𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌.

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JEREMY STRONG AS KENDALL ROY IN S1E1: "Celebration"

❛ Twin Flame, though ... I don't think I've ever heard that term said out loud. ❜

nate's mouth opens, eyes wide, then promptly shuts. a rock being skimmed across the still calm waters of his face, and recognition blooms in his gaze before he huffs a laugh. "oh. and i was supposed to infer that from your question?" nate teases, corners of his mouth quirking up into the ghost of a smile, devoid of bite or teeth. if anything, he's all the more enthralled by this revelation. much more than she appears to be. and what hara appears to be — nate isn't certain yet, not one to think in absolutes, but it seemed like she had more heart and soul than her stature had the capacity for. he's grateful for the clarification. "don't get me started on zeus. i know a guy like that," he quips, tone low and dry as he reaches out to take a generous sip of his drink, as if there was more truth to that joke than he would care to let on about. zeus and his progeny, a never ending list of conquests. nate shakes his head, dispelling the notion of following that train of thought before focusing back on hara. "i have a rudimentary understanding of greek mythology. the greeks were interesting. their gods, fundamentally flawed and human-like. i think i prefer that to some of the abrahamic religions." with her talk of rawness being the balance between both beauty and ugliness, nate thinks he understands what she's getting at. he's never really felt whole, always severed and feeling the absence of a certain something. it didn't seem to matter whether he was in a relationship, or somewhere in between with touching someone else to feel seen. nate's soul has never been for the taking, only his body. the conversation sparks a bit of a belated revelation in him. perhaps that was why the very touch of him corrupts. despite that newfound realization, he's unable to look away from hara. it all felt like such an abstract concept to him, which is why he doesn't doubt that she truly is a romantic. his lips quirk up into another smile, averting his gaze to wipe sweaty palms on the front of his slacks. it was a beautiful and intimate venue, but god, he wishes the happy couple could've factored a little more ventilation into their budget. vows had yet to be exchanged and nate already wanted to lose his tie. "yeah? i prefer it. soulmates sounds nice, but twin flame.. you can't have that kind of intimacy without the risk of getting burnt." appropriate for this summer wedding, really. right as he's tracing the condensation on his glass with the pads of his fingers, the music starts up, setting the scene for the bride about to be given away by her father. anticipatory anxiety kicks up in his chest, the flitting of annoying canary wings against his ribcage. "ah, looks like it's show time." nate licks his lips, glancing over to the wedding procession.

nate can feel the weight of oliver's gaze still and he has to fight off the urge to wipe off his mouth with the back of his hand. not a personal affront to oliver, of course, but because nate was a bit of a clean freak. he can't expect oliver to know that the gesture was him trying to reciprocate oliver's undivided attention, so he swallows down the disgust alongside phlegm. nate hums, his gaze flitting away to the source of the raucous noise before returning safe and unwavering on oliver's features, quietly assessing. the gears in his brain are whirring, weighing the options and whether or not this could come back to bite him in the ass later. counting his transgressions on an internal abacus. oliver doesn't strike him as the gossipy type, so nate figures there wouldn't be much harm in inviting him in even further — that whatever incriminating or dubious thing he'd witness, he would keep to himself. "headed back to mine," he replies simply, lips quirking up with amusement. nate wants a cigarette. something else to occupy his mouth and attention with. nate simply wants. his hands pat the front of his pants before finding their way to the pockets of his jeans, muscle memory and reaching for something absent. "there is. you can come along too. provided you don't have any cop blood in your family," nate teases, a coy and mirthful look in his eyes. it's not necessarily all to nathaniel's tastes, because his friends had vices of their own and he knows once they arrive, there'll be weed and white powder on most of the clean surfaces of his home. enough bass booming from the stereo system to drown out rational thought, plenty of substances to let them indulge their baser instincts. there's something darker and heated in nate's gaze now, unguarded but prompting as he cocks his head to the side. the tension builds, frays at the edges. "are you? going to come." the word choice as well as the implication is deliberate.

nathaniel's play seems to be effective. he barely knows oliver, sure, but nate doesn't truly know anyone and he likes it that way. but there's something in the near transparent shade of blue in oliver's eyes and unassuming demeanor, clear enough to make nate think him honest. and even if that turned out to not be the case, it'd only be more of an asset. nate comes to him like a well-intentioned thief in the night, shrouded and bare in nothing but the intimacy of darkness with the promise of a remedy for a cure to all ills. whatever void or absence of something that exists within the both of them, nate will try to fill it — give just enough crumbs of his real self away while leaving oliver wanting more. to ensure he stays, so that oliver sees this cause as worthy. all while preparing for the next album rollout, the next transformation, another vulnerable self-mutilation in the medium of his choice. music. everyone more or less grasps that concept that life is a bunch of interwoven stories, narratives weaved together from parents and cultural word of mouth. there's a reason the bible, the word of god has survived the grueling test of time. it's oratory. nathaniel isn't sacrilegious enough to be on john lennon's level, but fuck, he wanted to get there eventually. false idols would more than suffice when their real Father was avoidant and neglectful. nate would never forsake anyone devoted to him that hasn't forsaken him first. he offers a soft and unguarded smile to oliver before lowering his gaze to the other man's phone, skimming through the calendar and picking out a date that works best for his schedule. oliver's already prioritizing him, offering to move his shifts around selflessly. "done," nathaniel replies, and because oliver has passed every test of faith provided for him thus far, nate brings kiss lips to the phone screen before passing it back. later, when oliver picks up his call — nate predicts his cheek to brush against the same spot nate's mouth had been. "you know what? i think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership."

this is such an insane thing to write but HELL YES !!