Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Warren blinked a few times, his heart racing as he found himself on the ground; it was raining—storming, really—and he was in the mud. Slowly, he stood up, wiping his face off slightly before giving up and just letting the rain pound down on him.

Where am I? What the hell is happening? He thought to himself, teeth chattering as he surveyed the area. To his right he saw heavy footfalls getting washed away in the vicious downpour. Since when was there supposed to be a storm this bad? How did I get here? 

Through the rain he was able to make out a lighthouse in the distance. He exhaled shakily, thanking all there was that he awoke somewhere relatively safe. Please, for the love of everything there is, let me make it to the lighthouse safely. Warren lifted his arm to shield his face from the unrelenting wind and rain, ever-so slowly making his way up the path to the lighthouse. Once he reached the peak, he felt his knees buckle beneath him.

“Holy shit,” Warren whispered, unable to hear himself over the storm; in the distance, coming straight for Arcadia Bay was a tornado. Too caught up in the revelry of a boat being split in half by the spiral, he didn’t realise when one half of it struck the lighthouse, causing its top to roll off, before it was too late and already falling towards him.

Covering his face, as if it’d protect him, he couldn’t help but yell a sharp, “No!”

Startled, Warren woke with a racing heart, examining his surroundings and letting out a grateful breath as he realised it was all just a very intense nightmare. He rubbed at his eyes. It’s all cool, I’m in my room. It was just some fucked up nightmare—nothing’s wrong. 

He scanned his room once more, inhaling deeply before uncovering himself and stepping out of bed, shivering at how the cold reminded him of that in his nightmare. God, that felt so real to him. He walked over to his dresser, trying one final time to rub the sleep out of his eyes before reading his alarm clock: 7:20PM. Sheesh, he did not plan on taking that long of a nap after school, but he had three tests that day—one make-up in AP Biology for a day he had a doctor’s appointment, one in AP Chemistry, and one in AP Calculus. It wasn’t anything too difficult for him, nothing a quick glance over his notes couldn’t have prepared him for, but that didn’t mean it didn’t take a lot out of him. 

Having walked around the small space of his room and woken up enough to consider himself a person, he walked over to his closet and searched through it, brushing past his Schrodinger’s cat shirt, his plentiful emoticon shirts, and the singular tank top in his repertoire that he refused to throw out in case he grew muscles over night. Eventually, he landed on one with a cartoonish meteor standing under the spray of a shower head, immediately remembering why he wanted to sleep so bad in the first place—there was to be a meteor falling overhead, very close to Arcadia Bay but just barely missing and shooting straight into the water. 

After throwing on the shirt, as well as a clean pair of boxers and his freshest smelling pair of jeans, he walked over to his desk and sat down, cringing at the whirring sounds his computer made after having been left on all night. “Sorry, I had to get my movie on,” he apologised to his desktop, patting it before continuing to use it anyways.

Minimising the movie website’s tab, he landed on a news article talking about the meteor passing that night. Arcadia Bay even got mentioned. Ha! Take that Portland. He smiled smugly, switching over to the next tab. His screen was replaced by an email he had sent to Max:

"Max, thanks for your email copy of Jefferson's class notes. Now I shall never stop sending you messages of gratitude, I also have a rather eclectic collection of TV, cult, classic and fucked-up films on a phat flash drive if you ever want to check them out. Thanks again for the help. I'm a scientist more than an artist. 

Now can you quickly explain to me how a camera works? 

Be Seeing You. Warren G."

It was always a little humbling to see how receptive Max was to his attempts at humour, and how she would twist his sincerity into a joke so she didn’t have to really get to know him. At least, that was how Warren felt about it all. He sighed and resolutely closed the tab, groaning as he was instead sat in front of Max’s social page. He didn’t bother to torment himself by looking through it for what would’ve been the fifth time that day, instead minimising the tab so he could look back the next morning and see if anything changed.

It was about 8PM as Warren stood up from his chair, stretching backwards until his back popped and the strain went from relieving to painful. He rolled his neck around a bit before hastily slipping on his shoes, grabbing the backpack slung over his chair, and exiting his room. 

As Warren looped his second arm through the strap of his backpack, he spotted Evan outside of his own room’s door and waved, walking up to him. “Hey, Evan, how’s it hangin’?”

“Oh, you know. Same-old, same-old. You hear about the meteor passing through tonight?” Evan hummed, mindlessly toying with his scarf.

Warren’s eyes lit up, “Have I!—Oh, man, that’s what I was heading out to prepare for. The parking lot gives a good view of the sky so I was gonna,” he tapped his bag, “set up shop there. How ‘bout you?”

Noting the instantaneous enthusiasm the topic sprung inside of Warren, Evan let a small smirk grace his lips. “I was just going to watch it through my window. I don't really have the time or the supplies to venture out tonight.” Briefly pausing, he added, “Take some pictures for me—try to aim between the ‘passable’ and ‘good’ range quality-wise.”

Confident despite his rocky relationship with photography, Warren gave a nod, enough finality in the action to give Evan some peace of mind. “Yes sir, Mr. Harris, sir!” He offered a quick salute, too hyped up to stay still for much longer. “I’m gonna go out now so I have time to head over to Max’s—” Warren sighed when Evan stared at him, deadpanned, “—to get her camera, Evan, Je-sus!” 

Shrugging, Evan quirked up a brow in lieu of a real response. “See ya, Warren,” he landed on instead.

Prepared to defend himself from further humiliation, Warren stammered over his words, trying to formulate a sentence that wasn't a denial of his impossibly blatant infatuation with one Max Caufield. “I... okay,” he cleared his throat. “Bye, Evan. I’ll—check your email tomorrow. I’ll, um, yeah. They’ll be there.” Warren gave a final wave before jogging off to the dorm’s exit, having already humiliated himself enough to last a few weeks.

Once out in the cool, ever-darkening night, Warren immediately regretted his decision to forgo a jacket. He shrugged it off, whispering some sort of expletive under his breath not even he could decipher as he trudged off towards the parking lot to deposit his far from light backpack before heading over to the girl’s dormitories. 

Before he even got off of the steps, Dana called him over with a, “Hey, Warren! Over here!” Who was he to say no to that?

Checking his watch to make sure he wasn’t losing any precious time, he headed over to where Dana and Trevor were sitting under the shade of a tree. “Yo, what’re you guys doing out here? You here to watch for the meteor too?”

Dana nodded, leaning back on her palms as she studied the sky past Warren’s head. “It’s not everyday you get to watch a meteor pass overhead—and so close too. I’d be worried if not for that nerd brain of yours,” she smiled, referencing his earlier word-vomit about that night’s oddity.

Only slightly embarrassed, Warren breathed out a laugh, “It’s no problem. I’m glad you guys get to watch it, it’s sick. Did you know we haven’t seen a singular meteor so clearly over Arcadia Bay since the 70’s?”

“Yeah man, you told us earlier,” Trevor replied, earning an elbow from Dana. “What? That isn’t a bad thing. Means we’re safe out here and shit, don’t got nothin’ to worry over.” 

Warren shrugged, “Guess so.” He checked his watch again, “Well, I gotta run, but I hope you guys have a good night! I’ll see you tomorrow,” he waited for Dana’s sweet goodbye in response and Trevor’s “later, dude” before turning on his heels and running off in the direction of the girl’s dormitories. 

It wasn’t a very long walk, just a quick pass through the school to get to the opposing building, but it felt like he was breaking some sort of punishable rule. While it was encouraged to stay within your own docile so late into the night, Principal Wells never got onto anybody so long as there wasn’t any obvious nonsense going on. Warren was sure, with the high regards the staff held him in, that they wouldn’t mind at all, especially considering what he was heading over for, but his heart raced all the same as he reminded himself he was just going to get a camera and nerd out by himself.

Sitting outside on the steps of the girl’s dormitories was none other than Kate Marsh, causing a smile to break out on Warren’s face as he got closer. “Heya, Kate. What’s got you out here so late?

“Oh, you know,” Kate replied in that soft, sad tone of hers. She did seem at peace despite that though. “I couldn’t sleep, and I overheard Brooke,” she pointed to the left with her head, bringing Warren’s attention to where Brooke was manuoveuring her drone this way and that, clearly trying to obtain a decent view, “talking about a meteor shower, or something.”

“Yeah! Isn’t that so exciting?” Warren asked, less enthusiastic than he was the first two times he had to talk about the phenomena and not bothered enough to correct Kate’s incorrect evaluation. “You won’t regret it, trust me. If there’s one thing I know about Arcadia Bay, it’s that it’s the best town for stargazing. All the big factories are just outside of town.”

There was a brief lull in the conversation, Kate clearly deep in thought about whatever it was that plagued her thoughts before she looked back up to Warren with a small smile, “Yeah. It’s nice. Thanks for talking to me, Warren.”

“Of course, Kate. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he grinned back, clapping her gently on the shoulder before walking over to Brooke. As ready as he was to get Max’s camera and set up in the parking lot, he would’ve felt awful ignoring Brooke and her not-so-subtle glances in his direction.

Brooke immediately looked up at him, “Oh, hey Warren. I presume you’re out here for the same reason I am.”

“You know it,” he reoriented his bag, eyeing Brooke’s drone as it hovered in the air. “Got a good angle on where the meteor’s falling?”

She hummed, looking back down at the controls and making slight adjustments to its position before leaving it be. “Yes. I am quite excited for it, actually. There are very many unique instances happening within the timeframe of the fall.” Brooke tapped some times on her screen before lifting her head up to look at Warren, “Would you care to join me?”

Giving a remorseful smile, Warren started with an, “I’m sorry.” She deflated immediately, but Warren had already mapped out his whole night and he wasn’t ready for any wrenches that came with involving others. “I’d love to join you, really, but I already have my stuff out in the parking lot.” It was a lie, but he was going to, so he didn’t see an issue with his verbiage. “Besides, I’m only over here to get Max’s camera. Just wanted to say ‘hi’, y’know?”

Brooke sighed, “Alright, Warren,” she responded, clearly dejected but not taking it too hard. “We can talk tomorrow, I have to get back to preparing for the meteor.” And with that she had her nose back in her drone’s controls; Warren knew better than to stick around much longer, so with a quick “goodbye”, he was off. He waved at Kate as he walked past her to get into the dorm, thankful for whomever decided to put a pencil in the door as a stop so he could make it in without any issue.

“Warren, hey, you in here to see your girlfriend?” Juliet greeted him with a rather surprised expression. “I didn’t peg you as the type to sneak around after hours for a girl.”

The concept of Max being his girlfriend was enough to make his eyes widen, an argument on the tip of his tongue before Juliet even finished speaking, “What, girlfriend? I—no! No, I’m… I’m here to borrow her camera. ‘Cause of the meteor, ‘n stuff.”

Juliet squinted her eyes at him, shrugging, “Right,” she settled on, watching a still sputtering Warren trying to uphold his truth despite her initial disbelief. “Makes sense, I guess.”

Pouting and red-faced, Warren held tightly onto the straps of his backpack and groaned, “She’s not my girlfriend,” he added for good measure. As much as I want her to be, he thought, she isn’t.

Juliet walked past him, patting his shoulder, “It’ll be okay, Warren. Some chicks are really into that weak and pathetic shtick.” Her words were of no comfort, though Warren was fairly certain they were intended to make him feel better about himself. He just forced himself to unstick his feet from the ground, trudging forward and making it down to Max’s dorm. 

On her slate was a note—seemingly from Victoria—that read: “Way to drool over Mr. Jefferson like he really wants some hippie wannabe. Sad face.” Erasing it, he drew a cat in a box, its speech bubble saying “Let meow-t!” Oh yeah, that one was for sure a winner.

Remembering his intentions even coming over, he knocked on Max’s door; knock-a-knock-knock-knock knock-knock, rhythmic and so recognisably Warren that the door swung open almost immediately. “Hey, Max!”

Shocked to see him, Max took a moment to decide on what to say, “Oh, wow, Warren. Hey—what’re you doing over here so late?” She furrowed her brows, surveying the area to see if there was something she was missing. “Is something… going on?”

“Oh—no, no, nothing’s going on. I was just wondering if I could borrow your camera. Totally sick meteor is falling tonight and I promised Evan I’d take some photos for him.” He beamed, looking past Max’s head and peering into her room, unable to help his nosiness when it came to her.

Max relaxed, nodding, “That makes sense,” she decided. “Sure, you can borrow it. Just be very careful, okay?” Her expression was serious, and if Warren didn’t already intend on taking care of that thing like it were his own child he would’ve been scared to even look in its direction.

“Yes, ma’am!” Warren immediately agreed, causing Max to laugh and roll her eyes as she stepped back into her room. He snuck more glances into her dorm, checking out her setup and mentally cataloguing it for what purpose? He wasn’t sure, but it seemed useful. When she turned back around, camera in hand, Warren tried to act like he wasn’t snooping around by giving her his full attention. 

Max held it out to him, pulling it back at the last second to add, “Promise me you’ll give it back before school tomorrow morning?” 

Warren placed a hand over his heart, the other doing a scout salute, “I promise, scout’s honour.” He even had the credibility to say his honour was true—he didn’t spend six months in the boy scouts for nothing.

