Lazy Note: Hey there, Strangers. Okay, people, this was suppose to just be a oneshot but y'all aren't having that. I keep getting anons on Tumblr demanding a second part, and almost everyone who reviewed last time asked for another chapter, so I was just like, "Why the hell not? Let's make it a two shot."

Imma gonna feed your sins now.

Enjoy.

Bittersweet

Chapter 2

by

xLazyxWriterx

bit·ter·sweet
/ˈbidərˌswēt/

adjective

1. Sweet with a bitter aftertaste.

2. Arousing pleasure tinged with sadness or pain

It's a strange thing to breathe so unevenly and harshly before stopping all together when a set of teeth nip at that certain pulse point. His mouth is hot against her skin, his tongue burning her flesh as he dragged it across her jaw before meeting her lips once more. She was uncomfortably warm, her freckled skin flushing a soft red and moisture building along her forehead. His heavy hands were rubbing along her waist, creating a scalding friction while her own fingers tangled in his hair. Surprisingly, it was soft and lacked the amount of product she thought it would have.

He reached down, grabbing her hips and lifting her with ease onto her desk, pushing aside her laptop and scattered odds and ends. He was much closer now, standing right between her legs with his fingers digging painfully into her clothed sides. His mouth left hers, leaving her lips throbbing and puckered as he placed light kisses along her chin and jaw. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, allowing herself only to feel his wet mouth brushing against her skin.

"Max..." he sighed against her throat. She bit her lip, swallowing her whines. She couldn't think, only feel. These are things she had never felt before, and grasping the reality of the situation was difficult.

Well, until those fingers that dug into her moved under the hem of her shirt and trailed along her spine. Her eyes shot open, and she become ridged with realization. Her fingers were locked in Nathan Prescott's hair as he pressed himself tightly against her and sucked on various places along her neck. Her bra strap was being tugged as teasingly.

"N-Nathan-!" she gasped out.

"Max..." Nathan pulled back and locked their lips again, his tongue slipping along her swollen lip. Max turned her head to the side.

"Nathan-" Max released his hair and pushed at his shoulders. "-w-wait, stop!" Her voice was weak and breathless, but he had heard her. He pulled back, hazy gaze meeting hers and his scalding breath hitting her face. His pale skin was pink in color and his mouth red.

"What?" he breathed out. His brows furrowed in confusion as she pushed away from him, panting and sliding off her desk. Brushing past him, she hurried to her window and forcing it open, sticking her head out and inhaling the cool air deeply. She told herself to breathe in and out slowly in an attempt to calm her fluttering heart.

A hand was placed on her back, and Nathan leaned over her. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked.

She couldn't believe this. She couldn't fucking believe it. How did she get here? How did saving William Price result in Nathan Prescott groping and kissing her on her own desk? Fuck, she could only imagine how Chloe would react if saw her like this. It was bad enough that Rachel was hooking up with Frank behind Chloe's back, but to have Max passionately making out with Nathan Prescott? That would be the cherry on top of the shitty sundae.

Even if she were to rewind, it still happened. Max still kissed Nathan, and she let him touch her in ways that made her heart pick up once again. It she rewound, Nathan wouldn't know that it happened, but Max would. She would still feels his tongue caressing her own and his fingertips running up her back.

She shivered, and he must of felt it. "Max?" He pulled her arm, turning her around. She was still lightly panting, and she refused to meet his gaze. She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her head down and trying to collect her thoughts. What was she suppose to do now?

"Max, you okay?" Nathan grasped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. She was scared, too. She was scared of her tightening belly and her aching chest, of her nervous twitch, of the bittersweet taste on her tongue, of the emotions she was feeling... and of him. She was terrified of him, and the way he was looking at her.

His pupils were dilated and his breathing was only beginning to calm down, but his cheeks were still flushed with excitement and his lips moist from her own tongue. The concern he showed her made Max want to scream and shove him away, and adoration behind it made her want to grab his face and bring him to her again. Nathan Prescott was not suppose to be looking at her like this, and she was not suppose to be responding.

