A Long Trip Home

[chimeramimicry]

The door is two yards away but I can't move from the top of the stairs.  It's been months, four or so, since I've been here, in this spot.  Gone were the days of trudging up the stairs with my satchel on the way home from work because my building's landlords refused to fix the elevators properly.  Gone too was the pleasure I had of returning to this apartment I paid for with my own money and not from my trust fund.  I donated all of that to charity the moment I turned twenty-five and finished paying off my loans to school.  It was two years ago.  It feels like forever.

I'm not the same man I had been.  I'm not a child anymore.  At least, I want to think that.

I'm still clutching the photograph of my brother and I in our tuxedos.  There's a smudge on it from my thumb and full of creases.  I've not let it go since I opened that box containing everything that I am.  Everything I was.  I left Ireland without looking back.  There was, there is only one thing on my mind.  Nathan.

Nathan.

Nathan.

I know he's here.  I've always felt a connection to him.  Mohinder Suresh called it part of my empathy, to feel things like that.  Funny to be so empathically linked to someone I spent my whole life pining for, who has always had a life to live without me.  He's never had time for me.  Never.

"Just walk, Peter," I whisper to myself as I move to a door I have not touched in a long time.  I swallow.  And knock.  I know he's in here without knowing it.  I almost lose the nerve to knock.  Please answer, Nathan.  Please.

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[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

My brother sleeps uneasily but I am worse off, unable to keep my eyes closed or rest at all. I turn to look at his shoulder. We fell asleep together spooning, my arms around him. It's rare that Nathan's needed to be held, but the contents of his dreams are enligtening. I try my best not to be worried about it, but he's got a pathetic track record.

He cheated on Heidi with at least three women each time she was pregnant, and those are the only ones I know about. He's had more one night stands than he and I have fucked...and that's saying something, even for our ten year dry spell.

I touch his back and slip my arm under his to gently sooth him by stroking his chest. He settled back against me and I kiss his neck.

Nathan is not a man that can be trusted. At no point in our relationship has he ever been with just me. He's got women in New York and in DC waiting for him. It leaves me feeling cold inside and I slip out of bed and into a robe before headed out onto the tiny balcony my apartment boasts.

"He still loves you," I whisper, touching my belly, but I am not talking to the child who does not yet know about love. I am reminding myself that love does not equal exclusivity for Nathan.