searching for a fallen star

Chapter 11: Ghosts abound

"Nathaniel," I say again, just to piss him off.

He mutters under his breath in exasperation, as I twist my body around and envelope him in a hug. He smells the same as he always does - crisp and cool, like the wind.

I'll never admit this to him, but I do miss that smell. 

I crawl from the driver's seat to the back seat, and slump down next to him. "I can't believe you're back." I turn to him, shaking my head in wonder, half-expecting him to reveal himself as an apparition conjured up by my imagination. When that doesn't happen, I hear myself saying again, "I can't believe you're back. You're really back."

That's when I realise that he's watching me with a guarded expression on his face; his jaw set, his eyes wary, his forehead slightly scrunched. 

"What's wrong?" I tilt my head towards him, suddenly concerned. Nash never gave me that look unless... 

I pull his sleeves up, grab his arms and search for any sign of fresh burns. When I look up, Nash is looking at me, wide-eyed in bewilderment; then it occurs to me how sudden and absolutely strange my actions must seem to him, and I let go of his arms, cheeks burning, ears on fire, stuttering so much that I can't even let out a single coherent word.

"I just thought... maybe... never mind." I manage to say, wanting now more than ever for the car seat I'm sitting on to open up, drop me onto the cold asphalt and save me from total humiliation. 

Nash smiles shyly at me. "You thought they hurt me again, didn't you?"

If I ever thought that my cheeks couldn't burn any hotter, I am proven wrong right this instant. Here I am, acting like everything between us has stayed exactly the same, acting like the last two years of no contact whatsoever hasn't just passed by... and to think that, I, out of all people, should have learnt by now just how quickly things can change for the worse. 

"No. I didn't think that." I blurt out. "I mean, maybe I did? I mean, I thought they hurt you, but then I realised how absurd that thought was so..." I swallow hard. "I think I should just shut up now." Unfortunately for me, there's no needle and thread around to stitch up my lips permanently and stop me from making an utter fool out of myself. 

His smile grows wider, to one of amusement, but I detect another emotion in there. Gratitude? He places a firm hand on my shoulder. "Thank you." He says." For checking up on me. As always." A cloud of nostalgia lingers his eyes. 

"But you had that look..." I say.

"What look?" He seems genuinely befuddled.

"Like... wary. Guarded."

"Oh." He laughs. "I just thought that maybe... you were going to punch me? So I was preparing myself."

Oh. Oh. I join in laughing. What a misunderstanding! Well, now I just feel doubly stupid. And... relieved. Maybe... maybe a little too relieved. He hasn't been hurt by them. He hasn't been hurt.

"Oh trust me." My voice is still a little drunk with laughter and secret relief. "If I wasn't so glad to see you, I would have punched you real hard." I say this jokingly, but there is a truth to my words. It pained me more than anything else when he left without even a goodbye, and sure, part of me is angry and frustrated at him; sure, part of me demands answers from him. But seeing him again? It is like he never even left, and a greater part of me is just glad, glad that he's back. 

He grins, rubbing his left shoulder. "Then my shoulder and I thank our lucky stars."

There's a moment of comfortable silence, though my mind is screaming with questions. Why is he back? Why did he even leave in the first place?