Smoke & Liquor

"Why did you do this?!" a loud, broken voice cried, and a bloodstained, crushed face stared at him, the eyes possessed and cold. "Look at me, look what you've done to me! With this face of mine, I'll never be able to go to church again!"

Kate's scratched body began walking toward him, and Nathan cried out. "Get away from me! I didn't kill you!" he screamed, pressing his palm against his head for his pain got worse.

"She's not the only one," another voice said, and Nathan turned around in horror, "you need to bury her, the way you buried me. But don't get a cold this time, or you're next." Nathan couldn't believe his eyes as he saw Rachel's rotten body crawling out of the blue plastic bag him and Mark had put her in.

"You're both dead! This is a dream, this is just a dream, a bad dream," Nathan whispered to himself, rubbing his arms and swaying his torso back and forth. He dared to look at Rachel, seeing her grey moldered face, and maggots were writhing in her bloodshot eyes. It was a terrible sight, and Nathan tried to look back, cover his eyes, but he couldn't.

"You can't look back," said what had been left of Rachel Amber, walking toward him like a zombie, "I'm not fully dead, Nathan. I will always live in your soul, my death is part of you, part of your soul, and to kill me, you must end your own life."

"It's not fair," Kate spoke, and a tear ran down her cracked cheeks, mixing with the blood coming from her red eyes, "why did I have to give my life? Why couldn't God waste it on such a useless life as yours?"

"I'm sorry, Kate," Nathan screamed with agony, pressing his hands against his head, "I wish it was! I'd exchange it for you anytime!"

"Now it's too late," Kate hissed, and she began approaching him. Nathan tried to flee, but suddenly, he couldn't move. He gasped as he struggled to breath.

"You killed me! You killed me! You killed me! You killed me!"

"No, Kate!" Nathan screamed as he opened his eyes, looking into the dark. His whole back was wet and cold, and tears were sticking to his eyes and cheeks. He lifted his hand, feeling the sharp pain of the wound he had sustained recently. His hand was throbbing and itching, and after fully regaining consciousness, he inhaled deeply.

"Just a dream," he whispered as he turned on the light, searching for some pills for his head which began to hurt again. Shit, why didn't this stop? He looked at his phone, seeing that Vic had started a petition for Mark, demanding him to stay and joining the winner of the contest to Sisco. Oh poor sweet Vic … she really supported Mark. Nathan hoped that the didn't try to hit on him too much. Not that he wouldn't be pleased to see them being a couple, but … sometimes, Nathan wondered if Mark had any sexual interest besides for his photos. He never talked about woman or man he liked, and even Rachel, who was said to be beautiful, was someone he didn't care about.

Then he took a look at the messages he had gotten, and he didn't know if he should laugh or cry. He sighed. Oh, his sweet beautiful dorky Vic.

'NATE I FUCKED UP

I FCKED UP SO BAD' – Vic

'natE WHERE TF ARE U' – Vic

'i just wanted to flirt w jefferson and then it gOT SO AWKWARD coz he didnt flirt back and tehn I blackmailed him and fuckfuckfuckfucksnsmwndm' – Vic

'HE WAS SO PISSED YET CHARMING OML

(T_T)

why am I so stupid' – Vic

Nathan sighed, taking his bag and fishing out some pills. Fuck, Vic, he thought while swallowing the pills, hoping the throbbing pain in his head and hand would fade away eventually, I love you, but Jesus, you can really be stupid. Please don't let me be the one who has to tell you that Mark's not interested. He's dangerous, Vic. I really want you to be happy, but there's some voice inside me, telling me that we should be careful.

Mark. Nathan wondered if his offer was still open. He took a look at his watch. 11:09 pm. Mark was an owl concerning bedtimes, so he was still awake, probably making dinner or something. Then Nathan's stomach started to rumble. He wouldn't mind getting some food.

"Fuck it," Nathan mumbled, taking out his phone and texting him. Mark didn't take long to respond.

'comin now' – Nathan

'Dinner's almost ready. Be here at 30.' – Mark

Nathan smiled, proud of how well he knew him by now. Then he sneaked out and went to the red SUV. His license plate was shining in the dim light of the street lamps. SXFTNDR. It always kind of reminded him of the series "Six Feet Under" he had used to watch a lot. This whole story was just so morbid yet beautiful that he had been binge watching it every night. He entered the car where he found some Reese's from last week. He grabbed them both and, in a fit of hunger, he stuffed them all into his mouth.

