The Other Half of the Sky

"The hell you want, dude?" were the first words Warren really spoke to Nathan. For one second, Nathan thought he'd collapse and get an anxiety attack, but then he held his breath, staring at Warren who looked at him in a mixture of confusion and scorn.

Silence. Nathan wanted to open his mouth, but his lips were paralyzed, so he just stared at Warren like a dense idiot. He, he never thought he'd talk to him ever! But now, his secret love was standing in front of him, scrutinizing him and probably thinking that he was a complete retard.

"Nathan …?"

"…"

"Uhm," Warren looked around uncomfortably, obviously overtaxed by Nathan acting so fucking weird, "well, this is awkward. Are you, uh, are you hi–"

"I, I just wanted to say … f-fuck, this is stupid–" Nathan bubbled out, trying not to turn red, but Warren looked at him like he didn't understand a word, "I, ugh, I … I just wanted to say that I fucked up, and I'm sorry." Nathan swallowed, averting his gaze while trying hard not to jump and run away.

Oh god, why did I do this again!? I'm such a fucking idiot, ohgodohgodohgod.

Warren glared at him, frowning, "You truly are, mate. But what the hell are you talking of?"

"I, ugh," Nathan said, and suddenly, his eyes stared to water. A quick hand movement, and the tears got wiped away. Then he swallowed, and forced himself to be brave for the first time in his life. "I fucked up, Warren. I, uhm … I fucked up so bad. I try, but I know I can't fix everything. I, I just wish I could … could rewind time, and all the stupid shit I've done. I'm a monster. Nobody likes me, and I, ugh … I understand why you beat me up. No, really. I, I would've done it myself."

Nathan sniffed, trying to hold back his tears as he felt something he had never felt in his life. He felt shame, disgust by himself, scorn … but also something incredibly beautiful and relieving. He felt redemption.

"Uhm," Warren mumbled, scrutinizing Nathan with squinted eyes, looking like he was in an inner fight if he should laugh or run away instantly, "… you sure you're not high?"

"I know I can't make up for … I, I'm just so unbelievably sorry for what I did to you and Max, and to … I, uhm, I – I've hurt a lot of people. I've beaten you up, like, five times already, and I've called you names," Nathan silenced, looking at his shoes, ashamed, "I've bullied Max and you, and many others, and I, ugh, I thought I was privileged because I was a Prescott, but in fact, I'm just a stupid piece of shit who pretends to be an artist."

"Are you kidding me …?" Warren asked, and his confused gaze wandered over Nathan's face. "I, uhm, I don't know if this is a prank or–"

"I heard you were struggling to pay off your scholarship," Nathan mumbled, and Warren blushed. – "Where did you get this from …?"

"You deserve Blackwell more than I do," Nathan said, then he took off his Rolex, "it's brand new, they will know. Sell it, it, uhm, should solve your problem."

Nathan slipped the watch into Warren's hand, who stared at him in astonishment. "W-what the– N-No, I can't –"

"Yes, you do. Besides, I don't want you to sell your car, it's … awesome," Nathan smiled lightly.

"Wow, thank you so much …! I, I don't know what to say. I, uh … Why are you so nice, and what happened to Nathan Prescott?"

"I just," Nathan answered, and he didn't dare looking at him, "I just realized something."

"You know," Warren mumbled, then he shyly rubbed his neck, "I'm sorry I'm so awkward, it's just … we never really talked before. Man, this is so weird. I didn't know you could be, you know … nice. But, I mean, maybe it would be cool to hang out sometime. I mean, after your revelation." Warren smiled carefully, and Nathan couldn't hold back a grin. Then he cleared his throat, nodding casually, trying not to freak out because of Warren having asked him to chill.

Maybe … the club members really weren't the cooler people.

"I'm sorry for beating you up, man. I know I had the choice to stop," Warren said quietly, "I've actually sworn to myself that I'd never be like this … But, you know, whatever you did, it, uhm, it'll be alright. You always seem so … hurried, and restless. Sometimes, I hear you sobbing at night. When I'm having a hard time, I just got to bed and relax. Some sleep never killed anybody, you know."

Warren laughed, and Nathan swallowed uncomfortably.

"Or I watch 'Hannibal Holocaust'," he grinned, "I don't think you know this one. It's–"

"Awesome," Nathan smiled, "I know."

The boys looked at each other, and suddenly, both grinned, and for one short moment, they were just two boys, talking about boys stuff and horror movies, and Nathan had never felt this far away and yet this close to to anybody. They were standing under the same sky, looking at the same two moons, and the sun would rise for both of them the next day.

