Chapter Text
It all started on a pretty unremarkable day.
Middle of the second semester, Tuesday morning, Fernando Torres just finished his Communications class. Introduction to Speech Communication, if you cared to know. And what Fernando cared to know was why he even needed to take Communications when he didn’t need no fancy-pants public speaking skills for his Psychology degree anyway.
But, whatever. The more pressing dilemma now was that he had a majors class right after, and the School of Social Sciences was on the other end of the campus.
Tuesdays were always the trickiest part of Fernando’s schedule. By university rules, professors should give their students a short grace period to move from one classroom to another. Like all university rules, this wasn’t followed. This meant that Fernando had a 15-minute walk or a 10-minute jog or a 5-minute frantic, lung-busting run across school once a week.
Fernando hurried down the steps of the School of Humanities, bustling past lucky students who were on break, loitering around. He leaped down the last two steps, landing easily on his scuffed Nikes, and he had to smile at himself; he was making good time. Hopping down the sidewalk and looking down to check his watch, Fernando –
BEEEEEP!
Fernando screamed in shock as he scrambled backwards instinctively, fearful for his life. The jalopy was going so fast and he was crossing blindly that he almost got side-swept. So close, too close that the Spaniard felt the wind whip against his face as the vehicle passed. And came to a screeching halt just a few metres away.
The driver rolled down his windows and angrily shoved his aviators up to his hair so he could glare at Fernando squarely.
“Hey, girlie, watch where you’re going!”
Fernando’s jaw dropped. “Fuck off!” He yelled back.
The driver threw him one more dirty look before he flashed Fernando his middle finger, pulled his shades back down over his eyes and gunned his car. The jeep swiftly sprung to a start and in a matter of seconds, it disappeared around the corner, the revving of its engine left in its wake.
And that was that. The beginning.
*
The next Tuesday, Fernando was proud to say that he was able to cross the pedestrian lane safely and with no real incident. He even looked left and right, even though the driveway of the School of Humanities was a one-lane, one-way street. He also didn’t exhale until he was safe on the other side.
His Communications class let them out early today so he was in no real rush. He took the time to enjoy the morning breeze, the rare sun shining brightly in his eyes, and Fernando let himself smile easily as he cut through the parking lot.
Then, a voice broke into his thoughts with a sarcastic retort, “Well, hey, if it isn’t my favourite pedestrian.”
Fernando’s eyes flew open and he immediately stopped in his tracks. He turned to the source of the remark and saw the very same driver from yesterday. The tall boy was reclined against the front of his jeep. His aviators were on again, but Fernando could feel the glare straight on anyway.
“You know, you would be my favourite too, except you tried to kill me,” Fernando smiled sweetly in return.
“Yeah, well, you’re a pretty easy target,” the driver smirked.
Fernando rolled his eyes. “If you drive the way you do, anyone is a target. Like that girl,” he nodded towards a passing girl texting on her cellphone. “Or that tree over there,” he pointed over to the far side of the parking lot.
A small, twisted smile played on the stranger’s lips and for a long moment, his gaze just rested on Fernando. Fernando couldn’t see behind the guy’s shades, but he suddenly felt uncomfortable. Like the other boy was scrutinising him.
“Anyway, I’d love to stay for the sparkling conversation, but I’m afraid I have other things to do,” Fernando began, hitching his slingbag higher up his shoulder and starting to take a few steps away.
“Hold on,” the driver suddenly said, pushing off of the hood of his car. He went by the side of his jeep and rummaged inside through the open window. Fernando stood there, confused – he could have walked away now, time was a-ticking and his class was not gonna wait for him. But he just stood there, waiting, almost in blind deference.
The other boy was finally able to extricate his knapsack from inside the car, and he started rooting inside it as he approached Fernando again. Suddenly, a fresh wave of anxiety hit Fernando. That this was a complete stranger and those tattoos were probably not a good sign, nor was his temperamental driving behaviour. And he wasn’t going to bring out a gun, right? It would be petty to shoot someone in bright daylight over something as small as a road altercation?
“W-what are you doing?”
