i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all
A part of Nate wants to grab Sunjata, to shake him and shout Do you? Do you know?, because how could he? How could he know and still pick up all the blame, still accept all the guilt? And maybe what he needs is a more insistent approach, a slightly rougher one, though Nate knows he can't bring himself to do it, especially not when he feels the flinch run through the attuned, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden.
That's a different kind of pain, a more understandable one, one that maybe, just maybe, he can actually deal with. "Don't worry about me. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not letting go of you." Nate even manages to add a curl of his lips with it, something encouraging, even if it isn't exactly a smile. Even if it doesn't last at all.
There's more rage now, for more people he's never met, would never meet, and maybe it's just a really convenient target. Maybe some of it is his own traumas, focused on something much bigger, much more untouchable, so it can be focused somewhere other than inside. But it's just as useless here as it had been locked away, is put to the side in lieu of worry, of steady eye contact and reassurances that he in no way feels qualified to give. All Nate can do is hold on, struggle to not get swept away by the flood that's he'd asked for. What can he say that he hasn't already? What comfort can he offer that could stand up to a lifetime of pain and suffering? As useless as he might feel though, Nate does have one thing, one skill that might be worth something. He listens, lets Sunjata unload everything without flinching away, leans in when he's pulled, arms wrapped so tightly around the attuned that it had to be painful, though he imagines, a little distantly, that they're both far beyond the point of caring.
Nate is overwhelmed, completely and utterly, by the weight of what Sunjata has revealed. Of what he's had to live through. What he still carried, what he would probably carry forever. "I'm glad you're still breathing." He offers, quietly, feeling guilty that it's the first thing he can muster. "And... I'm glad that... despite all of that..." Nate licks his lips, holding onto his train of thought tightly so he didn't lose it, so it didn't fall into one of the cracks in him. "Despite everything, I'm glad you're you." It hurt to think about, hurt more than Nate could even put words to, but without it, the man he held in his arms would not be the same. Might not be here. And gods, that's selfish, and arrogant. Really though, it's what he has. Himself, his love. "I"m sorry you had to suffer so much to get here."
That's a different kind of pain, a more understandable one, one that maybe, just maybe, he can actually deal with. "Don't worry about me. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not letting go of you." Nate even manages to add a curl of his lips with it, something encouraging, even if it isn't exactly a smile. Even if it doesn't last at all.
There's more rage now, for more people he's never met, would never meet, and maybe it's just a really convenient target. Maybe some of it is his own traumas, focused on something much bigger, much more untouchable, so it can be focused somewhere other than inside. But it's just as useless here as it had been locked away, is put to the side in lieu of worry, of steady eye contact and reassurances that he in no way feels qualified to give. All Nate can do is hold on, struggle to not get swept away by the flood that's he'd asked for. What can he say that he hasn't already? What comfort can he offer that could stand up to a lifetime of pain and suffering? As useless as he might feel though, Nate does have one thing, one skill that might be worth something. He listens, lets Sunjata unload everything without flinching away, leans in when he's pulled, arms wrapped so tightly around the attuned that it had to be painful, though he imagines, a little distantly, that they're both far beyond the point of caring.
Nate is overwhelmed, completely and utterly, by the weight of what Sunjata has revealed. Of what he's had to live through. What he still carried, what he would probably carry forever. "I'm glad you're still breathing." He offers, quietly, feeling guilty that it's the first thing he can muster. "And... I'm glad that... despite all of that..." Nate licks his lips, holding onto his train of thought tightly so he didn't lose it, so it didn't fall into one of the cracks in him. "Despite everything, I'm glad you're you." It hurt to think about, hurt more than Nate could even put words to, but without it, the man he held in his arms would not be the same. Might not be here. And gods, that's selfish, and arrogant. Really though, it's what he has. Himself, his love. "I"m sorry you had to suffer so much to get here."
NATE