"Max, what happened? Why'd you stop?" he asked.

Max shook her head, breaking eye contact. She reached up and rubbed at her face, feeling the cooling sweat sinking into her skin. "This isn't right..." she mumbled to herself, but she knew he could hear her. "None of this is right..."

"What? What's not right?"

She couldn't just tell him that she wasn't the Max he knew. She couldn't just blurt out that he was suppose to hate her, or that he was suppose to think of her as a nosy, hipster bitch that needed to stay out of his business. He was suppose to make snide remarks about her, and rage at her like he did back in the parking lot and the diner. She was suppose to be disgusted with him for everything had he had done to hurt her and her friends.

But, this Nathan... Not once did he call her an offensive name, or threaten her. He had gotten upset and yelled at her, but how could she hold that against him when she was to blame for the encounter?

The thing that continued to throw her off was that he looked exactly the same, talked the same, and even to an extent acted the same, but why wouldn't he? He still grew up and attended Blackwell just like he did in her timeline. Saving William didn't change that, but saving William had obviously changed her. She was different enough to join the Vortex club and meet this side of Nathan. This Nathan never shot Chloe, and him and Max became friends. They became more than friends. And, this Max... she saw something in Nathan Prescott that was concealed from her in her original timeline.

"Max!" Nathan began snapping his fingers in front of her face, waking Max of her thoughts. "God, what is with you?"

The more and more she thought about it... perhaps he wasn't that different from the Nathan she knew. This Nathan, cut off or not, still dealt with his asshole father, was the head of the Vortex club, got high and drunk, was defensive and irritable, and didn't seem to have a strong hold on his emotions. The biggest difference Max could see at this point was his jacket being blue.

Oh, and the fact that he cared about her.

"Nathan," Max gave him the sternest face she could muster, "how do you really feel about me?"

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Nathan's irritated expression melted into confusion. He leaned back, eying her up and down. "Why do you keep asking things like that? What is with you today?" Nathan defensively questioned once more.

"Please, just answer the question," Max snapped back.

Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. Max could see that he was becoming frustrated. "Max, why-"

"Nathan," she cut him off, silently begging him to answer her.

Nathan ran his hands through his hair, brushing it back before muttering, "You know how I feel..." He began to pick at his cuticles. "I shouldn't have to tell you..."

Max wasn't sure what it was, but she had to know how this Nathan felt about her, and why. What could possibly be so different about Max that Nathan and her developed such a relationship? Max needed to hear him say it to confirm that this was real, and that she wasn't were she belonged, that this wasn't who she was.

She replied honestly, "No, I don't know, Nathan..." He looked at her, frowning. "...I really don't."

They stared at each other in silence for many moments before Nathan let out a vexed sigh and moved away from her, flopping down on her bed with his face buried in his hands. His legs bounced nervously, and the air around him changed from concerned to self-frustration. For the first time since she arrived in this strange place, she saw a part of Nathan that she recognized. She could see an inner turmoil within him.

His hands dropped, and without looking at her, he quietly spoke. "You are the only good thing in my life." He glanced over at her. "My life is hell, Max."

His voice was cracked, held back as though he were attempting to swallow any real emotion that was bubbling to the surface. The sight of him was beginning to blur, and she realized that her eyes were beginning to sting. She didn't bother to rub them, remaining still and waiting for Nathan to say something more.

"I... I know that I can be a pain in the ass, and I don't always do the right thing and I say stupid shit but," he turned towards her, "you have to know that you are important to me, and I-" Nathan cut himself off, tearing his gaze away from her and averting it down at his hands. "-I try so hard." Max almost didn't hear him. Almost.

