Chapter 4
Nathan
The evening air is light and fresh, the sun stretching the shadows of a clump of trees across the growing grass.
Nathan runs, his stride long and easy. He runs, the burn of the last few miles building in his thighs, his calves, pushing through the fatigue. His feet feel like he’s running through clouds, new trainers cushioning each impact so he can run further. Longer. Further still.
It’s amazing how running can wipe your brain nearly clean when you’re in the zone.
It’s frustrating how it isn’t wiping his brain clean today, the steady rhythm not quite enough.
There are just so many thoughts trapped in his head.
He wishes he could get into the zone, push them all to the side, focus on the rasp of air drawn in and pushed out, the burn in his muscles, the trickle of sweat running down his back.
They keep popping back in, the thoughts.
He’ll be seventeen soon. One more year left at school, and then Dad’s plan will move into its next phase.
It’s been ramping up over the past year or so. Being dragged to community events in a suit and tie, shaking hands with Dad’s cronies. After school classes, training his Gift relentlessly at home on his own and with professional tutors. No scary tracksuited women, at least.
But the summer camp. God, the summer camp.
He’d spent most of it messaging Will.
His practical, pragmatic best friend pushed him to make the most of it, but Nathan couldn’t shake the feeling of being forced into a social circle, forced to befriend others because of one part of him. A part that doesn’t define him, not like it does Dad.
There’s more to life than Gifts. There’s more to people than whether they’re Gifted or not.
If only Dad agreed.
He allows himself a little fantasy. Choosing the next thing based on his own interests, sports science or maybe even catering college. Friends he chooses, time spent with people based on how much he likes them rather than the value of the relationship Dad thinks might be valuable in the future.
If Mum hadn’t died, life might be different. She would fight in his corner, argue for balance rather than narrow focus. She would love Will, wouldn’t dismiss him. She would see the years of friendship as something to be treasured, rather than a pointless waste of time.
The park is emptying out, this close to dinner time, a stream of families exiting through one of the pairs of wrought-iron gates. Up ahead, two people sit on a bench, kissing enthusiastically.
He runs past, trying to keep his eyes averted out of politeness. Faint flashes of silver draw his attention regardless.
Miriam doesn’t even notice him, absorbed in the slide of Fin’s lips against hers. Her hand cups his jaw gently, markings shining around her wrist.
Ex-girlfriend seems too strong a label for someone he only dated for a few weeks. He hopes Fin is more attentive than he was. Especially given the bondmarks.
He’s had a few girlfriends since. Nothing serious, nothing lasting more than a few months at most. He always ends up feeling like he’s missing out on time with Will.
How can any girlfriend compete with years of spending all your time together, spilling secrets and sharing every worry?
Since Will came out, their friendship has continued to deepen, forged in whispered conversations in the dead of night, phones bright under the covers while their houses sleep around them.
Sometimes, Nathan wonders if there’s more there than just friendship.
If he’s honest with himself, he knows he has a crush on Will. He hides it beneath the bravado and the shit talking, propelling him into casual touches disguised as playful violence.
Will’s seventeen and a half, tall and good looking with golden-brown skin unmarred by the acne that erupts on most of their classmates’ faces, Nathan’s included.
He wears black all the time, clothes that cling to his body, emphasising the breadth of his shoulders and the length of his legs.
His hair is darker than Nathan’s, riotous curls shorn short on the sides and left long enough on top that Nathan can’t help but want to run his fingers through it. Maybe while kissing him.
This crush makes him at least bi curious. Probably full on bi, given the contents of some of his more lucid dreams.
“Good thing you aren’t my type.”
He pushes the memory away and speeds up.
Sometime later, a notification interrupts the steady beat of Mum’s favourite song. A message from Will.
Nathan slows to a jog and dials.
“Yeah?”
“I’m in the park running. What’s up?”
“Wanna come for dinner? Mum’s making that chicken and coconut rice thing you like.”
“I’d love to. Been running for over an hour, though, probably stinky.”
“You can shower here if you want. Jon’s probably got some sweats you can borrow.”
Nathan laughs. “He’s taller than me.”
“Most people are taller than you. You can roll the legs up.”
“Alright. Be there in twenty, okay?”
“See you soon.”
