Acid

It was 5:15 when Nathan arrived at the Dark Room. Fuck, Mark would be so pissed. He was always on time and expected Nathan to be as well. Mark's car was shining in the evening sun. It pretty much reflected his prosperity. Well, of course Mark wasn't as rich as the Prescotts, but he made ends meet pretty well. Nathan entered the old, derelict barn through the tiny whole behind the gate. The sun beams softly shone through the broken windows, and dust got swirled as Nathan walked toward the hatch. Mark had closed it already. Nathan opened the old lock.

5 4 2

He entered the Dark Room, typing the exact same passcode. Then he noticed that the digits 5, 4 and 2 had already started to fade. Something Mark had always been complaining about, but both of them were too lazy to actually change the code. Well, it's not like anybody would suspect a modernized Dark Room hiding under an old shattered barn, so they were good to go.

Entering the Dark Room, Nathan could smell Mark's expensive perfume. Then he noticed Mark's and his song playing, Jacqui Dankworth's "Alone with a heart", and the combination of both made Nathan feel like home. He looked at Mark, facing one of the big standard lamps, rearranging it.

"I told you not to be late," Mark said without turning to Nathan. He had taken off his jacket, and his bright shirt was shining in the bright light of the lamp, revealing his well-built torso. Damn, Vic was right. He was classy and sexy. Even though he was already in his thirties and Nathan saw in him some kind of father substitute, Nathan would be totally gay for him.

Well, already done. Nathan didn't know if he should laugh or cry.

"Kinda slept in," Nathan said, searching in his pockets for some cigs.

"You are one idiot, Nathan," Mark said, suppressing a tiny chuckle. "I don't have all day. We need to talk."

"Neither do I," Nathan said, opening the package and fishing out a cig, "I planned to learn."

"You sure did," Mark laughed, and Nathan pulled a face, "and how many times have I told you not to smoke here?"

"Whathefuckever," Nathan sniffed, putting the cig, which was already in his mouth, back in the package. Then he went to the shelfs and opened a can of baked beans; he didn't know when had been the last time he had eaten some actual food besides some left over hash brownies from yesterday and his pills.

"Oh, you've changed the desktop background," Mark noticed, seeing Kate Marsh crouching in some corner of the Dark Room, "I liked the old one, though."

"I thought it was time for a change. That's my new fav," Nathan said, chewing. What he didn't say was the fact that he had only changed it because he wasn't able to look at Rachel's blank eyes anymore.

Then Mark was approaching him. His stern expression was frightening Nathan – he adored him, but there was no one as unpredictable as Mark Jefferson. There could be every emotion behind his cold expression, which made him so interesting … and dangerous.

"… what?"

"As I already said, we need to talk. I actually wanted to talk with you about Kate Marsh, because she seems to remember fragments of the night. But then Wells talked to me about you."

Shit. He knew. Fuck, Nathan should have known. Mark glanced at him, and his brown eyes were judging him. Nathan could see his reflection in Mark's glasses. He suddenly felt so small, even though Mark was only a foot taller than him.

"When exactly did you plan to tell me about the gun?"

"Come on, nothing happened," Nathan hissed, intending to walk away, but Mark grabbed him by his arm, making him swallow uncomfortably. He loved the funny, charming, serious, passionate Mark and he deeply feared the angry, cold one. The one who didn't give a single shit about other people and their well-being. About young girls getting drugged … killed. He knew what Mark was able to. He wasn't like other people, he could freeze emotions like he'd switch the light off and on. Something Nathan had realized a long time ago. Back when he had seen Mark's sessions for the first time, framing a girl called Deanna. He always seemed to care, and all the girls had liked him because he was so hot and because he had made them feel important, and interesting, but in fact, he didn't give a fuck about any of them. He didn't fear inserting the syringe into their neck, didn't turn a hair when he covered their mouth with duck tape, didn't feel bad talking to them afterwards, promising them to support them and not letting them fail because of them staying away from school for some time.

"You threatened a girl with your gun, is this what you call 'Nothing happened'?" Mark yelled. "Regarding your state, you cannot take a fucking gun with you! How often do I have to tell you that, dumbass? You know that you could've shot her. Then everything we achieved would be ruined. You would be in prison and I wouldn't be able to continue our work, and we'd both be fucked. Is that what you want?"