Click.
The driver started shooting Fernando, alright. His camera was poised in front of his face, resting solidly against the palm of his hand, with his fingers deftly adjusting the lens.
“Hey, stop!”
Click.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Fernando demanded angrily, covering the boy’s lens roughly with his hands. The stranger immediately recoiled, covering his camera protectively and shoving Fernando away.
“What the fuck did you think I was doing?” He retorted back. “What, you think I’m perving on you? I’m stalking you now?”
Fernando couldn’t answer, and that made the stranger smirk again.
“Fine arts major, babe. Minor in photography. Happy?”
Fernando tried to cover up his embarrassed flushing by snapping, “So, you just start taking pictures randomly without asking for permission?”
“I don’t like it when my subjects pose.”
“I am not your subject.”
The boy shrugged, a snide grin tugging on his lips. “Too bad. You’re very pretty.”
The blush spread even more wildly now across Fernando’s face and neck. The stranger flipped his camera to show Fernando his shots. The Spaniard grudgingly admitted that they were good – the yellow of the sun, the blurred background of the cars and the pedestrians, the pure anger in his face.
“Ironic.” Fernando commented.
“Good eye,” the photographer smiled, and it was the first smile that didn’t contain a hint of sarcasm. “What’s your name?” He asked.
Fernando’s eyebrows rose in suspicion.
The other boy laughed, “For the caption. Or would you prefer ‘roadkill,’ because that would work too?”
“Uh, Fernando Torres.”
“Yeah, not gonna remember that. Do you have a pen or something?”
Fernando dug around his pockets for his Bic. He asked unsurely, “Paper?”
The boy held out his open hand. “Palm.”
Fernando raised an eyebrow.
“What? Palm is paper in rock, paper, scissors.”
Fernando shook his head, refusing to find that joke funny. “Fine.”
The boy offered his hand again, grinning widely now like this was a well-practiced foolproof tactic of his, and that irked Fernando. So, instead, he wrote on the back of his own hand.
Fernando Torres.
“And so you remember,” he wrote under his name: Roadkill.
“Brilliant. So, what now, I take your hand home with me?” The boy asked dryly.
“No. Take a picture.” Fernando said, adding smoothly, “I’m your subject, right?”
An amused grin slowly spread across the boy’s face, and he raised his camera again. Fernando raised his hand to the camera and, additionally, raised his middle finger to the stranger. The boy couldn’t help but laugh as he took the picture.
One last, quiet click.
“Compelling,” The boy commented, reviewing the photo and rubbing the screen against his shirt to clear it up.
“Thank you.”
“I’m Daniel Agger, by the way.”
Fernando shrugged and started walking away. He called back over his shoulder with a taunting smile, “Yeah, not gonna remember that.”
*
“I might submit your pictures for my portraiture class,” Daniel greeted as he suddenly appeared by Fernando’s side. “Is that okay?”
“Do what you want,” the Spaniard sighed dismissively, pushing past the crowd and hurrying down the corridors.
Dan struggled to catch up with the blonde. “Why the fuck are you always in a hurry?”
Fernando rolled his eyes and spoke loudly, so that Daniel – a few yards behind him – could still hear. “Because you’ve already made me late for class once. It’s not gonna happen again.”
There was a sudden tug on Fernando’s arm and he was pulled back a couple of steps. “Daniel!”
The boy grinned. “So, you remembered my name after all.”
“Good for you. Can I go now?”
“Wow, and people say I'm an asshole.”
“You are. I’m not. I just can’t be bothered to be nice with someone who isn’t.”
Daniel flinched. Okay, maybe he deserved that. Their introduction last week had not been pleasant.
“Let me make it up to you, I’ll drive you to your next class.”
“Excuse me?”
Dan shrugged. “I’m on break anyway.”
Fernando laughed in disbelief and pointed out, “I need to go to the School of Social Sciences.”
“I know,” Dan smirked, glancing at the Psychology book in Fernando’s arms. “Well?”
Well? Fernando wasn’t going to turn down a free ride.
“Fine, let’s go.”
