Unfortunately, the days following his ride home from Theodore and his friends' conversation were not the best. He was having a high peak of anxiety which included numerous panic attacks; some of them ensued because of small issues, but most of them began for seemingly no reason. As much as he didn't want to admit it, it was a mixture of two things. 1) He found Theodore ridiculously cool and wanted to be his friend more than anything. Theodore radiated such brightness, but Nate was worried that he was too dim for him. Dull. Boring. Awkward. Anxious. 2) As much as he didn't want to admit it–his nightmares had begun to pick up again. Whenever he got like this, his dreams were filled with terrible visions about himself. He dreamt about his ex-girlfriend and the abuse that she enthralled onto him, and watched as it mixed with his friends and Theodore. They kept him up at night.
During those days, Nate did not visit the bookshop. He was too tired and anxious to be around Theodore. Every part of him wanted to see the brilliant man except his stomach and throat. He felt sick every time he imagined what he would say to Theodore, and what Theodore may say back. Being anxious over a mere conversation seemed silly to him, but he knew it didn't feel like it was. He tried to use coping skills, and to validate himself—which was, of course, his therapist's recommendation—while he talked himself through all that he was feeling.
After skipping out on going to visit Theodore for 6 days–which was extremely shocking considering the fact that he couldn't go a second without thinking about him–Nate decided that it was time. He was going to push past his worry and go talk to the man whose voice and presence plagued his mind with warmth and fluster. Truthfully, he knew that hearing Theodore's voice and smelling his aroma would put him at ease in an instant; all that would be left was butterflies and sweaty palms. The idea of being around him was intoxicating. He missed him greatly.
He made the decision to walk from school to the bookshop, as he had gotten comfortable with the entire route and felt confident strolling alone. His anxiety was still prevalent as ever, but he had to focus harder on his surroundings, and in this case, it was a very nice distraction from what was to come. As soon as he walked up to the heavy door his breath hitched. The feeling of doom pounded in his chest. It will be fine, I'm fine, he spoke to himself
The ding of the doorbell rang through, still too loud for his comfort. He bit the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should just stand there or say something. Either way, he wasn't able to make a decision in time.
"Hey you," a familiar voice called.
"H-Hi," he stuttered. Embarrassing.
There was a silence, and he immediately ran through every scenario in his head. Did he say something wrong last time they saw each other? Was Theodore upset at him for not coming sooner? Was he mad that he was here? Could Theodore tell that Nate wasn't doing well? Did he know?
"You don't have to stand there," Theodore laughed slightly. "I have a seat pulled up for you and everything".
Nate smiled wearily and walked towards the counter as he slid his cane across the ground. When he reached his destination, Theodore gently pushed the seat towards his leg, making sure that he was aware of its presence. He appreciated the act; it was way better than him grasping at the air for an uncomfortable amount of time. He sat down, placing his backpack gently onto the floor. Theodore sat down on his respective stool.
"I was starting to think you'd never show up again."
"I'm sorry, I just got really busy with schoolwork," he replied, lying out of panic.
Could Theodore tell he was fibbing?
"Do not apologize whatsoever, Nate. I was joking," he replied, instantly falling into his charismatic state. "I totally get the schoolwork thing. I mean, obviously it's not the same, but even when I was in high school I barely had time to do anything. College is worse."
"It's okay," Nate faked a smile. "How's the shop been?"
"Good," Theodore sighed. "I had that lady come in again, the one that talks about herself in third person."
"Oh god," Nate groaned, remembering the story of the unfortunate customer Theodore had to entertain multiple times.
"Yeah, she made a mess. She was in here for 30 minutes and it took me nearly an hour to clean up after her."
He shook his head disapprovingly. "That is crappy, I'm so sorry."
"Eh, it's alright. I had to have something to capture my attention since you weren't here. I was so bored."
His cheeks flustered. "You don't mean that."
"Yes, Nate, I do. You don't understand how lame it is to sit here and occasionally organize books or help people look for things. It's excruciating. I feel like I'm slowly dying."
Nate gave a halfhearted chuckle and began picking at his hands. His brain found itself in deep thought, the murkiness creeping in after a brief moment of relief with Theodore. He guessed it had found its way to his face, because the boy sitting next to him asked a dreaded question.
"Are you okay?"
His heart stopped at this inquiry. There was no way he could tell the truth.
"Yes, yes!" he replied, trying to snap out of his melancholic stance. "I'm all good."
Theodore didn't say a word. It was as if he was contemplating Nate's tone very heavily.
"You don't seem good."
Nate didn't know how to respond. "Really, I'm totally fine."
Theodore sighed. "You should know, I'm really good at reading people's bullshit levels, and yours are off the charts. Trust me, I know, I used to be a fellow bullshiter."
The other man chuckled, trying to think of anything he could use to change the subject. Ultimately, he had no luck.
"It's just been a weird week, I haven't been sleeping very well."
It was technically true. He hadn't been sleeping well at all; he just left out the fact that he would lie awake feeling sick to his stomach over stress or having night terrors.