Relenting, Max handed the camera over, mumbling something akin to “you better” under her breath. “Night, Warren. Don’t make me regret letting you borrow my camera—get some kickass photos.”

“You got it. I’ll get one or two for you too, as collateral for having to give up your precious camera for a night.” Warren stood awkwardly in her doorway, clearly having more to say. Max smiled tersely at him, at least he read it as tersely though he was fairly certain she was trying to seem patient. She must’ve been busy, he concluded. “Night, Max,” he sighed out, giving a half-wave before taking one, two, three steps back, waving again, and walking off. He inspected the camera in his hands carefully as he made his way out of the building, past Kate, and on his way to the parking lot.

He was once again hit with the chill of the night, even more-so as the wind decided to pick up in the time he was inside of the girls dormitories. 

Stepping into the parking lot, Warren hummed “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith under his breath, digging unceremoniously into his too-deep pocket to locate his key, sighing when he found it and didn’t have to do the walk-of-shame back to his room. On the way over, he paused for a beat, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. He cursed under his breath as he put his keys back into his pocket, trading them for his phone. 

To his surprise, it was a text from Max: “Get me a photo of the moon, too. It’s a blue moon tonight, and you know that only comes around every two-and-a-half years.” Warren smiled at his phone, sending an image of himself saluting, camera in hand, almost indecipherably in the darkness in response before putting his phone in the opposing pocket to his key. He finagled Max’s camera for a moment before figuring out how to get it working. Then, he made sure to take his time lining up the shot before taking a photo. The resounding click in the quiet night was insanely loud to Warren’s ears, but it was worth the incredible photo he received after the image finished fully developing.

“Aw, yeah,” Warren whispered to himself as he continued his humming, rocking his head to the beat as he, with less effort than before, retrieved his keys and unlocked his car’s door.

“I don’t wanna close my eyes, I don’t wanna fall asleep, ‘cause I’d—” Warren halted his offkey singing, having dropped his bag in his backseat when he heard hushed yet fervent voices in the distance. Slowly, quietly, he shut the car’s door and began walking in the direction he heard the sounds coming from. Please, stealth, don’t fail me now, he thought as he caught sight of two people standing near an RV, hidden in shadows near the back of the lot.

“And you’re sure no one else is out here?” The taller of the two asked, hunched down in the other’s space. There must’ve been some sort of agreement, because he continued on, “Whatever, let’s talk business.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, the shorter one—looking oddly familiar—replied, “I got nothin’ for you,” he hissed. Warren couldn’t help his startle upon recognising the voice; Nathan Prescott.

“Wrong, kid. You owe me a lotta of cash, and I know you got a shit ton,” the other pressed, poking a finger into Nathan’s chest, humour laced through every word despite his frustration.

“That’s my family, not me,” Nathan was pacing, running a hand through his already stress-tousled hair as the other man stood with his arms crossed, clearly unamused.

“Oh, boohoo, poor little rich kid. I know you don’t use all-a that bullshit you buy, I know you’re pumpin’ drugs to the kids around here—you think your respectable family’d help me out if I went to them?” He broke his sentence to laugh, “I can see the headlines now…”

“Leave them out of this, bitch!” Nathan spat, suddenly up in the other man’s space again.

“Want me to start stickin’ up posters, huh? ‘Hey, everyone, Nathan Prescott is a cheap addict who can’t pay back his debts’—”

Warren couldn’t help his gasp as Nathan shakily pulled a gun from out of his pocket, the metal of the weapon reflecting onto the RV. He pointed it at the other man, his grip unwavering but his stance inexperienced, clearly not having wanted to be in that situation either. The other man, despite his clear lack of care, still backed up a few steps, probably noting the intensity of Nathan’s glare, the craze he was in. “You don’t know who the fuck I am, or who you’re messing around with!” He yelled, gritting his teeth to quiet the words since they were, still, in such a public space.

“Come on kid, where’d you get that? What are you doing—just, come on, put that thing down.” The other man didn’t sound scared, if anything he sounded calm, accepting, but he obviously wasn’t trying to die in the parking lot of a high school.

“Don’t EVER tell me what to do! I’m so SICK of people trying to control me!” Nathan got even closer, his gun pressing right into the other man’s side, the light from the moon illuminating his face; Warren, despite being somewhere safe and away from the action, felt scared.

Scoffing, the other man pulled out a gun of his own, pressing its cool metal against Nathan’s temple. That clearly startled the latter, as his grip tightened on his own gun and threatened to falter. “You’re gonna get in a lot more fuckin’ trouble for trying to kill me than you will for drugs, kid,” Warren was barely able to pick up, his tone more hushed.

There was shuffling; Nathan’s silence was deafening. “You think anybody would really miss your dumb ass? Huh?” The gun pressed more firmly against Nathan’s temple, the other man’s frustration growing. 

“Get the fuck off of me, bitch!” Nathan hissed, shoving him harshly until his back hit the RV behind him. The impact of his body on the vehicle caused his finger on the trigger to press down, making the gun go off and nestle a bullet right into the junction between Nathan’s neck and shoulder.

“NO!” Warren yelled on instinct, stepping forward out of the shadows and reaching his hand out. Where he expected there to be a second bullet in his own neck for his actions, there was a daze. The world spun and his head ached until, suddenly, he was shooting up from his sleep. In his bedroom, and not in a hospital bed, or even still in Blackwell's parking lot. What the actual fuck just happened?

He sat there, chest heaving as he hesitantly looked atop his dresser to check his alarm clock; 7:20 PM. No, Warren knew he wasn’t breathing, but he knew if he did he’d start panicking, or worse, screaming. Was Nathan Prescott dead?

Grabbing random parts of his body and pinching to make sure he was real—that he hadn’t been shot like he thought he would be—he ever-so slowly, as if not to startle the universe or whatever may have caused that insane dream he had, pulled his blanket off of himself, carefully getting off of his bed and glancing around the room. Obviously, it looked the same, it wasn’t going to look different because he hadn’t made any drastic interior changes in his alleged dream, but it was all he could do not to flip out. 

Warren took some deep breaths as he decided, fuck it, and began repeating the same actions he did in his, well, nightmare. He went through his closet, finding his shirt with a meteor taking a shower on it and a pair of casual jeans. Throwing the articles of clothing on his bed, he rummaged through his dresser drawer to find a pair of matching socks before undressing and redressing. He pulled his shoes on, taking more time than would ever be necessary to tie his shoes since he was ahead of schedule due to his panicked state. He located his watch on his dresser, right beside his alarm clock, and only fumbled a few times before he properly looped it around his wrist and tightened it on. 

Wasting time by trying to tame his unruly hair, Warren barely noticed when the clock started inching ever-closer to 8PM. Sucking in a sharp breath, he stood off of his bed again, grabbed his bag off of his chair, and hesitated at the door. He took a few steps back, trying to use his memory to remember where he stretched in case that was what held the fabric of the universe together, but in doing so he walked back too far and ended up elbowing the lamp on his bedside table, knocking it onto the ground and wincing when he heard the glass shatter.

“Shit!” He winced, sucking on his teeth as he glanced around his room self-consciously. He was embarrassed to even attempt to use his alleged powers, but how was he supposed to save Nathan if he was just regular, old Warren Graham?

Hesitantly, he raised his hand, whispering a “woah” as he felt the universe shift around him. He almost dropped his hand on instinct when he saw his lamp right itself from its mangled position on his floor. Once he saw his own ghostly form pass through him, he dropped his hand and stared wide-eyed at his perfectly intact lamp.

He didn’t have time to freak out nor did he have time to stretch, so he just readjusted his backpack and quickly left his room.

Spotting Evan in the same spot he did in his memory, he walked over to him, opening and closing his mouth a few times before just barely remembering what he had said, “What’s up, Evan?” 

He cringed internally, knowing that wasn’t at all what he said, but it didn’t seem to matter when Evan replied with, “Oh, you know. Same-old, same-old. You hear about the meteor passing through tonight?” 

Warren didn’t feel relieved at all—how did he know exactly what Evan was going to say? “Yeah, yeah I have,” he sighed out. “That’s, uh, that’s what I got all this for,” he patted his bag like he remembered doing, seeing the other’s expression settle from how suspicious it had become. “What about you?” 

“I was just going to watch it through my window. I don't really have the time or the supplies to venture out tonight.” Still busy, even in the real world, Warren noted, “Take some pictures for me—try to aim between the ‘passable’ and ‘good’ range quality-wise.”

“Got it,” Warren settled on, deciding he didn’t want to embarrass himself with the same conversation about Max again if he didn’t have to—he also really wanted to finish following his script so he could make sure Nathan, as awful as he was, didn’t get killed. “I’ll email copies to you,” at least that time around he could word himself more intelligently when he wasn’t sputtering over four different sentences and tripping over his words.

Evan nodded, “Thanks. See ya, Warren.”

 With haste, Warren jogged to the dorm’s exit the second he waved a “goodbye” to Evan.

The second he opened the door, he knew he’d fucked up by trying to hurry and get his “Everyday Hero” on when he slammed it into somebody full force, his eyes widening as he watched Dana drop the gift bag she had in her hands, a loud shattering noise following.

“No!—oh, shit, I spent so much money on this gift for Trevor. Thanks a lot, Warren,” she huffed, bending down to pick up the remnants of the gift.

“I’m so sorry Dana, I—” Fuck, he thought. Don’t fail me now, time-powers. Shakily, Warren raised his hand up, stomach twisting when he felt time warp around him, everything fuzzy as he watched the bag fix itself, looking as Dana walked backwards all the way to the bench where she had been sitting, apparently, until she got a text. He dropped his hand, holding his head and hissing at the sudden pain.

“Hey, Warren!” She greeted, smiling once she spotted him standing out front of the dorm’s door. Her smile faltered when she noticed his expression, “Woah, you alright, man? You look a little worse for wear.”

Warren shook his head, having to internalise his groan when that caused the pain to double. It really wasn’t that bad, it was just so unbelievable that he was  getting whiplash. Somehow, having proof that it wasn’t just a continued nightmare in his own room made it all the more stressful. “Yeah, I’m alright, just got a headache, y’know?”

Dana frowned, sticking out her bottom lip as she rubbed his forearm gently, like you would a child, and he couldn’t help but fluster at the implications. “Aww, I’m sorry. Do you need a Tylenol or something?”

Repeating the motion, he shook his head again, giving her as warm of a smile as he could muster considering the circumstances, “Nah, I’m supposed to meet with Nathan—Max, I meant Max—” a Freudian slip, as it was, was usually permissible, but knowing Dana she would for sure tell Trevor, who would tell Justin, who would tell everyone because everyone knew Nathan Prescott and Warren Graham hated each other—yeah, he was not having that. The second Dana opened her mouth to speak, Warren stuck his hand out.

“Aww, I’m sorry. Do you need a Tylenol or something?” Her intonation was the exact same. It was enough to make Warren’s skin crawl.

“Nah, I’m supposed to meet with Max real quick. Gonna borrow her camera to snap some pics of the meteor tonight.” He mentally patted himself on the back for his expertise in being normal. Not that he was really normal a day in his life, but he was his normal, and that was enough to get Dana to drop her hand.

She sighed, “Alright, well, just let me know if you need anything, okay? Okay,” she added the last “okay” herself when Warren didn’t protest. “Bye, Warren, gotta go get Trev.” And with a kiss to his cheek, she was heading inside of the dorms, allowing Warren to let out a breath he had no idea he was even holding. 

It didn’t take very long to make his way over there, especially because he already had the entire memory of his past departure playing on loop in his mind. He knew he’d run into Kate, that he’d run into Brooke as well, and he knew that Juliet would be waiting for him inside of the dorms when he finally made his way inside. He even knew Max was going to sound so completely unenthused to see him. Warren knew everything that was going to happen and that’s what made everything scarier—Nathan was going to get shot, and there was nothing he could do about it. At least, not if he didn’t get his ass in gear. 

Warren deflated despite himself at the sight of Kate sitting on the steps outside of the dorm. Every similarity only further solidified the fact that this was real life, or at least a dream within a dream and that was stressful enough. “Hey, Kate. You looking to catch the meteor tonight?”

Kate smiled up at him as he walked over, unfurling her posture and relaxing her hands from where she previously rested her chin. “Yeah, actually. I heard Brooke mentioning it and I couldn’t sleep, so it only seemed right.”

There was a peace that Kate’s presence brought, even in such a high-stress situation Warren couldn’t help but gravitate towards her. “Pretty cool, right?” He grinned when she nodded, “You won’t regret it. Trust me, it’s gonna be like nothing you’ve ever seen. And, there’s a blue moon tonight—if I were, I dunno, a photographer, I would most definitely get some photos of it.”

“That’s a good idea,” Kate agreed with a small laugh, tapping her chin in thought. “Thanks for talking to me, Warren.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he repeated his earlier line, because he really did mean it. He gave her a small wave, just so he could get through the rest of his checklist of shit he needed to get done. Briefly, he checked his watch, noting that he’d saved at least ten minutes thus far.

“Hey, Brooke,” Warren greeted as he walked over to her, still manning her drone.

“Oh, hey Warren. I presume you’re out here for the same reason I am.”

