NATE
i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby
like i'm an american hero, baby
Maybe it should come as more of a surprise, but Sunjata snapping upright suddenly is met with nothing more than a confused hum from Nate (though every sound that passes between his lips right now is steeped in confusion) and his fingers tightening to tug at brown hair before he remembers to let go.
Every part of him is stiff and slow, though the protestations of his body do nothing to discourage his own eagerness to be pressed close to Sunjata. In bits and pieces, the attuned wraps around Nate, his warmth, his touch, his smell. Everything seems different, more than it ever has before somehow, though not in anyway that Nate would ever be able to articulate. It feels like he’s been away for years, and is just now coming home.
“Falling. Not landing, but…” Nate nods, as much as he’s able to with the way his glowing cheeks are held. “Before that… the tower, and… Ronin.” The Dark Star’s name is said with a trembling venom, Nate’s eyes growing distant and his lips twitching, trying to tug into a snarl. He’s still stuck, a season behind, though it’s all just as fresh for him, a film negative exposed over reality, blotting out the details of the room, everything except for what’s in Nate’s head and what’s touching him.
Every part of him is stiff and slow, though the protestations of his body do nothing to discourage his own eagerness to be pressed close to Sunjata. In bits and pieces, the attuned wraps around Nate, his warmth, his touch, his smell. Everything seems different, more than it ever has before somehow, though not in anyway that Nate would ever be able to articulate. It feels like he’s been away for years, and is just now coming home.
“Falling. Not landing, but…” Nate nods, as much as he’s able to with the way his glowing cheeks are held. “Before that… the tower, and… Ronin.” The Dark Star’s name is said with a trembling venom, Nate’s eyes growing distant and his lips twitching, trying to tug into a snarl. He’s still stuck, a season behind, though it’s all just as fresh for him, a film negative exposed over reality, blotting out the details of the room, everything except for what’s in Nate’s head and what’s touching him.
star-spangled in my manner, shaking
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see