The call ends abruptly, replaced by the tail end of the song. Nathan smiles, jogging around a lamp post and back the way he came, away from the exit that leads home and towards the one that leads to Park Crescent.
Three quarters of an hour later, Nathan takes a seat at the Savea kitchen table. Will’s dad is probably at the hospital, using his own particularly dextrous Gift to perform some kind of complex surgery. “Where’s Jon?”
“Out with some friends.” Will fills a couple of glasses from the tap and brings them over to the table.
“Can I help with anything, Mrs Savea?”
“You just rest, dear, Will said you’d been running.”
Nathan gulps down half the glass before he responds. “I can still help, though.”
“I’ve got it, no need to worry.”
She sends three plates over to the stove, piling rice and curried chicken into each one before moving them over to the table. It’s impressive work, juggling three separate objects and dishing up food at the same time.
The food is incredible as always, rich and savoury with spices, the slightest sweetness coming from the coconut milk used to cook the rice. Nathan wolfs it down with an enthusiasm he can’t quite muster for his dad’s more utilitarian cooking.
When their plates are scraped clean, Will insists on stacking them into the dishwasher by hand, slotting them into place one by one. “I got that new melee fighting game. Wanna try it?”
“I should really get home, but… alright. No racing?”
“C’mon, Nathan, that game’s for kids.”
“I like it, though.” Nathan thanks Mrs Savea again and follows Will into the living room.
Half an hour later, Nathan throws his controller dramatically to the side, sliding dramatically from the sofa to lie flat on the floor. “This game is stupid. Why are we even playing it?”
Will rolls his eyes, his own controller grasped loosely between his fingers as he lounges at the opposite end of the sofa. “Because I like the series?”
“Ugh.” Nathan sits up, shuffling back until he’s cross legged on the soft carpet, back pressed against the sofa. “Stupid game.”
Will reaches down, ruffling Nathan’s hair in a motion he knows is meant to be patronising, even if it feels comforting and affectionate. “Aw. Want to play something less complicated? Maybe something that needs a bit less skill?”
Nathan decides that the only reasonable thing to do is to drive his elbow gently into Will’s thigh, currently stretched out on the sofa behind his right shoulder. He cackles gleefully at the sharp ouch his friend gives in response.
“Seriously.” Will rubs his thigh, face distorted in a pained squint. “If you just stopped getting overexcited and button mashing, you’d be fine.”
“You know I can’t stop myself from getting overexcited, Will. I’m not as composed as you are.”
His inability to sit still is something he wishes he had more control over. He envies Will his ability to just be, sitting quietly without constantly shifting his limbs or standing up or stretching. Will is all relaxed stillness, and Nathan is all buzzing movement.
They balance each other out well.
“I know, I know. You should be glad Jon’s out, he’d never let you live that performance down. You wanna play another round, try to redeem yourself?”
“I should think about getting home. The old man’s gonna be pissed.”
But Nathan doesn’t want to go home.
The tension between them is thick and cold, impenetrable like the portcullis in some ancient fortress.
When Mum was still alive they’d visited one, a big grey slab of a building with narrow arrow slits and a portcullis so rusty he’d wondered if it would even lift.
Dad slipped through to the other side, peering through at him with amused eyes as Nathan tried to poke fingers into his belly through the gaps.
Now they stand either side of the divide, eyeing each other warily.
Dad has been clear about what he expects.
But Nathan dreams of carving a different path, one of his own.
He’s researched it, actually. Investigated how much it’d cost to go to university on his own terms, slip out of the noose of Dad’s money and pay his own way.
It’ll be tight, but it’s doable if he finds a job in the first month or so.
If he goes to the same uni as Will, he knows his best friend will help however he can.
There’s hope. It spreads a blanket over his shoulders, keeps him warm and motivated. Unlike the thought of explaining his plan to Dad. That conversation is bound to go badly.
Will’s knee bumps his shoulder.
Nathan relaxes slowly, taking a deep breath and blowing it out with a huff.
He tilts his head backwards on the edge of the sofa, peering at his friend upside down. He looks good today. Like he does every day. Tight black jeans and a dark grey T-shirt, a couple of braided black leather bracelets winding around one wrist.
Their eyes meet. A sudden slash of longing whips through him, sharp and hollow and pointless.
He can’t stop himself from asking. “You like anyone, Will?”