“Yup, you ready for the meteor?” He chastised himself internally for sounding lame as all hell, until Brooke smiled. Albeit small, it was still sincere for Brooke’s standards. 

“Yes. I am quite excited for it, actually. There are very many unique instances happening within the timeframe of the fall.” She messed around with her drone’s controls before looking back up at Warren, “Would you care to join me?”

“I’m sorry, I just—there’s something I really, really need to do, and… it can’t wait,” Warren rushed out, wincing when Brooke didn’t seem to believe him.

She sighed, “You can just say ‘no’. It won’t hurt as much as you lying.”

Well, shit. He couldn’t reasonably leave Brooke there, upset and clearly less than enthusiastic about the meteor and moon that night. Warren stuck his hand up, having a slight hang on the feeling of warping through time. It didn’t stop the dizziness when he was back to, “Oh, hey Warren. I presume you’re out here for the same reason I am.”

“Yeah, kind of! Mostly to take some photos of the meteor itself though. I just came out here to borrow Max’s camera. I’m thinkin’ of becoming an ‘Everyday Hero’ myself, y’know?” Warren tried not to let his smile fall—it wasn’t a lie, and he knew it, just as much as he knew his excuse to her earlier (was it earlier when, in that reality, it was ten or so minutes in the future?) wasn’t a lie either. It just wasn’t the full truth.

Brooke hummed, nodding, “That makes sense. Well, I won’t hold you up any longer. Talk to you tomorrow, Warren.” 

“Tomorrow,” he parroted, agreeing as he pivoted to walk towards the entrance. Waving at Kate and trying not to let the pencil-turned-doorstop become the thing that sent him spiraling. Despite its exact sameness, he stepped in.

Once inside, he first spotted Juliet before she spotted him, allowing him some space before she called out, “Warren, hey, you in here to see your girlfriend? I didn’t peg you as the type to sneak around after hours for a girl.”

“Not my girlfriend,” he started, proud of himself for not turning as red as he had prior. “But, yeah. I’m supposed to get some photos of the meteor for Evan, and no one else would trust me with their camera.”

Juliet nodded, “Right,” she said, and she didn’t say it with the same amount of disbelief she did before, so Warren took that as a win. “I’ll leave you to it. See ya, Warren.”

“See ya,” he gave back before walking down to Max’s room. He erased the insult from Victoria off of her slate, merely drawing a quick smiley face before knock-a-knock-knock-knock knock-knocking on her door.

Max opened her door, clearly upset that somebody was disturbing her at such an unusual time. She lost the anger in her expression when she saw who it was. “Oh, wow, Warren. Hey—what’re you doing over here so late?” Still, she looked around the area to make sure something wasn’t wrong. “Is something… going on?”

“Nah, nothing’s going on—’cept the meteor tonight. I was gonna grab a few photos for Evan, so…” Warren let his sentence trail off, too tense to engage in such quick banter. “Would you mind if I borrowed your camera for tonight?”

If Max noticed how off he was, she didn’t say anything. “Hm, alright. That makes sense. And, sure, you can borrow it. Just be very careful, okay?”

“I promise, Max. I will be as careful as can be, and yes, I will remember to give it to you tomorrow morning. It’ll be in pristine condition.” He held a hand over his heart, raising his other hand; not only was he trying to get out to the parking lot faster, but he wanted Max to see how sincere he was and trust him.

She smiled at him, looking down for a moment before looking back up, “Okay,” she agreed, taking some steps back to grab her camera. “Here. Thanks, Warren. Get some kickass photos, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, gently taking the camera from her hands. “Goodnight, Max. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Now, get out there and get some photos, nerd.” She shoved him lightly, not enough to throw him even slightly off-balance, shooing him.

“Okay, okay, sheesh,” he held one hand up, the other securely holding the camera. “I’m going,” he announced, already walking down the hall. He turned around to see her smiling at him before she went inside and closed her door. Warren one, self-humiliation zero.

The second his feet hit the concrete of the steps, he was booking it to the parking lot, not even bothering to give a third and final wave to Kate, or a glance at Brooke. Nathan was in danger, and it was all up to him to get there in time to save him. He just had to think—what could he even do to make sure nothing would happen? Warren couldn’t confront them himself, that’d surely end up with him getting shot and then his power wouldn’t mean anything. He also couldn’t get the cops to come down, because what if nothing happened and Warren was just insane? He couldn’t risk that. Besides, there was no way they’d believe him—Nathan Prescott? Really? Yeah, it wasn’t worth his time.

So, when he made it to the parking lot and freed himself of his bag, he slowly orientated Max’s camera up to the moon; already changed the script too much. It won’t hurt to keep a picture of the moon. And when the camera clicked, the voices started up.

“And you’re sure no one else is out here?” The man Warren couldn’t recognise asked, adding soon thereafter: “Whatever, let’s talk business.”

He listened to their back and forth, mostly tuning them out as he tried to think of a fool-proof way of saving Nathan’s life.

My car! He thought. His car was old, and it was certainly loud. That was what he had to do. With shaky hands, he opened the driver’s side door and got in. “You’re gonna get in a lot more fuckin’ trouble for trying to kill me than you will for drugs, kid,” he heard, cursing under his breath. He only had so much more time.

“You think anybody would really miss your dumb ass? Huh?” With about as many mistakes as he could handle before panicking, he got his car running, the sound resonating throughout the entire parking lot.

Warren heard a thud, then the clattering of metal on the ground, and finally footsteps rapidly speeding off. Nathan must’ve been the one to run because Warren heard a “shit!” from the unidentified person. 

“Just my fucking luck,” he hissed, presumably walking over to grab his gun before getting into the RV Warren noted and driving off.

Letting out a shaky exhale, Warren turned off his car and slumped back in his seat, tossing his arm over his eyes as he caught his breath. He was so relieved he swore he could start crying. Releasing one final exhale, he exited his car, not bothering to grab his supplies since he didn’t plan on staying out for a while like he originally planned and finishing homework up while basking in the blue moon’s glow. 

It was hard to focus on what he was doing, but he was determined to get passable or good photos for Evan. After catching sight of the meteor approaching from afar, he prepared his shot, using the techniques Max taught him. Warren was able to get a few good shots out of the fifteen or so he took—he swore to himself that he’d remember to buy Max some more film. 

Content and far more collected than he was before his observation and photography, he walked over to his car and eyed his bag, deciding between just leaving it in there to grab in the morning and potentially having to rewind a whole eight-or-so hours (if that was even possible) to save it from being stolen out of his backseat before slinging it over his shoulder and locking his car up. He still didn’t completely believe that he wasn’t dreaming, but he wasn’t willing to test that theory’s validity by putting his valuables in danger. 

By the time he had made the journey back to the boy’s dorms, he was tuckered out, so he instantly fell back to his room and locked the door. Warren knew he should’ve probably showered and changed into pajamas, but he couldn’t find that strength within himself, so he just barely saved his bag from toppling onto the ground before falling face first onto his bed—shoes reluctantly getting shoved off—as he struggled to find a comfortable sleeping position. 

He never bothered to open his eyes, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if the time read 6AM and he still hadn’t been graced by sleep. 

Groaning despite his resolution to feign sleep a while longer, he forced himself into a sitting position, deflating when he saw it hadn’t even been twenty minutes since he tried to go to sleep. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, grumbling to himself as he shoved his shoes back on, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt when he used his finger on the shoe’s heel to force his foot into its still-tied form. 

Warren didn’t bother bringing anything with him, he just felt like wandering around the dorm and seeing what was going on. He made sure he had his key in his pocket before opening the door, locking it, and shutting it. Despite having been in the dorms for a while at that point, he hadn’t bothered to read all of the posters on the bulletin board. He hadn’t even bothered to write anything on his own slate! Sacrilegious, he thought, as he grabbed the marker atop the board and wrote “To be or not to be, that is the question” to seem far more pretentious than he actually was. An irony only he would see, he realised, but ironic nonetheless.

Making his way over to the crowded bulletin board, he couldn’t help but immediately notice the abundance of missing posters. It was hard to ignore them, especially when the name listed was somebody as well-known as Rachel Amber. Warren wasn’t close with Rachel, not even in the slightest, but he had had his fair share of interactions with her in his time at Blackwell. She was always very kind to him, in the way that Dana was because he was the youngest in their class. It always made him sad to look at the posters for too long, so, with a frown he couldn’t quite wipe away, he shifted his focus to a Vortex Club notice—a party was coming soon. How exciting! Not. Warren only ever attended one, and that was forever ago when he was new and he was geek-of-the-week to get ‘initiated’. He grimaced at the memory, instead checking out some handwritten notes about a missing bike—that must suck—a band looking for a bassist—I can’t hold a note to save my life, let alone play an instrument—and a flyer for a Bible study group—as sweet as that is, I am, above all else, a man of science. Sorry, God, I hope you understand.

Exhausting himself of every possible thing he could decipher on the bulletin board, he swivelled on his heel and almost jumped out of his skin when he was met by Justin and Trevor standing right behind him. “Holy shit—what the hell are you guys doing just standing behind me?” 

“Sorry, man, you just seemed so invested in the shit on the board, we didn’t wanna intrude,” Justin shrugged, clearly not quite caring that much. “You were tapping your foot real loud, man, we wanted to see what was up.”

“Oh, um,” Warren pursed his lips, rubbing at the nape of his neck anxiously. “I couldn’t sleep after the meteor. It was so cool.” In all honesty, it was a little underwhelming. Meteors weren’t, all-in-all, infrequent, and Arcadia Bay could see many meteor showers that passed over, so it was just another fantastic phenomena that he didn’t have to nerd-out over so hard. 

Trevor nodded, agreeing, “Yeah, dude, for sure. Dana and I were watching it tonight. Pretty cool stuff.” 

“How romantic,” Warren joked lightly, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his shaking hands under his armpits to feign some normalcy.

“Yeah, only this dumbass had to interrupt us to get me inside to smoke with him,” Trevor elbowed Justin, assumedly not very bothered if the gentle mirth in his red-rimmed eyes meant anything. 

They bickered back and forth for a bit, their words hushed with their high and overlapping one another. Warren watched for a moment before huffing out a laugh, “Well, ‘s’nice seeing you guys. I’m gonna head outside for a second, it’s a little stuffy in here.”

That caused them to laugh some more, Justin whispering, “We gave the whole dorm a secondhand high,” in Trevor’s general vicinity. “Don’t have too much fun out there, brah,” he added in a more acceptable volume, waving at Warren as the latter headed to the dorm’s exit.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he intended to find outside, but he needed air anyway. Much to his shock, once he magnetically made his way back to the parking lot, the RV was back. Hesitantly, uncertainly, Warren snuck over to it. Just sneak a glance through the window, it’s okay, you’re a superhero, you can just rewind time if you get shot, he hyped himself up, sucking in a few deep breaths before standing on the curb in front of the RV, releasing a heavy sigh when he saw lights, but no sign of life.

An urge took Warren over, like there wasn’t anything he could do besides follow the insistence from within: I have to get inside of that RV, he thought. With overwhelming urgency, Warren jogged over to the door, rattling the handle and cursing under his breath when it was locked. Macgyver it is, he bit back a groan, jostling around in his pocket for his wallet, pulling out the sturdiest card—his library card—and sliding it between the crevice in the door, fumbling with the lock until it clicked open. Slowly, the door opened, giving Warren his chance to sneak in. He shut it behind him, letting out a sigh of relief once he was assuredly inside.

I don’t know how much time I have, he thought anxiously, I better hurry up and find out more about this guy while I have the chance.

Firstly, Warren started with the dashboard of the RV, observing the photos taped around the steering wheel and the copious amounts of fur coating the exterior of the seat. Clearly an animal person, he noted dumbly, focusing on the photos now. Immediately drawing his eye was—Rachel Amber?

Warren hurried over to the dash, eyes wide as he confirmed that, yes, Rachel Amber was the focus of most of the photos. Next to Rachel in a handful was an older man with a beard and blue eyes, brandishing a hat in over half of his appearances. Could this be the owner of the RV?

He crossed an arm over his chest, the other’s hand going up to cup his chin as he glanced around the space. It was an RV, there weren’t too many places he could check (thankfully), but choosing where to start did pose a bit of a challenge. I don’t want to be stuck in the back, might as well start there, Warren thought, taking quick strides through the small area to what he deduced to be the bedroom. Correct as ever, he wrinkled his nose up when he stepped in, the overpowering scent of weed and cheap cologne stronger than any force Warren had stumbled upon in his sixteen years of life.

Using every ounce of fortitude in his body, Warren trudged through and began pilfering through drawers of dressers and end tables, as well as various other nooks throughout the tight space. When nothing came up but random receipts, notes-to-self, and empty baggies, his eyes immediately flitted to the ceiling, then the ground. Soon, he spotted a vent, hiding behind skewed takeout bags and stacks of what could’ve been boxes of literally anything. He grabbed his too-thick wallet out of his pocket and, for once, felt vindicated for always having a small thing of screwdrivers inside one of the worn slots as he found the perfect one to unscrew what held together the vent.

