At the other end of the leash

NATE

The stillness lingers beneath him, refuses to bloom into motion, into the warmth he'd been leeching. Hands trembling now, Nate's fingers search for Sunjata's throat, searching for a pulse, a beat that he cannot find, though the barest trickle of blood from the wounds he's made stains his fingers, the faint stickiness undeniable. A low, panicked whine rings in his ears before Nate registers that it's coming from his own throat, and all at once the urge to open his eyes is undeniable.

But he doesn't open them into his bedroom. Doesn't open them to see Sunjata.

Instead of a warm darkness, the comfortable tangle of blankets, Nate sees white walls. Sees a white bed, with a too still body in it. Sees a face more familiar than his own, gaunt and still, cold and waxy. The noise still pouring from him is choked off suddenly, all of him going still, held tight as whispers begin to caress him again, clearer than they've ever been before, closer than they've ever been before. He can almost feel them, pressing in like hands, holding him still, keeping him pinned in place, staring down at his worst memory.

Hands fall away first, slipping like dead weight away from cold skin, a precursor to the sudden limpness that infects all of Nate, his form crumpling slowly until finally, his forehead rests on a still chest, his eye wide but unseeing, tears making his already limited vision swim. It feels as if he moves very slowly, as if the world moves very slowly. Feels like hours have passed before finally, the pain swirling in his chest builds up to the point that Nate can't hold it anymore. A long sob leaves him, making his body shake, his hands grasping for something, for nothing.

"P-Please." It's breathless, gasped out only because he can't choke on it. "I c-can't... can't do this again. Please." Whatever god will listen to him, Nate will follow, whatever force can keep him from this heartbreak again, he will devote himself to for the rest of his waking life. There is a part of him that isn't sure who he's lost still, but it tears away the same pieces of him, the parts that trust, that love. The parts that he'd so stubbornly ignored, until recently.

The streets are only empty when I need someone
There's nothing to see here, move along!

SUNJATA

The stillness remains, though Sunjata doesn’t know what memory it sparks to life for Nate. Sunjata doesn’t know much – other than wondering if he’s become a branch of light, of the very same lightning that had slipped down from the skies and found him at the end. He decides it wouldn’t be so bad to go that way if he had to. To become one with that which should have likely killed him if it weren’t for Zuriel and Vervain.

But there, a brief flickering of returning mentally though his arms and body is far too heavy – he can’t do much other than listen, can’t do much other than wait for his heart to continue pumping more and more blood until finally, he could maybe move. But nausea roars in his chest again and he internally shudders, recoiling from the sensation as Nate’s head finds his chest.

His heart thunders and roars, his lungs press and fill so shallowly that when he finally wakes, it’s with a startling gasp of breath, heaving warm air into tight lungs, hands moving to clutch Nate where he lays, not knowing what had happened but emerging from the sudden darkness with a fleeting sense of panic, attempting to regain his bearings.

“Wat het gebeur…?” A muffled rumble, broken up and breathy and uncertain, grasping and latching onto anything he can.

we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises
trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?

NATE

There are signs, shifts that Nate doesn't notice, can't notice, in the state he's in, the way he's worked himself up. Twitches, shifting, the slightest dip of breath into a chest. All lost on him, in his grief. Voices cradle around him, cloying, whispering things, reminding him how this is his fault, how it should have been him, how things would be better if it was him. If he wasn't the way he was, perhaps things would have gone differently.

Just as his sobbing begins to soften, as he tries to pull the pieces of himself back together, a voice solely in his head screaming for him to Stiffen up, boy, the cadaver beneath him gasps back to life. That single breath, that confirmation of life is enough to shatter the illusion, white, clinical walls flickering before peeling away, before becoming familiar, friendly once again. All at once, the little bit of control he's managed to grasp is gone, and sobs begin to shake Nate's body, for a different reason at least.

When his answer comes, it is a stumbling thing, words tripping over each other in a tongue that's not his own, but that keeps him distant from the icy claws of fear and guilt buried in his chest. "Ek het gedink... ek is so jammer, ek weet nie hoekom nie ... ek kon nie stop nie." Every word is barely intelligible, hiccuped out around lingering sobs. He hasn't risen yet, a small mercy that means he just needs to shift a little bit to wrap his arms around Sunjata, to let his fingers roam over a face that is still too cool to the touch.

The streets are only empty when I need someone
There's nothing to see here, move along!

SUNJATA

Nate’s sobbing, he wonders if the warm touch he feels along his chest is branches of flame or if they’re tears as he tries to wrap his mind around what happened. He clings to Nate, a throaty, rough question aired and uncertainty glimmering within him. There’s blood drying to him, in swaths of finger painted ink along his fevered skin. He doesn’t notice. No, he simply closes his eyes again, tries to regain the stumbling of his heart, trying to recover from the dizziness and the nausea that rises at the back of his throat.