Max shifted her weight, and her foot hit the shoe box that had tumbled to the ground. The letters were scattered among the photos. When she turned to look down at the mess, her tears dripped down. The letter on top was written on a torn chunk of paper, and the writing seemed much more smooth that the others. Her chin trembled, and her mind whirled with things that she never felt before.

"You send me letters..." she whispered, wiping at her cheeks once again that night. She reached down and pulled up a particular sheet of crumpled paper. "...and poems." She looked back over at him, meeting his gaze. She can detect some embarrassment hidden in his dejected eyes as he catches a glimpse of the paper in her hand. For the first time, she saw Nathan Prescott as vulnerable, and somewhat scared. There was no rage.

Max cautiously went and sat beside him after setting the paper on her desk. The bed sank under their weight, and she could feel Nathan relax against her shoulder. He glanced down at her hand before hesitantly reaching for it, intertwining their fingers. His hands were soft, and his thumb rubbed lightly against her smooth skin.

"I didn't think you kept 'em," Nathan sighed.

Max knew that the only reason she would ever keep those things around was that she cared about Nathan. Well, this Max cared about him. This Max was dating him, letting him spend the night in her room, receiving poetry from him and allowing him to kiss her. This Max treasured his notes.

"Of course..." she replied weakly.

"I wasn't suppose to like you," he gave a dry laugh, "you and your dumb camera... and you're nosy, and you make me so fucking mad sometimes, but..." Nathan shook his head, tightening his grip on her hand. He timidly glanced up at her, uttering, "...look what happened, anyway."

He called her nosy. He said her camera was dumb. She made him mad. Those were things she had heard before, things that she knew, and her stomach twisted in the realization that this was indeed a Nathan that she knew, and she had met another extremely real part of him. But, the scariest part was that she herself wasn't different. Max was still Max, even in this strange world she had stumbled into. She was still herself, just set in different circumstances.

"And you're entitled, rude, and throw temper tantrums," Max spoke, attempting to sound lighthearted.

"And you call me out on my bullshit," Nathan smirked, elbowing her playfully. For the first time that night, Max laughed. She elbowed him back, an amused brow raised and grin playing on her mouth. He studied her face for a moment with a genuine smile before scratching at his neck and sighing.

"Well, since we're already into the deep shit," Nathan shifted his body around to face her, "how do you feel about me...?" He was nervously tracing circles along her hand, and avoiding her eye.

The very question caused her smile to fade slowly, and her heart to ache. How was she suppose to answer that? He wasn't suppose to ask her that. He was just suppose to give her a simple answer to each of her questions so that she could figure out what the fuck was going on. Instead, they were sitting on her bed, holding hands and having a heart to heart about their relationship - something Max knew nothing about.

She became aware of how close they were, and how they were just giggling together like an actual couple of friends. His clear blue eyes were on her with such anxious anticipation, and her pulse quickened. She wondered if he could feel it. She held his eyes with her own, and the answer slipped through her parted lips with a heartfelt whisper.

"You confuse the hell out of me."

A slow smile appeared on his face. "That makes two of us." The smile remained there as he peered down at their connected hands, thinking over her answer.

She couldn't help but add, "You're not what I expected. It kind of scares me," she bit her lip, "but, like, in a good way." Max watched his smile widen, and he released her hand, pulling her into a tight embrace. Her answer seemed good enough for him, even if it wasn't nearly as deep as his answer was. As he held her, Max could hear the alarms going off her in head, but chose to ignore them for the moment because she knew Nathan wasn't going to hurt her. She felt him press his lips against her shoulder, and a light sigh escaped her lips. It was like she was forgetting who he was.

"I'm exhausted," Nathan murmured against her shoulder.

"Zonked."

"Zonked?"

"Tired," she elaborated. She felt his chuckles vibrating through his chest before he pulled away.

"Mind if I crash here tonight?" he asked, already kicking off his shoes. Max stiffened. She wasn't sure if she felt comfortable enough with the idea of him spending the night, even if her other self allowed it regularly. She was afraid of where it might lead, and the thoughts of their intense kisses on her desk came rushing back to her.