The screws dropped easily to the ground, proving Warren’s assumption that that’s where things were hidden within the RV. Much to his surprise, hiding behind the vent are more photos of Rachel and her apparent boyfriend, if the photos were anything to go off of. There was also a letter from Rachel, but Warren felt too gross reading it, so he gently put it back into place and swapped it out for an account book. Inside were names of dogs, followed by varying drugs, amounts, and prices. Warren, against what should’ve been his better judgement, was taken aback. He scanned through the pages but found more of the same, so he turned to another scrap piece of paper, assuming it to be another letter from Rachel but instead finding a key to the nameless people within the account book. Warren didn’t know what he was looking for, but that felt like a pretty damn good thing to find about the guy who killed Nathan in another timeline.

Seeing Stella on that list was a bit of a shock, Logan a bit less so, but seeing Nathan’s name written after ‘rott’ was both astounding and completely expected. There were a few other familiar names, but seeing then the connection between nameless-RV-man and Nathan really threw Warren for a loop—more of a loop than the whole time-power thing itself had already. Looks like Nathan kicked it for a few days at least. He’s spent a shit-ton of money on this though. It’s no wonder he’s so erratic—his body is in a constant battle with itself. Warren frowned as he pulled his phone out to take photos of his findings before realising, since he needed to rewind time to put everything back in its place proper, the photos would be wiped from his phone. With a sigh, he reluctantly began to tear every instance of drug deals between Nathan and mystery-man from the account book, folding the pages and tucking them into his pocket before rewinding time. He didn’t even stumble that time, just a brief wobble when his own apparition undid his work in front of him. His head throbbed, but he vehemently ignored it as he rushed through the rest of the RV, coming back with nothing except a few scattered notes from Rachel, some letters with a starkly different handwriting from Rachel’s without a signature, and a gun hidden away in a closet. Against his better judgement, he (shakily) tucked it into his waistband and rushed out of the RV before he could second-guess his decision.

Warren verified it was locked before sprinting back to the dorms, his heart beating in his chest more-so from fear than from the exertion. Only when he was safely behind his dorm’s locked door did he exhale. He pulled the gun out of his pants, his grip barely-there on the weapon just so he couldn’t accidentally misfire and get himself expelled and sent to juvenile detention. He sat it on his dresser, keeping a watchful eye on it as he sat at his desk, powered on his laptop, and found a tutorial on how to unload a gun so he could place the magazine and gun itself in completely opposite places in his room. 

Once comfortable with the distance of the components and deeply scared of their presence in his room, Warren powered off his laptop and distantly watched himself prepare for bed. He never changed, but he did turn the contents of his pockets out onto his dresser, taking extra care to use his wallet as an anchor for the papers of names, making sure he didn’t lose those was of high priority. He was under his covers and fighting sleep for a while, but eventually the fear subsided and he was pretty sure he drifted off because—

—Warren startled awake despite himself, immediately bombarded by the memory of the night prior. He didn’t have a nightmare, but he still checked around his room to make sure he wasn’t still in one. The date on his phone said October 8th—okay, cool, that meant a day had passed—and he was still in his graphic t-shirt and jeans from the day before, not having bothered changing into something more appropriate for sleeping. 

He was still a little hesitant, but with the terror of the day before having passed he found he was far more curious than he was scared. He had superpowers! How could science explain that? It felt like his whole world-view had shifted, and he wasn’t so certain of himself or his beliefs anymore. He ran an anxious hand through his hair, ruffling it a bit since he looked like a greaseball with his hair brushed. Grimacing at the taste of his own breath, Warren got out of bed, less hesitant than he was the night before but far more confused because he wasn’t dreaming. He exhaled deeply, looking around the room with a newfound curiosity, wondering if maybe there was a gas leak and he was hallucinating, or if he were in a coma and some weird inconsistency would make him aware of that fact. No matter how hard he inspected, he couldn’t seem to find anything, so he let his shoulders drop from their hunched up position as he collected his shower bag and stuffed a clean pair of clothes into it, wanting to prolong his morning to investigate but needing to go to school. For the first time in at least three weeks, he wished he’d pulled an all-nighter to get to the bottom of everything. Alas, he did not, so he hurried himself out up and out of his room, only just jogging to the showers and hopping into the one nearest to the door to save himself that two seconds of time it would’ve taken to walk farther down.

The second the almost-too-warm spray hit his body, Warren was certain he had never felt anything as good in his whole entire life. He almost sighed aloud, but he just barely held back, inwardly thanking whatever higher power there may or may not have been for inventing warm water. He took his time washing his hair and scrubbing his body, even taking the time to make sure he was decently dried off with a towel before pulling his clothes on. When he padded out of the shower, he had to pretend he didn’t half-jump out of his skin at the sight of no one other than Nathan Prescott standing at the sink, gripping tight onto its porcelain and staring into the mirror. Walking over to the sink farthest from Nathan, Warren located his toothbrush and toothpaste and resolutely looked forward, shifting uncomfortably under the heavy eyes of the boy across the room. Though he could only barely make him out with his peripheral vision, Warren could feel Nathan’s gaze. He knew the other had no idea Warren was present during his almost-death, nor that Warren knew his almost-murderer was his drug dealer, but it still stressed him out to no end knowing what Nathan would say—or worse, do—if he knew Warren saw everything that happened.

Much to Warren’s relief, Nathan left the room without as much as a word uttered in his direction. He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as he finished up brushing his teeth and then went back to his room. There was a decent amount of time until he had to head into Blackwell, so he went to his laptop and booted it up, chewing anxiously on his lip now that he was actually confronting the whole time-rewinding thing. Unsure of where to start, he searched “evidence of time travel”, scoffing at himself for asking such an unhelpful question. It’s a starting point, he told himself, gotta dumb it down to flesh it out, or whatever Mrs. Hoida said.  

Despite being alone in his room, he felt embarrassed to be searching up something he was stupidly educated about. I need to look at this all with a new perspective, Warren sighed, slouching in his desk chair. This isn’t science-fiction anymore, this is your life. Though he didn’t want to, he had to admit that it was all a little hard to wrap his head around. When considered to be fictitious, it was easy to only question the surface-level qualities, even as a science-inclined person. Suddenly finding his reality intertwined with his favourite pieces of media was both so exciting and so petrifying that he wasn’t sure if he felt anything at all. Stop being so dramatic, he rolled his eyes at his own inner-monologue, you’ve prepared for this your whole life by being a nerd—don’t let the suddenness get you all frazzled, Warren. Sucking on his teeth, he trudged through his research, going through bookmarked tabs and poorly organised lists to find articles about people who have, allegedly, experienced time-travel. He didn’t really believe it, at least based on his own experience with it, but he still jotted down important similarities (be there any) between his powers and these written accounts. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, or anything he hadn’t written himself, but it felt nice to connect it to his life. 

Almost forty-five minutes deep into his research, Warren still hadn’t found anything substantial, so he minimised all of the tabs and closed his laptop, huffing as he spun his chair around and checked the time, sighing even more dramatically when he realised he had ten minutes before his first class began. Usually he wouldn’t be so late, but he was so caught up in his research that he couldn’t be bothered to show up bright and early. Tugging his shoes on unceremoniously, he grabbed his bag, double-checking to make sure he had everything in it. Before leaving his room, locking the door, and heading off to Blackwell, he shoved his wallet, keys, and Mr. Mystery’s sale-sheets into his pockets.

His whole body buzzed with untapped potential—or so he told himself so he didn’t throw up from how simultaneously anxious and elated he was. He should tell Max, he thought. Max… she’d be in Mr. Jefferson’s class. “Oh, shit!” Warren hissed under his breath, suddenly remembering Max’s camera in his room. He groaned, quickly pivoting and running back to the dorms, cursing his under-developed lungs as he heaved outside his door for a beat before fumbling to unlock it and stepping inside to grab Max’s camera off of his dresser. 

As he dragged his feet, exiting his room and relocking it, he caught sight of someone exiting Nathan’s room. They were walking out as Warren had his back turned, rounding the corner and leaving the building before Warren could get a decent look at whoever they were. It wasn’t Nathan, he knew, seeing as the person seemed more feminine, but he didn’t have time to theorise. He half-sprinted to school, his anxiety flaring at the prospect of being late.

Once inside the school, Warren’s shoulders dropped and he let out a breath. He didn’t have time to look around the area and talk to anybody still aimlessly wandering. He just instantly turned into Mr. Jefferson’s room, cheering internally when he saw class was yet to start and Max was alone. She smiled when she saw him enter the room and Warren felt on top of the world.

“Sorry, I’m running a little late,” Warren stared for a moment, waiting to see if she had anything to say. When she didn’t interject, he cleared his throat and continued, “I, uh, got your camera.” Nervously, he rubbed at the nape of his neck, an unfortunate tic he’d developed. 

“I knew I could trust you, Warren,” Max’s smile widened as she looked up at him, waiting patiently as he got the camera from his bag, alongside a few photos he took. He couldn’t miss the relieved sigh she let out at the sight of it in one piece. If he didn’t know how dear that camera was to her, he may have been a little offended.

“Max, of course you can trust me,” he said seriously, placing his hand flat on the table in front of her, imagining that was her shoulder he was confidently gripping. She would swoon, thank him up-and-down for his chivalry and leap out of her seat to kiss him. Warren would dip her down, and everybody would cheer. 

He was knocked out of his thoughts by Mr. Jefferson’s commanding tone. “I know you love me, but if you are not in this class then beat it.”

With a huff, he gave Max one final smile, waving almost lamely before sliding off of her table and making his way over to Ms. Grant’s classroom. He was, for possibly the first time in his life, disappointed to be in science at that moment. He had so much he had left to say! He wanted to tell Max what was happening to him, what was going on with Nathan—he could trust her, right? Anxiously, Warren chewed on his bottom lip as he got into his seat, trying not to groan when he saw the TV turned on and prepared for notes. 

Sometime during Ms. Grant’s seemingly endless ramble about significant figures for “you in the front row who still can’t differentiate significant and insignificant zeroes, mm-hm, I’m talking to you”, Warren’s phone went off. 

Sneakily (kind of), he pulled his phone out of his pocket and read the notification, lighting up when he saw Max’s name. “Got your email. I’d totally love to borrow your flash drive. Can’t wait to be let into the mysterious mind of Warren Graham.” He had to fight his desperate want to overreact and freak out about Max’s message, instead slipping his phone back into his pocket and zoning back in to Ms. Grant, who was still walking through a practice problem too many, considering he was in an AP class full of seniors. Warren sighed, not too bothered. After a while, he pulled his phone out again, sending a, “Meet me after school. I’ll meet you in the lot. Looking cool. You’ll see.”

Almost immediately thereafter, his phone pinged with Max’s response. “My camera will be ready. See you shortly.” He couldn’t help the warm, giddy feeling that bubbled up inside of him at their brief chat. Warren didn’t even mind when Ms. Grant called him out by name to put his phone away and focus on the lesson. 

When Warren wasn’t jotting down information he didn’t already know, he was putting together a non-comprehensive list of every theory (plausible and not) as to what his powers were. Eventually, after mulling over a bunch of ideas that inevitably ended up getting him nowhere, he began to ponder the nightmare he had right before he woke up. Warren remembered it like it had actually happened to him; it felt nothing like a dream he’d had before, lucid or otherwise. His best guess was that his powers originated there—maybe the nightmare was a vision of the future, the past, or a different world entirely—he had no idea, but it was something. Something was better than absolutely nothing. He continued to scratch down ideas pertaining specifically to his nightmare, considering every angle, wracking his brain for even the most unimportant facets of time travel in fiction. 

He was so engrossed in his endless line of thought that he barely noticed people packing their bags up and cleaning their stations. Thankfully, he did tune into the real world before the bell rang so Max didn’t make it to his car before he did. He slid all of his belongings haphazardly into his bag, double checking he didn’t leave anything behind as the bell rang before jogging out of the room, throwing a quick “Goodbye, Ms. Grant!” over his shoulder on the way. Warren would let the guilt eat him later for not staying behind and having a quick conversation with her, but he had too much adrenaline running through his system, he didn’t want to wimp out and not tell Max about his scientific discovery. 

As he rushed down the hall, he caught sight of Evan by his locker and he skidded to a stop. “Evan, hey!” Warren waved as he approached.

“Hello, Warren,” Evan greeted with a nod in Warren’s direction. “What’s up?”

“I know I emailed you copies of the photos, but I thought you’d want the physical copies too, so,” he shrugged his back off of his shoulder and caught the strap in his hand, unzipping its smaller front pocket to pull out five passable photos of the meteor, as well as an outtake of the blue moon he shakily took after the events of the night prior. Thumbing the corner of the photo for a second before realising how weird he was being, he passed the photos onto Evan with a small smile.

“Wow, thanks, Warren,” Evan smiled back, taking the photos into his hands and cycling through them slowly. “They definitely look better in person,” he decided, giving them one last onceover before opening his crossbody bag and gently tucking the loose photos between the pages of his portfolio. “I’ll take good care of them, don’t worry. I can tell they’re from Max’s camera. Good choice, very old school.”

