NATE
sometimes the same is different, but mostly it's the same
these mysteries of life, that just aint my thing
these mysteries of life, that just aint my thing
“Thanks for the permission, princess.” Didn’t like sunshine? Fine, he can roll with it, he can dance. Let the record show Nathaniel J. Wren made every effort to be an accomadating roommate. “A nickname means we’re buddies man. Pals. Amigos.” If Nate notices HES moving too fast for Sunjata to keep up, he doesn’t seem to care. It’s not like it really matters anyway, he’s moving too fast to stay caught up himself, his abused mind running screaming from one thought to the next, sometimes doubling back when it remembers how interesting one had been no, not that one, the one before maybe? This had started with with their one month.
Somewhere in the middle of calling Sunjata names, Nate loses the thread, forgets what nine even has to do with it. Tries to make an educated guess, and when nothing comes to mind defaults to being vaguely insulted. “You’d go at nine? That’s still not nine!” All at once the rest of the conversation slams into his head again, and he leans back into the mattress propped up on an elbow. “Dunno what I’d do. Didn’t have to think that far ahead.” it’s a vague threat that drifts away, Nate unable to not notice the way the other man’s eyes follow his hand.
The way they linger.
Without missing a beat, Nate let’s his knees fall open a little wider, let’s his hand linger where it is. There’s a clear imprint of his knuckles tenting the fabric, twitching as he flexes his hand, just a little. All the while he keeps his eyes on Sunjata, waiting for their gazes to meet again, so he can stare directly in the other man’s face as he pulls his hand back and splays it on his pillow.
It’s a question that surprises him, despite how often it backhands him across the face. Despite how absolutely sensible it is to ask. Maybe it’s just coming from Sunjata, instead of someone in a so called position of authority over him. “Dunno.” He all but pushes the word out of his mouth with his tongue, lips tugging up in a grin that barely clings to his face. “Ask me again at nine.” Wide blue eyes carve out a moment to drink in the other man’s reaction, and then Nate’s laughing, breathless and giddy, his whole body shaking with it.
It takes entirely too much time before he pulls himself together, half collapsed on Sunjata’s bed. Nate sucks in a deep breath, catching a whiff of the cologne, and then shoves himself off the bed in a frantic, panicked huff, landing with a solid thump in a heap on the ground. A hand comes up to wipe at his face, hiding the glassy eyes and the tremble in his jaw long enough for them to disappear.
With no small amount of effort, Nate pushes himself to his feet again and leans in Sunjata’s direction, a finger coming out to just barely poke his chest. The draft and sway is gone from the gesture, and the corners of Nate’s grin suddenly seem strained. “I’m makin’ breakfast.” Poke. “You’re up now, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just nods his head and steps backwards out of the room, eyes not leaving Sunjata until Nate turns to grab the doorknob and slam the door closed between them.
Before long, there is the smell of frying bacon, paired with poorly muffled curses as the meat presumably spits up like particularly cantankerous baby. So at least Nate’s not completely full of shit.
Somewhere in the middle of calling Sunjata names, Nate loses the thread, forgets what nine even has to do with it. Tries to make an educated guess, and when nothing comes to mind defaults to being vaguely insulted. “You’d go at nine? That’s still not nine!” All at once the rest of the conversation slams into his head again, and he leans back into the mattress propped up on an elbow. “Dunno what I’d do. Didn’t have to think that far ahead.” it’s a vague threat that drifts away, Nate unable to not notice the way the other man’s eyes follow his hand.
The way they linger.
Without missing a beat, Nate let’s his knees fall open a little wider, let’s his hand linger where it is. There’s a clear imprint of his knuckles tenting the fabric, twitching as he flexes his hand, just a little. All the while he keeps his eyes on Sunjata, waiting for their gazes to meet again, so he can stare directly in the other man’s face as he pulls his hand back and splays it on his pillow.
It’s a question that surprises him, despite how often it backhands him across the face. Despite how absolutely sensible it is to ask. Maybe it’s just coming from Sunjata, instead of someone in a so called position of authority over him. “Dunno.” He all but pushes the word out of his mouth with his tongue, lips tugging up in a grin that barely clings to his face. “Ask me again at nine.” Wide blue eyes carve out a moment to drink in the other man’s reaction, and then Nate’s laughing, breathless and giddy, his whole body shaking with it.
It takes entirely too much time before he pulls himself together, half collapsed on Sunjata’s bed. Nate sucks in a deep breath, catching a whiff of the cologne, and then shoves himself off the bed in a frantic, panicked huff, landing with a solid thump in a heap on the ground. A hand comes up to wipe at his face, hiding the glassy eyes and the tremble in his jaw long enough for them to disappear.
With no small amount of effort, Nate pushes himself to his feet again and leans in Sunjata’s direction, a finger coming out to just barely poke his chest. The draft and sway is gone from the gesture, and the corners of Nate’s grin suddenly seem strained. “I’m makin’ breakfast.” Poke. “You’re up now, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just nods his head and steps backwards out of the room, eyes not leaving Sunjata until Nate turns to grab the doorknob and slam the door closed between them.
Before long, there is the smell of frying bacon, paired with poorly muffled curses as the meat presumably spits up like particularly cantankerous baby. So at least Nate’s not completely full of shit.
if i told you that i knew about the sun and the moon, I'd be untrue
the only thing i know for sure, is what i wanna do
the only thing i know for sure, is what i wanna do