Daniel grinned triumphantly and walked faster so he could lead the Spaniard to his car.
“I’m not going to die in this short, three-kilometer drive, am I?” Fernando asked, half-sarcastic, half-sincere.
Dan twirled his keys around his fingertip and did not answer – just whistled innocently.
“Daniel!”
“What?”
“Maybe I should just walk.”
Dan laughed. “Relax, I’ll follow the speed limit for you.”
“Thank you,” Fernando huffed.
When they got to the parking lot, Daniel got into the jeep first, so he could unlock the door to the passenger seat.
“What, it’s not automatic?” Fernando mocked.
Dan glared – he caressed the car’s dashboard defensively. “It’s an old car, but it runs like a dream, okay.”
And Fernando suddenly felt embarrassed because he didn’t expect Dan to take it so personally. He took his attitude down a notch. After all, Dan was already doing something nice for him.
“Um, I... like the seats?” Fernando offered. “They’re... squishy. Like… marshmallows,” he mumbled incoherently in a well-meaning yet failed effort to make it up to the driver.
Dan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to patronise me.”
Damn, Fernando cursed inside his head. He was usually brilliant at making people like him. It came naturally with being born with good looks – he got away with an awful lot. But for some strange reason, he couldn’t be as smooth and charming with this boy.
It must be because Daniel was so annoying all the time.
Dan slipped the key in the ignition and the car came to life. Fernando silently noted that the engine did purr evenly. Dan eased the car into first gear, smoothly moving out of the parking slot. He was still a bit too fast on the turn, but Fernando could sense that he was intentionally driving slower than he wanted.
They turned into the university’s main avenue and Fernando found himself relaxing. He reclined in the seat and leaned his head on the headrest. “You know, these seats are pretty damn comfortable.”
Dan barked out a short laugh, eyes not leaving the road. “Why thank you.”
“You sound like you love your car,” Fernando observed.
“Are you using your psychobabble on me?”
“No, I think it’s called trying to start a conversation. Is that too banal for you artists?”
Dan grinned, “A tad, but I’ll let this go this one time.”
Fernando laughed, and Dan liked the sound of it. “No, you’re right. Saved up for this car in my last two years in high school, never driven anything else since. Bought it second-hand, had to fix it up a bit, but I kinda like it scrappy.” Dan glanced at Fernando for a fleeting second to furrow his forehead, “Don’t know how you noticed though. You’re good.”
Fernando picked at a loose thread in the seat cover. “No, it’s just that every time you hit a pothole, you keep rubbing the dashboard of the car like you’re petting a dog or something.”
Dan laughed. He ran his hand through his unruly, wavy hair in embarrassment. “Sorry, I just have this strange compulsion to apologise to Matilda. She can’t take them cracks on the road so well anymore, you see.”
Fernando bit back a giggle. “Matilda?”
Dan nodded and grinned at Fernando. “Yeah. Only girl in my life. Other than my mum, of course.”
Fernando patted the dashboard too. “Nice to meet you, Matilda.”
“I believe you two have been acquainted a couple of days ago.”
“Yeah, she mustn’t like me that much.”
The car settled into a steady cruise of the university’s empty side streets, and Dan leaned back on his seat. “Nah. I invited you for a ride, didn’t I?”
*
“Who is this boy?” Steve Finnan asked. His voice sounded funny.
Dan looked up from his sketchpad and saw the Irishman going through his file case, looking at the photos he had just submitted for class.
Steve saw the irritation automatically dawn on Dan’s face – he was intensely private about his art, and he was one of the lucky few Dan showed it to when he was feeling generous. But they were in the cafe for a good two hours already, and Dan had barely talked, too engrossed with his drawings. Steve was done with his readings and was properly bored when he saw the file case lying idly on the seat, with the photos displayed in front.
“It’s just some boy I met.” Dan shrugged casually, but the furrow was still deep in his forehead.
“Well, you shoot him an awful lot,” Steve said, looking at the three pictures laid out in front of him.
Dan sighed loudly and closed his sketchbook. “Those were all taken in one day. It just so happened that they were all good shots.”