Warren huffed, finding the irony of the inevitability that was Max being brought up unfortunate but funny all the while. “Yeah, nobody else here would trust me with their prized possessions," he sighed. “Max trusts me just enough to let me take her camera out for a night.” He didn’t dwell on that thought too long, trying not to convince himself that Max treated him differently (specially) than others. 

Evan shrugged, “Makes sense. Well, thanks again, Warren. I’ll get back to you about your English question later, okay?”

Warren nodded, humming to show he understood, “Awesome, thanks so much, man.” He offered a fist bump and fought back a grin when it was actually reciprocated. “I’ll catch you later, Evan. See ya.”

As he was making his way to the parking lot, he caught sight of Brooke sitting under a tree by herself, surrounded by various binders and looseleaf papers she trapped under her bag so they didn’t fly away with the wind. Warren remembered his sort-of-promise to her from the night prior and began autonomously walking over to her. “Hey, Brooke, what’s up?” He asked once he was close enough not to startle her but not too far away as to have to yell.

She immediately looked up upon hearing his voice, a smile breaking through her previous stoicness, “Hey, Warren. I was starting to think you forgot about me,” she joked.

“I could never,” Warren replied, smiling back. He did feel a little bad that she was clearly so insecure about their friendship that he could make her feel that way, but he didn’t want to mention it and ruin the moment before it even had the chance to start. “What’re you up to?”

Brooke hummed, her eyes trailing over all of what she had before her. “Just cramming for that AP Philosophy exam. You of all people know how Mr. Barnes is about vocabulary,” she sighed out. 

“Oh boy, do I.” Warren cringed just thinking about the email he received from their AP Philosophy teacher about his “less than accurate verbiage.” He didn’t think he’d ever live it down.

Remembering his intentions, he offered Brooke a final smile as he said, “I actually do have to get going now, but it was nice seeing you. Good luck with the studying.”

“Thanks, Warren. I’ll talk to you later.” She gave a wave and a similarly kind smile before diving back into her studying. 

It didn’t take very long for him to actually escape to the parking lot after they shared goodbyes, though it did take him a while to catch his breath and pretend to look cool leaning against his car. After what had been too much time for his unforgiving brand of impatience and overthinking, he pulled his phone out and shot Max a text, veering for chill but funny. “I don’t mind waiting out here forever. I love this parking lot. I can count all the cars…” it read, and by the time he pressed send he realised how pathetic it sounded, how desperate he was sure it sounded on her end. 

Before he could take it back and send something equally as embarrassing, Max responded: “The more I txt the longer I take.” Shortly after came, “On my way.”

“Bye,” Warren sent back, tucking his phone back into his pocket and tapping his foot, feigning impatience so his nerves didn’t win the battle over his excitement about the prospect of quite literally everything happening to him.

It wasn’t very long after her text that she showed up, waving politely at him. “What’s up, Max? How are you?” Warren made a move to hug her, immediately turning the action into a stretch over his shoulder when she looked down to her bag, pulling out the photos Warren had handed her. 

“These photos,” she began with a tentative smile. “They’re pretty good, Warren,” and the praise shot straight through his heart. He was sure there was a dopey grin on his face, but she didn’t seem to mind so he didn’t bother containing it.

“Aw, shucks,” Warren beamed, leaning against his car as he eyed her. Before he got too lost in staring at her, he cleared his throat and swung his bag over his shoulder, sitting it atop his car’s hood before digging into its front pocket and retrieving his flash drive. “For you, madame,” he presented it in a half-bow, not missing her soft giggle at his dramatics. 

“Why thank you, Sir Warren,” Max joked back, collecting it from his hands and looking it over before tucking it into her bag. She cast her vision over to Warren’s car, eventually settling back on the man with a raised brow.

He hummed, shaking his finger knowingly at her as he pushed off of it and swivelled to stare, “Right! You like the new wheels?” He asked with far too much bravado for it being such a lacklustre car.

Max considered his question before nodding, “Cool. Very old school,” she settled for. 

“1978, to be exact,” he bragged. He thought then would be a good time to slip in a smooth date invitation, but his eyes landed on the photos in Max’s hold and he couldn’t help but remember the reason he had wanted to speak to her in the first place. 

Max seemed to notice this shift, and she settled against the car next to him when he relaxed against it. “What’s up, Warren? You’re thinking about something, and I can tell it isn’t your regular nerd bullshit,” despite her wording, her tone was sincere. He sighed, smiling halfheartedly.

“Some crazy shit happened last night, and—and I need to talk to somebody about it,” Warren almost whispered, forcing Max to have to lean closer to even hear what he was saying. “Really, this is some serious shit.”

“I believe you,” she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “you can tell me, I’m listening.”

“I had the most insane experience after school. I mean, some shit even I couldn’t make up if I tried,” Warren laughed humourlessly, his eyes glossing over as he was reminded of the sight of Nathan falling lifelessly to the pavement. He shook his head to clear the thought from his mind. “Have you ever had a dream so real it was like a movie?”

Out of nowhere, another person made themself obvious with heavy footsteps that quickly approached Max and Warren. “Warren Graham, right? You one of these, ah, Blackwell snobs?” He gestured vaguely with his hand. It was the man he saw the night before with Nathan, the man next to Rachel in all of those photos. Warren felt his heart stop.

“I’m a student here,” he decided, trying not to let his internal panic attack externalise itself and result in him throwing up, or somebody getting a gun pulled on them. That would probably be worse than him throwing up. Unless he threw up all over the man and then got a gun pulled on him—

“Right, shut the fuck up,” he waved a hand, raising it in a halting motion when Max took a step forward, causing her to immediately stand down. “You got a real nice car,” the man began gruffly, not even sparing a glance at it despite his words. “You go anywhere last night, around 8? See things you weren’t supposed to see?”

“What—what are you even talking about, dude?” Warren scoffed, laughing nervously. 

“Wroooong choice, kid,” he tutted. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what the fuck you saw last night,” he stepped into Warren’s space, crowding him against the car.

Warren was sure the man could hear his heart jackrabbiting against his chest, “Mind taking a step back? Because I didn’t see shit.” He glanced over at Max who looked scared, and he couldn’t handle that. Warren steeled his face, pressing his lips in a thin line.

The man shook his head, laughing, clearly finding humour where Warren could find none. “Oh, you’re trying to boss me around, huh? After yesterday you really think that’s a smart thing to do?” 

“He—he asked you to step back,” Max hesitantly interjected, her eyebrows furrowed and fear painted clear on her face. Warren’s eyes widened and he wished he could tell her to just not say anything at all because this man is dangerous, Max! Guns and drugs and sketchy RVs type of danger!

“So you’re trying to talk too, missy?” He stepped over to Max instead. “What did he tell you, huh? What do you know?” He spat the last words out, not laying a hand on her but getting real close to. Max looked frozen in place, mouth open but no words coming out.

Warren reminded himself of his powers, of Max’s lack thereof, and braced before placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, yanking him as hard as he could away from her. He watched the man stumble before catching himself, those angry eyes staring daggers straight through Warren’s as he rushed at him, throwing a punch that Warren wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid. It snagged his cheek and nose pretty good, blood immediately gushing out of the latter.

The screeching of tires followed Max’s yell of “Warren!”; a red truck skidded to a stop in front of the three of them, door being swung open as Max hurried over to Warren, shoving the man though it didn’t do much of anything.

Warren was startled to find Nathan in the front seat, as the other seemingly was too, “No fucking way, Gayram?” 

The man was stuck in a heated conversation with Max, talking about how he “wouldn’t put his hands on a woman, but she was really pushing him right now.” Max stared over at Warren, eyes wide as she mouthed get out of here, reminding Warren of what exactly the man in front of him was capable of. She seemed confident that she’d be okay, and Warren wasn’t ready to get shot, so he turned back to Nathan.

“Get in, dumbass,” Nathan gritted through his teeth, calling Warren to immediate action as he jumped into the truck, halfway through closing the door when the other man ran over. As soon as Warren closed it, the truck shook as it was kicked, probably dented, and Nathan peeled off so fast his tires left tar-black marks on the pavement.

Warren thanked everything there was that Max had run off, or hid, because she was nowhere to be seen as the man they left behind shouted something or other before running off somewhere. Warren let out a shaky exhale as he properly seated himself in Nathan’s truck, all of the adrenaline finally catching up to him in the form of full-body shakes.

“Jesus Christ,” Warren breathed out, resting an elbow on his knee and pressing his forehead into his palm. 

Nathan eyed him as he drove, “‘And thank you Nathan for saving my worthless fuckin’ life?’” He grunted. “Asshole.”

“Oh, shit, yeah, right—right,” Warren’s eyes widened as he turned to face Nathan, even though the other couldn’t look back. “Seriously, thank you so much. You had no reason to get me back there, but, just—thank you.”

“What the fuck ever,” Nathan muttered, bringing them back to an uncomfortable silence. Eventually, he broke it by asking, “What did that asshole want with you anyways?” His hands were tense on the steering wheel. Warren didn’t know what to make of it.

“I... I’m not sure,” Warren lied, licking his too-dry lips and fiddling with his seatbelt. “Must’ve thought I was someone else, probably. Do you know him?” He deflected, turning the question onto Nathan, as if he didn’t already know the answer.

Still suspicious, Nathan squinted his eyes at Warren when they slowed at a red light, cocking his eyebrow as if saying ‘really?’ to him. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Why are you lying to the guy who just saved your ass? You think that’s good etiquette?” He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel before eventually settling on just holding tightly onto it with one hand, the other running anxiously through his wind-tousled hair.

Warren stammered, groaning as he realised he did owe Nathan the decency of some honesty. He wasn’t going to reveal the whole superpower thing, the being present at Nathan’s almost-death thing, or the stolen account book pages thing, but he could paraphrase. “I overheard a drug deal of his that went south,” he started, enunciating every word carefully as he thought through his next sentence. “He must’ve seen my car and realised I was the one who was there. Pretty scary—the shit he’s capable of, y’know?” He vehemently avoided eye contact, not wanting his incapability to act hindering his well-intentioned performance.

“Huh,” Nathan responded vaguely, the noise so neutral that Warren couldn’t begin to decipher what he meant by it. “Your nose is bleeding all over your corny ass shirt, by the way, dipshit,” he sniffed, barking out a laugh when Warren scrambled to cup his hand under his chin to catch the blood. He flipped down the mirror in front of him, eyeing his face. His nose wasn’t actively bleeding anymore, but there was a decent amount of blood dried down his face. He groaned when he touched his sore nose, not at all excited for how it was going to bruise in the upcoming hours.

“Whateverthefuck,” Nathan eventually sighed, turning onto a dirt road and into a secluded area with a barn. “You can find something in here to fix your face,” he relented. The barn looked pretty rundown, like it was unused, but the tire tracks littering the half-grassless lot made it clear that it wasn’t fully vacant.

“Where are we?” Warren asked nervously, still not certain Nathan wouldn’t change his mind about being so kind and pull his own gun out on him. 

Nathan pulled his key out of the ignition, pocketing it before turning to face Warren, “It’s my family’s barn. I can take you back to your buddy Frank if you’d like, though,” he softened his expression, obviously only to tease Warren. It was especially obvious when Nathan stuck out his bottom lip and tilted his head, reaching forward to jostle Warren’s shoulder in a way that was veering on too violent to be playful.

Frank, Warren thought. That’s the man’s name. “I’m actually alright,” he smiled tersely, nodding his head once when Nathan finally let go of his arm. “Y’know,” he started, finally gauging the area, “for being a Prescott-owned barn, it’s a real shithole.”

Nathan, startling Warren enough to audibly gasp, fisted the front of the latter’s shirt roughly, lips in a thin line as he gritted, “Let me hear you say that one more fucking time, Gayram,” through his teeth. Before Warren could even apologise, Nathan dropped his hold, taking a step back before pivoting entirely and walking towards the barn. Since he didn’t want to get left behind, Warren immediately followed in tow. The silence was tense, but not uncomfortable somehow, like the silence was what they both needed to ruminate.

Surprising Warren, Nathan was the first to speak again after they made it to the side of the barn, rather than the front, “Come on. We have to enter from a hole over here, the front is locked up.” Warren pondered over the implications of the doors being locked and Nathan not having a key, but it didn’t matter so much in that moment so he easily followed the man over to the far end of the barn’s side and waited patiently as he manoeuvred a scrap of metal around to reveal the entrance. “Go,” Nathan huffed when Warren just stood there, earning a stuttered apology as the latter stepped through as carefully as he could. Wanting to be at least slightly useful, Warren held open the pseudo-door for Nathan and only dropped it once the man was inside as well. 

The place wasn’t very well kept, Warren noted once he finally had the chance to look around. There was old, unused farm equipment stashed in the corners, as well as hay bales and straw stacked unceremoniously around the barn. It was clear that the building was entirely abandoned, save for working lights. It struck Warren as odd for the barn to have working electricity, but it made sense for the Prescott’s to waste money on something that nobody visited or cleaned. Nathan walked around the place, turning on individual light switches until the whole barn was (sparsely) lit up. It wasn’t very cosy like most farmsteads, but Warren understood the appeal of such a place. That place being Nathan’s escape made a lot of sense, and, though he said nothing as not to ruin the moment, Warren felt honoured to be part of such a personal thing for the man. It must’ve been hard for Nathan to be so vulnerable, show him his safe space. Well, that was unless Warren was reading the whole situation very wrong and it really just was a dilapidated barn that Nathan took him to so he wouldn’t die in a tragic shootout. 

