Who tells someone that they are loved but go and create chaos in their wake? Who takes what only avenue given to be near him and throws it away in a heat of misfired conduct? Nathan asked the other hard questions as the week of clean up was under way. He lived in the tornado loft. Walked its floors to follow the trail of destruction that not only his other half had part in, but someone else. Copper smell radiated, rising from the random spatters from floor to the wall. His or hers he couldn't remember the specifics when a there was a way of finding out. Oh and his wall, closest to the small room, had been cratered. Fist imprints, body imprints, leaving am impression only someone of extraordinarily would leave behind. His place of escaping to when his other apartment began filling in with haunts of the other side. This was different. Fortified to keep his paranoia in check. To keep him safe but was near the epicenter of a lot of the break out of bullshit he and anyone else in the city could do without. Nathan's stress meter went off the charts. His anger the same.
Comfort of wading in his own misery wasn't there presently because the stream of other emotions, most ranging in disappointment to rage and ending with utter frustration with the confusion both he and her other fucked up halves left him in. He had to face it some how. He had to go over the footage, obsessively so. The place was rigged inside, outside the door, also on the level of the roof. For safety, for his reasons to remember. To pick up odd behaviors that were not of his doing but of the other guy. But in the bigger scheme of things, questioning who he was, what he was capable of under the duress of not only invasion of privacy but that of the major block out of the week, he couldn't believe the lengths at which he went to stop her. This wasn't God's plan if there was one. It wasn't his on the other side. He stared at his hands, lost from reviewing the footage. Sick from the images picked up from various corners in the place. Rot formed to the core as little help was given about some part of him careful enough to not tip over a ridged line.
His eyes held no rest and sleep wasn't commodity like it once was. The usual remedies failed him, having the inner workings of dual persons fighting for supremacy and all he could sink deeper into was losing someone dear to him by his own hand. Not out of selfish goals but for what had to be done. Subdued in his own space, misery sprouted like weeds. What kept his head leveled at least long enough to process clearly without adding to the damage, were her words. He could let it go, leave her be and the apology issued at its door or take it to bed his conscience comfortably. Saddened more than what spurts of anger seemed to hold over him, Nathan brushed up on the fuller picture. Unpredictable was where this road lead and where it ended, he wouldn't know the first half of figuring it out. Not with as much loaded on the plate as humanly possible.
Explanations waned, and the story would shift becoming malleable at will. Only his story was now shared in a direct link to the rough middle of the previous week. He rubbed his face roughly. Needing the wake up from creeping deeper into territories that broke down. As he done so many times in seclusion, Nathan felt the tug of picking up the phone. Sending a text or calling her. Not for the missile of questions of her safety but to catch her voice. Words said under the influence of a power he never encountered before, remained with him. Words jotted down in concise remorse fought just as hard to keep him awake. His chest felt crushed under the conflicting barrage of affective shots. Pierced through weakened armor, he couldn't defend himself this time. No vest, or highly functioning line of cover was resistant. In his temporary stagnation kept him around long enough to fuse with binding obstacles. Shutting himself off completely was goal and he reached it many a time. Only unsuccessful on her watch where mercy fatigued those efforts.
Roaming through the loft to backtrack away from the remnants of a messy dance, he internalized it. Needing an out before the strike was debilitating as everything else that came across his path in the ailing months. His options were clear only blurred by making the decision. Push away like he's done all too recently or lead into the quarrel where more questions were cast in wait. His coat grabbed, so were keys from the dish. Lights dimmed, knowing the timer would shut off when censors lifted the lack of movement. He had to make a trip, one directed with careful coordination as his vision was unreliable with one eye in tact. He left, locking up behind and fumbled with a key to his truck. For as nervous he suddenly became, encroaching on space from a distance felt in similar vein as his haunting of the other guy from folds of reality he was entangled with.
Concern drove him to do so but risk of relying on other emotions that carried on from trust being compromised, shook him the most. Lost in the physical way or from severed ties, again would kick him down a hole of where there was no coming back from. The heart of the night was dark as soot, only giving the running light its chance to find a way before all, even what hope he held to a riddled plate, was forever lost.