Nathaniel looks tired and he's awfully moody on our first day back to school after five days of staying at home. He kicks the loose gravel on the road with his feet absently as we make our way out of the gate of the house and quietly keeps his eyes trained on the ground, conveniently choosing to avoid my gaze. I've noticed the signs over the last two days since the day after Madison and Truck's visit and they were becoming progressively worse.
He hasn't uttered a word since breakfast except a polite good morning and a slight nod when he entered the kitchen to get a banana and some almonds. I mean he isn't much of a talker, I know that by now but today his eyes are rimmed with a light shade of pink and his lips look chapped. And he's wearing a powder green half sleeve button up on a white full sleeves t-shirt with his black jeans, which strikes me as odd since he makes it a point to always wear dark turtlenecks to school and hasn't once touched the brighter section of the wardrobe I bought with him.
"Hey," I bump his shoulder with mine as we begin our fifteen minute walk to Wolfrock Secondary, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing of consequence." He says sincerely, pulling his mouth into a tight lipped smile.
"Sure," I drawl, rolling my eyes, "Everyone's raving for dark circles and here you are rocking them naturally!"
"Well-"
"I don't want to hear any excuses." I assert, turning to him with a scowl, "We are friends and in case you need to be reminded since you were bent on being ignorant for the last god knows how many days, I can recite the rules of friendship again."
Nathaniel sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly.
"It's not something I can talk about right now." he says finally, glancing around out of habit.
"Alright, you can tell me later. But you're not going to sulk alone, ok?" I nod quickly, getting the hint, "And everything will be ok. We will make sure that it's ok."
I reach out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. He squeezes back lightly, before linking our fingers together and holding on.
I don't think he realises that we're holding hands now, he's walking determinedly with his eyes trained on the road ahead. My mouth curves up into a smirk, mentally filing away this incident to memory so that I can tease him about it later.
His hand is soft, all smooth and doesn't have a single cut or scar on it unlike mine. I wonder if he can feel the roughness of my palm and healing patches of calloused skin, from weeks of MMA practice at The Glade and the thought suddenly makes me hyper aware and very conscious but all doubt flies out of my mind when his index finger absently begins to draw soothing circles on the back as we walk briskly.
It's only after he looks at me briefly before glancing down at our linked hands with a heavy stare that I realise that he isn't drawing mere circles.
He's drawing letters.
"Oh, right." I nod when it finally dawns to me, and blood rushes into my ears as I bite my cheeks to hide my embarrassment.
I don't have a single clue as to where the key to the nuclear reserves lies. The records I have with me contain nothing.
I exhale.
And I'm afraid that if I don't figure it out soon there'll be trouble. A disastrous amount of it.
Honestly, I have no idea what to say. It doesn't feel right to say it's going to be ok. Neither does saying that he shouldn't worry about things that are out of his hands. That would be cruel, especially when Nathaniel feels like the fate of the world lies on his shoulders and is constantly weighed down by its weight.
So I say what makes the most sense to me at that moment.
Then we lure the trouble our way. At least, we'll be ready.
The rest of the school day proceeds normally with the usual hullabaloo in the corridors during breaks and dull silences in the classes. As expected, no one questions our absence for the last five days. It would have been slightly unusual if they did.
The only time it is remotely interesting is when Kimberly corners Nathaniel after a gruelling calculus class and declares in a hurt tone, "I hate you Nathaniel! I should've known what a jerk you are, most pretty boys are. You didn't have to skip school to avoid me though. You could have just texted me."
Sje was so full of herself, jeez! She actually had the audacity to presume that someone could skip school to simply avoid her.
Nathaniel tries to explain that he meant to inform her of his absence, but he didn't have her phone number. But she was having none of it.
"Everyone has my number!" She all but stamps her foot on the floor and turns on her heel, as I bite my lower lip hard in order to stifle my laughter as Nathaniel haplessly tries to figure out whether he is supposed to go after Kimberly and apologise again or just let her walk away.
"Should I-" he asks, pulling his mouth into a thin line.
"No, it's fine. She might think you want a blowjob for real if you pursue her," I say in between snorts, "Unless, of course you want to-"
"There's no need to be absurd." Nathaniel states in an unamused tone before sauntering off in the direction opposite to the one Kimberly had gone.
