Natsby

Chapter 15

I still occasionally wonder what things would be like if I had never came east. I would have never met Gatsby, I would have married a woman suitable for my family. Perhaps I would be expecting a child right now. I suppose I would be working within my father’s business as well. It all seems so strangely foreign to ponder the life of the common man when Gatsby and now I am hardly common.
I yearned for some semblance of familiarity. I left long ago, and yet here I was, wishing to return. I was quite confused when Gatsby seemed all too excited to take on the move.
“Yes! West! Let’s go that way,” Gatsby quickly spoke in excitement. He moved quickly to our shared room, and in my confusion I followed behind. “You want to leave?” I asked. I watched him pull two large suitcases from under the bed, opening their lids and turning towards the closet. He opened the doors and began pulling shirts off the hangers, throwing them onto the bed. “Of course, Nick. A new experience is much needed. The coast was growing suffocating anyhow,” He replied, not meeting my eyes. I crossed the short space and grasped his hands, forcing him to stop his motions and look at me.
“Jay, a small off-handed statement should not have been enough for you to respond this way. What’s wrong?” I asked. Gatsby’s face melted into one of concern and paranoia. “I saw him, Nick.” I felt my brows furrow in confusion. “Who?” He gripped my fingers tighter as he leaned his head close to mine. “The man who I went to Chicago to work for. Charles Harrison.”
It took me a moment to realize who it was, before sensing my blood run colder than the Arctic. Gatsby shivered out a sigh before pulling me into his chest, resting his head against my own. “I know you read those letters. He is far more dangerous than what he presented himself to be in them. Please Nick, I can not allow him to take away the last decent thing in my pathetic life,” His voice lowered with each sentence, until he finished with a cracked whisper. 
My heart ached. Gatsby did nothing to slip into this fated life, as it was something I had brought onto him. I felt nausea billow up from the depths of my soul as I had an epiphany. I was at fault for his pain. We fell to the floor, and as we held one another, I knew what I had to do. Gatsby would not like it at all, but it was for the best. I buried my head in his shoulder and inhaled as deeply as I could, wishing with all the heart I had to remember this moment forever.