The Way I Loved You

15. Apocalypse

“Apocalypse” is a song by American band Cigarettes After Sex, released as the second single from their debut album Cigarettes After Sex on March 27, 2017. The song is ultimately “about being there for people, when you're all alone. It was like a little affectionate statement to them.” [Source: Wikipedia]

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FFANC: no comment was found from Nathan Callahan.

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Chapter Fifteen: Apocalypse

Nathan Callahan had never dreamed of the fact that he would get all sorts of messed up over a scrunchie.

Really, it was just a scrunchie. No big deal. He shouldn't care. At all.

But damn him. He couldn't stop looking at it.

Lately, all his thoughts were like that. Incoherent, irrelevant, and absolutely unnecessary.

They came to his mind when he least expected them, like pop-up ads on websites. Like a piece of chewing gum stuck in the sole of his shoe that he couldn't just get rid of.

They were there when he was about to go to sleep, when he was making cookies, when he was passing by Mom’s bedroom and catching her reading one of her stupid romances, or, worst of all, when he was in the freaking shower.

Why, God, why?

Thoughts of her. Everywhere. All day. All the time.

Nathan was fine. He was doing amazing before. In fact, he was doing perfectly. He led a problem-free life, regardless of his home being a warzone because of two devil's incarnates (Bear and Sawyer). His brain was clear, not clouded by how someone's lips looked red, or that someone wore black to match with him, or how she smiled and shrieked in celebration of throwing a freaking basketball.

What made his life now into before and after, was a big mistake. He knew it when it was happening. He made it happen, kind of. His goal was to stop it. But he thought it would be fun to muddy the waters a little, while he should have made it clear he wanted to get off the water at once.

And now he was in the middle of the ocean.

His hand betrayed him first. Ruffling someone's hair it wasn't supposed to. Because who the hell does that? Hormonal teenagers, that's who. Idiots, that's who.

He wasn't an idiot. And he would like to pass this whole teenage debauchery as soon as possible so he can make his own decisions and not be influenced by stupid chemicals.

Chemicals, which might be the reason he was so pissed looking at a scrunchie in Fletcher's hand.

Nathan clasped and unclasped his fists, thinking of several ways how he would get it back.

It was first in her hair. Then it was on her wrist. Now Fletcher was carrying it around like it belonged to him.

Nathan needed to do meditation. He thought to himself. Some spiritual cleansing or shit. Maybe that would settle his ass down. And he would stop thinking about stupid stuff like how it felt when she slid down his- no. Nope. Absolutely not.

He wouldn't dare go there. There was a definite blip in his brain. A wipeout of his neuronal circuit. A lapse of judgment. A moment of weakness.

That's all.

It wouldn't happen again. Like ever. Of course.

Nathan was hiding out in the twin’s house because his baby brother and baby sister, who were not babies at all, more like banshees, were raising hell back at home. He did not wish to be caught in the ambush.