Dara immediately shook her head, thoroughly confused by now. “No— why should you be made to- to do that? It’s your house, if I ever needed to sleep somewhere else, I could sleep on your doorstep.” She said it as if it was a perfectly natural thing to do, as if she did it all the time. “And- you don’t have to apologize. Honestly, it’s- it’s fine.”
That anger took over him again. The fact that she could bring up sleeping at his door so casually, like it was nothing, made him want to vomit. He wrapped an arm, the one not holding the cup, around his stomach, deciding not to eat anything more at risk of upsetting himself further. It would do no good to lose more liquid than he’d lost.
“Dara,” he responded, “do you want to stay here? If so, I beg that you stop calling it my house. It’s yours, too. You can make choices without being scared that they’ll upset me, Anna, or Bella.”
Dara stared up at him with wide, wary eyes. He had to be lying— didn’t he? “But— you just met me. Why would you- why would you do that much for me, of all people?” Maybe it was a better idea to sleep on their doorstep after all… simply being in the same room as this man was so incredibly confusing— despite being touched, she had no idea what to say or do.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked plainly. “You’re a human being. You deserve to feel safe, no matter what anyone else has told you. You deserve clean water and food. You shouldn’t have to feel like you’re any sort of burden because you’re not. There’s nothing about you that makes you any less worthy of basic necessities. Feeling otherwise doesn’t make sense.”
Dara disagreed with almost everything that had been mentioned— but the problem was that she didn’t see why it was a bad thing. She had merely accepted it as a part of life, it was what she called normal, without realizing that jt was not. She remained silent though, unable to translate her hopelessly entangled thoughts into coherent words.
Hearing no response made his emotions stir even more. He settled on sympathy and gave her a kind, genuine look, something he hoped was reassuring.
“If nothing else, you should at least feel like you’ve earned it from me. When I was ready to give up and die, you made me keep going. That’s something absolutely amazing. I don’t know if you know that, but you should. You saved my life in more ways than one yesterday, so yes, I think it’s fair for me to ask that if you want some privacy, you tell me.”
Dara had never received much sympathy, so when Nathaniel offered it to her, she had now idea how to respond or deal with it. Somehow managing to decide on how a part of her felt about everything that he was saying— incredibly touched— she cleared her throat and met his eyes, electing to respond simply. “I— thank you. I think I needed to hear that.”
He nodded quietly and found himself staring back into her eyes. Before he knew it, he was looking away, a gentle smile on his lips. He tangled his hand into his hair with a soft “you’re welcome”, apparently unable to form more words than that.
He’d been hurt the night before; that was nothing compared to the pain he was going through as he sat across from her. It was hard for him to accept that someone who’d been nothing but kind towards him could’ve gone through something so terrible. He’d only been on the streets with his sister for a week before they’d found this house, so he knew how hard it was, but that was nothing compared to the people he’d seen out there for months. No wonder she was so hesitant to trust anything.
“You should eat,” he mumured, sliding the food further towards her.
(G’morning! Sorry I disappeared last night, it was 3am lol)
Dara blinked down at the massive heap of food, the quantity of it all only registering now that Nathan was pushing it towards her. “All this? Shouldn’t we— Shouldn’t we save some for your sisters?” Her stomach complained loudly, and her eyes widened in mortification as she wound her arms tightly around her midsection. “And aren’t you going to eat anything?”
(Sorry, I had school! I’m back now)
“I’ll have some, sure,” he said dismissively, “but don’t you worry. This is ours. Bella usually grabs a little something here and something at work, and Anna always knows how to portion hers off. Just take whatever you feel like eating. You’re probably pretty hungry, right?”
(dw about it! how was your day?)
Dara's stomach growled loudly a second time, easily answering Nathan's question. Flushing, she nodded slowly. "Yes– Thank you. Stop me if I take to much." With that, she caved in to her cravings and took hold of a shiny red apple.
“Eh, it’s fine. I can always get Anna to bring me something later. I’m not starving right now, anyway.”
He drained the rest of his drink and dug into the bread he’d been messing with, then took only one more piece of fruit and ate it. Satisfied, he moved himself back as gently as possible to the ground, where he waited, mind still racing, until he found that one of his wounds was leaking through his bandage. He got up and clambered over to the door to shout something to his sister. She came in only a beat later with an arm full of bandages. They spent a moment outside the door as she reset it before he came back in again, this time with a journal and pencil. He plopped into his nest, spread the pages, and began to write something down.
Dara watched him the whole time with concerned eyes, practically devouring the apple in her hands. "Are you okay?" she asked, worry seeping into her voice. "And– what're you writing?"
