Miserable at Best (Sequel to Our Never Ending Melody) (NateWantsToBattle)

Chapter 15

Posted a New Story.. Halloween Story coming soon.

"No, really. I'm okay." I hear someone's faint voice, as I make my way up the stairs. Though, as I walked, I was able to hear the panicked voice of Morgan, and the faint slurred voice of Nate.

Running faster, I make it back to where he fell, seeing him actually awake. He was sitting up, only with his mothers support, and he looked beaten up.

If anything, he's badly bruised.

Morgan was smothering him, like she would their daughter, and his mother was doing the right thing, letting him get his bearing back.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" Morgan asked him, wiping the blood from the side of his face.

That word, made his eyes really open. It scared him, I know it did.

"No." He told her calmly, trying to move, only to flinch in pain. "Morgan, I'm okay." He added, as he fuzzy gaze landed on me.

I think he thinks I called an ambulance, cause as soon as he looked at me, he gave me that look, but it soon changed when I shook my head.

"I think you should at least see a doctor, Nate." I heard his mother say to him.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly, moving his arm into some position. "I'm okay. I don't have any broken bones." He told her.

After that tumble, I'm surprised he only came out with a few cuts and bruises. This fall, can't be good for his back, and I bet any money his ribcage is going to be bruised nicely.

"Are you sure you're okay, Nate?" Morgan asked.

I saw him glance to his daughter then to his girlfriend. "Yes, I'm fine. I just kinda want to sleep." He muttered. "Help me up?" He then asked his mother.

"Oh, you won't be sleeping." I hear his mom say to him, as she gently pulled him up, getting the hiss of pain from him. She expected it to, cause she had no reaction.

He's shaking. This is NOT good for his condition.

"Why not?" He asked, trying to stand up on his own, only for me to catch him from under his arms. Right now, he's like a human ragdoll.

"You hit your head multiple times, Nate." She started, only getting an eye twitch from her son. "And you've been passed out for nearly 6 hours. I want to make sure you're really okay, before you go sleeping this off."

He was silent. Nate's going to disagree, but his mothers right.

"At least keep yourself up for 3 hours, then sleep all you want." She said to him.

Again, he was silent, but then sighed in defeat. "Fine."

~~

"Sorry." Nate muttered to me, three hours later.

I turn to the young man curled up on the couch, in an uncomfortable position, with a giant pack of ice on his head. He was fighting his owns eyes, trying to keep them open.

His three hours is up, yet he's still fighting to stay awake.

"Why are you sorry?" I ask him calmluy, forgetting why I was ever mad at him.

"Because." He started his voice slightly pitching unconfortably higher. "I fell down the stairs, and didn't call you." He added.

"I'm actually the one who should be sorry." I say to him. "You fell outside the apartment, and I didn't hear you."

There was silence between us, as he shifted only to quietly squeak in pain.

"How are you going to explain this to your doctor?" I ask.

"What? The bruised ribcage?" He asked. "Oh, he'll find out I'm sure. The next examination will show that it's badly bruised." He quietly laughed, only to exhale in pain.

"What?"

"It hurts to breath.." He said silently.

After my minute of silence, I look at him. "You know, you tried to call for help." I say.

"I know, I --"

"I watched the footage from the cameras in the stairwell, and I watched you tumble down the stairs, and I watched you try and reach for you phone, but you passed out."

He yawned as he looked at me... Or tried to.. He was fighting so hard to stay awake..

"Sorry." I say.

"Don't be.." He yawned. "It's not.. you're fault.. you didn't know.. this would happen."

He gave up, fighting, resting his head on the arm rest of his couch. He was quiet for 5 minutes, and I was sure he was asleep, but as I went to get up, I heard him move.

"Thank you." He said silently, his speech hard to translate.

"What?"

"Thank you."

"For what?" I ask him.

"For not calling 911. I didn't want to be trapped there again." He said.

He's talking in his sleep now. He's awake, but asleep, if that makes any sense.

"Well," I say to him as I walked into the kitchen to leave him be. "You're welcome."