He swallows down hard when Nate’s words reach him, when hands find his face, as if Nate’s trying to memorize it. And already, Sunjata doesn’t know, can’t recall what’s occurred. He doesn’t know that Nate couldn’t stop, that it was blood loss that got him. He doesn’t know that he’d blacked out because of it. He just knows that one second things were fine, and the next —

The next, Nate’s tears wet his skin, a panic sense overcoming the room and Sunjata can barely move his limbs with the state he’s in. His throat is dry, but he manages to move his arms enough to try and tug Nate closer, chin resting along his lover’s crown. The words don’t make sense, but Sunjata doesn’t ask — not as he can hear shadows behind the window at the head of the bed begin to move. “I’m okay.” He rumbles quietly, eyes shutting tight to ward away the vision that blurs and clears. “I’m here, it’s okay.” He buries the lower half of his face into dark raven hair. “I’m okay.”

we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises
trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?

NATE

Sunjata, moving, speaking, alive, chases away demons and horrors, shadows and voices. It’s only them. Only the dim, warm bedroom. But even with that knowledge, Nate can’t stop the renewed sobs that wrack him. It’s different now, different than when it had been simple loss, simple guilt.

Nate knows he should be able to control himself, to stop himself. This is the most lucid he’s felt in days, and it’s time being spent crying, pressing against Sunjata. It’s ridiculous. He knows it’s ridiculous. He should be looking over his fiancé, getting him a drink, apologizing until it tears his throat, but all he can do is cry.

There are still tears leaking from his eyes when he shifts, when Nate reaches up to tangle his own fingers in the attuned’s hair. He’s been on the other side of this so many times that it’s all he knows to do. Offer out little touches, little comforts. ”I love you, Sunny.” The words are rough still, muffled by how hard Nate is pressed into Sunjata, like if he’s close enough he can feel the weak pulse under the others skin.

The streets are only empty when I need someone
There's nothing to see here, move along!

SUNJATA

He pays no mind to the sobs that tear through Nate – that make words nearly unintelligible. All he can do is cling to him, unable to move with the weight of the Ascended on him as well. But slowly, ever so slowly, he gets feeling back in arms, the ability to move them returning – enough so that Sunjata can start to rub gentle circles into Nate’s spine.

His head tilts into Nate’s hand, the one that tangles in his curls, doing his best to ignore the shadows and the creeping sounds that sound like they’re coming from the window above them. They’re safe here, safe together even if Sunjata doesn’t think he could actively get up and fight whatever threatens them.

“I love you too, Nate.” He murmurs, lips pressed into dark hair. He continues to draw those soft circles – encouraging Nate to cry for however long he needs it. Sunjata’s still not entirely sure why it had caused such a reaction, but he’s patient and willing to wait. “Do you… Want to talk about it?” He asks, a moment of clarity aside from the shadows crossing over the windows.

we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises
trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?

NATE

Slowly, Nate’s sobs begin to subside, eased by the pressure on his back, the warmth returning all around him. He should feel guilty for this. He will feel guilty for this, when sense returns to him fully. Right now though, all he wants in the world is the comfort of Sunjata's arms around him, and he has it.

”No, I don’t.” A miserable sniffle leaves Nate, and he falls resolutely silent, his hand lifting to rub fruitlessly at his face. The last time he’d cried is not a distant memory, but the last time he’d cried so hard it had scoured him inside? It wouldn’t feel like a lie to say this was the first time.

There’s a pressure in his head that he’s never felt before, forcing his mouth open like he needs to puke, but words come come pouring out instead. ”I thought you were dead. I thought I’d killed you.” That alone should be enough to explain his state, but Nate can’t stop now. ”I didn’t know what to do, and all... all I could think about was being in that fucking hospital room with Bart. They... it was just me, and him, and he... he deserved better than that. You deserve better than that. I-I mean, I should... I should fucking know, I should do better, but I... I don’t know.”

The streets are only empty when I need someone
There's nothing to see here, move along!

SUNJATA

There’s a low hum that leaves Sunjata as Nate says he doesn’t want to talk about it. And that’s fine – it’s fair enough. Sunjata won’t force him to do it. Sunjata won’t force Nate to do anything that dregs up old memories best left to open when more mentally ready – if that day ever came. So he just remains quiet, pressed in tight against Nate, the blood smeared along his face mixing with a small stream of sweat now – painting his skin in a different pattern than Nate’s original frantic hands had.