Steve nodded slowly. “How’d you meet him?”
A small smile played on Dan’s lips and his mood lightened a tad. “I almost ran him over in the Humanities driveway. It was hilarious.” He turned around one of the photos on the table so he could take a good look, “He was so livid, that’s why he looks so ridiculous in these.”
Steve rubbed his chin as he surveyed the pictures again. He said, “He doesn’t look ridiculous to me. Just... ridiculously attractive.”
Dan refused to be drawn into this. “I wouldn’t have shot him if he weren’t.”
“And you submitted these for Ferguson’s class and got an A+?” Steve said, looking at the scoresheet stapled to the photos. “Doesn’t he hate you?”
Dan kept his voice steady, “I told you, the shots all ended up looking good. I was eventually bound to do something right in Fergie’s class.”
Steve didn’t look fully convinced but he put the photos back. It was only when Dan heard the loud click of his file case being locked that he could finally breathe easy.
*
Daniel was waiting for Fernando again after his Communications class.
“You know, I don’t understand. You don’t take any Humanities subjects. Why are you always here?”
“For you. What else is there?”
Fernando rolled his eyes. He shrugged off compliments so easily. It was frustrating for Daniel. Fernando was a tough audience. He didn’t seem sold on Dan’s bullshit.
They walked out of the building together. When they got to the driveway, though, Fernando faltered, unsure if he was supposed to walk to his next class or Daniel was offering to drive him there again.
“Come on,” Daniel nodded to the parking lot where Matilda was waiting. “I thought Psychology students were supposed to be smart.”
“We are, that’s why we never assume.”
Daniel sighed. “Oh, you academic types. Must everything be so obvious?” He fell into a deep bow in front of Fernando, “My good sir, let me offer you a ride on my humble steed.”
Again with the eye-rolling, but Fernando chuckled this time.
The car ride was quiet as Daniel debated with himself whether he should show his pictures to Fernando. It’s why he wanted to see him in the first place. But now that he was here, he suddenly got cold feet. He didn’t want to seem like a little boy running to his mother to show off his gold star.
It was obvious that Fernando saw the envelope of pictures though. It was hard to miss. It lay on the dashboard in front of the passenger seat, labelled in big, block letters: “Photography 152: Portraiture.”
Daniel cleared his throat. “You can look at them if you want.”
“Oh, no, it’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“Uh,” Daniel said. “No, go ahead, I want you to look at them.”
Fernando stared at Daniel in surprise, but he nodded and took the envelope.
There was a pause as Fernando studied the pictures. Daniel could hear the photo paper rustling as the other boy flipped through the files. It made his hairs stand on end. The wait was agonising, and he just wanted to look over so he could see Fernando’s reaction. But he was driving, and he didn’t want to risk another road altercation with the Spaniard.
“I don’t know anything about photography, but these look beautiful,” Fernando said.
Daniel let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He wanted to laugh out loud in relief, just throw back his head and chortle loudly. “Thanks. I got an A+ for that assignment.”
“Wow, that’s great!”
Daniel beamed with pride. He could see his reflection in the rearview mirror, and he was positively glowing. He never tired of saying that. “My professor for that subject never gives an A, much less an A+.”
“Congratulations!” Fernando reached across the car to squeeze Daniel’s arm. It was such a strange, foreign feeling.
Daniel took his eyes off the road fleetingly so he could smile at the blonde. “So, it turns out, you’re good for me.”
The silence stretched for a split-second too long before Fernando found a response. “These pictures are all you, though.”
“Oh no. Trust me, my first few pictures for this class all got a C.”
“Well, you were just starting out.”
“No, the comments were brutal. ‘Pretentious,’ and ‘it tries too hard.’ Fergie even told me, ‘I can hear you thinking.’”
They entered the driveway of the School of Social Sciences. Fernando began to unbuckle his seatbelt and gather his books.
“Anyway, Fernando,” Daniel blurted out.
Fernando looked up questioningly and Daniel’s palms started to sweat. The clock showed 10:01 AM, Fernando had to be in his class, and there was another car waiting behind them. He couldn’t linger.