"Warren," Nathan asked, savoring the moment of speaking his name for the first time, "this might sound wrong considering the recent events, but … just trust me: have you seen Max?"

But Warren shook his head, telling him that he hadn't seen her the whole day.

"I have to go now," Nathan said, not wanting to get Warren into trouble.

He'll be there soon.

"Go on, I'll just, ya know. Stay here and get drunk. Ha, better sleep with a sober cannibal than a –"

"… drunken Christian," Nathan completed, their eyes met and both boys grinned. "Exactly."

Of course Warren knew fucking Moby Dick.

Nathan didn't know why, but all of sudden, this conversation felt like farewell, and as he lifted his head, he looked into Warren's eyes, seeing the swollen skin framing his right eye, and his chapped lips from the fight, and suddenly, his heart started racing. He took a deep breath. He had talked to Warren, his crush, his love. The guy he wanted to be with, to kiss, to watch old movies with and go to Go Ape! with. He looked into these brown eyes, and it felt like a door opening, and offered Nathan a glimpse of what could've been, and an incredible sadness was overcoming him. It would never be like he had always wanted. But that was okay. Life had many endings, and he had chosen this one. He had decided to be a coward. But these times were over. He needed to take responsibility for what he had done.

He swallowed, then he held his breath. Hayden had already destroyed his reputation, so who gave a fuck anyway?

Warren's beautiful eyes widened in confusion, as Nathan took a step forwards him, cupped his cheeks and kissed him. He felt Warren's soft lips under his, then he smiled lightly, looking into Warren's face which wasn't frozen, as Nathan had expected. – Warren was calm, and he smiled tenderly when Nathan averted his gaze, ashamed, mumbling "… Sorry, Warren. I had to."

"Uhm, I'm sorry, but I'm not drunk enough for this," Warren said, smiling awkwardly.

"I, uhm, I wanted to tell you something since a long time," Nathan said, and he prepared for pouring out his heart, when suddenly, Warren looked at him softly.

"I think I know."

Nathan nodded, cursing himself for being such an idiot. "Of course you do."

Then Nathan turned around, walking down the lot campus when he suddenly stopped, facing Warren. "I don't know, I think she does, too. She just … sucks at showing it." Nathan knew the pain of someone not loving you back.

A tiny smile played about Warren's lips, then he nodded.

Nathan was standing in the lot, waiting for Mark to come back. Since he hadn't got a phone, he had hoped to see Mark, since he had decided to stop him. Rachel had died because of him, and Kate had committed suicide because of this video. It felt like Nathan had woken up of this nightmare, had woken up in reality where these photos weren't charming or genius, they were drugged girls, who hadn't done anything but being part of Mark's sick obsession. Nathan would never forget kissing Warren Graham. It had shown him that being brave was worth it, and making friends with somebody rather than bullying them or drugging them was … so much easier.

He decided to be brave, for the first time in his life, and he would save Max, just as she had saved him. He'd do it for Warren, and for himself … because he had an uneasy feeling about Mark's next session.

"Nathan, what are you doing here?" a voice said, and for the first time it sounded … different than usual. The named turned around, seeing Mark facing him and walking toward him across the lot.

"Mark, I," Nathan said, trying to sound sternly, "I've thought about Max. You can't photograph her." Then Nathan held his breath, and he stared at Mark, hoping he wouldn't get too mad. But Mark looked at him indifferently.

"Oh, I won't. I've thought about her, too, and you were right: her face doesn't match well with the photos we want. I'm here because I've made up my mind, and I wanted to ask you if you could help me sorting the photos in some boxes. One never know when your dad wants to visit again, and remember last time?"

Nathan did remember; they had to put the photos away withing seconds, because his stupid father had spontaneously decided to visit (Mark, not Nathan). Mark opened the door of his car, then he looked at Nathan, in expectation of getting in.

Nathan didn't know why, but something told him that there was something … weird going on. Even though Mark acted normally – and sorting the photos in his Dark Room had been something they had wanted to do for a long time –, he felt some kind of uneasiness.

"Have you seen the double moon?" Mark said, and Nathan took a look at the windshield, but the sudden raindrops worsened his sight. "First the snow, then the eclipse, the dying animas and now the double moon … I'm wondering what nature might try to tell us."

"Don't you have to announce the winner of the contest?" Nathan asked. He knew that there was something fishy about this … first Mark had driven off, organizing everything for the next session, and then he came back, having his mind made up without any reason at all. Mark didn't act like this, whatever he did, he was planning it beforehand.