But then his lover’s talking, and Sunjata remains quiet – letting him talk, letting him get it out – and by the end of it, Sunjata’s arms grow a bit tighter around him. He won’t lie and say that Nate should know, but Sunjata doesn’t blame him either. So he takes a few moments to get over his frantic heartbeat, to let it start to calm, to swallow hard against a parched throat while his tongue feels like lead. “Accident.” He manages at first, taking a deep inhale, eyes still closed tight so he doesn’t have to see the shadows that dance across the room when he opens them. “It was an accident.” Comes the next rumble.

He waits a few more seconds, mulling it over and nuzzling his head in closer. “I’ll be okay.” A breathy response, unsure of what to say. Because he should have known too, should have been able to tell something was wrong and off, that he could have pulled away from Nate and he hadn’t. He’d wanted to burn bright. “Accidents happen.”

we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises
trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?

NATE

"Accident." Nate repeats, spits, like the idea burns him. "And... and if you didn't... if you were," he swallows hard, unable to say it, to entertain the idea again, "what do I do then?" A shiver runs through Nate, lifting him up, just enough that he can shift a little more completely onto Sunjata. "What did I do? I... I didn't do anything, I... God." He means to think these words, but his head is still full, stuffed with a buzzing numbness from his tears, no room left for thoughts to sit in.

Now his other arm rises, giving up on cleaning up his face to instead wind around Sunjata's shoulders. "I don't know... don't think I could," Nate's hands move, trying to find the words, "come back. Not again." He should stop, stop talking, stop dumping everything on Sunjata.

Another tremble runs through him, panicking Nate. He tries to rise, tries to pull away, though he hits the immediate block of his fiance's arms, and stops, a low whine leaving his throat. "Let me... let me help, let me get you something, I... a drink, just..." He's frozen, back arched up, desperation shaking through him now. Maybe Sunjata doesn't blame him, maybe Sunjata can forgive him, but Nate can't extend that mercy to himself. Not without working for it, without earning it. But he can only move if the other man lets him, if he shifts.

The streets are only empty when I need someone
There's nothing to see here, move along!

SUNJATA

There’s a spiral, and Sunjata’s not all there to handle it – a moment of clarity with the blood returning to his mind and limbs, and he’s trying to focus as hard as he can. He focuses, just about the time when Nate shifts completely onto him and Sunjata tightens his arms around his lover. There’s a sharp inhale as he tries to formulate the words in his mind, buzzing along the back of his throat like moths trying to escape. “It didn’t happen.” He manages, though he knows it’s a weak protest.

Only when he mentions he doesn’t think he could come back, Sunjata focuses harder – gaze snapping open to watch the shadows flood the ceiling, to watch them dance with elongated fingers, reaching out toward him to steal him away. He clutches Nate tighter, burying his face back into the raven hair to try and hide away. Maybe if the shadows don’t see him they can’t take him. “I know.” He murmurs softly into Nate’s crown.

He knows he couldn’t come back either. That’s a definite  truth.

But then Nate tries to rise and Sunjata’s arms tighten around the Ascended again. “No.” He breathes. He’s parched, thirsty as he’s ever been, but the idea of water has him nearly quivering. So he manages to rest back down, letting his gaze wash over Nate’s face, a solemn sort of seriousness crossing over him. “You’re helping by staying. If… If you go, the shadows will get to us.” There’s a tug on the corner of his lips, edging toward a frown. “And then… We both won’t come back.” He pauses before a thought comes over him.

"We could... Go together...?"

we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises
trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?

NATE

A hiccuping breath wracks Nate suddenly, more a reaction than anything else, but it only serves to make him feel worse, more dramatic. Some part of him, deep deep down, wants to argue the point, wants to shout that even if it didn’t happen, it could have. It’s not an argument he can find the words for, not now, not in this state. Maybe... maybe later, when he remembers this, maybe then he’ll argue. ”Nothing happened.” The words are soft, and it’s clear Nate is reluctant to say them.  

All Nate feels is arms wrapping around him tighter, his fiancés dance pressing harder, and he once again basks in undeserved comfort, in closeness that he shouldn’t have. What else can he say though, what else can he do? He’s already gone beyond arguing. Shivering, Nate shifts yet again, leaning up into the press of Sunjata’s cheek, though really, he wants to look up, what’s to look into his fiancés eyes. What’s to somehow prove his sincerity, for all the good it’ll do.

Sunjata’s words freeze the few parts of Nate that move automatically, all of him stuttering for a moment. He’d forgotten, how had he forgotten? With everything else to focus on, everything else that had happened, he’d just drifted for a moment. ”Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I...” No, no excuses. Not right now. Instead, he presses his face in against Sunjata’s neck and blindly reaches for the blanket again, tugging at it, then freezing again.