“Yes?”
“Since your photos turned out so well the last time, I was wondering if I could shoot you again for my next assignment?”
Fernando blushed furiously. Like, Daniel could see the red creeping up from his neck to his cheeks and across his nose. It was amazing. He wished he could take out his camera then and there and start taking pictures.
“Uh, sure, I guess, if you really want to. I don’t really know how to pose or anything,” Fernando stammered.
Daniel covered Fernando’s hand with his, but just for a split-second, as if to pat him. “I told you, subjects look their best when they don’t pose.”
Fernando laughed nervously. He pulled back his hand and self-consciously tucked his hair behind his ears. “Okay then.”
“Can I get your number so we can schedule something?”
Fernando revered to his old, unruffled self. “What a trick,” he said, even as he wrote down his number on a Post-It.
“A trick? A trick to what?” Daniel challenged.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
Daniel snatched the Post-It from Fernando before he could change his mind. “Whatever it is, you fell for it.”
*
Daniel wasn’t answering his text messages all morning, so by lunchtime, Steve called him. They always watched movies on Saturdays.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Dan. What time do you wanna meet up at the Cineplex?” Steve said as he got ready to take a shower.
There was a slight pause. “Oh. About that.”
Steve waited. “Yes?”
“I have a shoot today. I thought I told you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh,” Dan said flatly. “Well, I have a shoot today.”
“Will it take all day?”
He could hear Daniel sigh impatiently. “I don’t know. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn’t.” He was always so touchy about his work, and it grated on Steve sometimes. He was just asking how long he would take, but in Daniel’s mind, that meant he was asking him to make it quick.
After years of knowing each other, though, Steve has long learned to be patient with the younger boy. Daniel was difficult, but he didn’t mean any harm.
“Okay. Just call me when you’re done, maybe we can still catch the last full show,” Steve said, taking great care to sound gentle.
Daniel calmed down a bit. “Okay, I will.”
“So, what’s your shoot about?”
As if Daniel would tell him.
“It’s just for my portraiture class,” he answered vaguely.
“Fergie’s class? Are you shooting that boy again? Fernando?”
Daniel became uncomfortable. “I can’t believe you remember his name.”
“I saw the caption of your photos.”
“Again, I can’t believe you remember his name.”
Steve laughed. He was studying to become a doctor. Of course he had a good memory. “Are you sure that he’s just your friend? If your camera likes him, maybe you do too,” he teased.
“God, Finns, your jokes are so bad,” Dan groaned. “And I’m just taking his pictures!”
Steve just laughed harder. “He’s awfully pretty, come on. Kind of your type!”
“I’m hanging up on you! Good bye!”
*
Fernando knocked on the door of the studio just as Daniel was taping the black backdrop to the wall.
"Hey, I'm sorry I'm late. I got lost. I don't usually go to this side of the campus," Fernando said.
"No worries. Let me just get this up. Make yourself comfortable," Daniel said around the roll of tape he held between his teeth.
Fernando looked around the small studio. It only had space for a small stool, positioned against the backdrop, and three standing spotlights. Daniel's computer was on the floor, connected to his camera. Wires snaked around everywhere.
"So, this is the studio that your tuition pays for?"
Daniel laughed. "There are better studios in the new wing, but somehow, I like this one best. Back to basics. Raw."
Fernando nodded, "Seems like your style anyway."
"Thanks, I take that as a compliment."
“Yeah. I meant it as one.”
The two exchanged brief smiles. Daniel seemed like the type of person that took a while to warm up to others, so Fernando allowed himself to feel flattered that they got along well.
Once everything was set up, Daniel made Fernando sit down on the chair.
"The theme for the assignment is lighting," Daniel said. "I'm not particularly good at it, so you'll have to be patient with me."
He picked up his camera, "I'm going to try out different lighting arrangements for now to see what best suits you. We have three lamps, so we can range from a harsh light with just one or a softer light with all three."
Fernando listened intently. It made Daniel feel self-conscious. "Sorry, you don't have to listen to me. You don't need to know these things."