Theodore grunted. "Just so you know, I'm not very satisfied with that answer, but I'll leave you be."
Theodore waited for him to say something, but Nate was speechless.
"You can talk to me if you want," he continued, his voice showing concern and a hint of nervousness. "I know we're not the closest and you don't necessarily have proof that you can trust me, but I just want you to know that you can chat with me about anything. I'm here."
Nate performed a sad smile, his heart fluttering at the idea of sharing secrets and being close with him. He was snapped back into reality when he was reminded that his brain and body would never let that happen.
"Thank you, Theodore," he reciprocated. "I'm alright, truly. I just need to get more sleep, that's all".
"A strong boy needs his sleep," Theodore replied jokingly, in a macho-esque voice.
Nate laughed, putting his head in his palms for dramatics.
Nate found himself trying to rationally think about his worries. It was frustrating that he couldn't pull through whatever slump he was in. His work in therapy brought him so far, and this state felt like a setback. He knew it wasn't, but that still didn't help his brain get better. He just wanted it all to go away. He wanted to be chill, fun Nate—not panicky, sickly Nate. Exhaustion riddled his body, causing him to feel a constant hum of illness as if he was drowning in muck. It was brutal.
The murkiness wasn't hopeless, however. He knew he would get better. In the meantime, he had his family, his friends, Luna, and... well... Theodore. They were all very helpful distractions. His chest filled with warmth in the stillness of the book store; he was so grateful for his life and the people in it. Thoughts about the things that made me laugh or feel better that week made it a tiny bit easier to stay up and alive. He was thrown off track by the sound of his favorite voice.
"What are you doing after this?"
He hesitated—unsure of what was happening. "Uh, nothing."
"Do you want to hang out?"
Oh god, is this really happening? Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh-
It's happening.
Who knew those 6 simple words would render him speechless?
"I, um, I-" he stammered idiotically.
"It's totally okay if you don't want to, I just get off in 20 minutes and-"
"I'd love to," he blurted.
"Really?" Theodore asked, excitement in his voice.
Nate smiled. "Yes, I would love that."
"Fuck yeah!" Theo exclaimed, earning a chuckle out of the other boy. "I'm so excited, we're going to have the best time ever."
"Yeah, okay, sweet," he replied, his body beginning to nervously sweat.
Theodore stood up from his chair as he explained that he had to begin closing up the shop, but that Nate could stay right where he was until he finished. As he left, Theodore gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. Nate thought he was going to melt under his hand but managed to keep his composure.
The brown-haired boy sat there–listening to the thud of books being put back on their shelves and the soft grunts of Theodore as he did so. His mom had conveniently called, and he had told her that he was hanging out with the 'man at the bookstore who drove me home that one time'. He could tell that she was hesitant–partly out of true intentions and partly for show. She had always been protective and still was even now as he was an adult. It was not out of pity or fear, but out of true compassion. Since her son was all grown up, Nate knew she found a sense of release. His mother wanted to keep up her role as a protective parent for old time's sake, but she was very happy that he had found himself in a space in which he could make his own decisions. He had made it this far, and that's more than a lot of people do, despite disability or ability.
After about 20 minutes, Nate heard Theodore exit the back office–keys jiggling in his hand. Nate fixed his posture in the stool and pretended that he wasn't an anxious mess yet again.
"Alright! I'm done, just need to lock up," Theodore said, smiling widely at the other boy.
Nate smiled back, hearing the gentle glee in Theodore's voice. He stood from the stool, gently pushing it towards the wall as he unfolded his cane and began to walk towards the head of the store. Theodore followed shortly behind him, turning out the lights and ushering Nate out the front door. With one swift click, the shop was closed and they were in the cold wind.
"I'm parked about a block away. Do you want me to assist?" Theo asked, putting on his hoodie.
Nate wrapped his jacket around himself as he panicked.
"Um, I would. Thank you. Sorry," the man stammered.
Theo gently plopped his bicep into Nate's side. "What was wrong with what you just said?"
"Obviously nothing," Nate replied sarcastically, his eyes rolling as he held Theodore's bicep and they began to walk together to Miss Georgia.
"Okay first off, you are majorly wrong, and you know that. Second off, just because you're wearing dark sunglasses doesn't mean that I can't suspect your snarky eye roll..." Theodore said as Nate laughed, bringing a smile to the sighted man's face. "And third off, I already told you; no apologizing."
"Okay, okay. I'll try my hardest. I'm afraid of what you might do to me if I didn't."
"Alrighty," Theodore sighed as they parted ways, both entering the car simultaneously.
Nate comfortably shuffled into the passenger seat. He took the sleeve of his jacket, carefully reaching under his sunglasses to wipe away the tears that had formed due to the gusts. He was conscious of making sure that his eyes were not exposed to Theodore; it was far too early in their friendship for that to happen.
Theodore started up the car, simultaneously checking if Nate seemed cozy beside him. He did, sitting there with a soft smile and a curious face.
"So..." Nate began. "Is there anything you want to go do?"
"Yes. Actually, in order to get through the first stage of being my friend, I have to haze you."