i'll turn myself into a gun, because it's all i have, because i'm hungry and hollow
Hotaru squirms, shifting in his arms, leaving Nate to wonder if he can even do this right anymore. Maybe he's lost some measure of comfort, or humanity, or something, something stolen away by the ocean in more ways than one. A pale hand rises, Nate's jaw already tensing, almost aching with the anticipation, but when Hotaru finally connects he leans into her hand, his mismatched eyes closing tightly.
He thinks about the smoky and charred lower floor. He thinks about the trampled garden outside the front doors. He thinks about the crash and pull of the ocean, beyond the doors and the cliff. He thinks about how long he'd have to stand at the edge of the cliff for that pull to grow into a call, into an invitation. "No. We don't." It's nice, to have simple questions to answer, even if his mind makes them into a production. Nate manages to open his eyes, even if he doesn't quite manage to meet Hotaru's gaze, his jaw working like there's something else he's trying to get out, and his arms tightening almost painfully around her.
"I... didn't mean to wake you." He finally manages to grind out, his voice gravelly.
He thinks about the smoky and charred lower floor. He thinks about the trampled garden outside the front doors. He thinks about the crash and pull of the ocean, beyond the doors and the cliff. He thinks about how long he'd have to stand at the edge of the cliff for that pull to grow into a call, into an invitation. "No. We don't." It's nice, to have simple questions to answer, even if his mind makes them into a production. Nate manages to open his eyes, even if he doesn't quite manage to meet Hotaru's gaze, his jaw working like there's something else he's trying to get out, and his arms tightening almost painfully around her.
"I... didn't mean to wake you." He finally manages to grind out, his voice gravelly.
and just want something to call my own
NATE
