sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine
”How could I not have?” This has been the pattern of his life, periods of quiet, or peace, moments where he thought things might be okay, and there was always a fall. And the more he’d believed in it, the more painful it was. ”This is how things go. It’s how it always happens. Something gets fucked up, right at the end, right when everything is going perfect.” Why would this be any different? Why would he ever expect it to turn out different?
Nate doesn’t need to be looking to know what the other man is doing, to know what the clunk is. Some distant, stubborn part of him is curious, why doesn’t he just light something, why doesn’t he shift his eyes? Why are they standing here, in the dark, in the very beginning of the dark, fighting?
A couple of days. That was it, that was all they had. It’s not even a solid number. ”Is there a point?” Nate opens his eye and stares at the ground, still not moving, not offering an inch. ”We fix everything, start seeing eye to eye, and then what? You don’t come back? What about next time? Or the time after that?” There should be more heat in his voice, more venom lacing the words, but there’s nothing. He’s not even speaking loudly anymore, can’t bring himself to do it. ”For fucks sake, the first time we met you were drowning on this shit. When does it stop?”
Nate can’t tell if his calm is a boon or a cruelty. It lets him claim the level head, keeps him acting out like his father had, but this quiet nothingness is a more insidious kind of barb, and he knows that.
Nate doesn’t need to be looking to know what the other man is doing, to know what the clunk is. Some distant, stubborn part of him is curious, why doesn’t he just light something, why doesn’t he shift his eyes? Why are they standing here, in the dark, in the very beginning of the dark, fighting?
A couple of days. That was it, that was all they had. It’s not even a solid number. ”Is there a point?” Nate opens his eye and stares at the ground, still not moving, not offering an inch. ”We fix everything, start seeing eye to eye, and then what? You don’t come back? What about next time? Or the time after that?” There should be more heat in his voice, more venom lacing the words, but there’s nothing. He’s not even speaking loudly anymore, can’t bring himself to do it. ”For fucks sake, the first time we met you were drowning on this shit. When does it stop?”
Nate can’t tell if his calm is a boon or a cruelty. It lets him claim the level head, keeps him acting out like his father had, but this quiet nothingness is a more insidious kind of barb, and he knows that.
i couldn't get the boy to kill me
but i wore his jacket for the longest time
NATE