“Hm? Oh, no, the pain’s bad, but it’s worse when I think about it. I just didn’t want to risk an infection if blood leaked all the way through, and they were quite a few hours old. Thanks, though.” Nathan acknowledged her second question with a tilt of his head. “This is a book of mine. It’s a first draft, so I’m not looking for much more than a basic outline. I figured since I couldn’t go outside or make myself useful, it’d be good for me to do something I enjoy to pass the time. Reading and writing have always been my favorite subjects. A good book can take your pain away, if even for a moment. What I’m writing now, in my book, though, isn’t so much for that. I’m at a rather emotional scene, you see, and now’s as good as a time as any to put it down.” Realizing how much he’d just spilled, he turned as red as a rose. “Sorry. I don’t know if you care for reading, or writing, or… well. This is just something that I’m passionate about. My sisters used to love listening my stories when they were younger, so I got a lot of practice in learning what I liked to write and how.” Flipping through the pages of his worn, leather bound journal made his heart sing with contentment. “They’re far too busy now to listen, but I still write.”
Dara shook her head, a slight smile lighting up her features for a moment. "Oh no, don't be sorry, it sounds very interesting," she answered truthfully, snatching up a second apple before standing up and coming over to where Nathaniel was seated. She went down onto her knees across from him, tilting her head in question. "What's your story about?"
He pondered whether he should scoot back to avoid another awkward situation, but quickly decided against doing so. If he did, he reasoned, he might hurt her feelings. She did sit next to him, after all.
“It’s a short story about a girl who lives on a beach with her parents at the world’s end.” Scratching his beard, he gave her a shy look. “That sounds odd, I know, but I really enjoy writing it. There’s something soothing about it. The way the ocean’s described and her turbulent emotions are my favorite parts of it.”
The light in Dara's eyes didn't betray confusion, or that she found the idea strange, rather, it gave away her almost child-like fascination. "That sounds really interesting," she said sincerely, smile returning. "Tell me more– Or wait– could I read a bit of it? Just a page?"
Surprised, Nathan beamed happily. He pressed his thumb in the middle of the pages to keep them open and raised them to see where exactly he was. His eyes scanned the page for a moment before he flipped back to the beginning.
“Would you like me to read some of it to you? I’ve kind of missed doing it, and, well, I think it’d be a little easier for you than squinting at my messy letters.”
My reading's not too good anyways.. Dara nodded, pulling her legs into a crosslegged position. As if she was a small child, she leaned forwards slightly, anticipation evident in the way she held her breath and hid shyly behind locks of unruly, dark hair.
Something about the way she was sitting made his heart leap for reasons he couldn’t explain. He supposed it reminded him of Bella when she was little, all dark hair, curious eyes, and childish fidgeting. She’d been always twice as invested in his stories than Anna had. They’d grown close over it, the half-sister and her technical older brother, when things had gotten harder than they’d expected. Seeing it fresh in someone new made him want to go back to those old days—well, at least he thought. This felt different. Not so much sisterly, more something new, an emotion he couldn’t understand. He chalked it down to eagerness and began to find a spot to start at.
“I won’t read the beginning. It’s fine, but it needs more work. I’ll start at the second chapter, where the little girl, Silvia, and her mother are watching a storm approach on her tenth birthday.”
“The third day of August was mysteriously chilly and overcast with clouds as gray and heavy as the smoke from the steamboats that would occasionally drift by. Silvia, in a frilled dress with satin bows with a luster like that of polished pearls, clutched her mother’s hand as they overlooked the growing waves from the cliffside. She closed her eyes to the stinging wind and breathed in the upcoming storm like her grandfather had taught her in the past, tasting the saltiness on her tongue like tears. When her eyelids lifted, she was no longer really there. Instead, she pictured their home in the city, where they’d gone every year to bring gifts to her grandmother on Christmas. She saw the lights of the city and the automobiles that had rolled by, heard the blaring of jazz music from records and tasted pulled taffy on her tongue. There, she imagined, would she be safe, no longer having to find the dead animals washed up on the beach or the broken wrecks of ships sunken underneath the foamy brine. She’d get to dance with the girls on the stages and steal sips of alcohol from her father’s glass like a real adult. Her life would be normal.”
“Her mother’s hand was the only thing keeping her in the moment. It was a rough, firm hand, not soft like the palms of the beauty parlor girls who modeled their perfect curls in the windows of shops, flashed their gorgeous nails, and wore their hearts on their sleeves. The ten-year-old had grown up despising it, but she didn’t anymore. Hating things was for little girls, and she was no mere child. As her father had said, she was a grown woman, and grown women had to control themselves.”
He stopped reading and inhaled deeply, breaths long and shaky.
“Would… you like more? It’s not to the interesting part yet.”
(when you have no idea what he’d write so you whip something out lol)
(Lmao
That was spectacular tho
One sec I need to figure out how to type an actually good response that’s not like two sentences lmao)
(Oh lol I forgot to answer to this)
Sorry it’s taking me so long, I’ve been furiously typing arguments about homophobia
I will have the post up in a few minutes, sorry!
(Wait where can I join)