After all that shit with Rachel had happened, he had cursed his license plate, fearing that someone would connect him and the show, and find out what he had done to Rachel. But that was just one of his million fears, figments of his imagination. He started the car and Tangled's "I See The Light" popped up. He froze, then he quickly pressed the buttons of his CD player and threw the disk on the backseat. He held his breath, hoping nobody had heard Rapunzel sing about how happy she was having met Flynn Rider aka Eugene. Nathan still tried to suppress the memory of him having a huge crush on Flynn.

After driving for about 15 minutes, Nathan arrived at the grey villa on the edge of Arcadia Bay. Mark had managed to get the best location, not being too close to the village, but having his own, well, privacy and having his peace from time to time. The gate was already open, it had always been when Nathan had been driving by. This always made him feel welcome, and … like home. Talking of home, this house was, by now, way more familiar than Sean's one. The scent, the atmosphere, the dim lights, the chic couches and the huge windows … even though the villa was pretty old, Mark had managed to refurnish it quite well, making it look modern and pretty prosperous.

Nathan parked his car next to Mark's, it was shiny and clean as always. Then he went to the big entrance door and rang the bell.

"One second!" he heard Mark say, and Nathan looked down on his toes. Then he remembered that he looked like shit, and Mark would probably be just out of the shower, wearing Penhaligon's, his hair gelled and set, smelling and looking like a young god. Nathan scrutinized his fingernails, which were bitten off and bloody, and his hair had seen better days, too. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair, trying to save what he could save, but before he was done, he heard quick steps. Shortly after, the door got opened and a wave of warmth and delicious scent spread over him. He emerged from the hallway, a vision in cream silk. – In front of him, Mark Jefferson, smiling at him with his typical bedroom eyes. In the background was some slow Jazz playing.

"You're punctual, for the first time," he said, smirking at him. Nathan tried to be mad at him and yet he blushed; he had been right. Mark looked like an adonis, while Nathan wasn't sure if his mouth was still covered with Reese's.

Nathan chose to ignore Mark's lovely welcoming, "Can I enter?" – "Sure."

"Uh, th-thanks," Nathan mumbled while taking off his shoes the clumsiest way possible, making Mark chuckle. Why did he always have to act so fucking stupid around him?

He went to the kitchen, which was part of the huge living room. The high walls were covered with his old photos, and some of Nathan's ones (which he was very proud of, secretly). Some fire was crackling in the fireplace, creating the coziest atmosphere to imagine; in front of that, the huge dining table and the fancy chandelier. The billiard table in the corner of the room was part of Nathan's best memories of this place; he remembered hot summer nights, the windows opened widely, a soft breeze brushing his body, and Mark teaching him billiard, holding a glass of whisky and his first Cuban cigar. It were some of the best memories Nathan had, and he couldn't hold back a smile; meeting Mark had completely turned his life upside down, making it 100 times worse, and 200 times better.

"Take a seat, I'm almost done," Mark said, and Nathan obeyed. His heart leaped as he saw the table being set for two. Usually, setting the table and doing the preparatory work for Mark was Nathan's job, but this time, he was just sitting there, smiling about the fact that there was this man, standing in a kitchen apron and still looking hot, tossing the vegetables in butter with more elegance than Nathan would ever reach in his entire life. Some candles were shining, and in the background Frank Sinatra charmed the audience in "The Way You Look Tonight". Poor Vic, she was the one with the crush on Mark, and still he only cared for Nathan. … He cared for him like a father, and yet he radiated this aura which wasn't fatherly at all, but shady and dangerous and … sexy.

What where they?

"Holy shit, that looks amazing," Nathan said, seeing what Mark had cooked for them. Mark filled his glass with whisky, the liquor sparkled in the light of the chandelier, and Nathan felt a pleasant shiver running up his stomach; Mark giving him alcohol had always made him feel like an adult, someone you could discuss serious matters with, someone on the same level. Conversing about their newest project, a glass of whisky in the left hand, a cig in the right hand, the clock showing it was about midnight, was the best feeling ever.

"Turkey ragout with French cider and buttered vegetables," he smiled, and Nathan felt his mouth water. Was there anything this man wasn't capable of? He sat down in front of him, then both toasted.