"I do – in two hours. Look, I'm sorry for bothering you with cleaning up, but we really do have to sort the photos, especially because our pause. By the way, why aren't you at the party?"

"I, uhm … I don't feel like dancing."

"If you call 'dabbing' a dance," Mark laughed, insinuating the last time Nathan had been totally wasted, dabbing to the beats like a retard and flashing his money around.

"Who's gonna be the winner?" – "Victoria, of course. Sure thing. But keep quiet about that."

"How am I supposed to tell her without a phone?" Nathan hissed, and Mark apologized for taking it. He promised it would be laying somewhere in his home, but Nathan knew Mark and his weakness for losing things. Nathan sighed; he somehow got the feeling that he wouldn't see his phone ever again.

They arrived a few minutes later, and somehow, for the first time ever, Mark's house looked scary and dark, even though it had always been some sort of sanctuary for Nathan. Nathan and Mark passed by the kitchen, and Nathan remembered the evenings with Mark when they had been cooking together and drinking scotch, the times when everything had been perfect. Now, this feeling was gone; the huge Dark Rooms were oppressing, and the bondage photos were frightening him for the first time ever. Even though Mark was acting casually, like nothing happened … he was yet acting so weird.

"Your nose … it's broken, am I right? Why so?" Mark said, scrutinizing Nathan's face for some seconds while walking down the stairs to his Dark Room, which looked basically like a tinier version of the one under the Prescott yarn. Nathan looked like shit, but Mark – Mark looked like a young god, again. He was wearing a black jacket over a white shirt, as usual, and it looked fantastic, as usual. Nathan told him he had gotten in a fight, and even though Mark was looking at him in a weird way, Nathan loved the fact that he wanted to know if he was alright and when it had happened. Mark, the only person who had ever really cared for him.

Apart from Max.

"Who was it?" Mark asked while taking out a pile of photos. – "… Warren Graham," Nathan admitted, somehow ashamed.

"Oh, I see, Max's friend … the guy you're in love with."

Nathan gasped, then he looked at Mark in shock.

"Wh-where did you get–"

"Oh, come one, if that isn't obvious," Mark laughed, winking at him while he patted his shoulder, "the way you avoid him and yet seek for his attention, the way your eyes sparkle when talking of him. You don't have to blush, it's alright. I always knew you and Victoria are just friends."

Mark laughed, touched by Nathan's insecurity and his naivety concerning crushes, and after thinking for some time, Nathan realized that he wasn't surprised about it. Mark knew him so well, and Nathan knew him. He was like a father for him, his mentor – of course he knew who he had a crush on.

"Oh Nathan," Mark said, and he tilted his head as his dark hooded eyes were riddling Nathan, and suddenly, he uttered a sigh, shaking his head in concern. "What a shame that not even Warren's interested in you."

Nathan felt a cold shock crawling up his spine; what did he say?! Nathan knew that he was worthless, that nobody loved him and that he didn't deserve any affection at all, of course he knew all of this, but … Why did Mark say these things?! He was the only one Nathan had …!

"Why do you–"

"Your watch's gone," Mark said, lifting up Nathan's arm. But Nathan glared at him, forcing himself not to cry, but the tears kept rolling.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Nate. I didn't mean it like that," Mark said in passing, then he cupped his cheeks and looked at his nose and his chapped lips, and Mark's expression turned into fascination, "holy crap, Warren hit you harder than I thought. What a shocker. – You really made life difficult for him. I must admit, I didn't know he had such a firm punch."

Mark couldn't stop looking at Nathan, who was scared, ashamed and absolutely confused at the same time. This look on Mark's face … he knew it somewhere. Mark had never looked at him like that. This expression on his face reminded him of the way Mark looked at his models – eyes full of passion, desire and vision.

"It's gonna be brilliant."

"What do you mean …?" Nathan mouthed, and he saw Mark's dark and intense look burning in his eyes. He wanted to avert his gaze, but he couldn't. Slowly, Mark took a step forwards him, until he looked down on him, with a gaze as cold as ice.

"Nathan, I want to ask you something," his soft voice spoke, "and I've thought about this for a very long time. This might sound crazy, I know, and maybe you won't understand … at first. But think about how much I've taught you, how much you've already learned, and how many times you've yelled at me for having too high standards and how glad you were with the outcome."

Mark smiled tenderly, tilting his head, and up until now, Nathan hadn't understood a word he had been saying, but then the sudden realization flashed to his mind, and it made him freeze. Now, Nathan knew what Mark had been thinking when he had been looking into his eyes, had been seeing in his face.

A photo.

"Nathan, I wanted to ask you, if you're going to be … my last model."