"Holy shit, calm down, I know," Nathan yelled. Everybody was bitching about Nathan's fucking "state". Jesus christ, this sucked ass. He hated Mark telling him what to do. He had his own life and made his own decisions, why did nobody give a shit about that?

"… I am calm," Mark said, restrained, letting go of Nathan's arm. Then he looked at him softly, and his voice turned deep and smooth. He tilted his head.

"I just don't want you to get in any more trouble than you already are. You're the only one I can work with," he smiled at him tenderly, and Nathan blushed when Mark lifted his hands and stroke his hair, brushing a strand out of his face.

"Nobody would've known, but Max Caulfield absolutely had to snitch on me. Bitch had hidden at the girl's bathroom. What a creep."

"Maybe so. But I thought you were the one panicking at the girl's bathroom, so who's the creep now?" Mark laughed, winking at him, but Nathan just sniffed.

"Well, well, Max Caulfield," Mark said with a frown as he was walking through the room, brooding, "I like her eyes. They're so innocent, not like Rachel's, and yet more awake than sweet Kate Marsh's. A rare combination. She doesn't seem to like me, and then again, she seems like she does. I'm still trying to convince her to enter her photo for the contest. Francisco with her would be … quite interesting. I'm still trying to, you know … figure her out. She's acting kind of weird lately, she seems to pass out now and then. But today showed that she actually read the books, so …"

"Nothing much to figure out about that hoe," Nathan hissed as he threw his spoon into the sink, "just an attention whoring snitch, who cannot keep her mouth shut. Your average wannabe hipster."

Then Mark stopped and faced Nathan, giving him a questioning look. "She tries to find out what happened to Kate. You think she's on our trail?"

"No, I don't, but I know that look of yours! Mark, what the fuck!? Are you really thinking of photographing her? She, she doesn't deserve that! She's just a stupid cunt, who doesn't know shit about movies or photography and –"

"Snitched on you, I get it. But think about it, girls like Kate or Max, they look way better on these kind of photos. I've been capturing the wrong type of girls for years. The contrast of their innocence, their purity and their servility and captivity … these photos have much more charisma, don't you think?"

"It will look like shit, and if you do that, if you really wanna make her our next model, I'll tell my dad to stop giving you money!" Nathan shouted. But Mark just laughed.

"Alright, alright, looks like someone hasn't listened to their whale songs yet."

He winked at him, and Nathan blushed with anger. Sometimes, he hated that bastard. It sounded weird, but sometimes, whale songs were the only thing that calmed Nathan. These weird creatures had always fascinated him in a special way. Back when Dr. Bill had told him to listen to whales, fucking screams of whales, Nathan hadn't believed him. But then he had gotten used to it, and he had started to like it. Back then, when not every fifth joint had granted him a panic attack. Once he had been chilling with Vic, and they had been smoking some grass, and suddenly Nathan had heard Rachel's voice, crying, and Vic had needed to take him outside. Some other time, he had been alone in the Dark Room, and he suddenly had been feeling lonely. He had rolled a blunt, and while smoking he had gotten another panic attack. Then he had been hearing Rachel's voice again, saying "Rachel in the Dark Room" over and over again, and it had felt like her eyes had been watching him all the time. Intoxicated by insanity, he had started to write that sentence down, again and again, he had felt like she would call him, like she had risen from the death, planning to take revenge. It had been horrible. Mark had found Nathan, crouching in a corner like Kate Marsh, trying to tear it, but before he could do so, Mark had taken it and scanned it, saying that was "beautiful" and "a pure act of desperation and insanity". Pretty fucking savage, he had always been.

Mark was acid, and yet, he was the opium to his shitty life.

"Remember when you told me about your idea of the Dark Room? I just thought about it," Nathan said. Mark glanced up, surprised at Nathan's sudden question.

"How come? And yes, I do remember."

"I, I just …" Nathan said, then he silenced for a while. "You offered me to cooperate, and you told me you had watched me, noticed me liking photos which were, what did you say? … Dark and morbid."

Mark looked at him emotionlessly, then, slowly, his lips formed a light smile. "Of course I remember. I've seen you taking pictures of dead birds and deer skulls. I knew you were the right one."