"What did Victoria tell you about our evening chat?" Mark suddenly said, smiling while taking a sip from his scotch. Nathan looked up in surprise, being in an inner conflict of what to tell Mark.

"She, uhm," Nathan said, nervously emptying his glass, "she told me she fucked up, and whatever happened, she didn't, uhm, plan it that way."

Mark laughed, "Well, I believe so, too." Then he got serious, and he looked at him seductively. "I know that she's interested in me. A lot of young girls are, and most of my former models were, too. So I'm not surprised, and I know how to handle that. I feel bad for Victoria trying to blackmail me, I know she's way more insecure than she seems."

Mark put his empty plate away, then he lightened a cig, offering Nathan one, as well. "What a shame, don't you think? She's so smart and gorgeous, she really owns this Swinging Sixties style. I know that she doesn't always write her essays on her own, but she still knows more about photography than any of my other students. If she'd just stop wasting her time on trying to hit on me … she may be an interesting affaire, but she's not the type of person I … prefer."

Nathan swallowed, thinking about Vic. As his best friend, he felt pretty shitty, hearing that Mark Jefferson, her long time crush, knew about her liking him, and knowing that she didn't stand a chance though she was the most handsome girl in whole Arcadia Bay.

"Oh man," Nathan said, sighing because this story reminded him of two boys he knew, "this sucks ass. So many guys want her, but she always says she wants a real man. She, I mean, she really crushes on you, man."

"A lot of people do," Mark said, taking a drag from his cig, looking at him in an unfamiliar way. Nathan blushed without reason, clearing his throat, embarrassed.

"But you still don't plan on … you know? The red binder's still there," Nathan said cautiously. – "I'm not planning on …? Oh, I understand."

Then Mark looked at him steadfastly, "I know that there's still a binder with her name on it. And yes, I once planned on framing her. … But I know it's your friend, and I respect that. So believe me when I say that I won't."

Nathan choose to do so, still thinking about what would happen if Mark decided to drug Vic. He used to change his mind very quickly, and he knew what he wanted. If the day would come when Mark would want to frame her … what would Nathan do?

He didn't know.

"Well," Mark said while standing up, winking at Nathan, "let's not talk about business. How about dessert?"

"The one with the whale!" Nathan said, receiving his hot chocolate in his favorite cup with the handle forming a whale. Mark always put in some rum, making the cocoa taste even better, and every time Nathan sensed this unusual yet delicious taste, he knew that he was with Mark, and perhaps, things weren't as shitty as they appeared to be.

Mark's lips formed a thin amused smile, "You're the only one I know who combines hot chocolate and brownies." He sat down next to Nathan, putting his arms on the back of the black couch. On his right, Nathan who was slurping his cocoa and eating his brownie at the same time. Mark was such a square, who didn't like brownies and cocoa?!

"You're a pig," Mark chuckled, and Nathan chose to ignore him.

"I'm just hungry." – "When aren't you?"

Then Mark took out one of his red binders and started analyzing his old photos of Deanna. Nathan had used to join in, but regarding the recent events, he didn't want to think about her. Mark talked about their techniques, and how much they had improved throughout the months, and that Kate had been the first one to wake up during the session. But it was more of a collective monologue than an actual dialogue. Nathan looked at Mark, staring at his face while he was talking, scrutinizing the way he raised his eyebrows while talking, observing how his beard was moving while forming the words. Nathan closed his eyes, feeling the residual warmth of his hot chocolate, listening to the soft Jazz and the crackling of the fire. Why couldn't his beard be as full and even as Mark's? He had always wanted to have lots of body hair, being super manly and shit, and instead there wasn't a single fucking hair growing on his face besides his eyebrows.

Warren had some facial hair, but he shaved it, which was probably the best. He was a lot more masculine than Nathan, but a beard would't fit his sweet face. Nathan inhaled melancholically.

Warren.

He tried to resist, but he couldn't stop thinking about his deer eyes, about the way he looked at him after beating him up. Beating him up. Nathan was such a stupid piece of shit. The only boy in his life, the only one he wanted to touch, whose body he wanted to feel against his own, whose lips he wanted devour, whose hair he wanted to smell and to pull when …

Oh, Warren.