Will’s eyes are guarded, his eyebrows drawing together. “Nah. You?”
“Nope.” Nathan reaches up, trying to poke Will’s frown lines and laughing as he bats his hand away. “I saw Miriam and Fin at the park. Silver markings all over her wrist.”
“I heard they bonded. Happened at Ivy’s party the other week.”
“Dad heard about it before I did. Her mum shared the news pretty fast.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. He said they were very young to be bonding already, but at least Fin’s a six, not a bad bondmate. He’s so predictable.”
Will looks away. Guilt prickles at the back of Nathan’s throat, even though he knows Will’s used to it. It must be hard, being a Blank in a world that takes Gifts for granted, but Will rarely talks about it.
He throws himself upright, looking down at his best friend. His confusingly gorgeous best friend. He collapses back onto the sofa, settling with his knee barely brushing Will’s. “Go on. One more before I go?”
“Alright.” Will’s thumbs fly over the buttons of his controller, setting up their next match.
They watch the intro cutscene in silence.
“Try to keep up.” Will’s tone is the definition of sarcasm.
Within moments, they’re absorbed into the game, fingers twitching over d-pads and buttons. Nathan gets flustered almost immediately, his button mashing tendencies taking over.
“What do you think it feels like?”
“What?” Will’s attention is fixed on the screen in front of them, his own fingers moving gracefully and with precision.
“Bonding. Knowing there’s one person who has your back, always.”
“I dunno if it’s that simple. Mum says there are times when the bond breaks for people who aren’t the best match. If things are bad enough between them.”
“For real?” Nathan shivers at the idea. “But everything you hear about bonds is about how powerful they are. Woven of pure fated love or some shit like that.”
“Mum said it's rare.” Will shrugs. “Anyway, the really powerful shit doesn’t kick in ’til the marks are solid. You know.”
Nathan can almost feel his cheeks heating up. “Yeah. Miriam’s marks were still faint. They haven’t done it yet.”
“Matter of time, I guess. Not like their parents will stop them. I bet everyone wants them to seal the bond.”
“Ugh, can you imagine? Your parents encouraging it? Fuck. I hope if I bond it doesn’t happen ’til I’m old enough to have my own place.”
Will chuckles distractedly.
Nathan’s button mashing reaches new levels of intensity. “Oh shit. No, no, no, you bastard!”
“You’re going down. Don’t try to fight it.”
Of course he does. Not that it makes the tiniest bit of difference. “FUCK!”
“Nathan, if your father heard you using that kind of language there’d be trouble,” Will’s mum calls from the other room.
“Sorry, Mrs Savea!” Nathan tosses the controller gently into Will’s lap. “Time to go.”
“Later.”
When he pulls the door shut behind him, he sighs, bracing himself for all the discomforts of home. It’s a short walk; a few minutes from Will’s house to the park, ten minutes through the park if he takes the long route, and then a few minutes more to his own front door.
He chooses the longer route, walking slowly along the meandering paths rather than cutting across the meadow in the centre. The paths are bordered by tall trees, oaks and willows and others he can’t name.
The gorgeous orange and pink glow of sunset filters through the leaves of an ancient oak tree, dappling prettily on the path ahead of him.
He takes a quick photo and sends it to Will.
His phone vibrates with an almost immediate response: a photo of an open book, its pages crisp and new, Will’s legs stretched out on the sofa in the background.
Nathan can almost feel the cosiness of it, the peace.
Their message history is full of photos, snapshots of their lives when they’re apart.
Dad’s watching the news in the living room when Nathan finally gets home. His eyes narrow as he takes in the unfamiliar clothing, the plastic bag looped over his wrist. “At the Saveas’ again?”
He can’t resist. “Yeah. With my best friend.”
Dad levers himself up from the sofa. “Suppose that means you’re okay with an hour less sleep. Come on, time to train.”
Nathan sighs and trudges after him, sending Will a quick message behind his father’s back.
The space that used to be their dining room is set up with five wooden crates, each with a different-shaped hole in the top. In front of them, five objects of different shapes and sizes, from a heavy kettlebell to a delicate china teacup.
“You know what to do. Move them all at once, and don’t break anything. You can go to bed when you’re done it twenty times.”
He pushes Nathan into place and leaves, closing the door behind him.