// It's not enough that I'm running on empty
I had to go and run out while I had you in the car with me //
I had to go and run out while I had you in the car with me //
It is one thing rehearse something in your thoughts, to let it consume your waking moments, to try and gauge and school your emotions. To play pretend. It’s easy to be neat, to feign something rational, to bury the white hot anger in the deepest pets of him and stifle it.
It is another thing entirely to be confronted by the moment. To have it actually happen, to have time to stew on it.
As the sun rises, and they make their way to the port, all Nate has summoned is anger, more than he’d thought he could feel. More than should be able to contain, really. He knows it spills over to Sunjata, just as he feels the slivers of betrayal sink into him from the attuned.
They stand shoulder to shoulder, Nate a hard line at Sunjata’s side. Pemota is a faint, glittery suggestion far behind them, close enough if she is needed, but knowing she is not wanted. As soon as Hotaru steps through the portal, he twitches, shifts on his feet, his gaze moving over her quickly. It shouldn’t be possible for his frown to grow more severe, but it does.
Stepping ahead of Sunjata, Nate let’s his shoulders drop a little bit, let’s his stance widen. Reaches into his pocket and grabs a cigarette and a light. Let’s the rough voice wash out around him while he flicks the match, lights the smoke, inhales. Postures with violence, so he can ignore the pain that twinges suddenly in his chest, that he knows his husband will feel as well.
“Y’gonna come nice?” He asks, softer than seems right. In a gesture that seems to almost pain him, Nate jerks his head behind them. He has his own reasons for not wanting his hands on her, if they can avoid it, great.
It is another thing entirely to be confronted by the moment. To have it actually happen, to have time to stew on it.
As the sun rises, and they make their way to the port, all Nate has summoned is anger, more than he’d thought he could feel. More than should be able to contain, really. He knows it spills over to Sunjata, just as he feels the slivers of betrayal sink into him from the attuned.
They stand shoulder to shoulder, Nate a hard line at Sunjata’s side. Pemota is a faint, glittery suggestion far behind them, close enough if she is needed, but knowing she is not wanted. As soon as Hotaru steps through the portal, he twitches, shifts on his feet, his gaze moving over her quickly. It shouldn’t be possible for his frown to grow more severe, but it does.
Stepping ahead of Sunjata, Nate let’s his shoulders drop a little bit, let’s his stance widen. Reaches into his pocket and grabs a cigarette and a light. Let’s the rough voice wash out around him while he flicks the match, lights the smoke, inhales. Postures with violence, so he can ignore the pain that twinges suddenly in his chest, that he knows his husband will feel as well.
“Y’gonna come nice?” He asks, softer than seems right. In a gesture that seems to almost pain him, Nate jerks his head behind them. He has his own reasons for not wanting his hands on her, if they can avoid it, great.
NATE
