Disclaimer: I do not own any of the charater's featured in this fic, it's just a bit of fun, don't sue me!
Summary: Inspired by "4 months later" Nathan goes back to Peter's apartment since the explosion and finally realizes how much Peter ment to him (I'm really garbage at summarys!!)
Rating(s): Soft R
Warning(s):Incest, Angst and Alcohol.
Spoiler(s): Slight spoilers for 1x24 and 2x01
A/N: Inspired by the Zero 7 song "Left Behind" and also a massive thank you to my Beta karathephantom.
Walking into his brother's apartment, Nathan could feel the shards of his heart turn to ash. He'd avoided this place for two weeks; he'd known this would happen. He watched the setting sun's last rays tumble over the dusty photos, like a mask of forgotten memories.
But beyond the suffocating smell of dust, it was there. The lingering scent of Peter, pressing against him. He'd told Heidi that it would take him a few days to sort through Peter's things. So here he was, trying say his final goodbyes and shed his first tears. He'd wanted them to fall when he was alone with Peter's memory, instead of in the presence of others.
Walking through to Peter's room, Nathan could see the un-made bed, the sheets crumpled and creased, mounds of fabric pooling on the double mattress. Peter's clothes where still scattered across the floor, like he'd never left, but the dust Nathan's footprints appeared in showed otherwise, like a sledgehammer to his soul.
Spotting scarlet near his feet in the dim light, he bent down. He gripped the soft hoody, feeling it lay heavy in his hands. He couldn't stop himself from burying his face in the soft material, images of it stretched over living flesh flashed through his mind, and he tried to hold onto the memory of hot skin radiating through scarlet, and the way he'd always held his brother's shoulders in his hands.
He didn't even realize when the first quiet tears began to fall, but soon he was sobbing. He felt his knees meet the hard, wooden floor. Everything was numb and hurting all at the same time, as the realization he'd denied for weeks finally reached him.
"Peter isn't coming back." His own voice broke through the fog of his mind.
Everything within him wanted to suffocate the moon and the stars with his voice, wanted to scream to the heavens to bring him back. Kneeling in the room filled with Peter, all he could do was sob; sob until his throat became dry and his eyes ached with the sting of tears.
Pulling himself off the floor, he began to pick up Peter's clothes, rubbing them between his fingers, recalling that these were once warm and stretched over the body he loved.
Tendrils of doubt began to set in, and he pushed them away, filling himself with the burning hope that Peter was alive.
"He has to be," Nathan pleaded to himself, looping the words over and over in his head as he pulled the sheets straight and clean across the mattress, punching and pulling the goose down pillows and laying them in a plump line.
Making his way through to the kitchen, he began to push plates into the empty sink with a clatter, turning on the water and squeezing the sticky green soap into the filling sink. White foam and miniature bubbles rose gently as he slung his blue jacket over the chair behind him.
Pulling his up sleeves, he remembered that night. He'd burned, he remembered the sickly pink and angry red his flesh had turned as he rose in the air with Peter in his arms, gritting his teeth as he felt his skin being eaten away, white hot and blistered as Peter's scream rung in his ears, pleading and begging for him.
But the memory was mainly now the complete feeling of loss and losing all his own meaning. The night just seemed to have faded into flashes of pain and screams in the last few moments he'd had with Peter were lost. He could say that he'd lost himself; been burnt and swept away by the winds of change that had taken his brother.
But even with his hands submerged in the hot water, he couldn't fight away the cold that had settled itself in the pit of his stomach, the feeling that he wasn't Nathan anymore, that Peter had being his defining quality. Nathan only had been who he was with Peter, and now his comforting words were hollow. Nathan hated himself for believing him. Peter had had lied to him, he had convinced him he was someone, something without Peter. But he wasn't.
He didn't notice he'd broken the glass until he saw red fading into pink as his blood was consumed by the water. Pulling his hands out of the water, he couldn't even feel the pain that he was meant to feel. It was normal now, that dull, frozen ache in his chest. It had consumed him, and as he wrapped a band aid around the wound, he knew he was nothing.
Peter had left a bottle of scotch, that much Nathan was certain of. Pulling open the cupboard door, Nathan saw it, dusty and half empty from his last visit. Peter couldn't stand Scotch and usually had his own bottle of Whisky next to Nathan's Scotch, but the whisky bottle was empty, its end stuck out from behind his scotch.
Pulling the scotch away, Nathan watched as the other bottle rolled forward. The dull sound of spinning glass on wood stopped, it felt like everything was in slow motion as he watched the bottle fall until the scream of shattering glass pulled him back to normal motion. A few shining fragments and cracked pieces of glass were held together by the black label laying at his feet.
He could feel the anger well up in him, self disgust and powerlessness burning inside him as he grabbed a tumbler from the top. He strode to the couch, threw himself down onto its leather, and poured himself a selfish two fingers. He downed it in one motion, not even wanting to taste it as the burn spread through his throat. He didn't want warmth, he wanted burn. He poured another two fingers and tipped it back.
By the time the bottle was empty he was having the buzz, liquid limbs and not enough to make him forget but enough to make him remember better things.
Dragging himself to Peter's bed, he pushed his face into the pillow. The air squeezed out of it as he nuzzled into the scent; dulled apple shampoo and hot wet earth filled his lungs as he sucked in another breath. He couldn't get enough of it, this was where it all was, Peter's scent locked in these sheets and soft feathers, he could drown in it.
Turning his head and taking the oxygen into his body with a deep gasp and shuddering sigh, he rubbed his cheek against the material.
The faded memory of lips and sun on his skin made him retreat deeper into himself, the warm buzz of alcohol running through his system made the memory's of Peter's hot breath and sweet taste in his mouth vivid.
The lights were off, and now the electric orange glow of street lights and the muted sound of taxi horns settled in the room along with his memories; the ghost of warm fingertips from years past and of whispered love in secret moments made Nathan press himself flush into the sheets.
He ached everywhere as he remembered the thick strands of Peter's hair running through his fingers and the soft coral pink of his lips pressed against his with young passion and unadulterated love that Nathan had bathed in when they could snatch the time.
"So, this is what a broken heart feels like?" He thought bitterly as he curled around the memory of their first time, soft whimpers and heated cries as they melded together, hot and tight. It had hurt him more then the burns, but that wasn't something he wanted to think about, he didn't want that moment, that night. He wanted the ones before. The chaste love making and lingering embraces when they could get away with them.
Gasping, he whipped around quickly, the shimmer of hope flaring in him dying as he was faced with only cold sheets and empty space. Sobbing quietly, Nathan curled into a ball as the empty warmth of alcohol spread through his body, he drifted back into the past and finally into dreams filled with Peter.
A/N-Can someone tell me how to LJ-Cut please oh yeah please comment aswel LOL! Hope you enjoyed the fic!