Nathan seemed content to stew in the silence, so Warren let him, wandering aimlessly to locate anything that could possibly help him. He couldn’t help that his mind kept drifting back to his company though—he would never have expected Nathan Prescott of all people to free him from danger, let alone be as cordial as he was about it. He was far from the perfect knight in shining armour—missing not only the armour but the compassion too—but he was Warren’s saviour nonetheless. 

In one of the less cluttered corners, there was a dingy old workshop table, littered with various tools, screws, and—”Oh, sick, a roll of paper towels. Does this place have running water?” Warren called the last part over his shoulder, glancing around the space until he found Nathan.

“Uh-huh,” Nathan grunted back. Warren waited for specification, though none came. Sighing, Warren resigned himself to walking around the space until he found a spigot or, preferably, a modern and clean sink. 

Alas, nothing of the sort made itself obvious. Though he checked above, under, and around everything—nothing. Warren eyed the kind-of-entrance, chewing on his bottom lip as he eventually lost his mental battle against himself (or won, depending on how he decided to think about it) and made his way over to leave the barn and look for a spigot outside. Nathan seemed preoccupied when he turned around, so Warren just walked over to the metal-covered hole, pressing against it carefully before realising that it wouldn't do anything. He cursed under his breath, manoeuvering himself around to grab both sides of the scrap with his hands. He shuffled it out of the way, hissing when a sharper edge nicked his hand. Warren took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he tried not to let these trivialities upset him when he was still living and life didn’t seem ill-prepared to test him. “Don’t even care that that just happened,” Warren whispered to himself, scoffing and shrugging his shoulders so he wouldn’t start crying—Nathan would never let him live it down if he started crying over the world’s smallest injury.

The bleeding wasn’t awful, so he was easily able to trudge through it without thinking too hard about it. Once he was finally outside, he felt the weight of everything hit him simultaneously. He hadn’t used his powers since earlier that morning, having no need to by that point, but he felt so worn down. Warren, despite his attempts to ignore the thought, couldn’t help but hyperfocus on the fact that he wouldn’t even be where he was—with Nathan in a decrepit barn—if he weren’t in that parking lot the night prior. It sent a shiver down his spine at just the thought alone. He forced the thought away by thinking a train of gibberish in his mind, focusing on that while wandering around the barn’s perimeter awkwardly. Eventually, he did find a spigot near the opposite end of where the ‘entrance’ was, thanking everything that he didn’t have to go back inside and ask Nathan to help him find it. Once he approached the spout, Warren cupped his hand under it, using the free one to pour some into his hand. It was freezing cold as it hit his skin, but he used both hands to splash the water in his face, scrubbing under his nose, over his lips, and down his chin carefully but thoroughly. He repeated the action a few times before his hands stopped turning up red. The water did well to clean off the fresh blood of his new wound, but he double checked to make sure it was all good.

Warren got a bit more water and splashed it arbitrarily in his face, wiping the droplets off as best he could with the back of his arm. He should go back inside and grab the paper towels to make sure his face was actually clean, he thought, but it felt nice outside, the early October neutrality being the perfect weather to contemplate in. He surveyed the area, whispering a “wow” under his breath as he got a good look at the barn’s exterior. It was a lot more rundown than Warren had originally gathered from farther away. Eventually, he did realise he left Nathan alone for a while, and he should probably do something. He supposed he should say something, maybe apologise, maybe thank him. Maybe both. He was at an impasse, but they’d both be stuck there forever if he didn’t just act.

As Warren indecisively looked around the area, he jumped. In the distance sat a cat, on a patch of more-lush-than-the-rest grass, staring straight at him. He squinted, trying to make sense of the slight translucency the animal had to it. Hesitantly, he began approaching it, far too scientifically curious to pass on such an interesting specimen. The closer Warren got, the more apparent the cat’s ghostly-attributes became. When he was much closer than he anticipated getting, he held his breath, just making prolonged eye contact with the fluffy cat flicking its tail. Startling him out of his stupor, the cat sat up and ran in the opposite direction at its full speed, leaving Warren to stare, slackjawed, as it disappeared.

As if this day couldn’t get any weirder, Warren thought to himself, shaking his head to reorient his thoughts.

Warren finally headed back to the entrance after a moment of rumination, rolling his shoulders just to stall before climbing back through, being extra careful that time not to cut himself on the metal. Thank God I’m up to date on my shots, he thought, shaking his hand at the mere thought of getting Tetanus from the scrap of metal. 

Once stood nearing the centre of the barn, he looked around until his eyes landed on Nathan. He slowly walked closer to the man’s general vicinity, not wanting to get too close too fast and scare him. He was still stuck on the apparition he saw, but he stuck to his original plan, already too accustomed to wrenches and hindrances to want to put a damper in another idea of his.

“Thank you again,” Warren tried once he was close enough, his voice uncertain despite his attempt at confidence. “I know you don’t give a shit about me—” that earned him a scoffed “well, duh” in response, but he continued on. “—and, that you have better shit to do than make sure I don’t end up with a bullet in my head.” Warren wavered there, suddenly remembering the whole reason he’d even made it to this point. Nathan, dead in the parking lot. He was armed, Warren remembered, and yet he didn’t feel the same amount of fear he did around Frank. It was like, deep down, he knew Nathan wouldn’t shoot him, as much as he probably wanted to. “Just—accept my damn thanks, okay? This is awkward for both of us.”

Nathan groaned, tossing his head back and dramatically running his hands down his face before relenting with a sharp, “Fine! Fine, you win. Yeah, whatever. It would’ve looked bad on my family if you died at Blackwell, so, don’t get all hot about this, Gayram.” It was nice to know some things never changed when Warren’s whole life had been flipped upside down. Even then, Nathan made time to insult him unnecessarily, and Warren couldn’t help but smile. It lacked its usual malice, though venomous in its own right. 

“I’ll try not to, it’s gonna be real hard though,” Warren laughed when Nathan gagged at that, standing up from where he must’ve sat on a hay bale while Warren was monologuing. As he lost himself in thought, he was reminded of Max in an instant. “Um,” he started, his mind having caught up to the moment, “shit, did I leave my phone in your car?” He felt all of his pockets twice, three times for his phone. He felt something, yanking it out, it happened to be his wallet. At the momentum in which it was yanked from his pocket, some of what he had loosely held between the sides of the wallet fell out. “Shit,” Warren hissed, crouching down to grab his dollar bills, post-it notes, and—

“What the fuck is this?” Nathan hissed, startling Warren with his approach. He, too, crouched down and pulled a photo off of the ground. It was the photo of the blue moon Warren got the night before, the foreground featuring the distant trees, as well as some of the cars (including his own) in the parking lot. In frame as well was an RV—Frank’s RV. “You fucking prick, you were there? Is that why he’s on your ass?” He got up in Warren’s face, pointing at him and staring so angrily Warren swore he was about to get socked in the face.

“No, well, maybe?” Warren felt his breathing pick up, “Okay, yes! Yes, that's why! I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna tell you and have you mad at me—don’t hurt me—”

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” Nathan held tightly onto the photo, not once taking his eyes off of it. “...You saved my life,” he admitted hesitantly, letting out a disbelieving chuckle. “Here I was thinking I was helping a charity case, and you saved my fucking life last night. That was your loud ass car?” For once in the years Warren had known Nathan, he saw him smile, real and genuine. 

Warren couldn’t help but smile anxiously, letting out an unexpected laugh of his own as he stared up at Nathan. “Yeah, I—I don’t know, I just saw the gun and freaked—”

“What did you see?” Nathan asked promptly, so quick that Warren was still in the middle of his sentence. “Tell me, right now. What all did you see last night?” He crouched back down to Warren’s level, staring him directly in the eyes.

“Nothing—” Warren attempted, getting cut off by Nathan tutting him before he decided he had nothing better to do than tell the man. He didn’t get to vent to Max, and Nathan honestly didn’t seem like the worst person in the world to get advice from for slowly losing your mind. “I, um, well I guess I saw everything,” he started plainly, noting Nathan’s “go on” expression. “He, uh, Frank, mentioned money, and drugs, and then you had a gun, and he had a gun, and—” Warren cut himself off, shaking his head as he remembered the night, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah, it was scary,” he decided, hesitantly meeting eyes with Nathan who seemed entirely indifferent. There was a slight tremour to him however, one that Warren only noticed because of their close proximity. He was nervous he’d have to reveal more about his night, about the papers in his pocket that suddenly weighed a thousand pounds.

“Did you tell anybody?” Nathan whispered, fingertips and knuckles paling from how harshly he gripped his thighs, possibly to ground himself, Warren assumed.

Warren immediately shook his head, eyes widening, “No—no, I didn’t know what to do,” his tone was defensive despite his best efforts. “I just photographed the meteor and went to bed afterwards,” he added, wondering if Nathan was the type of person to believe more details meant you were lying as he did so. 

“Right,” Nathan muttered, pushing himself off the ground with a huff and beginning to pace. He chewed on his already bitten-to-all-hell nails, whole body tense as he walked himself in sort-of circles. Eventually, he must’ve had an idea as he walked back over to Warren, causing the latter to lean back in an attempt to regain some personal space. “I owe Frank some money,” Nathan admitted, sucking on his teeth, “lots of it, too. He won’t stop riding my ass about it. The reason he came out last night was because I’d been avoiding his little errand girl, or whatever.” He rolled his eyes, self-consciously crossing his arms over his chest.

“Errand girl?” Warren furrowed his brows, remembering the person he saw exiting Nathan’s room that morning. He wondered if he should say something, but before he had the chance, Nathan laughed wryly.

“Yeah, this punk bitch. She went to Blackwell,” Nathan eyed Warren as he explained, hands tightly gripping his forearms where they crossed over his chest. “Her name’s Chloe Price. She plays Frank’s bitch so she doesn’t have to pay back her own debts,” he seethed as Warren’s eyes widened, easily recognising the name from his earlier years at Blackwell, as well as the key for the nicknames used during Frank’s sales. He wondered if they were the same person.

“That’s Rachel’s friend who got expelled, right?” He asked after a beat of percolation, almost awestruck. It was a little dizzying how everything he knew was falling apart at the seams, and yet everything kept coming full circle. 

“Yeah,” Nathan’s gaze grew glassy, the incessant tapping of his foot slowing as he stared off just past Warren’s head for a brief moment before steeling his expression and clearing his throat. “Yeah, that’s her,” he added, voice slightly rougher than before. He seemed less coherent after Warren’s comment, and the thought alone made his stomach twist. Because he couldn’t stand to be the cause of his forced companion’s upset, he took a deep breath in and raised his hand, not even flinching when the world around him became hazy for a second before he dropped his arm.

“—so she doesn’t have to pay back her own debts,” Nathan hissed in the same way he had before.

“I remember her,” Warren hummed. “I had no idea she was into that kind of thing.”

Nathan let out a sharp laugh, uncrossing his arms and slapping a hand onto Warren’s shoulder, “She was working for Frank long before she got her dumbass expelled,” he revealed. “I saw her sneak out to meet him all the time,” Nathan huffed, “which is idiotic, if you ask me. Buying drugs at Blackwell? It’s no wonder she got expelled, she doesn’t take anything seriously.” Warren overlooked the irony of Nathan’s final statement because the trauma was too fresh.

Warren could feel just how intensely Nathan disliked Chloe, like there was more than Warren could pick out from just the man’s words. They had some history, that was for certain, and he wasn’t ready to dig into all of that after the day he was having. Maybe later, he thought optimistically. That is, if he doesn’t decide he hates me and beats my ass to the ground.

“Anyways,” Nathan cleared his throat, biting on his bottom lip. “Come on, we’re leaving,” he announced, doing a once-over of the barn before walking to the far wall. Warren did the same, double checking that his phone wasn’t in his pocket as he did so. He didn’t care to mention it when he saw Nathan slip the photo he took of the blue moon in his pocket. 

As they made their way outside, Warren immediately spotted his phone, running over to where it was on the ground. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” he groaned, staring in horror at his cracked screen. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket at some point without him realising. He pressed the power button, cringing when the screen held new inky spots and staticky lines. “My parents are going to kill me.”

“What the fuck are you crying about over here?” Nathan had been by his truck, but turned around when he saw Warren wasn’t following him. He glanced down at the man’s phone screen, letting out a sharp breath, almost like a laugh but lacking the necessary humour. “Way to go, Gayram.” He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, chewing on the inside of his cheek. What Warren read as hesitance followed before: “...I can pay to have your screen replaced,” he murmured, like the words were killer and any too-loud utterance would end his life on the spot.

Warren tried not to perk up at that, but he couldn’t help himself. “Oh, please, I couldn’t ask you to do that—”

“Yeah, that’s why I fucking offered, dipshit. Just accept it before I change my mind and snap your phone in half myself.” Nathan sounded serious, like he would just take the damaged phone out of Warren’s hands and run it over until it became one with the dirt road.