"U-uh-" Max watched Nathan strip of his jacket and cardigan, tossing them across the room and onto the couch. He obviously wasn't waiting for her answer, or even expecting one. When he lifted his shirt over his head, Max became flustered and instantly looked away. The voice in the back of her mind was telling her to kick him out now before he moved on to his pants, but it never came to that. Nathan scooted back on the bed, gathering all the photos that Max had taken off her wall and set them aside on her nightstand. He laid back on the bed, taking the side closest to the wall. He nudged her with his knee.

"You just gonna sit there?"

Yeah, he wasn't leaving, and Max had a feeling that if she did try and kick him out he would just fight her on it. Max stood, rushing to her closet and grabbing some night clothes. Forcing herself to not look at him, she said, "I'm going to use the bathroom and change." Not waiting for an answer, she rushed out the door.

In the bathroom, she changed. She splashed extra cold water on her face, just in case she was indeed dreaming all of this and needed a wake up call. No such luck, though. She studied herself in the mirror; she looked exactly the same. This Max that she had become... She was the same. Any changes in her were minor, and Max knew it. Nathan Prescott liked her for who she was because he had seen a different side to her, just like she had. They met in different circumstances, and they developed a relationship. It terrified her because what was there to stop a possible relationship in her timeline? What if she had met Nathan differently? What if instead of hiding like a coward in the bathroom she had stepped out and helped him calm himself? He wouldn't have shot Chloe, and perhaps they would've been on better terms. Perhaps... she could've helped him, gotten to know him...

All the 'what if's were just confusing her more. No, at this point, the Nathan in her timeline would never befriend her. He would continue to look down at her with distaste and snarl at her every chance he got. Nothing was going to change that now.

Unless she stayed here.

She didn't belong in this universe, this timeline. William was suppose to be dead. She knew that now, and she hoped that Chloe and William would forgive her. The whole time she was in the Price home talking with Chloe, Max had kept an eye out of the photo that started this whole mess. She use the picture to undo everything she did, putting everything back together the way it was suppose to be.

It's what she had to do. She didn't belong here. Fuck, she had no idea what had happened to her in the past five years! She couldn't remember how she joined the Vortex club, or how her and Nathan got together! She couldn't remember hearing about Chloe's accident, or everything her and Chloe did before she moved! Max had a gap in her memory that could only be fixed by going back home to her timeline.

And that meant leaving this Nathan Prescott.

She couldn't believe that that very thought made her tear up again. She splashed more cold water on her face, silently telling herself to get it together. Gathering her clothes, he headed back to her room.

Stepping inside, she found Nathan under her blanket and staring up at her ceiling. She prayed that he still had his pants on because she didn't know if she could handle that. In her head, a snide remark of virgin echoed in her head, causing her to roll her eyes. Joke was on this voice; in this timeline, Max was pretty damn sure that she wasn't a virgin.

God, what was she thinking? Max tossed her clothes aside, feeling her face heat up. Nathan turned on his side, looking at her, his gaze soft and warm. He didn't say anything, and Max shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his stare.

"What?" she asked.

"Just looking at you," he replied simply. "I like looking at you."

Her cheeks flushed, heart pounding. She gave a nervous laugh as she turned from him. "Geez," she mumbled. She heard him chuckled, and she turned to playfully glare at him. He patted the space beside him, pulling the covers back. She could see that he still had his pant on, and she let out a sigh of relief. Stepping up to the bed, she hesitated in sitting down. She kept her eyes off his bare chest, but still pondered on if his skin ever saw the sun from how pale he was.

Nathan reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her down to the bed. "You're still acting weird, but I'm too tired to care. Sleep time now."

She shut her lights off before moving onto the bed. She lay comfortably on her side, shivering when Nathan planted a long kiss on the back of her shoulder, feeling his lips moving as he murmured, "Hey, um..." He nipped at her shirt. "...Thank you. Y'know..."

