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

Chapter 22

Morgan will be home in 20 minutes, and I lost her boyfriend. Surprisinly their daughter is still sleeping, but without her father, what the hell am I supposed to do?

Right now, when it comes to Nate, I feel like I'm baby sitting a three year old. But I feel as if keeping Nate in line is easier than watching a three year old. I'll take 10 Nate's over a three year old any day.

Walking past my room, and checking Nate and Morgan's room, I see something in the Guest room. Stopping, I see a limp figure on the floor. Nate.

Nate was slouched on the hard wood floor, with his head on the wooden trunk Morgan uses to store blankets in here.

His head was resting on his arms, and he was still. His eyes were closed, and he looked like he was asleep. -- He's not -- His dark hair was covering his face, and soaked with sweat.

Great. This is a perfect state for Morgan to see. She's already concerned about his failing eating habits, and different behavior.. If she sees this, we're both screwed.

"Hey," I start, sitting down beside him. "What'cha doin' on the floor, buddy."

Nate opened his eyes, barely looking at me.

"Nate, buddy, talk to me. What's going on?"

"I wanted to lie down... T-Then I realized this wasnt my room, but I c-c-couldn't get up." he stated. "I was in too much pain, s-s-so I just stayed here."

"My god, Nate. How long have you been here." I ask him, feeling his forehead. He's burning.

"I d-d-don't know." he muttered, with a cough.

Okay, Nate. C'mon!" I start gently pulling him up.

"Ow.. Ow.. Brett that hurts.." He hissed quietly.

"Ops, sorry." I say, as I sit him down on the bed.

He immediately curled up into a ball, trying to keep warm. "I-is it cold in here?" he asked me, as  I stood in front of him.

"No, Nate. It's not cold in here." I tell him, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch, covering him with it.

"Sorry." He sniffed. "Everything hurts. God, my head's spinning, my stomach is killing me.. I can barely breathe, my lungs are on fire, and every single movement feels like I've been trapped in a box of saw, and I'm getting sliced up." He  explained, burying his face in the blanket.

"Did you eat today?" I ask him.

"Why?"

"You're throwing up every fight minutes. I'm surprised you're going fine now. I just wanna know what you ate." I explain quietly.

He looked at me, then looked down. "No."

"What about drinks?"

"Uh, Chai Tea and a Mountain Dew."

I look at him. He looked almost beaten. This only hit him a few hours ago, and it's pretty bad.

It pains me to see someone younger than me ill. Nate's only like 4 years younger then me, and this right here -- especially since we're close friends -- pains me.

Nate suddenly stood up, leaving the room. Most likely gonna be sick.

As he left, Morgan walked in here. Good god! Morgan's home!

"Is he okay?" She asked.

"Yes, of course!" I smile.

There's no going back. The way he is acting will make you believe he's either got Cancer, or just sick for 8 years.

After maybe two minutes, I see Nate walk back in here, fixing his hair. He was stumbling. Couldn't even keep himself up.

"Hey Nate?" Morgan asked calmly. "How was the baby?" She asked.

"Baby?" He asked leaning against the wall. "Good. No problems."

She looked him over before feeling her partners forehead. "Maybe you should get some sleep, Nate. Or just lie down." She suggested to him. "You're burning up."

"No, Morgan. I'm okay." He said.

"Fine." She said, "then curl up on the couch in the living room. Please. Try and get some rest."

He looked at her, using the door as balance.

"O-okay