But the blonde shook his head. "No, I like it. It's interesting," he said with a sheepish laugh. Quick as a flash, Daniel held up his camera and took a picture.
Fernando instinctively turned away. "Daniel!"
"Sorry, sorry," the other boy held up his hand in apology. "Force of habit. I'll delete it."
He fiddled with the buttons of the camera. Fernando crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not really deleting it, are you?"
"'Course not."
Fernando laughed again -- click, another picture -- "Asshole."
Daniel went back to work, placing one lamp to the left of Fernando and another just in front of him. “I’m just going to take a couple of test shots for each of the lighting arrangements, okay?”
Fernando had to smile. At least Daniel asked permission now. “Sure. Do I need to do anything?”
“Nope. They’re just test shots. Once I find the set-up where the light best plays across your face, we’ll start the actual shoot.”
It went on for some time. Daniel moved around the lights to the back, to the right, then snapping away at Fernando. It was awkward at first that he just had to sit still as Daniel circled him.
Sensing his discomfort, Daniel looked up from his camera. “Relax. If it helps, you can talk. I’m listening.”
Fernando rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension. “This is very different from the first time you shot me out in the parking lot. Do you prefer that, the candid shots, or do you like working in the studio better?”
Daniel looked up again. “Good question,” he winked.
Fernando laughed, “Thank you.”
“I prefer the informal shoots, going around, looking for photographs as they happen. Somehow, being in a studio terrifies me. You control all the elements – the light, the composition, the subject – and if something is off, it’s your fault.”
Daniel angled the lamp just one inch higher, eyes squinted as he watched the difference it made on the angles of Fernando’s face, then he took one or two shots. Fernando tried to read Daniel’s expression as he reviewed the pictures on his camera, but the frown, the furrowed forehead never left his features.
“Are all your classes photography classes? Or do you have to take other fine arts subjects too?”
“A lot of fine arts subjects. I was actually surprised at how many we were required to take.”
“Like?”
Daniel put down his camera for a second to wipe the sweat off his brow. The lamps were hot. “Like, fucking basic sculpture which I was shit at. I’m a photographer, for crying out loud. I cannot carve or model or weld. I swear, my hands were hopeless.”
Fernando laughed, and Daniel loved the way he laughed. It was so uncontrolled and unattractive, even. His shoulders rose to his ears and his head bent back and his body curled into itself.
“I’m taking a couple of drawing classes now, though. I like those. The painting, I can do without, but the drawing – I think it helps me take better pictures. You see the shapes better.”
Daniel stopped, suddenly realising just how much he’s said already. He wasn’t a talker or a sharer. It startled him. Fernando just stared, waiting for him to continue, hanging on to his words like he was learning so much.
He held up his camera again. It was comforting to hide behind it. “What about you? Psychology, eh? What do you become after that, a psychologist?”
Fernando smirked. “I don’t know. What do you become after your photography degree? A photographer?”
Daniel laughed, “You.” He wagged his finger and tsked, “You can be sharp.”
“Thanks,” Fernando batted his eyelashes. “I try.”
Daniel moved to a three-light set-up, spread out in various positions around Fernando. They descended into silence, as the younger boy took more test shots from different angles – left, right, high, low.
Fernando let himself zone out. The heat from the lamps was making him drowsy. One light was already uncomfortably warm; all three, and he couldn’t feel the air-conditioning at all. The sweat began to pool along his hairline.
“Here,” Daniel said in a hushed tone. Fernando looked up, vision just slightly hazy from the bright lights. The Dane was holding some paper towels. “May I?
Fernando swallowed the lump in his throat and coughed out a “yes.” Daniel gently reached out and dabbed the boy’s face with the tissue. “Just to even out the shine,” he whispered, pressing the towels against Fernando’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose. “Look up,” he requested. Fernando dutifully averted his gaze to the ceiling as Daniel patted the tissue just under his eyes. He held his breath the entire time, afraid to move.
Daniel stepped back after. He studied Fernando’s face closely for a while.
