Why Not Live?

Chapter Twelve - Creepy Bartenders

Nathan's POV

Nathan sighed irritably as he dropped another handful of empty beer cans into the trash can. It had been almost a week since he'd heard from Charly. He'd called a million times and texted even more than that and she didn't even bother to reply. What was up with that? He hated that he was getting so clingy but he couldn't help it, he was worried. She had said she was sick and then had dropped off the face of the planet. Maybe she'd had more than the flu. If something really bad had happened Joey would have called though, right? Nathan doubted it.

He couldn't decide which was worse, thinking something was wrong with her or thinking that maybe it was his fault. That he really had pushed too far the other day and now he'd scared her off or made her mad. If she'd just call him back and talk to him he could find out!

He made a frustrated noise as he looked around his nearly spotless apartment. Apparently, worrying for him led to cleaning. How much more fucking pathetic could he get? He shook his head, walking over to the fridge and grabbing himself another beer. He hadn't been drinking as much since he and Charly had gotten together, but now that she had disappeared he was back to it and worse than ever.

He sat down on the newly cleaned couch in his newly cleaned living room and chugged the whole can, taking a deep breath when he'd finished it. His head was fucking pounding, it had been all day. It had been all week.

He stood up again and threw the empty can across the room where it hit the wall, spraying out what few drops of liquid were left in it. This time he didn't stop to pick it up and throw it in the trash can as he grabbed his keys off the counter and shrugged on his black leather jacket. He couldn't stand sitting around the damn apartment.

It was getting colder and colder outside. And Nathan could see his breath coming out in puffs of smoke as he walked down the busy sidewalk. He wasn't exactly sure of where he was going, just that he couldn't bare sitting around anymore.

It wasn't until he started passing the familiar white fences that he realized he had unconsciously been walking to Clara's house. She was usually the only one who could get him settled down when he was this worked up, so he guessed it was the right place to go.

He didn't bother knocking when he had made it through their perfect yard and pushed open the front door. "Clara?" He called, using his feet to pull off his shoes as he stood in the doorway. Clara always had this weird thing about taking your shoes off before you go inside. She was a neat freak.

"In here!" Clara's soft voice called back from the kitchen.

Nathan followed the sound and found her leaning against the kitchen counter, flipping through an old scrapbook. He watched as she hastily used the sleeve of the oversized sweat shirt she was wearing to wipe a few tears off of her face. When she turned around he realized she was wearing John's sweatshirt.

He tried his best to smile as he walked forward and pulled her into a hug. "Hey, sis," He mumbled into her hair.

She hugged him back before stepping away and reaching back for the scrapbook. "Hey, do you remember this?" She asked, her voice coming out a little watery as she pointed to a picture of Nathan with John. It had been taken the summer they had all gone up to a lake house owned by John's parents. They were both laughing, the picture taken mid-fall as they had both tackled each other off of the dock and into the water.

Nathan smiled, "yeah."

Clara laughed in a sad way. "That was the trip when John tried to teach Ethan how to fish. Remember? The first time John let him try to use the reel by himself, Ethan ended up flinging to rod around and getting the line hooked on John's shorts."