Nathan couldn't hold back a smile, thinking about Mark calling him the "right one". Nobody had the connection they had, and nobody would understand it.

"Then, about a year ago, you spoke to me while photographing. Asking me what kind of photos I'd like to shoot myself. And I told you about–"

"Your fetish. That's right," Mark said. Shit, when it sounded pretty harsh when he was saying it. His voice was dark and husky. "You showed me your room, and I saw your pictures. They had this specific aura of lust and obsession, screaming out for being put to practice. I'm still sorry for pushing you too hard back then."

"Our first session," Nathan said, lost in thought, "right."

Nathan wouldn't forget their first time shooting. Her name was Deanna, and a few month ago, she had left Arcadia Bay. She was a party queen and her skin had the color of molten caramel. He had been doing it. Inserting the needle had been Nathan's task after taking her to the Dark Room. Mark had been mad at him because he hadn't managed to stop shaking, so drugging her had taken some time. But apart from that, Nathan had been absolutely captivated by Mark and his work. The calmness, he was radiating while photographing the girl and giving her another dose, was terrifying yet fascinating. With a firm grip and a steady hand, he positioned the girl on his own terms, so that all Nathan could do was passing him a glass of water without daring to avert his gaze from a new masterpiece being born. Mark was right. There had been nothing purer than her sight, her blank eyes and their lifeless face. Back then, when it hadn't reminded him of Rachel. After 2 hours, when they had finished their work, Nathan had taken her home. It had been done, and Nathan hadn't felt this wonderful and disgusting in years.

"I was too demanding, too … impatient. But you learn, and now you're slowly starting to grow into the role of not only my apprentice, but my partner," Mark said and Nathan smiled.

"So what do we do about Kate Marsh?" Mark asked as he was taking a seat on the black couch, looking at Nathan and moving his head, implying Nathan to sit down next to him. "She keeps telling everybody, including me, that she has seen lights when she woke up, and some soft voice talking to her. You get what I mean."

"Soft voice … doesn't sound like me. I'm taking care of her, she won't tell shit," Nathan replied, "I will make everybody think she's a lying bitch who does everything for attention. … Just like Max Caulfield."

"I count on you. And please try not to get in any more trouble. Just for once, you'll do that?"

Nathan sniffed.

"Max Caulfield," Mark said while nipping at a glass of water, "I got a feeling that this noisy bitch will cause a lot of trouble. I'll keep an eye on her. … The party was on Thursday, right?"

"Yes, why?" Nathan asked, then he understood. "No! Mark, are you fucking shitting me? You're not thinking of her as our new model, right? We fucking talked about this!"

But Mark didn't answer. Instead, he looked at his glass, frowning while rubbing his beard, thinking about something Nathan couldn't find out. Then he stood up, smiling at Nathan.

"Let's take a look at Kate's pictures."

It was seven or eight o'clock when the first snowflake landed on Nathan's hand. He looked up in the sky, seeing bright clouds.

Snow. Fucking snow in October. Nathan wondered if this had something to do with global warming. Thinking about this, his stomach hurt. Even though nobody seemed to give a shit about it, climate change was a thing, and Nathan really tried not mention it too much being with Vic or the other club members, but these fucking icebergs did melt. It was him who had put all the posters about global warming on the noticeboard, hoping that somebody would spare a look and would hold on and read them. Nobody cared about that topic – or, maybe, someone did. A very special someone who didn't give as much fucks about Nathan as he did himself.

Nathan sighed. Well, at least now he got his goddamn attention. What a fucking irony. He always called him names like Warren Gayham, but both of them knew that Warren wasn't gay.

Nathan's heart started to hurt again, so he looked at his camera, going through the photos of Chloe. That whore had broken his fucking lamp, then she had managed to flee. There wasn't a single good one, all of them were complete shit. In a fit of anger, Nathan deleted them all. He rested his head on his hands, trying to relax for a moment. When did his life become so fucked up? How the hell did he manage to end up having two persons in his life that actually mattered? One was his best friend, the other one was his mentor who expected things from him Nathan wasn't completely able to do anymore. Everything had gotten so … complicated. Nathan tried to call Kris, but she didn't answer the phone. It had been ages since they had last spoke. Then he searched for his pills as the pain in his head started to reoccur.

Rachel had broken him, and Nathan didn't know when he would collapse.