Going together sounded like a good idea. There’s no fault Nate can find, as he thinks it over. ”Together.” Rising again, this time with more determination, he gets to his feet, and reaches out to help Sunjata up as well. Once they’re steady, the first real challenge, Nate pulls the blanket around their combined shoulder, a shield as well as warmth. Looking up at his lover, he slides an arm around his shoulders and takes a steadying breath. ”Ready?”

The streets are only empty when I need someone
There's nothing to see here, move along!

SUNJATA

In all honesty, his own arguments would be weak in comparison too. But he focuses on Nate’s response, what happens next. There’s an apology paired with shivering and Sunjata wishes so much to give all his warmth to Nate if only that he’d feel better. So he’s glad he’s offered the second attempt, something they both can do, something that keeps them together so they don’t get whisked away into the darkness.

His head tilts as Nate presses in against his neck again, however briefly it is, before his arms release and Nate’s moving — agreeing to the terms set out. Already once Nate is gone there’s a low whine in his throat, escaping as he opens his eyes and watches the shadows reach out from the ceiling again. He shudders when he feels a hand reaching for him, noticing immediately that it’s Nate and relaxing.

There’s a quiet exhale and he latches onto his lover, pulled out of bed and wrapped around with a blanket shield, wrapping both arms around Nate and swaying slightly, stumbling a small amount when he takes a step. But he recovers, head lolling onto Nate’s shoulder. “Ready, skatjie.” He murmurs softly, letting Nate lead the way down the stairs, keeping his eyes on the floor so the shadows can’t snatch him away.

There’s a moment when his breath hitches, when he’s uncertain if the shadows have reached him, and he flinches away from something he’s not sure Nate can see. “You’ve got me, right?” Comes the quiet whine of uncertainty.

we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises
trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?

NATE

Though all sense would point towards the stairs, the door is the first true obstacle. Their stumbling steps come to a halt, too soon it seems. But Nate is focused now, pointed towards a task, and his fear of the unknown is something he can conquer for his fiance.

First though, he needs them to be prepared, and side by side as they are simply won't work. Even he can see that, they just... they won't fit through the door. Working within the blanket, as much as he can, Nate steps in front of Sunjata, moving the arms around him to wrap around his shoulders. He can be the shield, the protection against the shadows. Settled again, and finally satisfied with it, Nate reaches out, throws open the door so hard it slams against the opposite wall, clattering anticlimactically when there's nothing waiting on the other side.

Though, nothing isn't quite true. Nate can see the shades, the dripping, hateful things, lingering in corners, clinging to the ceiling. A low murmur fills the hall, voices so low they overlap into nothing but a hum, a buzz. It's familiar. It makes his head ache, makes his first step a stumble.

Somehow, they make it down the stairs, though the shadows draw closer around them, the whispers more maddening. He might not see what his lover does, but Nate flinches just the same, reaching up, reaching back to cradle Sunjata's face. What's a little folie à deux between lovers, after all? "I got you. I'm here, and I got you." It's a mantra he continues to mumble, hands stroking soothing circles on the attuned's cheeks.

The distraction costs him though, Nate's hands still moving, but his feet very resolutely staying still, despite the encroaching threats all around them, the murmuring growing louder, from more than just the shadows now. It almost seems to be coming from the walls. "Where... which way?"

The streets are only empty when I need someone
There's nothing to see here, move along!

SUNJATA

The shadows Sunjata sees are different – similar to bats in the sense that they dive from above, tendrils of shadows reaching out to tug at his hair, at the horns that spiral with uncertainty around the crown of his head. He lets Nate adjust his arms however, fevered and heavy limbs settling around Nate’s shoulders, the front of his body pressed against Nate’s back, trying to keep as much closeness as possible.

They make it down the stairs, despite Sunjata’s occasional ducking away from the tendrils of shadows – the flinch mimicked the same as Nate’s when relief comes in the sensation of a surprisingly warm hand, cradling his cheek, and the safety he feels between the shielding blanket and the cupping of his face makes some small amount of clarity come through. So he ducks his head in, next to Nate’s, chin resting just above Nate’s shoulder while they pause and Sunjata nuzzles his head into the hand that soothes him.

But they’re still standing still, still vulnerable, and the question is met with Sunjata’s eyes slipping open to scan the dusky interior of their home, watching the shadows dance between door frame to door frame. “Left… To the kitchen.” He rumbles, trying to apply some amount of pressure to the arms latched around Nate’s shoulders like a scarf, as if he might guide him.

we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises
trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?