Work Text:
It had been literal weeks since anyone had touched him. Even then, it was only because it was strictly necessary, as Nathan had needed to have blood work done. Something about monitoring some of his new medications, potential side effects or something. He didn’t really care, honestly, as the nurse touching his arm while checking for a good vein to stick the needle in sent waves of happiness through him.
Since the Dark Room was discovered, Nathan hadn’t been the recipient of many touches of any form. No cuddles or hugs. No sex with anyone but himself. No accidentally bumping into anyone while navigating the dance floor of the Vortex Club party. It was like he had ceased to exist as no one even really seemed to even acknowledge him, often not even sparing him a glance.
He didn’t have very much human contact in general. Doctor’s appointments. Therapy sessions. It made science class a pleasant experience as it was the only time he got consistent interaction at school. The conversations were strained, only going over the material, questions about getting the equipment necessary and making sure everything was measured properly. No small talk, not even being asked how he was doing. Which was odd, as his lab partner was Warren who used to never shut up in class. But that was before the Dark Room, before Nathan had gone after Max Caulfield and gave Warren a black eye in the parking lot. He did try to apologize for that but Warren responded by asking Nathan to go get a Bunsen burner.
Most of Nathan’s time was spent in his room in the dorms, only furthering his solitude, the overwhelming loneliness, but where else could he go? He didn’t have anyone to turn to anymore, not after the Dark Room became public knowledge. Victoria was polite to him in the hallways, saying hi but nothing more than that. When he used to feel as shitty as he did in that moment, when everything felt like it was against him and he had nowhere to go, he used to be able to find sanctuary with Victoria in her room. She was there to listen no matter how crazy he sounded and felt. She was there to offer hugs, cuddles when things were exceptionally bad and he couldn’t stop crying, or panicking, or screaming, or a mix of those things. She continued to be there for him when the Dark Room was initially uncovered, but there was a distance between them once the events that occured in the room were uncovered. When it was brought to light that Jefferson had planned on Victoria being the next “subject” if Max Caulfield didn’t turn in her “Everyday Heroes” picture, things changed. Victoria came to see him in the institution less and less. Even when she did come, she didn’t talk as much, always seemed distracted. She came less and less until she stopped coming completely.
Fuck, he missed Victoria so much.
There was so much he missed, so much that he’d had that he squandered away before he fucked up and got involved with Mark Jefferson. His therapist was working with him to look at the situation differently, to realize that he did help Mark do terrible things but he was a victim, too. Mark took advantage of his fragile mental state, furthering the instability, encouraging self-medication over the use of the medications prescribed by his doctors and psychiatrist. But Nathan was stupid. Sure, he was always drugged, knocked out or intoxicated to the point where he couldn’t remember anything even if he was at least somewhat coherent, whenever Mark was at the portion of the session where the models lost their innocence. Nathan still should’ve known. He should’ve questioned more on what Mark meant by the models losing their innocence. He should’ve questioned Mark more on why he sometimes woke up sore in places he shouldn’t be. He should’ve pieced those two things together. At the trial, it seemed so obvious and he looked like a fucking idiot, or a liar, because how could he NOT know it wasn’t only pictures? A person didn’t go through that much effort just to take some photographs of someone.
Looking back, it was as clear as day. How could someone like him still have had so much naivete after his horrific childhood and everything that happened to him after his schizophrenia diagnosis? He scoffed. He deserved the eternal solitude as punishment for his stupidity. Maybe that’s why the judge had let him off so easily. Jail was just boredom but out in the real world, but in the real world he could face real hell. He could be in a crowded hallway and people would avoid him like the plague, others making sure to avoid any sort of physical contact with him. Fuck, what he would give to just be bumped into in the hallway.
All Nathan wanted was to be touched, held, cuddled. He longed for the days when he was dragged to a spa by his mother or grinding up against a random person at a Vortex Club party. He needed to get away, somewhere where no one knew who the Prescott’s were and only knew of Arcadia Bay as the place that was almost taken out by a tornado. He was court ordered to stay with his psychiatrist that was located in the Bay, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t leave for the weekend. Go to Portland with his fake ID, go to a club and find someone, anyone really, who he could take to his hotel for the night. Find someone who would want to cuddle after, maybe even go out for breakfast the next morning and snuggle in a diner booth while waiting for pancakes.
But who was he kidding? Even if he went somewhere where no one knew him or what he did, there was no way he’d be able to find anyone that wanted to hook up with him or even touch him. Before the Dark Room, people had only been attracted to him because of the funding his father provided him, but those funds had been severely cut down. Sean provided his bank account with enough that Nathan could comfortably get by but not enough to go out and show a random slut a good time. Maybe he had enough for a cockroach motel in the Bay. If he skipped some meals, he could save up for a drive to and from Portland. He could get a bottle of something and pre-party in his hotel before heading out. He’d certainly need that liquid courage to approach someone and try to bring them back to the room for the night. Even then, there was so much that could go wrong that the likelihood that he’d be able to find anyone to sleep with him, let alone touch him, was minimal. He’d be left disappointed, alone, drunk, and hungry from all the meals he’d need to miss to save up for the trip. He might as well just resign himself to his life of lonesomeness.
