his instinct – the one that curls around his father’s name and keeps him locked up ( the good son, the first son ) – is to make himself smaller, ignore the jibe. not rise to it. the childhood chant of ‘don’t give them a real reason to hate you’ still echoing in his bones. but, honestly – he’s already aggravated a possible murderer because of spelling… and this is nathan. it’s hard to be threatened by someone when he still remembers what they looked like at ten years old.
❛ at least you’re following in your dad’s footsteps. one of us should’ve. ❜
he doesn’t mean to look up, instinct still ruling for moments as he’s staring at the ground, but eyes lift and – he’s making an attempt to look fearless, but it’s one he’s sure he doesn’t pull off. in fact, there’s a very high chance that miller will just realize he’s ignored everything that was said to him – the puppy thing, the proud thing – because… it hit home.
he’s known wells to be the quiet boy, the boy who always does as he’s asked, the boy who can do no wrong. nathan had once looked up to him back when they used to smile often. back when nathan wasn’t protecting corrupt criminals and wells could actually stand up for himself. but they seem to wear rebellion differently now.
‘ nah, my dad would’ve wanted better. ’
deriding the boy’s loyalty is supposed to make him feel better about himself. but it doesn’t. his insults go untouched by visible emotions and yet nathan knows they strike nerves. he’ll poke at wells until he cracks. with little to entertain themselves down here, amusement for nathan comes from knocking at others and watching them slowly break. he jabs at their bruises so they don’t notice his.
‘ i dunno about you, though. is she even worth it? ’
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