Nathan trudged home after his shift at the diner, the exhaustion of the day hanging heavily on his shoulders like a worn-out cloak. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a cool evening breeze to sweep through the streets of Sorrento. The fading light cast long shadows along the sidewalk, and Nathan inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scents of the evening: the rich aroma of freshly baked bread wafting from the nearby bakery mingled with the sharp tang of gasoline from passing cars. Each step felt like a small victory against the weight pressing down on him, a small consolation as he approached his modest apartment, a sanctuary that had slowly turned into a battleground.
But tonight, that sanctuary felt anything but safe. As he rounded the corner and caught sight of his building, a knot twisted in his stomach, foreboding creeping in like the darkness of the night. The familiar sights of home were tainted with a sense of dread. And then he saw it—a figure crumpled on the ground, resting against the door like a discarded piece of furniture. His heart plummeted as he recognized the silhouette.
There, sprawled on the pavement, was Gaius, his father—once a towering presence in Nathan's life, now a shadow of his former self. The sight struck him like a physical blow. Gaius lay there, his body curled into a fetal position, shoulders shaking as silent sobs escaped his lips. Nathan's heart twisted at the sight. Pity, anger, and an undeniable sense of love—absurd as it seemed—clashed violently within him. Love for the man who had once been his hero, anger for the choices that had led him here, and pity for the broken shell of a father before him.
"Dad?" Nathan called out hesitantly, his voice wavering with uncertainty. He took a cautious step forward, each footfall echoing the confusion and turmoil inside him. "What happened?"
His father's head lifted slightly, revealing bloodshot eyes rimmed with dark circles, a haunting reflection of his despair. "Nathan," he croaked, voice thick with emotion, "I… I forgot my keys." He attempted to wipe his face with the back of his hand, but the gesture only emphasized the deep-seated sadness etched across his features.
The pit in Nathan's stomach churned as frustration bubbled to the surface. "You've been drinking again, haven't you?" he asked, his tone sharper than intended. The anger lanced through him, but as quickly as it flared, it was doused by the weight of sorrow. This man, reduced to such a state, was still his father, the man who had once promised him the world. "You can't keep doing this."
"Please, just help me get inside," Gaius muttered, a plea that cut through Nathan's resolve like a knife. Nathan couldn't just leave him there, exposed and vulnerable on the cold ground. He swallowed hard, pushing down the resentment that threatened to choke him.
"Okay," he replied, exhaling slowly as he crouched beside his father. "Let's get you up." With effort, he wrapped an arm around Gaius's shoulders, feeling the tremor of his father's body as he hoisted him to his feet. It was an awkward embrace, one that highlighted how fragile his father had become, but Nathan held on tight, determined not to let him fall again.
As he fumbled for the key in his pocket, the metal felt heavy in his hand. He inserted it into the lock, twisting it with a sense of dread that mirrored his father's own disheartened spirit. The door creaked open, revealing the dim interior of their apartment, shadows lurking in every corner as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Nathan half-dragged, half-carried Gaius into the living room, lowering him into a worn-out chair at the dining table that had seen better days.
"Just sit here," Nathan said, trying to keep his voice steady, though his heart raced with conflicting emotions. He stepped back, the distance between them filled with an unspoken chasm of disappointment and fear. Gaius slumped forward, resting his head in his hands, the weight of the world pressing down on him, and Nathan felt a surge of protective instinct. "Why can't you just take care of yourself?" he blurted out, the words spilling from him like boiling water.
"I don't want to hear it, Nathan," Gaius mumbled, his voice muffled against his palms. The rejection stung, igniting a flicker of anger within Nathan, but he fought to keep his emotions in check.
"Dad, this isn't just about you," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "We can't keep living like this. It's tearing us apart."
But Gaius looked up, his gaze filled with a mix of defiance and sorrow. "You don't understand," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm trying to survive here. I don't need you judging me."
"Judging? I'm trying to help!" Nathan replied, desperation creeping into his voice. "You're my father, and I care about you. But I can't keep watching you do this to yourself. It hurts too much."
Gaius turned away, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Just leave me alone," he murmured, closing off the very connection Nathan desperately wanted to maintain. Nathan felt the tears prick at his own eyes but blinked them away, unwilling to let his father see his vulnerability.
Without waiting for another response, Nathan retreated to his room, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. He turned on the shower, letting the cool spray wash over him, feeling the water cascade down his body, a temporary balm for the turmoil swirling within. He leaned against the tiled wall, the chill biting into his skin, a reminder of the reality he couldn't escape.
After a long moment, he stepped out, the steam swirling around him as he made his way to the small table next to his bed. There lay a piece of paper and a pen, remnants of a future he was beginning to fear he'd never have. He sat down, the chair creaking beneath his weight as he stared at the figures he had once calculated with hope—€23,000 saved with painstaking effort, a dream for college that now felt impossibly distant.
But now, a new reality loomed before him, one that threatened to overshadow everything he had worked for. With a shaky breath, he scribbled down the amount he would need to sacrifice, the figure that would symbolize the weight of his father's mistakes on his own future—€2,000. "I have to pay off his debts," he whispered to himself, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "Or we'll lose this place."
The numbers blurred in his vision as his heart sank at the realization that his dreams were slipping through his fingers like sand. College was a luxury he could no longer afford, but losing their home was a fate worse than he could bear. He felt trapped in a cycle of responsibility that he hadn't chosen, caught between the desire for a better life and the reality of his father's failures.
As the weight of it all crashed over him, Nathan let out a heavy sigh and lay down on his bed, the cool sheets doing little to soothe the turmoil inside him. Sleep came slowly, pulling him down into its depths as he surrendered to the darkness, thoughts swirling in his mind like a storm. He hoped that tomorrow would bring clarity, that somehow he could find a way to salvage both his father's dignity and his own future. But for now, he lay in the quiet, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down like an unbearable blanket, en
veloping him in uncertainty and fear.