don't you know i'm no good for you?
How can he think about it? He doesn’t get the choices that Nate’s gotten with the Voice. He doesn’t get to sit there and pick and choose. It’s either there or it’s gone. But Nate’s panicked voice has him cracking, his heart shattering again and again until it feels like lead in his stomach, until he thinks it’s nausea that rears its ugly head in the back of his mouth, down his throat.
Gods how he wanted to keep them safe too. He can’t, he never even could again. All he can do is duck his head, shut his eyes tight in his agreement that the Voice had never made him choose… But when had he sought out the Voice without Nate there? Never.
Would she have made him compete with her for Nate’s attention at some point? Could these roles be reversed? He supposes they’ll never know. And he sinks down, to his knees in the dirt and the sand, in the grasses that sway, wet with heavy rain from the previous night. “Nate…” His voice cracks, it shatters against the hiccupping sob that leaves his husband, and he’s suddenly wondering if this is something that can be fixed. “I know. I –” It’s always been him, hasn’t it? Lusea, Nate, all of them. He was the common thread that destroyed them in the end.
He had always been the problem despite his good intentions.
He always will be the problem.
So he shuts down when Nate stands, unable to keep the closeness to him, and it’s his husband’s frantic voice, the panic, the sudden vibrant emotion that the demigod had spent the better half of their relationship hiding away, out in the open.
He knows it.
“Wait.” He doesn’t need the blood ring to feel the panic rebounding around him as he tries to scramble to his feet. The glassy sheen in Nate’s eyes is reflected in his own as well, red ringed with a tight chest, taking a stumbling step through the wet, soft ground, to reach for Nate because he can’t bear this. He’d always been terrible with words, better at explaining it with action. “I’m the problem. I always have been. I don’t know why. I don't know how to be better. I just... I just know how to survive, some-fucking-how. I want to be better.” He chokes on the words as they leave his tight throat. “I never meant for this to happen. Please believe me. You are the best thing to happen to me, I never... Never wanted to hurt you.” He reaches out, both hands extended to reach for Nate wherever he can to simply get him to stop, to get him to listen, to try and assure his husband with his touch that trembles, that he’d only ever meant any of this with the best intentions.
He just always fucked it up in the long run.
Gods how he wanted to keep them safe too. He can’t, he never even could again. All he can do is duck his head, shut his eyes tight in his agreement that the Voice had never made him choose… But when had he sought out the Voice without Nate there? Never.
Would she have made him compete with her for Nate’s attention at some point? Could these roles be reversed? He supposes they’ll never know. And he sinks down, to his knees in the dirt and the sand, in the grasses that sway, wet with heavy rain from the previous night. “Nate…” His voice cracks, it shatters against the hiccupping sob that leaves his husband, and he’s suddenly wondering if this is something that can be fixed. “I know. I –” It’s always been him, hasn’t it? Lusea, Nate, all of them. He was the common thread that destroyed them in the end.
He had always been the problem despite his good intentions.
He always will be the problem.
So he shuts down when Nate stands, unable to keep the closeness to him, and it’s his husband’s frantic voice, the panic, the sudden vibrant emotion that the demigod had spent the better half of their relationship hiding away, out in the open.
He knows it.
“Wait.” He doesn’t need the blood ring to feel the panic rebounding around him as he tries to scramble to his feet. The glassy sheen in Nate’s eyes is reflected in his own as well, red ringed with a tight chest, taking a stumbling step through the wet, soft ground, to reach for Nate because he can’t bear this. He’d always been terrible with words, better at explaining it with action. “I’m the problem. I always have been. I don’t know why. I don't know how to be better. I just... I just know how to survive, some-fucking-how. I want to be better.” He chokes on the words as they leave his tight throat. “I never meant for this to happen. Please believe me. You are the best thing to happen to me, I never... Never wanted to hurt you.” He reaches out, both hands extended to reach for Nate wherever he can to simply get him to stop, to get him to listen, to try and assure his husband with his touch that trembles, that he’d only ever meant any of this with the best intentions.
He just always fucked it up in the long run.
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to
SUNJATA
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
