. Maybe he could pass off his few lyrics, and maybe, just maybe, they'd be good.

       "I'm still working on some stuff. Maybe some other time," he said.

       "Oh, okay," she sounded disappointed.

       Without another word, Nathan got up and left the table, going up towards his room on the second floor. Maybe he was going to be yelled at later, but they let him go off, silently watching him from their seats.

       His mouth was still burning, but he felt relieved to be away from them... from her.

       Maybe his father was comfortable with her now, but he still didn't trust her. Having dinner with her was fine. Obligatory, but fine. However, having her delve into his mind, his work, his passion... how could he trust her not to ruin it for him? To snatch away all the happiness it brought him over the years, it would be a sin, and something he would never forgive her for, even if she was his own flesh and blood.

       Nathan flopped his body lazily unto his bed. He was tired. It was only seven thirty, and he needed to go meet with Seth at the Den; his legs felt numb, and so did his chest. Maybe he never acknowledged it before, but school was tougher than ever now. His grades were perfect, but his dreams were clustered together with his reality: maybe he could lay off of it for awhile, until he was finished with exams. It wouldn't be long.

       "James!" He heard laughter. "Oh stop it!"

       Nathan buried his face into his pillow, groaning as loudly as he could. He knew they couldn't hear him, but he tried to be as loud as he could anyway. There, he decided that he wouldn't be a bum and go to the Den.

       He pulled on a dark blue hoodie (his favorite hoodie) and hauled his Chuck Taylors from underneath his bed. He wouldn't carry his guitar tonight. He knew the tune by heart, it was the words that needed fixing.
       With his bag slung over his shoulder, he made his way downstairs where his parents were drinking wine and watching television—like a normal couple.

       "I'm heading out!" Nathan shouted from the doorway.

       "Where are you going, bud? It's a school night, y''know," he heard his father say. Soon, after a few seconds, both of his parents were at the door, staring at him.
       "You heading off to a friend... or?" His father was confused.

       Of course, he had never told his father about the Den; he would ban him from ever going there ever again at that very moment. He knew about Seth, mainly because he himself was a fan of their music. Mention Seth, leave out the Lion's Den: done.

       "I don't have friends, you know that," Nathan stated bluntly, clutching the cold, metal doorknob.

       Catherine looked at her son, a little bit of shock in her expression. Was it the fact that her son was being so blunt about being friendless, or that his father knew that his son had alienated himself?

       "I'm heading to Seth's... for the music I'm working on," he directed that last bit to his mother.

       "Be safe out there, Nathan," she said quickly, smiling at her son.

       "And it's a school night," his father joined in, "so be back before eleven."

       Nathan closed the door behind him, and pulled his hood up. He should have smiled and told his mother he would be. He should have nodded to his father, making sure he knew that he understood what his curfew was, but Nathan did what he always does: listen without a word, then walk away. It was a habit he never got around to changing. It was rude, and he felt a guilt rock hit his chest.

       His footsteps echoed on the cold, hard pavement; the streets weren't clustered, but they weren't empty either. A few cars parked, while others went past, honking and blinking their lights, yelling at one other to get a move on.
       Living in the city was very annoyingly loud. Was the suburbs any better? He wondered.

       He took out his phone and sent a quick 'I'll be there' text to Seth.

       The Lion's Den wasn't that far from where he lived, but Nathan thought that it was too far because by the time he arrived at the stairs to lead him under, he was breathing heavily; he was a skinny boy, but being skinny doesn't mean you're healthy.
       Nathan brushed his fingers through his bird's nest of hair on his head, making it stick upwards, the way he always woke up to it; he was never self conscious about his appearance before, and he was only going to meet Seth—so, why was his heart pounding and his hands sweating? His walk panic ended a minute ago, so why was he feeling so nervous?

       People were dancing, drinking, laughing, and some were even sucking at each others' faces in the dark corners (they weren't that dark). He saw the blonde Seth sitting at their usual table, a bottle of bear clutched in his hand. He had a perplexed expression, confused and thinking a bit too hard; Nathan could practically see the gears in his head spinning so fast that there was smoke emitting from his ears.

       Was it something personal? Something to do with the band?

       Although they considered themselves each others' close friends, Nathan didn't actually know what happened between Seth and his band mates whenever they weren't on tour, or whenever they were working on a new project. He didn't really know much regarding his personal life either.

       Some friend, huh.

       He took one step forward and almost fell flat on his face—on someone else's face.

       "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm so so-"

       "Shut up!" Nathan snapped in a hushed tone at the girl.

       Bree's crystal clear eyes held a dark cloud of fear in them, and Nathan immediately began to regret his rude behavior.

       "It's fine," he sighed, getting off of her. She was so tiny: he hoped he hadn't crushed her.

       What was she doing here again, anyway?

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I'm updating on Fridays again now! How are you guys doing? Okay, so CRUSH UPDATE! So, I had asked my friend to talk to him for me, because I'm a fucking chicken :3 and like, I dunno if she told him that I LIKED HIM, but he said that we could be friends [we've literally never talked before...]

I feel good about that, but then again I'm like, "eh, boys". I'm not freaking out, overjoyed with "feelings", but I'm not like, "dammit. I already bought the ring and booked the church!" Haha, so yeah, that was the climax of my day, basically.

Question: What's your crush story? [if you don't mind telling]