Then, someone touched him.
It had started out as an abnormally bad mental health day for him. He couldn’t concentrate, which caused Warren to carry them through their lab experiment. That wasn’t that unusual, though, as Warren did tend to turn into an Alpha male once the beakers came out. Nathan was trying to help, stumbling through the procedure and going through the motions of what Warren was instructing him to do. Though Nathan responded, his mind was elsewhere, back in the Dark Room when it was just him and Mark, no models. He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, spilling liquid on his hand and realizing that his hand had already been wet.
“Nathan,” Warren said firmly, and Nathan realized that hadn’t been the first time that Warren had called his name, “you need to wash your hands.”
Even through Nathan’s layers of shirts, he could still feel the warmth of Warren’s hand as it rested on his shoulder. He wouldn’t call the spark sexual but that was the closest thing he could think of to describe the sensation. Maybe it was more akin to some highs he experienced that made his skin tingle with human contact, igniting sparks without anything akin to ecstasy or even pot. It was the first time someone had willingly touched him outside a medical setting since the last time Victoria had visited him in the mental institution. Months ago.
Warren groaned, rolling his eyes as he guided Nathan to the sink. Nathan didn’t act the same way he had once he’d returned to Blackwell but he was acting unusual even for him. Regardless, Warren wouldn’t forgive himself if Nathan got chemical burns from the silver nitrate. He turned on the water to the sink before grabbing Nathan’s wrist, a few fingers resting on Nathan’s bare skin as he guided the hand to the sink to flush the area. With the touch, Nathan once again flinched, watching with wide eyes as Warren moved his hand under the flowing water from the sink. Even with all he’d done, Warren was taking great care to make sure the liquid had been completely rinsed from his skin.
When Nathan finally looked up, Warren could see the water filling Nathan’s eyes. Nathan’s lip was trembling and though Warren was confused as he had no idea what was going on, he knew that he needed to get Nathan out of the room. Though he had no sympathy for Nathan after everything that had happened, Warren had always been filled with a great deal of compassion. Grabbing Nathan’s forearm, Warren guided him out of the room, mentioning to Ms. Grant that they were going to the nurse.
The floodgates broke the moment the science room door closed behind them. Nathan’s sobs echoed through the hallway. Fortunately, said hallways was empty but they couldn’t count on it staying that way for long. Warren pulled Nathan into a nearby closet, one that contained at least three types of paint and countless blank canvases. The door locked with a click and Nathan glommed onto the other boy, wanting to do anything to ebb the isolation he felt. He prayed Warren wouldn’t pull away, wanting for just a moment to enjoy the feeling of touch. He buried his face into a warm neck, arms wrapped around a firm frame. He couldn’t quite place the smell, but it was warm, a little musky, something very distinctly human and after so long, it was heavenly. As he buried his face into Warren’s neck, grasp squeezing tightly, he sobbed harder.
Warren was apprehensive, to say the least, but not one to turn away someone who was crying regardless of who the person was or what the person had done. Even with everything that had been revealed at the trial months ago, the sound of someone in complete misery still tugged at Warren’s heartstrings. He was a fixer, that was for sure, so he wrapped his arms around Nathan and let the other stay close for as long as he was needed.
Nathan held on even once the tears ran dry. It had been so long since he’d been held. The last time had been in late September, after a particularly shitty fight with his dad. He took refuge in Victoria’s room. They cuddled, ate takeout, and binge-watched tv shows they’d be mortified if anyone else found out that they watched them. When he woke up the next morning, they were spooning in their pajamas. Now, she would barely look in his direction and exchange more than pleasantries with him.
A sigh fell from Nathan’s lips as fingers carded through his hair. The tresses were longer than they had been before the trial; he hadn’t touched a hair product since around then as well. He hadn’t kept up on washing it regularly, which he regretted in that moment as it was greasy and tangled. Still, the moment felt amazing. Hand running through his hair. A hand rubbing up and down his back. Arms around him. He didn’t want it to end but he wasn’t the one to make that decision.
“I’ll go get your things and tell Ms. Grant you threw up or something and I’m helping you get to your room,” Warren said as he pulled away. He didn’t comment on how Nathan lingered, arms not wanting to let go of Warren’s waist. He didn’t comment on the pathetic mewl that came from Nathan when those arms loosened and let go of the only non-medical or accidental human contact Nathan had had in months. He didn’t even comment on how he’d ended up carrying both his and Nathan’s book bags across campus as he helped Nathan get to the dorm.
What surprised Nathan the most was that even after Warren got him back to the dorms, Warren stayed. Nathan was still raw, needy, terrified that the only real touch he’d experienced in so long would flutter away. So, as Warren settled on Nathan’s bed, some random Netflix show playing on the projector, Nathan glommed on and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let go.