Max felt herself smile. "Sure, Nathan..."

He relaxed against her, their heat mixing and washing over them. She could feel his heartbeat against her back, and his breath against her neck and shoulder. Max licked her lip, shutting her eyes tightly. It felt so good to have his arm draped over her, but it wasn't right. She wasn't suppose to be here with him. She wasn't his Max, and he didn't even know it. It washed a sadness over her, and she hugged the blanket closer to herself.

She rolled herself over to face him, and her fingers confirmed that he was real when he brushed along his cheek. He opened one sleepy eye, and rose a questioning brow. She let own eyes to shut, and she allowed herself to steal one last kiss from him. This kiss was much different that the kisses the shared previously. It was slow, chaste.

She parted from him, sadly smiling and whispering, "Goodnight."

"G'night..." he muttered drowsily but with a grin left behind on his lips. His eyes were fully shut, and his breathing was even. Max rolled back over, pressing her back fully against him chest as his arm tightened around her.

Max drifted to sleep eventually, the exhaustion of the day's events to wash over her and grant her peace of mind for a few hours. When her eyes opened again, it was lighter outside, but not quiet morning. She reached for her phone on her night stand, checking the time. It was only 6:34, and she knew she could sleep a little long.

She remembered the figure beside her, almost scaring herself when she momentarily forgot about the mistake she had made. Nathan was still sound asleep, chest rising against her back in a nice rhythm that could have put her back to sleep, but she couldn't do it.

She needed to leave. The longer she stayed here, the harder it would be to face Nathan. She was already worried about how she would react when she saw him back in her original timeline when he glared at her and made a snide remark. No, she couldn't think about that right now.

Carefully, she slid out of the bed, tip toeing around as she got dressed. He seemed to be a heavy sleeper, barely moving when she left him. Once dressed and gathering her bag, she stood beside her bed, eyes washing over his sleeping figure against her better judgement.

What was to happen to this timeline? Was it going to go on, or was it to become nonexistent? Would the Max that lived this life come back with little to no memory of this night? Would that Max come back and be with Nathan, making him happy and supporting him and just... loving him? Would any of this exist only in her mind?

Her chin quivered, and she fought back tears. She had to go back and prevent Chloe from becoming paralyzed so that they could find the truth behind Rachel Amber. She didn't have time to worry about Nathan, and yet she stood there. She admitted to herself that she had liked it when he looked at her with such a raw, heartfelt eyes, when he touched her so gently, and kissed her with such desperation. He needed her, wanted her. The boy that lay sleeping in her bed cared about her in a way Max never thought imaginable.

Max tore his gaze away from him, and she quietly walked to her desk, pulling out a sheet of paper, and a pen. She needed to do one thing before she stepped out that door and left Nathan Prescott forever.

Nathan,

I'm sorry, but I had to leave early. I didn't want to wake you; you looked peaceful, and you deserve some extra Z's. I promised my friend that I would see her today after school, but it couldn't wait. I'm sorry about the way I acted yesterday, and I shouldn't have slapped you. That was such a bitch move, and it will never happen again. I was just stressing about my friend and everything else, and I took it out on you. It wasn't fair and I'm incredibly sorry. Can we just pretend that yesterday never happened and start over? I know you care about me, and I care about you, too. Yesterday was strange, but I will be back to my normal self the next time you see me. I promise. Don't be afraid to kiss me. Give me everything you've got.

Love,

Max

As she sat the folded note on the bed beside Nathan and admired his peaceful face, Max knew one thing; Nathan Prescott was never going to look at her with a loving stare again, and that thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

bit·ter·sweet
/ˈbidərˌswēt/

adjective

1. Sweet with a bitter aftertaste.

2. Arousing pleasure tinged with sadness or pain

3. Leaving Nathan Prescott.