i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all
It takes two to repress, two to not talk, and if anything, Nate blames himself for how deep down this hole he's slipped, his own urge to not let go of anything, to not let anything bad escape. All he knows is how to not trust, how to not let anyone else in, and even this, even with Sunjata, there's that last door that he lost the key to a long time ago, that he's barricaded closed from both sides. Something's been knocking for a long time though, an endless pounding, like ocean waves, seeping in a little more the longer it's closed. Nate doesn't know if he can open it at all anymore, without drowning, and he's so afraid that when it happens, he won't be the only one swept away.
As far as he's concerned, Nate is the only one who's had any kind of failure, and at the end of the day it's up to him to keep the pieces held together. It's not healthy, maybe, but it's the only thing he's ever known to do.
"I can't either." Nate murmurs, more into his coffee than into the room, a smile crinkling his eyes and his hand squeezing, too hard for the easy mood they're playing at. But he gets the comfortable silence he'd wanted, while Sunjata finishes the rest of his bowl, until Nate breaks it himself, asking after things he knows won't help his spiral (might as well call a spade a spade at this point, though it doesn't have the same explosive potential of the other mans). A brow lifts in response to the answer he gets, not budging at the grin, the reassurance. And he winces as an actual explanation comes, not at all reassuring. "I guess... it could have been worse. Er... bad, for real." It's not the response he want's to give, not the worry, the gentle hands, the more clinical look over the stitches, but it's what he's going to limit himself to, for the moment. He nods instead, lifts the mug back up to his lips and sits like that, his thumb threatening to wear a mark in the back of Sunjata's hand.
His leg moves faster than the rest of him does, dropping away from the attuned's lap as the dishes are collected, Nate's gaze only rising as a kiss is pressed to his head, as his hand is squeezed. He’s just as slow to actually rise to his feet, but there’s no force that could keep him from following after Sunjata, towards the kitchen, the sink. ”Sounds like a fair deal.” He laughs, finishing off the rest of his coffee and adding his mug to the pile.
It’s only after Sunjata starts the dishes that he realizes the con. There’s nothing to do with his hands, no distraction, and they’ve effectively left the peace he’d bargained. There’s a moment of tiny, restless motions, a half assed attempt at wiping the counter, putting away leftover ingredients. Nate’s back beside the sink, beside Sunjata, after a moment, lifting himself up onto the counter in a quick, smooth movement.
Hands reach out, fingers tracing along Sunjata’s face, definitely being a bother, though he can’t quite bring himself to care. ”Hey, Jata?” The words come out before Nate’s sure what he’s going to actually say, silence stretching out, even if the other man turns to him. ”You... I worry about you.”
As far as he's concerned, Nate is the only one who's had any kind of failure, and at the end of the day it's up to him to keep the pieces held together. It's not healthy, maybe, but it's the only thing he's ever known to do.
"I can't either." Nate murmurs, more into his coffee than into the room, a smile crinkling his eyes and his hand squeezing, too hard for the easy mood they're playing at. But he gets the comfortable silence he'd wanted, while Sunjata finishes the rest of his bowl, until Nate breaks it himself, asking after things he knows won't help his spiral (might as well call a spade a spade at this point, though it doesn't have the same explosive potential of the other mans). A brow lifts in response to the answer he gets, not budging at the grin, the reassurance. And he winces as an actual explanation comes, not at all reassuring. "I guess... it could have been worse. Er... bad, for real." It's not the response he want's to give, not the worry, the gentle hands, the more clinical look over the stitches, but it's what he's going to limit himself to, for the moment. He nods instead, lifts the mug back up to his lips and sits like that, his thumb threatening to wear a mark in the back of Sunjata's hand.
His leg moves faster than the rest of him does, dropping away from the attuned's lap as the dishes are collected, Nate's gaze only rising as a kiss is pressed to his head, as his hand is squeezed. He’s just as slow to actually rise to his feet, but there’s no force that could keep him from following after Sunjata, towards the kitchen, the sink. ”Sounds like a fair deal.” He laughs, finishing off the rest of his coffee and adding his mug to the pile.
It’s only after Sunjata starts the dishes that he realizes the con. There’s nothing to do with his hands, no distraction, and they’ve effectively left the peace he’d bargained. There’s a moment of tiny, restless motions, a half assed attempt at wiping the counter, putting away leftover ingredients. Nate’s back beside the sink, beside Sunjata, after a moment, lifting himself up onto the counter in a quick, smooth movement.
Hands reach out, fingers tracing along Sunjata’s face, definitely being a bother, though he can’t quite bring himself to care. ”Hey, Jata?” The words come out before Nate’s sure what he’s going to actually say, silence stretching out, even if the other man turns to him. ”You... I worry about you.”
NATE
