𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✔️

♡ Chapter 17 ♡

July 17th.

~ Nic POV ~

I'm a man of many flaws. 

I'm impulsive. I kill, without too good of a reason, if any. Knowing I cause other people pain and grief doesn't affect me at all. Every single night, I sleep peacefully, unaffected by all the pain I've caused others.

I bring pain and death with me everywhere I go. If there is a Heaven, the people in it stare down at me and my red-stained hands. 

I watch Celeste from across the hotel bar. I lean against the wall, watching her talk to a guy.

My head moves with all of her movements. She smiles at him. He makes her laugh. 

My face remains blank as I watch, my hands slipping into my black dress pants. My fists clench inside of them. 

She plays pool with him. I feel something burn in my best.

I'm not going to stand here and deny it. I'm not going to stand here and act like I don't know what I was feeling or why. I'm not going to pretend that I don't know how I feel. 

I'm jealous. 

She smiles at him, as if on cue. Everything he says seems to be entertaining her, and she looked happier than when she's with me. It hurt my ego, to watch the woman I buried my face in yesterday enjoy the company of another man. The woman whose touch I find myself craving. 

Forcing my eyes away is harder than I want to admit. 

I pass by all the faces that blend together on my way to the bar. The bartender doesn't even ask what I want, he just slides me a whiskey, use to me coming in. 

I can't even feel it burning my throat as I drink it. I can see her out of the corner of my eye, and her laugh meets my ears every time. 

This guy must be pretty fucking funny. 

As my glass empties, I catch him walking away out of the corner of my eye. I watch him as he walks into the small hallway that leads to the bathrooms.

I keep looking at the closed door after he goes into it for a few moments.

I stand off of the chair, cuffing the sleeves of my shirt as I walk toward the bathroom.

Celeste doesn't notice me, spinning the pool cue while she waits for him to return. She wears a tight black dress, and I move my eyes to look at the N on her arm. 

I push open the bathroom door, and he stands over the sink, washing his hands. I look him up and down as I start taking slow steps toward him. 

He acts like he doesn't notice me, but the concern in his eyes and his tense body language tell me he notices.

I step directly beside him, and he keeps a slightly worried face on as he turns the water off. He doesn't turn to look at me, and instead looks at me through the mirror above the sink. He speaks cautiously, "What's up, man?"

I keep staring at the side of his face, while he still refuses to turn to face me.

I stand calmly. I don't wear my emotions on my face. 

After a few moments of silence, he finally turns to look at me. 

"...Can I help you?" he asks while taking a tiny slight back.

My eyes lower, watching his shoes as he steps back. It makes an amused noise come out of my nose.

I throw my fist into his face. His head snaps to the side, blood gushing from his nose as he stumbles back into the wall.