Reality Separated By A Lens (Boy x Boy) #Wattys2016

Chapter 1: A Human Muse (Sam POV)

Authors Note : If you enjoy this story, please leave a vote! It always encourages me to continue!
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Ive always found myself coming back to photography. It's the only art that has really kept me from delving back into a morbid feeling of hopelessness. I've tried everything. Drawing, singing, acting, even dancing... but nothing has helped me quite like photography.

My psychiatrist told my parents that my so called, 'obsession' with photos could be a way of me trying to cope with the fact that I was molested. That I'm covering up traumatizing pictures in my head from that day with my own pictures that I created through my camera. For example, instead of the picture in my head of a forty year old man groping my six year old body, I have a little girl playing with her friends and parents.

To that theory, I say that it's not true. Not every damn thing I feel passionate about has a psychiatric equation somehow relating to my trauma behind it. Maybe I'm doing all this stuff to forget about it? Then again, that may make my psychiatrist right, huh? Maybe I am using photography to supress my dark memories. But who wouldn't? Whats wrong with wanting to forget something so sinister? I get that the right thing for me to do is to instead cope with it but whats so bad about just forgetting?

My parents are in somewhat of a... tight position. They'd much rather have me doing what I love, which they know is photography, but they can't just ignore a doctors warning signs that this may be a bad habit that I'm getting into.

My usual schedule would be to wake up in the morning, get ready in my usual clothing, which would probably be like, a purple scarf, a white coat, black jeans, and probably my white converse. I dont exactly have a diverse wardrobe. Especially during the winter months.

In fact, the most diverse part about me would be my hair. I dye it. A lot. I'd often get teased about it at school. You know, the usual things teens would say.

"Oh we get it, you're edgy, kid."

"Wow, how often do you cut your wrists, faggot?"

I don't by any means get bullied as much as it seems. I do have a solid groups of friends and theres just douchebags out there. I learned that some people just wont understand someones personal expression. Hey, I'm just as guilty as anyone else. I'm not trying to sound like that whiny teen whos always like,

"Why does nobody understand me?!"

I get it. Nobody will every fully understand another person.

Anyways, my hair. Its purple, and messy. A bit messy. But I style it that way. My hair is also mid length, just going to my neck. My bangs are about eye length but brushed to the side to reveal them. Yeah, my eyes are kinda special I guess. They are like, a silverish grey that can look violet under certain lightings. My eyes come in a lot of different hues though. My eyes are also in a sharp, droopy look. They look tired but also full. Its odd, I know.

I'm pale, naturally cause I live in Michigan and I'm white. I am about five foot... five inches? I know... I'm pretty short. Have mercy. Anyways, I'm also pretty thin. I dont eat a lot but it's not an unhealthy habit, at least not yet.

I'd normally just go straight out after I got ready to do some shoots but lately my parents have been making me eat breakfast first, so now I just comply and eat whatever meal my mom would cook. I understand that they are just looking out for me and trying to find a medium between what I love and my psychiatrists medical requests.

Anyways, after I eat, I go to the park just a block down from my house. As I walked, I noticed that the snow wasn't so bad, which was odd considering we'd often get a foot of snow around now but today we only had about... four inches I would say?

I'd often go to the park cause it honestly just had great shots year round. You could take grim shots of the dead trees during the Winter, which was what I was doing, on one knee as I took a few quick snaps. You could take pictures of the people, fall shots of the leaves, and so on. I could go on all day.

My camera was pretty good. I put about four hundred dollars into it and it went up to 55 mm. I believe it was a solid Nikon. It was definitely decent but nothing special.

Anyways, today, the park was different. I saw him. For the first time in about... a month? I had just been snapping some photos of the jungle gym when I saw Nate just to the right of it, painting his heart out on the canvas that rested peacefully on it's easel.

The man was beautiful, model worthy. Perfect for photos, obviously. He could easily be a model. No doubt in my mind. On top of that, his amazing, bright art work just added to the beauty of the photos considering the scene around him was all dull, full of greys and the death of nature. There was a definite contrast in my work with him in it. The man was about, six foot three. Pretty tall, definitely couldn't be a model if he was any taller. At least, for a runway. Nate was slim but definitely fully toned out, having broad shoulders and probably a strong six pack. It would be a mystery how since he really just draws and paints. The man had tanner skin due to his Italian heritage. He had dark brown hair that was shorter but his bangs just brushed over his eyes. Oh, and his eyes. They were probably the brightest, most solid sea green hue I've ever seen. His jawline was sharp but was cutely rounded at the corners so it definitely seemed natural. He had dimples, when you saw him smile. Which was rare. His teeth were even cute, his canines sharp to give him a toothy grin. He wore a black hoodie, grey jeans, and white vans. Definitely casual clothing.

I quickly snapped pics, obviously staying hidden behind a tree, being careful that he wouldn't see me. Im ridiculously shy. So if he ever confronted me, I'd probably panic and run on the spot. And thats just what I did. Cause when I saw his eyes land on me, I quickly dashed off like the little creeper I honestly was.

God help me.