all i can do is stand on the curb and say sorry about the blood in your mouth
Just like that, his only constant in the world shifts, goes from being the pain, the burning still flaring in him, to the body against him, arms and chest and motion all blurring together in a confusing tangle, no matter how hard he tries to keep it straight. He's still only getting snips, flashes of the world outside his head, outside himself, but a word, a name, a reassurance has him settling, sagging into the contact, then flinching, trying to draw back away from the whistle, the sharpness of the sound too much.
Should he feel so much like he's drifting? There's no sense of his feet against the ground, no sense of anything except arms around him, except for pain that he shouldn't be able to feel. For a single, blissful moment, Nate wonders if maybe that's all there is now, if that's all he is now. He can't quite figure out if its a relief, in the same way he isn't quite sure if he's holding himself up, if his feet are under him, but the thought passes in a moment.
It isn't until there's something sturdy, something yielding under him completely that Nate let's himself sag, sinking down, back, fighting the whole time the urge to draw his knees in, to curl up small. He knows better, somewhere deep down, knows he needs to be looked at, to be taken care of, that if he tries to hide himself now, he'll just have to come out when its worse.
Nate doesn't notice Sunjata come back to him, not until there's hands pushing his hair back, pulling his whole head with them, no strength in him to fight it, to keep still. His uncovered eye is blown wide, the blue in it gone, given way to black and white and a shimmering approximation of bloodshot, trembling hand still covering the other one. He lingers on the edge of unfocused, but tries, fights, to force words out, the list from earlier rattling around his mind, rattling through his throat like a hiss.
"Wa'er." Then a pause, to recover from the exertion of speech, the realisation that he has no idea what to do, what he needs, not without actually seeing what has happened. The burning edges of his face still plead for a release, for an end, and his vision is not yet clear enough to read the expression on the other man, so... "Mmmn... 'irror."
Should he feel so much like he's drifting? There's no sense of his feet against the ground, no sense of anything except arms around him, except for pain that he shouldn't be able to feel. For a single, blissful moment, Nate wonders if maybe that's all there is now, if that's all he is now. He can't quite figure out if its a relief, in the same way he isn't quite sure if he's holding himself up, if his feet are under him, but the thought passes in a moment.
It isn't until there's something sturdy, something yielding under him completely that Nate let's himself sag, sinking down, back, fighting the whole time the urge to draw his knees in, to curl up small. He knows better, somewhere deep down, knows he needs to be looked at, to be taken care of, that if he tries to hide himself now, he'll just have to come out when its worse.
Nate doesn't notice Sunjata come back to him, not until there's hands pushing his hair back, pulling his whole head with them, no strength in him to fight it, to keep still. His uncovered eye is blown wide, the blue in it gone, given way to black and white and a shimmering approximation of bloodshot, trembling hand still covering the other one. He lingers on the edge of unfocused, but tries, fights, to force words out, the list from earlier rattling around his mind, rattling through his throat like a hiss.
"Wa'er." Then a pause, to recover from the exertion of speech, the realisation that he has no idea what to do, what he needs, not without actually seeing what has happened. The burning edges of his face still plead for a release, for an end, and his vision is not yet clear enough to read the expression on the other man, so... "Mmmn... 'irror."
i wish it was mine
NATE
