NATE
There’s something so earnest about the quirk of Sunjata’s lips, the pinch of his brows, that makes Nate break into soft laughter all over again. Fingers brush through short curls, the ascended taking a moment to simply appreciate the other man; his strong features, his warmth, the way he’s still captivating even with half his face swollen and discoloured. You are.
No matter how loosened the attuned’s tongue has grown, Nate is still stone sober, still stunted in the little ways that seem to matter most in moments like this. He wishes he could be blunt and honest about it, but settles instead for his arms tightening, and the silent emotions that drip through the leaky faucet bond between them.
Nate’s shoulder drops, sloping into a more comfortable headrest automatically. A hand drops to join Sunjata’s, all wrapped up in Haai’s fur, their fingers bumping often enough that has to be intentional. He treated us the same, so I don’t really know what his problem was. Despite his best attempts, it’s harder to mask the bitterness in the joke through the ring than it is out loud. Or perhaps Nate simply has less practice with it. He allows himself a single moment of shame, his eyes breaking contact with Sunjata’s for a moment to focus instead on the sheets, only rising when the attuned’s begins to speak of his mother. It’s rare to hear the good parts, but it’s a moment Nate tries to pay special attention to.
If nothing else, he’s avoided triggering a trap of bad memories and trauma. Instead, there is a simple warmth, growing more complicated the more Sunjata reveals. A garden sounds nice. Did you help her in it? Perhaps it’s cruel, but a kind manipulation, one meant to steer around the potential bad with as wide a berth as possible, doesn’t really feel like anything worse than a kindness.
Nate tries to mirror the vibrant feelings, surprised that there are even moments to inspire such feelings in Sunjata’s past. It feels hypocritical to be surprised though, his childhood had not been as bad as the other man’s, but it had still been bad, and he had still had shining memories. It sounds like she tried to keep an eye on you. The offered words are a touch riff, the subject barbing particularly close to Nate’s own hang ups and resentments, things he tries to not wallow in when there is such a raw and open connection between them.
The Chamber is something that sticks out immediately, not only for the sudden drop when it’s mentioned. It’s not the time to push, might not ever be. Might be one of those wait until Sunjata himself brings it up subjects, no matte this terrible morbid curiosity. Fingers shift over his arm, the ascended shivering reflexively in response to the whisper soft touches.
Theo eyes meet again, and Nate’s hand brushes short hair away from his husbands forehead again, using the gesture as an excuse to simply touch, to simply be close. Ignoring the fact that they are well past needing excuses. ”What else did she grow?” It’s half genuine curiosity, half to keep Sunjata focused on something gentle, something he can talk about easily.
No matter how loosened the attuned’s tongue has grown, Nate is still stone sober, still stunted in the little ways that seem to matter most in moments like this. He wishes he could be blunt and honest about it, but settles instead for his arms tightening, and the silent emotions that drip through the leaky faucet bond between them.
Nate’s shoulder drops, sloping into a more comfortable headrest automatically. A hand drops to join Sunjata’s, all wrapped up in Haai’s fur, their fingers bumping often enough that has to be intentional. He treated us the same, so I don’t really know what his problem was. Despite his best attempts, it’s harder to mask the bitterness in the joke through the ring than it is out loud. Or perhaps Nate simply has less practice with it. He allows himself a single moment of shame, his eyes breaking contact with Sunjata’s for a moment to focus instead on the sheets, only rising when the attuned’s begins to speak of his mother. It’s rare to hear the good parts, but it’s a moment Nate tries to pay special attention to.
If nothing else, he’s avoided triggering a trap of bad memories and trauma. Instead, there is a simple warmth, growing more complicated the more Sunjata reveals. A garden sounds nice. Did you help her in it? Perhaps it’s cruel, but a kind manipulation, one meant to steer around the potential bad with as wide a berth as possible, doesn’t really feel like anything worse than a kindness.
Nate tries to mirror the vibrant feelings, surprised that there are even moments to inspire such feelings in Sunjata’s past. It feels hypocritical to be surprised though, his childhood had not been as bad as the other man’s, but it had still been bad, and he had still had shining memories. It sounds like she tried to keep an eye on you. The offered words are a touch riff, the subject barbing particularly close to Nate’s own hang ups and resentments, things he tries to not wallow in when there is such a raw and open connection between them.
The Chamber is something that sticks out immediately, not only for the sudden drop when it’s mentioned. It’s not the time to push, might not ever be. Might be one of those wait until Sunjata himself brings it up subjects, no matte this terrible morbid curiosity. Fingers shift over his arm, the ascended shivering reflexively in response to the whisper soft touches.
Theo eyes meet again, and Nate’s hand brushes short hair away from his husbands forehead again, using the gesture as an excuse to simply touch, to simply be close. Ignoring the fact that they are well past needing excuses. ”What else did she grow?” It’s half genuine curiosity, half to keep Sunjata focused on something gentle, something he can talk about easily.
Deep down, it hurts to know
How bad I wanna call it quits
How bad I wanna call it quits