“You’re very beautiful,” he said – not like a compliment but as a matter of fact.
Fernando kept his eyes at a point just above Daniel’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“One last,” Daniel said. He took a picture of Fernando up close, standing right above him. The Spaniard’s face was relaxed – gaze turned upwards, framed by heavy lashes, freckles on full display and lips just slightly parted. His expression was a mix of fear and fascination, anxiety and calmness. It was probably the best shot yet.
Daniel stepped away and began going through his pictures.
“Do we do the shoot now?” Fernando asked. He squirmed in his seat, trying to get a look. He was getting antsy. The air in the studio was thick with tension.
Daniel didn’t stop reviewing his pictures, but a mischievous smile played on his lips. “Oh, we’re done.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re done.” He held up the camera to show Fernando the screen, filled with maybe thirty, forty different shots of him. “I have enough.”
“B-but,” Fernando spluttered although the answer was becoming obvious to him, “You told me you were just taking test shots!”
Daniel was trying to hold back his laughter.
“I swear to god, Daniel, you are just…” Fernando shook his head and finally cracked up too, “Fuck it, I should have known you would pull another fast one on me.”
“I was really taking test shots! But they all turned out well!” Daniel reasoned out, still chuckling. His face was red and his eyes were teary.
“Like fuck you did!” Fernando said. “You just let me sit there like an idiot. Your photographs are going to be shit.”
Daniel nudged Fernando’s chin with his knuckle. “You really are fishing for compliments, aren’t you?”
“And apologies,” Fernando sniffed.
Daniel smiled. “Fine. I’m sorry. And you look great, even without trying.”
Fernando really should have held out for much longer, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t his assignment. This wasn’t his grade. Besides, he didn’t like holding grudges. If Daniel liked the pictures, they probably weren’t so bad.
Daniel mistook Fernando’s silence, and he began to stress. “Wait, are you mad? I really am sorry. I just didn’t want to make you tense. At least now I know that I should tell you next time.”
Fernando rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.”
Daniel still looked anxious. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Fernando smirked. He pushed past Daniel. “And next time, really? You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
*
“Not bad, Mr. Agger.”
A thick manila envelope fell on his desk. Daniel looked up, but Mr. Ferguson had already turned away, returning the assignments of students in the next row. His other classmates were sighing and groaning as they read the feedback on their pictures.
“This is garbage, people,” Mr. Ferguson launched into one of his lengthy sermons. He didn’t raise his voice, and somehow that made his words more cutting. “Clearly, your fancy cameras have spoiled you, since I see very little technique here when it comes to controlling lighting in a studio.”
The professor drew a diagram on the board. “As I said, if your key light is here, then the fill light has to be here. As its name suggests, you need that light to fill out some of the shadows on the other side of the face.”
Daniel wasn’t listening, though. With trembling hands, he tore open his envelope. His scoresheet fell out before he could go through the photos he submitted. He froze. He got a B. Not as good as his A+ last time, but it was more than what he expected for this assignment. And by the looks of it, his classmates all got Cs and Ds.
At the bottom of his scoresheet, though, was one comment: “Same subject?” And for some reason, that troubled him throughout the rest of the class.
He stayed behind after dismissal, waited until the other students filtered out of the room with hunched shoulders and bowed heads.
“Yes, Mr. Agger? Not happy with your grade?”
Daniel couldn’t stop shaking his head. “Oh, no, no, sir. Nothing like that.” He shuffled to the teacher’s table, brought out his pictures and scoresheet. “I just wanted to know what you meant by your comment.”
Mr. Ferguson read what he wrote and shrugged. “What about it?”
“Well, I used the same subject, sir.”
“I can see that.”
“And for next week’s assignment, I’m using the same subject too.”
“As I expected.”
Daniel shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Is that wrong?”
Mr. Ferguson laughed. It was eerie – Daniel has never seen him laugh before. “There is no right and wrong in photography. Only good and bad photos. Clearly, you take good photos with this particular subject.”
Daniel looked down on the table where Fernando’s portraits were laid out. “Maybe I just got better?” He suggested with a weak laugh.