“Okay! Please don’t break my phone!” Warren added quickly after Nathan ended his sentence, tensing up briefly before dropping his shoulders, finishing with a quiet, “Thank you, again. You aren’t that bad when you’re not trying to beat my ass.”

“That last part is still negotiable if you don’t shut the fuck up and get in the car,” Nathan side-eyed Warren, smirking when the latter immediately moved to get over to the truck. Warren wasn’t going to take any unnecessary risks, especially when it came to Nathan, so he very easily slid into the truck and buckled up, anxiously rapping his knuckles on his thighs as Nathan hoisted himself up, shutting the door harder than he really needed to and starting the car up. 

They peeled off fairly easily, the nearby road barren as it was in such an underdeveloped part of Arcadia Bay. It wasn’t long before the Prescotts remembered the area existed and they took it over too, Warren thought with an internal sigh. He hadn’t been born nor raised in the quaint town, but it was his home, and to slowly watch its nature become smog-ridden was a blow to his poor heart. Occasionally, between melancholy glances out the window, Warren would watch Nathan, trying to figure out what was going on in that unreadable mind of his. Despite his unwavering, jock-y archetypal bullshit, Nathan wasn’t like anybody Warren had met before. Intelligent as he was, he never attended class, always finding his way into Mr. Jefferson’s classroom. It was a little ironic that as closed off and snippy a guy Nathan was, he had such an unparalleled eye for photography. Though his work was grim and dark, Warren was never shocked to see how high the photographs placed in competitions throughout the years. 

“You got a fuckin’ staring problem?” Nathan did a triple-take on Warren before spitting out the question, his hand doing one final, harsh drum on the steering wheel before gripping its sturdy foam.

Now slightly more accustomed to Nathan’s bite, Warren smiled lopsidedly, rubbing the back of his neck and muttering, “No, just zoning out.” It was a lame excuse with how obviously he had been dissecting Nathan, but it wasn’t entirely untrue.

“Whateverthefuck,” Nathan grumbled, rolling to a stop at the red light and briefly checking his phone, looking away before quickly glancing back at it and tensing.

“...Everything alright?” Warren hesitantly asked, not wanting Nathan to snap at him for his nosiness.

“Fuckin’ Frank,” Nathan ran a hand down his face. “Texting me from a burner phone, threatening to ‘beat my ass’. Sayin’ I stole shit outta his RV, or whatever. As if he could lay a finger on me without the whole city of cops after him.” He scoffed, like that was quite possibly the stupidest idea he’d ever heard.

Warren’s expression soured, forcing himself to stare straight ahead as Nathan half-paid attention to the road. “I know you said you owe Frank money, but, um,” he wasn’t sure how much he was allowed to inquire about, but they’d gotten this far, so he allowed himself some grace. “How did you meet him? And… and why can’t you just pay him back and be done with him?” The thousands of dollars written out on the yellowed papers in Warren’s back pocket burnt red-hot through the dense fabric, scalding his skin despite the feat itself being close to impossible.

Nathan sucked on his teeth, “‘S’not that easy.” He sighed, clearly deciding where to begin. “I met Frank at one of these, ah, parties. Wasn’t really my scene then, but I had a friend who was friends with that dyke bitch and invited me to come with her. Long story short, blue-hair gave me a sample, told me to loosen up, and suddenly I was putting my contact into Frank’s phone and meeting up with him every week for more.” 

Warren hummed, encouraging Nathan to continue. “Well, a year, almost two years, in, I spent all the money my parents gave me on drugs.” He furrowed his brows and side-eyed Warren, like he still didn’t trust him to admit all that he was admitting, but he didn’t see any surprise or disgust in the other’s eyes and eventually continued on. “I knew I’d die if I just quit cold-turkey, so I kept tellin’ Frank over and over that I’d pay him back when I could. ‘S’been going on almost a year now and I have a hell of a fuckin’ debt to pay back and not enough money coming in to pay it.” He fisted his hair in his hand, elbow perched on the edge of the car door as he drove.

“Wow,” Warren whispered, staring ahead as he carefully considered his next question. “Do you wanna stop? Doing—using, um, taking… drugs?” He thought back to those brief periods in between smaller purchases where it looked like maybe Nathan was done with it all, and he thought of the large purchases following those breaks. It made his heart shatter behind his ribs, but he tried to ignore it.

Nathan outright laughed at Warren’s question, “You sound so fucking lame,” he sighed. “No, not really,” he admitted after a beat of silence. “What’s with all the fuckin’ questions, Gayram? You trying to analyse me, huh? ‘Cause I pay people to do that. I don’t need you doing it, too.”

“No, no, not analysing, just… I want to understand,” Warren chewed on his bottom lip, supposing it was his time to talk about himself to lessen the interrogative atmosphere. “I’ve never had disposable money like that, or the friends to lead me down that path so it’s very… um, interesting. To me. I-I never knew you, ‘cause I was busy studying ‘n being, uh, lame, to use your language and—”

“Cut to the fuckin’ chase, Jesus Christ,” Nathan interrupted, probably tired of hearing Warren stutter over himself.

“Right, yeah, sorry. You weren’t… like this when I knew of you,” he worded carefully. “You were, um, like—I dunno, I always thought you were like me back then. We both got bullied, y’know, and… I always wondered what made you change. I guess I never judged you for bullying people after what you’d been through, but I was always so curious about the why. Got me wondering if I’d’ve done what you did, given your same circumstances,” he rambled on with furrowed brows, lost in his own thoughts as the words blended into one another near the end.

“Still sounds like you’re analysing me,” Nathan murmured, somehow holding off from snapping at Warren for his overzealousness and unnecessary scrutiny. “Do you always talk this much?”

It was a deflection clear as day, and having already pushed his luck so much he knew better than to press Nathan further. “Yeah it’s an, uh, it’s a real problem I have. I guess.” He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers on his thighs. Hesitantly, he spoke up, “Sorry, I know that probably sounded so… weird. Like—like I was watching you or something, ‘cause I wasn’t I just, um.” His sentence fell flat as he realised he kind of was watching Nathan all that time. Among other people, obviously, as it was a loner’s duty to observe, but he definitely kept his eye on the Prescott. Having heard only bad things from passersby, it was incredibly intriguing to see the shift in the derogatory language used against him; from bullying to fear, its only consistency was the bad light everyone saw him in. Warren wanted to know who he was underneath all of the peer-honoured titles.

“Okay, I guess maybe I was watching you a little bit, but—but it wasn’t anything weird,” Warren defended preemptively. “Just usual people-watching. But, um, anyways, my point is, is that, ah,” he stopped, wondering what his point was. “I guess I want to get to know you?” He winced, ready to pivot if Nathan seemed unimpressed.

Nathan snorted a laugh, “You’re so fucking lame, dude, seriously. Whatever, you saved my life, today is your free-day to assault me with your nerdy questions.” He rolled his eyes, readjusting his rearview mirror and stealing a glance to his right as he did so. He seemed to immediately regret his offer, but bit his tongue to hold off on taking it back. 

Warren perked up, nodding immediately. “Oh, wow, cool, okay—thank you!” He was as pleased as could be, wracking his head around what he could possibly ask when given such a broad category. He could be invasive and risk an immediate veto to the free-for-all questioning, or he could play it safe and get answers to things he doesn’t really care all that much about. Ever the nerd-brain, Warren decided to start easy; a question he was genuinely intrigued by, and one Nathan would (assumedly) enjoy talking about. “What got you interested in photography?”

“Seriously? Okay,” he huffed, having probably expected something more in-depth and personal. “My parents always took us on these fancy ass trips. I got bored, and so my dad bought me a camera to keep me occupied. I thought it was lame at the time, but it kinda stuck. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, don’t ask me gay questions like that again.” Nathan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel briefly as he ended his spiel, teeth visibly grinding.

“Sorry, sorry, alright. Nothing gay, right, okay, um.” Warren chewed on his bottom lip, wondering what even constituted as gay or not-gay. “How—”

“Would you look at that, we’re here,” Nathan interrupted loudly, smiling to himself. Maybe he had planned the whole question thing to end with very few asked and answered, but Warren would never know. He chose to believe Nathan was that smart, though. 

Lo and behold, it was a small shop with a fading sign. There was a phone decal next to three bright green dollar signs. “Just—out of curiosity…” Nathan grumbled something akin to ‘of course you still have more fucking questions’ as Warren began speaking. “You said you didn’t have any money, how are you going to—to pay for my phone screen?” Warren instantaneously began feeling awful, not having thought too hard about it beforehand.

Nathan sighed like Warren sounded stupid, “I don’t got cash, but I have a card. My parents stopped sending paper, so all I have is this shit that I can’t even take cash out of.” Warren nodded with a hum; it made sense. With his spending habits, his parents probably thought something was wrong and put a stop to it. Or his parents were just that controlling. Maybe when they got closer—fingers crossed—Nathan would tell him. Warren didn’t bank on it.

“Oh,” was all Warren replied, waiting for Nathan to speak. He didn’t, choosing instead to just hop out of the truck. Warren followed, feeling like a bit of a child just trailing behind Nathan as they stepped into the store. 

Nathan stood at the counter, tapping an impatient foot as he waited for an employee. Eventually, somebody came out, Nathan showed them the damage, and Warren pretended not to wince at the price tag on such a fix (it was only ninety-dollars, but that felt like much more than he was worth). No, you’re a superhero, don’t think like that, he thought to himself, though it didn’t do much to quiet his overactive inner-voice.

Warren had wandered away soon after the price was uttered, wanting to let the guilt eat away at him privately. Nathan approached him soon thereafter, “It’ll be fixed in a few hours, c’mon, we’re going somewhere.”

Warren’s eyes widened, “What? Where—we’re, okay hold on—” he tried to ask questions, but Nathan just kept walking. He gave up once the front door opened and closed and Warren was left alone in the store. He sighed, jogging out to meet Nathan at his truck.

Once inside of the vehicle, Warren murmured, “Thank you for paying for that. You really didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, now shutthefuckup,” Nathan flapped his hand at Warren, non-verbally reiterating for him to shut up. He found his keys in his pocket, starting the truck and peeling out just as carelessly as he had earlier. 

Warren huffed, yet nonetheless, he stopped talking. As much as he really did want to know where they were going, he knew it was a lost cause to try and get a straight answer out of Nathan. He acquiesced, placating him by silently staring out the window and trying to ascertain where they were in Arcadia Bay by the sights.

Even as they got closer, Warren couldn’t quite pinpoint the location. It wasn’t very long before Nathan announced, “We’re here,” and stopped his truck.

Warren looked around in front of them, “...A parking lot?”

Nathan scoffed, “Jesus, are you fucking blind, Gayram?” He insulted, gesturing his hand out past the parking lot. “No, obviously not—there’s a giant fucking lighthouse in the distance.”

Warren whispered an ‘oh’, lips forming a tight line as he nodded, only slightly embarrassed, “Right, I knew that. Why are we… here?” He felt a little off, the lock’s click resounding throughout the truck and garnering Warren’s attention. He watched Nathan leap out, following suit, barely able to hear the sound of his own door shutting over the sound of Nathan’s.

“Frank doesn’t come out here,” he answered without further context, leaving Warren to wonder why Frank stayed away. 

“‘Kay,” Warren murmured, his heart sinking once they passed over the chained fence to the lighthouse. This is the exact place I woke up in my dream, er, nightmare yesterday. What the hell is going on?

Nathan walked ahead as Warren thoroughly examined the surroundings, his pulse racing at every detail he could recall from that damn nightmare. He hadn’t ever been to the lighthouse—it would’ve been lame to go to the party-spot with no party—so the fact that the fake trail in his mind had been so vivid was scary. Even down to the footfalls in the mud, he thought to himself as he eyed deep, sole-shaped grooves in the dirt. The rain had washed them away, but that’s exactly where they were. 

“Yo, are you fucking coming, slow-ass?” Nathan yelled from the top of the path, tossing out his arms as if to say, ‘hello? I’m waiting’.

“Yeah, sorry!” Sparing one final glance behind him, Warren ran up the path, meeting Nathan at the top where he wordlessly led him up to the bench looking out onto Arcadia Bay. It was a lot smaller than it seemed when so far away. Warren shivered at the sight of graffiti identical to that of which he saw in his dream, the same etchings into the wood, and the same, dirt-blurred information board.

He looked forward at Nathan, arms tightly crossed as he stared off into the distance, taking up far too much space on the bench. Still, Warren walked over and joined him, taking up significantly less space. He eyed Nathan, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he tried to think of anything to say.

Suddenly, “I think you really got to him,” Nathan laughed out. It was a kind of bitter, kind of disbelieving laugh, but it made Warren’s lips itch to twitch up into a smile.

“Why do you say that?” Warren asked, tilting slightly to face Nathan. The other still stared out into the distance, but he was sure he saw Warren’s repositioning from his peripherals.

“He has been texting me non-fucking-stop, being all paranoid about ‘being robbed’,” Nathan scoffed. “Every single fucking day for a whole year he’s been texting my phone from different numbers, or emailing me, or whateverthefuck he feels like doing to try and get the money. Not today, though. Freak’s too busy freakin’ out about his stupid fucking RV.”

