Nate wishes he could provide Stark with a definite timeline, an exact date when acceptance and healing will finally set in...but there's simply no way to know for sure. Your entire being has to adjust to a world where this person no longer exists. For some, it takes only a few months. For others, years. And then, he fears, that maybe there are those who are incapable of fitting into such a world. Maybe the pain of trying is enough to keep them from wanting to.

Nate rises from the couch almost immediately after Stark does, though if he notices, he gives no indication. His eyes never leave him, watching helplessly as he makes an unsteady entrance into the kitchen and returns almost as quickly as he left. The fact that he feels he should be cleaning is nothing short of ridiculous. He wants to protest, to tell him that he isn't company, that the standard rules simply don't apply, but he says nothing. At least this distraction isn't as detrimental as the one he's finding at the bottom of a bottle. 

Finally advancing, he intends to aid the clean up mission, but stops short as the cause he had momentarily given up on is identified. He listens as Stark recounts the events of the previous night, the distress in his tone nothing compared to the anger that follows. Even if Nate wanted to interject, it wouldn't matter. No good would come of it. Words can't fill the void that loss creates. With new light shed on the subject, it's not difficult to see why the night before played out the way it did. There is no proper way to mourn, of this he is absolutely certain. It wasn't too long ago that Nate received the news of his mother passing. He hadn't the slightest idea how to deal with it, so he didn't. The trip home, the funeral, and the days that followed are still a giant blur. He did what he had to in order to cope, and while Stark is taking a different approach, the effect is all the same in the end.

In vain, Nate struggles to connect the scattered dots he obtained from the brief conversation he had with Stark. His body seems to be on autopilot, making up for a lack of mental presence with effortless physical consciousness, guiding him through the necessary motions in order to depart and safely arrive in record time. On the way over, countless causes are sighted for one very surreal effect, but not one of them manage to satisfy. If he's convinced of anything, it's that satisfaction will come only with answers. But as he reaches the front door, a sudden hesitance to learn the truth arrises and clashes with his desperation to. It's a battle that doesn't last long, the victor obvious as he lets himself in, pausing only to shut the door behind him.

Nate knows this place well. It feels more like home than any place before it. This realization frightened him at first, as most realizations pertaining to Stark did, but at some point the fear he felt began to subside. What took its place was a contentment he couldn’t quite bring himself to question. Walking through this place now, however, the aftermath of the previous night demanding his attention…it no longer feels like home. It’s cold and nearly unrecognizable, the warmth he had become so accustomed to vanishing in an instant. It’s heart-wrenching in its own right, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling that overwhelms him the moment he spots Stark. In this moment his heart doesn’t just sink, it plummets.

All of the questions he had no longer demand answers, because the cause he obsessively sought no longer matters. The only answer he now desires is how to fix what is so obviously broken. As he takes a seat beside Stark, he's all too tempted to immediately grab and dispose of the bottle in his hands. Unfortunately, despite temptation, he knows this isn't an option. The last thing he wants to do now is fight, and until he learns just where Stark's head is at, he knows it isn’t wise to act on impulse.