just put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed
There is one thing you never want to do in a boxing ring, and that’s grow distracted. The moment you take your eyes off your opponent is the moment you pay for it, and Nate knows the other man knows better. Knows these same lessons, or something like them, have been literally beaten into Sunjata’s head. Whatever it is that he sees must be bad, but Nate doesn’t even get a moment to think about what it might be.
There is one thing you never want to hear in a boxing ring, and that is a crack. No matter where it comes from, it earns a wince, apologetic words, but this is so much worse than any dislocated fingers or broken nose he’s caused before. It’s as if the world is in slow motion, if that slow motion moved faster than Nate could keep up with it. The crack is still echoing in his ears, even as he watches Sunjata twist away from him, and drop to his knees, the words drowned out by the sound.
It takes Nate a moment to really catch up, a quick glance thrown over his shoulder at the door, trying to find what could have possibly caused this, besides him. There’s nothing there, an open door (had they left it open?) and shadows. He turns to rush to Sunjata instead, worry taking over.
Where Sunjata’s words are silent by necessity, Nate has no such limitation, his mouth moving faster than he can keep up with. ”Fuck fuck, I’m sorry, shit, fuck, c’mere, lemme see sonskyn.” The tail end is accompanied by the dull thud of Nate dropping to his knees in front of his husband, hands coming out to grab Sunjata’s shoulders, to try and steady him enough to see the colour already blooming along his neck and face, the awkward angle of his jaw sitting where it shouldn’t.
”Its not that bad.” He tries to offer brightly, even as a matching litany of fuckfuckfuckfuck echoes out through the bond. ”We can fix this, right? Lookit me.”
There is one thing you never want to hear in a boxing ring, and that is a crack. No matter where it comes from, it earns a wince, apologetic words, but this is so much worse than any dislocated fingers or broken nose he’s caused before. It’s as if the world is in slow motion, if that slow motion moved faster than Nate could keep up with it. The crack is still echoing in his ears, even as he watches Sunjata twist away from him, and drop to his knees, the words drowned out by the sound.
It takes Nate a moment to really catch up, a quick glance thrown over his shoulder at the door, trying to find what could have possibly caused this, besides him. There’s nothing there, an open door (had they left it open?) and shadows. He turns to rush to Sunjata instead, worry taking over.
Where Sunjata’s words are silent by necessity, Nate has no such limitation, his mouth moving faster than he can keep up with. ”Fuck fuck, I’m sorry, shit, fuck, c’mere, lemme see sonskyn.” The tail end is accompanied by the dull thud of Nate dropping to his knees in front of his husband, hands coming out to grab Sunjata’s shoulders, to try and steady him enough to see the colour already blooming along his neck and face, the awkward angle of his jaw sitting where it shouldn’t.
”Its not that bad.” He tries to offer brightly, even as a matching litany of fuckfuckfuckfuck echoes out through the bond. ”We can fix this, right? Lookit me.”
it's chaos, confusion, and wholly unworthy
of feeding and it's wholly untrue
NATE