The professor quickly silenced him with a raise of an eyebrow. “I don’t see a significant improvement in technique.”
That shut Daniel right up.
“The reason why they’re better is because your pictures are no longer contrived. They feel natural.” Mr. Ferguson leafed through his class record, reviewing his previous notes on Daniel’s work.
“I know what you try to do, Mr. Agger. You’re the type of photographer that wants to shoot on the fly, off the cuff. The problem with that style is it’s unforgiving. It can easily look staged, unless the moment is wholly, completely and utterly unforced.”
The professor shrugged. “For a long time, most of your work just came off as fake.”
Daniel flinched at the blunt rebuke.
“But these photos,” Mr. Ferguson rapped his ballpen on the pictures, “I believe them.”
The teacher stood up and gathered his things, but Daniel couldn’t let him go. He tailed Mr. Ferguson as he made his way back to the faculty lounge.
“So, it’s because I’ve found a better model?” Daniel pressed.
“You’d be surprised. Even the best models can’t produce the best shots until they’re with the right photographer.”
“…And I’m the right photographer?”
“You’re the right photographer in as much as he is the right subject. He can give you sincere emotion, and you can shoot it with honesty.” Mr. Ferguson stopped walking so he could face Daniel. “You see, it’s not because you’ve gotten better or you’ve found a better model. The only thing that’s changed is that you’ve begun to shoot the right things.”
“Photography, at its very heart, is about shooting what you know and what you love. For the first time, your pictures actually show it.”
*
“Guess what?” Daniel spoke up as he drove Fernando to his class. “I got another A.”
“Really?” Fernando’s face broke into a wide, sunny grin. “I was nervous about that shoot. I didn’t think we’d pull it off.”
The theme of the week was action shots, and Daniel had Fernando play football for the camera. It took them hours before they got the shoot right. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. The park was so crowded and the weather was off – at first, it was too sunny and then it began to rain.
Daniel shrugged. “I really think my professor likes you.”
“Please tell me your professor is young, handsome, artistic and misunderstood?”
“Old, fat and Scottish.”
“Damn.” Fernando reclined in the car seat he had come to love. “You know you should really start paying me. I’m single-handedly pulling your grade up!”
They came to a stoplight. Daniel turned to Fernando. “Actually, I was thinking I could treat you out.”
“I was just kidding.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Okay, maybe a little. But you don’t have to.”
Daniel checked the stoplight to make sure it was still red. “Come on.”
“What do you mean, ‘come on’? Now?”
“Yeah! Let’s have brunch. My treat.”
“I have class.”
The light turned green, and they entered one of the main intersections of the campus. To the right was the turn to the School of Social Sciences; straight ahead was the university gate, leading to the town centre.
“Don’t tell me your offer is only good for today,” Fernando said.
“It’s not. But now is as good a time as any other,” Daniel nagged. “The sun is up, the sky is blue.”
“That’s a Beatles song.”
Daniel wiggled his eyebrows and crooned, “It’s beautiful and so are you.”
Fernando rolled his eyes. Daniel used to hate it when he did that. It was like he was never impressed with what Daniel said. But, he also never called Daniel out on his crap, so maybe, just maybe, he actually liked it.
“Well? When the light turns green, I’m going straight to the university gate unless you say that you want to go to class.”
The stoplight for the other street turned yellow and then red. The stoplight in their street flashed green. Daniel’s car didn’t move.
“Well?”
“You said you’d go straight to the exit unless I stopped you!”
The cars behind them started beeping.
“I was bluffing. You always rag on me for not telling you this, not telling you that, making decisions for you. You decide now.”
Fernando threw his hands up in the air. “You pick now to prove a point?”
The cars behind them started maneuvering to go around them, all the while raising hell and high water with the blaring of their horns.
“Fuck it, go, just go! Go straight!”
The car roared to life and it leapt through the intersection just before the stoplight turned red again. In a flash, they were cruising out of the campus and into town.
“If this is your way of repaying me… Fuck you.”
Daniel just grinned widely.