- NATE -
but who am I to say?
let's all just run away
let's all just run away
So many wrong things have been said, choked out and shouted between them, that Nate hesitates before he says the one thing that feels right, really right. "I've got a lot of regrets." The words are still a struggle to get out, still burn in his throat, things not easier, not necessarily, but lighter. It's different, to be doing something because he wants it, not because he feels like he's supposed to, or because he's trying to fill some hole, or repay some debt. It feels better. "I don't think this... it won't be one of them." They're too close for him to shake his head, but the words are soft, feathering along the attuned's face as gently as his fingers did.
There's no answer to his question, none out loud at least, but the other man leaning in to him is all Nate needs. His hands move, mirroring the one in his own hair, and pulling Sunjata more flush against him. They've kissed before, but not like this, not with so much behind it, Nate trying to press in even more. The words he can't say, can't get through his throat, the ones he won't say again, until Sunjata is ready, the things he's not even sure how to put to words.
When he pulls back, because he has to, aware of the fact that they can't kiss forever, that Sunjata needs to breathe properly, that they're still riding on the aftermath of a crisis, it's reluctant, softer, smaller kisses pressed to the corners of the attuneds mouth. Then electric eyes, roaming over Sunjata's face, not searching, but taking in everything. "You should get washed up." He says, after a long while, not moving at all, not loosening his grip or pulling away.
There's no answer to his question, none out loud at least, but the other man leaning in to him is all Nate needs. His hands move, mirroring the one in his own hair, and pulling Sunjata more flush against him. They've kissed before, but not like this, not with so much behind it, Nate trying to press in even more. The words he can't say, can't get through his throat, the ones he won't say again, until Sunjata is ready, the things he's not even sure how to put to words.
When he pulls back, because he has to, aware of the fact that they can't kiss forever, that Sunjata needs to breathe properly, that they're still riding on the aftermath of a crisis, it's reluctant, softer, smaller kisses pressed to the corners of the attuneds mouth. Then electric eyes, roaming over Sunjata's face, not searching, but taking in everything. "You should get washed up." He says, after a long while, not moving at all, not loosening his grip or pulling away.
grab your saints and pray
and we'll burn this world today
and we'll burn this world today
