NATE
As long as one of them gets the plan, Nate really doesn't need Sunjata to click in immediately. And since it's his plan, of course he knows what to do. It's easy. Even with the spill, a minor setback, and in Nate's mind, no more of a waste than the whiskey he drinks. The only other setback is the fact that they can't use the lighter, but Sunjata has another plan, a smoke pulled out from somewhere.
Nate's hand comes up to cup his lovers face as he leans into the kiss, his body pressing against the other mans even after they part. "I trust you." He whispers, close enough to press another kiss to Sunjata's cheek, even as his eyes stay locked on the glass, waiting for it to ignite as the cigarette drops into the liquid. Disappointment rears its head as the cherry is choked out instead, and their circle of light still woefully small. Ignition is a responsibility that's fallen onto Sunjata's shoulders, and Nate is patient, waiting to see if there's another option, something else to try.
There is. Matches. Third times the charm, right? (Though honestly Nate isn't sure which attempt this really counts as). He hums a soft funeral dirge for the wasted cigarette as the match flares into life now, as that flare spreads to the glass. Success.
It's difficult to tell what exactly goes wrong first. It's absolutely impossible for either of them to tell. All Nate knows is one moment, he's pressed against his lover, smoke still lingering around them, the whiskey candle lighting up the kitchen. The next moment, there's a sharp crack ringing through the air, the whiskey glass shattering, and suddenly the entire counter is awash in flames, the spilled alcohol carrying the flames across the entire surface, dripping it onto the floor. Nate recoils, nails digging into Sunjata's shoulders in his haste to put something between him and danger.
"Sunny Sunny Sunny." There's desperation in his tone, the whine of fix it somehow obvious in Nate's voice even if he never says the words outright.
Nate's hand comes up to cup his lovers face as he leans into the kiss, his body pressing against the other mans even after they part. "I trust you." He whispers, close enough to press another kiss to Sunjata's cheek, even as his eyes stay locked on the glass, waiting for it to ignite as the cigarette drops into the liquid. Disappointment rears its head as the cherry is choked out instead, and their circle of light still woefully small. Ignition is a responsibility that's fallen onto Sunjata's shoulders, and Nate is patient, waiting to see if there's another option, something else to try.
There is. Matches. Third times the charm, right? (Though honestly Nate isn't sure which attempt this really counts as). He hums a soft funeral dirge for the wasted cigarette as the match flares into life now, as that flare spreads to the glass. Success.
It's difficult to tell what exactly goes wrong first. It's absolutely impossible for either of them to tell. All Nate knows is one moment, he's pressed against his lover, smoke still lingering around them, the whiskey candle lighting up the kitchen. The next moment, there's a sharp crack ringing through the air, the whiskey glass shattering, and suddenly the entire counter is awash in flames, the spilled alcohol carrying the flames across the entire surface, dripping it onto the floor. Nate recoils, nails digging into Sunjata's shoulders in his haste to put something between him and danger.
"Sunny Sunny Sunny." There's desperation in his tone, the whine of fix it somehow obvious in Nate's voice even if he never says the words outright.
The streets are only empty when I need someoneThere's nothing to see here, move along!