I can't help but laugh at his prissiness. He's a complete prude and can never take a joke laced with an innuendo, which is so unlike other boys his age.
"What's got him so moody today?" Jordan whispers to Cyana at the lunch table, just loud enough for me to hear since I'm sitting next to him.
"Rashes on his bottom." she whispers back with a serious expression, "I've heard that high fevers tend to cause rashes there because of the excessive sweating that happens when the fever is dropping to normal temperature.
Jordan looks at Nathaniel pitifully and nods in understanding, "Rashes aren't pretty, man. He deserves to be sulky."
I wonder if I should intervene in their factually incorrect conversation but I let it be and instead steal a glance at Nathaniel who is methodically cutting his beans. If he's heard Jordan and Cyana's exchange, which I'm quite certain he has, he shows no response and goes on to cut up his carrots into identical cuboids.
As soon as we make it back home, he dashes towards the staircase to make his way back to his room.
"Wait! If you're going to keep running away from everyone who can help you, the least you can do is to make thoughts known." I shout after him, making him pause and peer down at me from the sixth step, "Don't we have things to discuss, now that we're not in public?"
Nathaniel hisses under his breath.
I suspect that he's thinking that telling me what was troubling him this morning was merely a moment of weakness on his part. What he doesn't seem to understand is that there is absolutely no chance that he can save the world single handedly and protect everyone he cares about. He needs allies and informants and resources that were currently not in his reach at the moment. For a born diplomat and politician, he thought too much with his heart rather than his brain.
After a little consideration, Nathaniel concedes and descends the stairs. He follows me into the kitchen and sits down in his preferred seat.
"Pizza?" I ask, "This is bound to go on for long. We might as well treat our tummies."
He shrugs in response, getting up to wash his hands and get a glass of water.
I dial the local pizza store number and wait for them to pick up.
"Flavio's. This is Isaac, your tele-waiter for the day. Please tell me your order."
"Right, I'd like one small mushroom pizza and-" I look at Nathaniel and raise my eyebrow.
"The chef's best will do." he replies simply.
"And a large double cheese margherita pizza." I finish reciting my order, rolling my eyes.
Did normal fast food stores even have an option to order chef's bests?
Shaking my head, I give my name and address to Isaac, the tele-waiter.
"Your order is confirmed and will reach your doorstep in twenty five minutes." he informs me in a monotonous tone that's probably become a habit now, "Thank you for ordering at Flavio's. Hope you have a great evening."
I pull the chair across from Nathaniel on the dining table and flop down onto it, kicking off my sweaty socks and twiddling my now liberated toes.
"So, as I was saying," I bend forward and rest my elbows on the cold table top, "We need to do something to lure out our enemy and for that we must prepare so that we are ready when they come. Do you have any ideas?"
"I can point out at least seven drawbacks to your proposed plan." Nathaniel argues calmly, "Firstly, I have no idea who our foes are. And even if I did, I'm certain they will have the advantage of numbers over us. I am currently on foreign soil and I don't have any dispensable resources to lure them out in a way that works to our advantage. If anything happens to me on foreign soil, there is no concrete jurisdiction for the prosecution of the people who carry out the crime because the existence of Volatis is secret. Need I go on?"
He makes a convincing argument, and it's difficult to think of something to counter it. The politician in him is evident in the cool, collected manner in which he's sitting as he talks with an air of superiority that makes you question your own views although I know for a fact that he's so close to shitting bricks. I don't think he even realises he's doing it.
"I hear you, Nathaniel." I say with a sigh, "Every word you just said made complete sense and I'm not even going to challenge them. But you must realise that whoever they are, they're going to come for you sooner or later. That's a given. There was that man who slipped past our defences at the mall that day, there must be a bunch of others waiting it out nearby waiting for an opportune moment to strike. And it's up to you whether you want to call at least some shots or just sit idle while it happens."
"What do you propose then? Put up a sign outside our house calling out to the local gangs and mafia to come to us so that we can see if they know something?" Nathaniel mocks, "That's literally inviting trouble and I'm not sure Mr. Davis will be very keen about the idea."
I roll my eyes. He's being needlessly stubborn and both of us know it.
