One Tree Hill ;; General fandom ;; 025 ;; Depressed
She was gone. Nathan knew that without even having to be told. He could feel it in every bone in his body. Every time his heart beat it echoed through his person, aching for her touch.
She was gone.
He was standing at the bridge when he felt it, a sudden exhale of breath as if he’d been hit hard on the back. It mixed with the cold air that stung at his cheeks as the tears began to fall.
His hands gripped onto the railing for support, but he fell to his knees anyways. An agonized cry escaped his mouth, shocking the still night air out of its slumber. Sobs racked his body, causing him to shake.
“It should have been me,” he muttered breathlessly. His fingers were wrapped so tight around the wood that his knuckles were turning a bright white.
The world beneath his feet continued to turn, but he became numb. There was no Haley anymore and it was his fault. He hung his head in shame, watching through blurry eyes as his tears fell onto the bridge below him.
“It should have been me,” he said again, defeated.
His body, as if unable to now hold itself up, sank further to the bridge. He pulled his arms around his stomach as he curled into a ball, trying to keep himself together. He could feel himself sinking into a darkness he knew he would never be able to escape. She was gone and she took a large part of him with her.
----
It was a week later and Nathan had missed every day of school. His apartment was exactly the same as it had been the night she died only it was covered with empty bottles of alcohol and crushed beer cans. He’d raided his parents’ house while they were gone for the weekend, but his stash was quickly disappearing.
He was laying in bed, the covers kicked down by his feet and the television muted while some basketball game was going on. Nathan didn’t know what day it was, but it didn’t matter. She was gone and that’s all he knew.
Ever since the accident he’d become a shell of himself. Every ounce of who he used to be, even before he met Haley, had drained out of him.
He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow just to block out the sun that came through the blinds he was too lazy to get up and close. He didn’t even hear the door open and shut quietly.
“Nathan?”
The voice was familiar, but he didn’t bother moving. He didn’t make any indication that he was in the bedroom or that he was alive.
“Nathan? Where are-”
Brooke had pushed open the bedroom door and found him, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. She let out a breath as she ran a hand nervously over the black dress she wore. “Nathan, come on. You have to get up.”
He shook his head. Why get up and go to his wife’s funeral? She wasn’t really dead. She’d just disappeared, went on tour again with Chris. She couldn’t be dead.
Brooke sat down on the bed, her hand moving to the middle of Nathan’s bare back. “Nathan,” she said softly. He shook his head again, failing at keeping the choked sob from escaping his lips. It was muffled against the pillow, but it was still heart wrenching and she closed her eyes.
“I can’t, Brooke,” he whispered. His fists gripped the sheets and he shook his head again. “I can’t.”
She merely nodded and laid down beside him, pulling his strong form into her arms. He hid his face in the curve of her neck, letting the tears fall freely. Brooke stroked Nathan’s back, her heart breaking with each sob that escaped his mouth.
He hated being this weak in front of her, but he knew that she was just the rock he needed. So they sat there in silence, aside from his sobs which eventually quieted down to whimpers and they skipped her funeral.
It’s what she would’ve wanted, he told himself.
She was gone.
He was standing at the bridge when he felt it, a sudden exhale of breath as if he’d been hit hard on the back. It mixed with the cold air that stung at his cheeks as the tears began to fall.
His hands gripped onto the railing for support, but he fell to his knees anyways. An agonized cry escaped his mouth, shocking the still night air out of its slumber. Sobs racked his body, causing him to shake.
“It should have been me,” he muttered breathlessly. His fingers were wrapped so tight around the wood that his knuckles were turning a bright white.
The world beneath his feet continued to turn, but he became numb. There was no Haley anymore and it was his fault. He hung his head in shame, watching through blurry eyes as his tears fell onto the bridge below him.
“It should have been me,” he said again, defeated.
His body, as if unable to now hold itself up, sank further to the bridge. He pulled his arms around his stomach as he curled into a ball, trying to keep himself together. He could feel himself sinking into a darkness he knew he would never be able to escape. She was gone and she took a large part of him with her.
----
It was a week later and Nathan had missed every day of school. His apartment was exactly the same as it had been the night she died only it was covered with empty bottles of alcohol and crushed beer cans. He’d raided his parents’ house while they were gone for the weekend, but his stash was quickly disappearing.
He was laying in bed, the covers kicked down by his feet and the television muted while some basketball game was going on. Nathan didn’t know what day it was, but it didn’t matter. She was gone and that’s all he knew.
Ever since the accident he’d become a shell of himself. Every ounce of who he used to be, even before he met Haley, had drained out of him.
He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow just to block out the sun that came through the blinds he was too lazy to get up and close. He didn’t even hear the door open and shut quietly.
“Nathan?”
The voice was familiar, but he didn’t bother moving. He didn’t make any indication that he was in the bedroom or that he was alive.
“Nathan? Where are-”
Brooke had pushed open the bedroom door and found him, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. She let out a breath as she ran a hand nervously over the black dress she wore. “Nathan, come on. You have to get up.”
He shook his head. Why get up and go to his wife’s funeral? She wasn’t really dead. She’d just disappeared, went on tour again with Chris. She couldn’t be dead.
Brooke sat down on the bed, her hand moving to the middle of Nathan’s bare back. “Nathan,” she said softly. He shook his head again, failing at keeping the choked sob from escaping his lips. It was muffled against the pillow, but it was still heart wrenching and she closed her eyes.
“I can’t, Brooke,” he whispered. His fists gripped the sheets and he shook his head again. “I can’t.”
She merely nodded and laid down beside him, pulling his strong form into her arms. He hid his face in the curve of her neck, letting the tears fall freely. Brooke stroked Nathan’s back, her heart breaking with each sob that escaped his mouth.
He hated being this weak in front of her, but he knew that she was just the rock he needed. So they sat there in silence, aside from his sobs which eventually quieted down to whimpers and they skipped her funeral.
It’s what she would’ve wanted, he told himself.