- NATE -
do you feel at home? your flames are burning higher
your circumstance is dire, don't panic. you're frantic
your circumstance is dire, don't panic. you're frantic
Just as slowly as his other had begun to falter the first time, Nate begins to drift, leaning closer and closer to Melita until their sides are nearly pressed together, until they’re close enough that Nate can swap the hand clinging to hears to wrap around her shoulders instead. Maybe he can’t offer warmth, but he can try and offer something, some closeness, some thanks. If she hadn’t found him, wasn’t leading him, what would he have done? Would he have been found? Would he have risen again?
But she had found him, she had him, and they were safe. They were going home. And the worst of his panic, the worries and fears plaguing him, were placated by a story. He could be simple, sometimes.
”What kinds of sounds?” Did she really expect to be able to tell a story without being interrupted, without Nate butting in. He loves to talk when he’s not sick, but now, with his filter all but nonexistent, whatever comes into his head just spews out his mouth. Though, if he could just be patient, he’d get his answers, much like the first one that came without any extra effort imparted by the first haired girl. ”Is this story like the um, the piper one?” And, most importantly, but quietest in his deluge of distracted curiosity: ”Is the butterfly okay?”
But she had found him, she had him, and they were safe. They were going home. And the worst of his panic, the worries and fears plaguing him, were placated by a story. He could be simple, sometimes.
”What kinds of sounds?” Did she really expect to be able to tell a story without being interrupted, without Nate butting in. He loves to talk when he’s not sick, but now, with his filter all but nonexistent, whatever comes into his head just spews out his mouth. Though, if he could just be patient, he’d get his answers, much like the first one that came without any extra effort imparted by the first haired girl. ”Is this story like the um, the piper one?” And, most importantly, but quietest in his deluge of distracted curiosity: ”Is the butterfly okay?”
this is your hell, dancing for something that was
true to you, how do you do? say it's me.
true to you, how do you do? say it's me.