"Motherfucking asshole." I curse to myself.
"It's not proper to curse mothers." Nathaniel promptly responds.
"Fucking numbskull." I huff, raising my brow, "Does that suit your taste better?"
Just as he shrugs passively in response, the security system installed at the gate lets out a shrill ring and I leap out of my chair to get some cash from my purse before making my way to the front door.
"Thanks." I quickly say, as the delivery guy hands over the pizza boxes through the delivery hatch between the grills of the gate. I hand him the money which he deftly counts before returning the change and tipping his bright red cap with Flavio's printed in bold letters on it.
When I return to the kitchen, I find that Nathaniel has already set out two plates, brought out the rolling cutter from the kitchen cabinet and filled a couple of glasses with water. Can a guy get any more perfect than that?
I set down the two boxes of pizza on the dining table, and push the margherita towards Nathaniel. The warm cheezy aroma wafts through the expanse of the small dining area, making the corners of mouth quirk up of their own accord.
"This is supposed to be pizza?" Nathaniel eyes his wonderful looking pizza with a blank expression.
"Yes." I narrow my eyes and look up, stopping just as I'm about to put a slice topped generously with freshly prepared tomato sauce, cheese and mushroom.
"Italians don't usually make pizza so unhealthy. This thing is packed with excess carbs and cholesterol." He says. There's no disgust in his expression as he studies it, just an inquisitive sparkle as he tentatively picks up a slice of his double cheese margherita.
"Us peasants eat pizza like this and it tastes heavenly. Look at this as your next assignment in my art of unopulence tutelage, and just eat it ok." I remark, eating the entire crust of the piece in my hand first.
Nathaniel's face lights up with a lopsided smile as he chuckles, "Sure."
He takes a considerably sized bite off the inner corner of the triangle and chews. I pause to see his reaction.
"This is unbelievably good." he nods after a few seconds, taking another bite, "I suppose there's a reason why it's called comfort food."
I grin happily. For some reason, it relieves me that he likes something that I love. Maybe it's my dormant beast of anxiety that craves approval and acceptance since he always seems to disapprove of the food I like to eat, or it's something entirely different. I don't know. I'm just glad.
"May I?" he asks, pointing towards my small mushroom pizza when he's done with two slices of margherita.
"Yeah, help yourself." I push the box towards him, surprisingly without any qualms since I don't usually like sharing my favourite foods.
We eat in a comfortable silence until there are only three slices left in total. I feel so full that it would be a wonder if I make it to The Glade in the evening because I can't bring myself to move.
"By the way, speaking of local crooks and gangs, I think I can create a sort of underlying buzz at The Glade." I exhale, leaning back in my chair to sit in a more comfortable position, "I'm sure someone there might know something useful since weapons and and defence security politics are like second nature to the war veterans there."
"You're not going to let that idea go, are you?" Nathaniel asks with a trepid sigh.
"You know I'm not."
"Fine." He huffs, "If you must, ask about the Maghfirat. I suppose they might have heard something."
"What's that?" I ask.
"It's who not what. Maghfirat means absolution in an old dialect of Urdu, a language that used to be spoken widely in southern Asia, and this man who went by that street name is rumoured to have smuggled raw uranium ore out of Volatis once upon a time. If someone at The Glade knows anything about him then they might know more."
"I'm guessing you don't know his identity." I surmise.
"Unfortunately, I don't. It's an old story and only my grandfather and his closest confidants knew Maghfirat's true identity." Nathaniel admits, averting his gaze from mine.
"Right, I suppose I can ask around today after training."
"Try being a little subtle." Nathaniel interjects.
"When am I not?" I ask incredulously, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
"Every single time you're supposed to be." he replies calmly.
"No, of course not."
"Says the girl who all but shouted that I was allegedly watching pornograpghic content with the school wifi in a crowded corridor." he counters sardonically.
"That's not a fair assumption!" I gasp, "And there were like only fifteen people, that's all."
"Crowded enough to have someone that can give rise to ugly rumours." Nathaniel says with finality, "I rest my case."
Pfft-
•><•
Nathaniel likes peasant pizza like me! I mean, I made him like it :p
How many languages do you speak? I'm trilingual :)
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Have a great Sunday!