Nathan sat on the cold marble floor of his bedroom, his back bent awkwardly against the couch like a man who had given up trying to hold himself together. His shirt was crumpled, the sleeves rolled up unevenly, and his hair, once always neat was now disheveled, falling into his tired eyes. Empty and half-empty bottles of whiskey lay scattered around him, some tipped on their sides, others upright like silent witnesses to his collapse. The air in the room was heavy with the sharp scent of alcohol and regret.His eyes were red, unfocused, staring blankly at the far wall as though something was written there that only he could see.“I miss you so much,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and broken, barely louder than a whisper. He lifted the bottle in his hand, shaking it slightly, listening to the weak slosh inside. “Do you know how quiet the world is without you, Charlie?”His hand trembled as he raised the bottle again, but before the liquid could touch his lips, something made him pau
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