Nathan continued on, “He’s so fucking weird about that piece of shit. Like anyone would bother robbing it.” He shook his head, a fond smile on his face like that would just absolutely make his day. “I can’t imagine the look on his face,” he said, proving Warren’s suspicion that he’d be beyond delighted to know his theory was true.

“Wow, I can’t imagine a guy like him getting scared over… anything,” Warren, despite how hard he tried to keep it together, was internally freaking out because Frank knew somebody stole from him. He always assumed drug dealers were paranoid and partial to personal space, but he never expected to experience that firsthand. Having to pretend he had no clue what was going on was hard, but he chose to see it as a chance to dissect his beliefs and find the science backing his reactions to people different than himself. Right, it was just an experiment, his heart was only racing because he was excited to get answers to a question he didn’t know he had.

“Frank’s scared to all hell about everything. He pretends he’s tough and fearless because, deep down, he’s just like all these other Arcadia Bay pussies.” Nathan tapped his fingers on his forearm, letting his arms relax from their crossed position as he finally turned to face Warren, stunning the latter briefly. “Some people are obvious with their fear,” he tacked on after meeting Warren’s eyes, raising his eyebrow. “But others just hide it behind drugs,” and letters inside vents, Warren added mentally. And guns, he thought thereafter with a wince.

Warren ruminated over what Nathan had to say, thinking about his fears. As a man of science, he was actually scared of a lot less than what Nathan probably assumed he was. Most of his fears were rooted in the irrational, things he couldn’t back with science, things he couldn’t help no matter how hard he tried to. He wondered what kinds of things Nathan feared, if the drugs really did dull the fear or if the drugs just gave him an excuse to be scared. Warren remembered being younger and being hospitalised briefly for a lingering flu. He was constantly loopy, the medicine masking any other thing he could possibly feel. Despite the inherent safety of hospitals, he remembered, on top of the loopiness, he was scared. Scared for what would happen if the illness didn’t die down, if it was something incurable and he was living within the confines of his new home. More than that, he was scared of how he’d feel when the meds wore off and he was forced to remember himself past the haze he had been in.

“Are you speaking from experience?” Warren hesitantly asked, playing with a frayed thread on his jeans as he waited for a response. As much as he wanted to believe he had his answer, a few papers with Nathan’s name on them didn’t mean anything when he had the man himself seated right next to him.

“Guess I have to be,” Nathan sighed out, not quite giving the answer Warren expected but giving one sufficient enough for him not to press further.

Before Warren could attempt a response, Nathan added a question onto his last words: “Did you know Rachel Amber?”

Warren wasn’t sure what to say, but he soon began to recall everything he had seen in Frank’s RV, his heart skipping over every other beat in its race to catch in his throat. Of course I knew Rachel, everyone knew Rachel, Warren thought to say before stopping himself. “No I… I didn’t know her,” he tried instead, furrowing his brows and briefly side-eyeing Nathan every few seconds before returning his gaze to the ground. “Why do you ask?” He offered lamely instead of letting the awkward silence grow even more tense.

Nathan looked like he had something to say, but he must’ve shook himself out of it, “No reason,” he murmured. “Just curious.”

Despite himself, the look in Nathan’s eyes encouraged Warren to blurt out, “Actually, I—I didn’t know her, but I know… some things. About her.” It didn’t at all come out in the way he intended it to, nor did he plan on saying anything in the first place, but remembering Nathan’s earlier reaction and seeing how distant he’d gotten then pushed Warren to act.

Nathan suddenly sat up straight, turning to face Warren, “‘Scuse me?” He looked like one wrong word would undo all of the work they’d put into their friendship—if Warren could call whatever was blossoming between them that–that day.

It was an out, a way for Warren to decide if he was doing the right thing or not by blabbering uselessly (as per usual). The crutch his powers gave him had produced a confidence he didn’t know he had before within him, so he continued, “I may have, um… snuckintofranksrvandstolesomeofhisthings.” 

Nathan moved his whole body then to face Warren, lip threatening to curl into a disbelieving scowl as he slowly put together the remnants of his sentence. “You said what now, dumbass?” There was a trace of laughter in his tone, like there was no conceivable way that Warren would even think about doing any such thing.

“I said…” Warren’s sentence fell flat before he drew in a deep breath and steeled his expression, just barely stopping himself from jolting when he made eye contact with Nathan. “I said I snuck into Frank’s RV and, uh, borrowed a few things. Things… about Rachel Amber.”

“Alright, if you’re joking around, it isn’t fucking funny, okay?” Nathan hissed, pressing a rigid finger harshly into Warren’s collarbone, causing the latter to wince. “Rachel would never hang around that fucking freak—so if you’re gonna say some bullshit about her being—being missing and say Frank has something to do with it to piss me off, you better just shut your fucking mouth.”

Warren knew Nathan was going to react explosively to the information, but he also knew he had information worth upsetting Nathan for. “No, I would never introduce information like… I would never treat something so serious like that,” he shook his head as he spoke, expression earnest as he held onto hope that Nathan wouldn’t just toss him over the ledge of the cliff.

“Then get to the fucking point—before I throw you into the fucking ocean,” Nathan threatened; Warren would’ve laughed if he weren’t so worried about Nathan actually going through with his threat.

“Rachel and Frank were seeing each other,” Warren spoke slowly, quickly speaking again before Nathan could begin to deny it. “He has a shit load of letters from her, and photos with her, and—well, I didn’t read the letters, but some of the photos were, um,” he felt his face begin to fluster despite himself, “pretty explicit.”

Nathan barked out a laugh, his finger turning into a palm pressed flat and fingers digging into the fabric of Warren’s shirt before loosening and sliding down until it hit Nathan’s own knee. “If you were anybody else,” he whispered, shaking his head like a moment he looked back on fondly wormed its way into the forefront of his mind, “I’d call you a lying piece of shit, probably even get you kicked out of Blackwell and blacklisted from every school in this fucking state, but you—?” Nathan picked his hand up and ran it down his face. “That fucking asshole,” he seethed. “I knew he was acting weird as fuck about Rach—knew I recognised that fucking bracelet he’s always wearing.”

Warren let Nathan ramble to himself, watching with upturned brows as a million different thoughts ran through his mind, conflicting emotions playing all over Nathan’s face. 

Without further pretense, Nathan was in his space again, “What else did you see? You have to tell me.” He sounded urgent, like he was either going to fall apart or explode at any moment.

“I, um, well. I found an account book, full of all his deals and—and a key for his encoded transactions.” Warren didn’t mention that he saw Nathan’s name on there, instead pivoting to; “There were a couple of letters around that absolutely were not from Rachel. I didn’t read them, but they weren’t signed, and it wasn’t Frank’s handwriting either.” Though he didn’t read even a word of Rachel’s letters, he couldn’t say the same about the mystery person’s letters. He bit his lip as he admitted, “Some of those ones mentioned, um, deals falling through, and—” should he admit that Nathan and Rachel’s names appeared more than once?

“And? Don’t get all quiet now,” Nathan was in his face by that point. “You’re telling me Frank was—is seeing Rachel and I had no fucking clue? Her best friend had no clue?” His voice got progressively louder as his anger came back again, truly unable to accept that somebody he held close to his heart and somebody he hated with everything he was could be connected in such a way. Warren didn’t miss Nathan’s adjusted language either—language shifted to present tense, to a tense where Rachel is alive. It was hopeful, and Warren admired that, so he, too, chose to run with that belief.

“I’m so sorry, Nathan,” Warren whispered. “Look, we—” he knew he had a point to make, an offer to extend, but he felt his brows begin to furrow, his vision blurring when, in an instant—

—He was back in that fucking nightmare, at the entrance to the lighthouse. No, nonono, not again, not right now! I have to go get Nathan away from the lighthouse. If he’s still even up there—shit! In the downpour, Warren saw a cat—or at least, the apparition of one. He held an arm over his face to try and ward off some of the heavy rain. The cat pounced off up the path, and Warren followed. Is that the same damn cat I saw at the barn? What the shit is happening?

Thunder cracked, and Warren felt his breath catch in his throat when a boulder rolled down the left side of the path, his head shooting back up to face forwards when he was suddenly faced with a felled tree heading towards him. Quickly, he raised his arm, watching the tree reform before letting go. Before he could think too hard about it, he pushed forward, his heart racing as the lightning’s thunder gave way to what almost killed him. Warren resolutely kept walking, not wanting to look back at the downed tree and see himself dead, too, even if it was just the fear of it happening.

He just barely missed a pile of logs rolling down the hill. There’s no way this is real, he thought on loop, shaking his head as he finally breached the top of the hill, that same damn boat knocking the top of the lighthouse off and heading straight for him as he raised his hand up, rewinding far enough to ensure he could get out of the danger zone. Once he crossed over to the information board, he gasped when he read the newspaper, October 11th? Warren thought, that’s this Friday. Is—is this storm heading for Arcadia Bay? For real? Jesus Christ. 

The newspaper tore itself away from his hands with the wind, joining whatever else made up the tornado across the horizon. He watched it, not wanting to believe it when he saw it was very quickly approaching the town, just as he had suspected. 

In what felt like forever but must’ve been a minute or two, Warren was jolted out of the nightmare, eyes wide and frantic as Nathan shook him by his shoulders. “Nathan? Nathan!” Warren gasped, reaching a hesitant hand forward just to poke the man and prove he was real. When he was met by the very real, very living, breathing form of Nathan, he stumbled to his knees. Nathan followed, crouching down in front of him, probably on instinct. “This is real, this is really real, oh fuck—this sucks.”

“What the fuck’s gotten into you, Gayram? Are you on something? You blacked the fuck out.” Nathan looked just as frantic as Warren felt. It was almost enough to knock a laugh out of him, but he couldn’t even pretend anything was funny right then.

“No, I’m—no. I didn’t black out, I… saw the tornado again,” Warren slowly looked up, glancing between both of Nathan’s eyes just so he had something to focus on besides panicking. “A tornado is coming for Arcadia Bay.”

“You’re fucking high, dude. Oregon barely gets bad storms, let alone tornadoes. You’re actually off the crack pipe—you need some water, man—”

Warren gripped Nathan’s shoulder, “No, Nathan. It’s real, I’m serious. I saw it and—and I could feel it all around me.” Nathan must’ve tried to find a way around the sincerity in his tone, but his expression soured as he couldn't find anything to say back.

“Fucking breathe, dipshit,” Nathan hissed, tense but not pulling away from Warren's shaking hand. If Warren were more stable-minded he might’ve been grateful, but then he only had one thing on his mind.

“I’m not crazy—I swear I’m not,” Warren immediately defended. “God, I’m a man of science, I’d’ve admitted myself somewhere if I didn't know this was real.” He shook his head, “I need to tell you something, need to get it off my chest.”

“Spit it out before you fucking keel,” Nathan ushered, not willing to wait and see if Warren would actually pass out from how desperately he was sucking breaths in.

Warren's mouth felt dry, and right then he felt like he might’ve started crying, but he held off. “I saw the tornado last night, too,” he began vaguely. “Thought it was some sort of insanely lucid nightmare, but after I woke up I realised I could... reverse time. I know it sounds batshit, I know, but... I’m not crazy.” He admitted it like he knew Nathan would insult him, prepared for anything to come out of his unpredictable mouth.

“You swear you aren't crazy, but you must be high. There’s no way in hell you were sober hallucinating fucking powers,” Nathan was clearly startled, like he wasn’t used to dealing with the type of senseless Warren was in that moment. It was a little sobering to witness firsthand. 

“No, listen to me,” Warren pressed. “How do you think I saved your life in the parking lot?” He asked earnestly, trying desperately to get through to Nathan.

“By using your time powers?” Nathan replied mockingly. “Yeah fucking right.”

“I saw him kill you, Nathan. Saw you actually—actually die.” Warren swallowed back the tears that once again threatened to spill, determined not to make an ass of himself in an already exceedingly vulnerable moment. “I reversed time, and I—I don't know how, but I started my car, and you're alive so...” he trailed off, feeling himself begin to disassociate now that he was actually forced to face the unthinkable predicament that was his life.

“If you’re not high, we gotta get you high. You’re stressed, I’m stressed, let’s just head back to the barn and roll up.” Nathan must’ve really thought Warren had something wrong with him with how he spoke to him like a child on the verge of a tantrum. 

That tone snapped Warren out of his dissociative state, and he shook his head, startling when a snowflake hit his face. Both of them glanced up, shocked to find more snowflakes falling despite how high the temperature was in relation to the month.

“What the fuck?” Nathan glanced between the ever quickening snowfall and Warren who slowly stood and walked over to the edge of the cliff, staring off into Arcadia Bay in the distance.

“It’s almost eighty degrees,” Warren whispered as Nathan walked over to him. “Either climate change worsened at an unforeseeably exponential rate overnight, or... a storm’s coming.”

Nathan looked scared—for once in all the time Warren had known him—as he met Warren’s eyes. “Start from the top. Tell me everything—every last fucking detail.”

Warren nodded, following Nathan over to the bench as the latter stumbled over to it himself, pressing his elbow into his knee and cradling his head as Warren began regaling the story—start to finish—and solidifying the start of their new, forced companionship.