"Hey Nate," Mark said, startling Nathan who blushed, feeling his groins burn. Mark pulled a face, "You're getting red, who you're thinking of?" Nathan held his breath, embarrassedly running his fingers through his hair.

"W-what the fuck, n-no one …!"

Mark chuckled to himself, then their eyes met, and Nathan smiled clumsily, secretly facepalming because he was acting so stupid again. He looked down, noticing himself fidgeting with his hands, feeling some sort of uneasiness. Then he looked up.

Mark was still looking at him in an unfamiliar way. Nathan swallowed. He held his breath, trying to avoid looking into his steady eyes again. What was happening right now …?

"You're cute, why don't you have a girlfriend?" Mark asked, and for the first time in ages, his voice sounded weird and … undefinable. Nathan couldn't handle staring back, so he continued looking down.

"The Blackwell chicks are all ugly," he lied briefly. What should he do? Tell him about his wet dreams of Warren Graham, the one he had almost knocked out, the guy who was so obviously in love with Max Caulfield it was ridiculous? … A fatherly chat, probably. Mark trying to find out about Nathan's love life, showing him that he cared about him and his life in general, about his feelings.

"Hm. You think so? What about Victoria? She's gorgeous, and you guys seem to be pretty close." – "She's the hottest, every girl's jealous of her, but … we're just friends."

Then, Nathan had the courage to stop averting his gaze, and he looked into Mark's dark eyes. "What about you, Mark? Why do I never see you checking out some ladies? And why don't you have a girlfriend?" Him and Mark had gotten very close within the year, but Nathan realized that they had never talked about this topic before. Sometimes, he thought that Mark had some chicks here and there, but then again, he would've noticed, wouldn't he?

Mark just laughed, "I'm not interested in this kind of … relationship."

Nathan felt Mark's arm in his nape, and he pressed his lips together, feeling his heart race. Why was Mark acting so strange? And what did he mean by that? Now, him and Nathan had always been pretty close, maybe a bit too close for being teacher and student, but none of them had been bothered, on the contrary: Nathan had been glad to have someone stable in his life, who could calm him when he got another anxiety attack and who cared about him like no one did, and Mark liked to have an easier access to girls and an apprentice, someone he could pass on his knowledge. That was their silent agreement.

Nathan put away his cup, and suddenly, he felt a wave of tiredness and exhaustion swapping over him. He tried to hold back a yawn, but he failed. Mark finished his drink, then he lightened another cig, but Nathan didn't want to join. Slowly, he felt the events of the whole day lasting on his shoulders.

"Nathan, why do you call your dad by his first name?"

"… A few years ago, I've gotten a panic attack, but it wasn't the average attack. I couldn't like, breath and stuff. This was some next level shit, and I screamed at Sean for calming me. Back then, I have missed my mom and I knew that there was something Sean didn't want to tell me. But he pretended like he wouldn't know me, and … uhm," Nathan got quieter, feeling the old rage getting relighted again, "since this day, I pretend like he's not my father, too."

Mark didn't say nothing; instead, his sympathetic look rested on him. "It's been a long day, and you need some rest," Nathan could hear Mark's soft voice say, and he slowly closed his eyes, "you want to sleep?"

But Nathan shook his head, lightly, trying not to fall asleep, but the warm fire, the blanket and Mark's fragrant scent made it hard not to. Truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what is is merely by contrast, as Ishmael would say. Nathan felt like he had been cold his whole life.

" … I know that you only wanted to show me that you understand my work, and that you wanted to surprise me," Mark said quietly after they had silenced for a while, "I'm not blaming you for anything."

Nathan smiled lightly; he had thought so for a long time, believing that Mark would despise him for killing Rachel, trying to be like him.

"And Kate Marsh's death is not your fault, Nathan," he assured him while taking off his glasses.

"I feel so safe when I'm with you, Mark," Nathan mumbled, starting to fall asleep, "you cared for me like a father. Not my shitty one."

"I believe in you, Nathan. I always did.

"Promise … promise to never leave my side," Nathan whispered, starting to doze off, "you're the only one I have."

"I promise."

"You hair is so soft," he could hear Mark's smooth voice say, "and your skin … so pale. Like porcelain."

Then Nathan's head fell on Mark's shoulders, and he smiled tiredly, thinking about him being with Mark, being able to forget about all the shit that had happened.

Being able to rest.