He sits in the corner of the room, drenched in sweat and alcohol.
He's shaking.
Does he care?
Not the least bit.
He tells himself it's going to be alright, that she'll come back and they'll get through this.
But no. He drove her away.
He remembers the night before clearly, with outlines as sharp as they could have been happening right in front of his bloodshot eyes.
He remembers her hopeful smile, the tears that glisten down her face fifteen minutes later.
He remembers his own words - so calm and soft at first, ones that morph into a raging storm soon after.
They're my parents. Mason deserves to see them.
Why are you being like this, Nate?
Nate, listen. Listen for once, goddamnit!
I love them, okay? I love them, even after everything they did.
She was right. She's always right, and he knows that.
So why does he want the last word? Always?
He is all the things she screams at him - egotistical, self-absorbed and conceited.
And whilst he isn't denying any accusations, he knows he loves her.
So why do they keep making the same mistakes? Over and over, like a never-ending cycle.
Were they even meant to be together in the first place?
Would she be happy, without him?
This was the question that had racked his brain for over two hours.
Should he just let her go?
He couldn't, he realized.
He was selfish among other things, and he loved her too much to let her go.
But this, this was not her.
The girl he loved always used to laugh, even at the lamest of jokes. That girl never cried, never acted for everyone.
She didn't need to.
How does it feel, knowing you changed her?
How does it feel knowing you made her the person that she is - just a hollow shell of what she used to be?
"I love you, Nate." She had said to him, just before leaving. He was fuming, yet she still placed her delicate hand on his cheek and kissed him. "With all my heart. Don't forget that."
Then she had left, along with his child.
He gulped in a choked breath.
And suddenly he was in his corner again, dark and alone, like he once believed his future to be.
He had finally found his ray of warmth and light.
And he might just end up losing her now.
He gets up - this man of twenty four, drenched in sweat and alcohol, shaking.
It's going to be alright, he repeats.
Because he's going to make it better. He's just found his future - he's not going to let it slip through his fingers.