i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all
At least one of them has grasped the reason for how affected he is, how deeply these tracks run. Nate himself hasn't realized yet that it's scars over scars, the undercurrent of hurt so close to the surface it's grabbing at his ankles. There are hands in his hair though, and a pressure on his neck, claws on his back, holding him on his feet, keeping him present, when it would be so easy to sink. Or maybe it's something more like the implacable guilt that swirls within his gut, for needing the support at all, for still wanting to sink despite all the work Sunjata is doing.
It brings more comfort to Nate than he could possibly express when Sunjata offers him the simple reassurance that the feeling isn't too much. Might be overwhelming, terribly seductive, but it wasn't abnormal. And he thinks about how loosely he takes his own life for granted, how many small things could end in disaster, in chaos, in the end of him. And a part of him starts to slowly settle, to calm down, leaving room for deeper worries to seep in, slowly rising out of the discontented and sick swirl of his chest to the back of his mind, waiting for the slightest provocation.
"I know... I know..." It's all Nate can get out, a quiet murmur, a mantra, in response to the reassurance, the apology. He doesn't understand why Sunjata is apologizing, when this is a him problem. But he knows the other man will stick to his word, will come home. And Nate will be there to put whatever pieces there are back together. Wherever home is, whether they stay here forever, or roam wide and far. They had agreed that much, whatever every other bond and tradition meant or didn't mean.
Always sparks something else, drags up something deeper, because it's not like this is something Nate can turn off. Not when it had taken so much to get him going. Nate starts to slip, literally, off the counter, shifting as much as he needs to to keep his face hidden, pressed against Sunjata's neck. His arms tighten as he falls still again, left hand clenched so hard around a scar that should still be a wound that he's shaking. Always for Nate meant forever, if he played his cards right. If he was lucky. Even if Sunjata was lucky, he didn't get forever. "You can't say that."
It brings more comfort to Nate than he could possibly express when Sunjata offers him the simple reassurance that the feeling isn't too much. Might be overwhelming, terribly seductive, but it wasn't abnormal. And he thinks about how loosely he takes his own life for granted, how many small things could end in disaster, in chaos, in the end of him. And a part of him starts to slowly settle, to calm down, leaving room for deeper worries to seep in, slowly rising out of the discontented and sick swirl of his chest to the back of his mind, waiting for the slightest provocation.
"I know... I know..." It's all Nate can get out, a quiet murmur, a mantra, in response to the reassurance, the apology. He doesn't understand why Sunjata is apologizing, when this is a him problem. But he knows the other man will stick to his word, will come home. And Nate will be there to put whatever pieces there are back together. Wherever home is, whether they stay here forever, or roam wide and far. They had agreed that much, whatever every other bond and tradition meant or didn't mean.
Always sparks something else, drags up something deeper, because it's not like this is something Nate can turn off. Not when it had taken so much to get him going. Nate starts to slip, literally, off the counter, shifting as much as he needs to to keep his face hidden, pressed against Sunjata's neck. His arms tighten as he falls still again, left hand clenched so hard around a scar that should still be a wound that he's shaking. Always for Nate meant forever, if he played his cards right. If he was lucky. Even if Sunjata was lucky, he didn't get forever. "You can't say that."
NATE
