sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine
It’s so easy to revel in his anger, when it feels so righteous. When he remembers cleaning up the aftermath, when he remembers those flashes of an entirely different life rising up in the heights of emotion. When he remembers the little picking comments from people who had only cared enough to judge, without stepping in. Not only anger through, every mounting frustration, every twist of guilt coils into this ugly thing splashed over his face, burning through his eyes, immune even to the peace Sunjata tries to press towards him.
His past has prepared him well, turning him to stone in the face of clenching hands, soft voices and remorse. Apparent remorse, some corner of him screams, all but frothing at the mouth and pushing him imperceptibly but uncomfortably towards a person he doesn’t want to be. Not over this at least.
Hips cant towards Sunjata, towards the touch, the ascended’s bi-toned gaze tearing away from Maea to drop his husband instead. Met pleasier, sonskyn. The silent words start out faux saccharine, Nate catching himself quickly and biting back some of his anger, some of his bitterness. It’s the situation, no matter how easy it is to lay everything on a single pair of shoulders and say fuck it and you.
Nate hurries up the stairs, taking the brief recess to pull a few calming breaths in, to reset his face into something more appropriately neutral. He’s somewhat successful, returning just in time to catch the tail ends of Sunjata’s words, and relaxed enough to hand the paper and pen to Maea, instead of dropping them on the table between them. Relaxed enough to sit back down beside Sunjata again, an arm thrown around his shoulder almost automatically.
His past has prepared him well, turning him to stone in the face of clenching hands, soft voices and remorse. Apparent remorse, some corner of him screams, all but frothing at the mouth and pushing him imperceptibly but uncomfortably towards a person he doesn’t want to be. Not over this at least.
Hips cant towards Sunjata, towards the touch, the ascended’s bi-toned gaze tearing away from Maea to drop his husband instead. Met pleasier, sonskyn. The silent words start out faux saccharine, Nate catching himself quickly and biting back some of his anger, some of his bitterness. It’s the situation, no matter how easy it is to lay everything on a single pair of shoulders and say fuck it and you.
Nate hurries up the stairs, taking the brief recess to pull a few calming breaths in, to reset his face into something more appropriately neutral. He’s somewhat successful, returning just in time to catch the tail ends of Sunjata’s words, and relaxed enough to hand the paper and pen to Maea, instead of dropping them on the table between them. Relaxed enough to sit back down beside Sunjata again, an arm thrown around his shoulder almost automatically.
i couldn't get the boy to kill me
but i wore his jacket for the longest time
NATE
