Sometimes I do not know if my smile is real or not—I feel like I'm losing myself in this lie and I do not know what it means F. S.
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Nathan would like to go back pretending as if he were heartless sometimes.
Love is a tender feeling that has snaked its way into his defenceless heart, and he's grown to resent the feeling. His breath feels shallow at the sight of her, his hands tremble at the nearness of her—it's grown to be too overwhelming for his poor inexperienced heart. Natasha has grown fond of him as well, it's clear in the way that she looks at him.
Nathan wishes it were as simple as that—two people in love, but something is holding him back.
He feels...restless, like he's on the precipice of something worthwhile, but he can't bring his foot to take the last step. It's hard to fathom why he's unable to fully commit himself to the idea of love, but he doesn't question it. He knows it's just the way he is, the way he's always been.
It was his peculiar nature, and that very nature was the thing that his mother had often ridiculed him for.
Nathan can't handle the look of dependence in his beloved Natasha's eyes.
There's a reflection in them of a person that he does not recognize and has never known. This person sounds deserving of love, the kind that Natasha could offer him.
He knows what he's going to do—what he's always done—disappoint. He's already done it once before, who is to say he couldn't do so again?
