// i am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt
i've been searching for a trail to follow again, take me back to the night we met //
i've been searching for a trail to follow again, take me back to the night we met //
”I know I have been.” Though he’d hoped maybe he had been the only one noticed, maybe it was just in his head, stretched out to fit reality. Nate shuts his eyes tightly, squeezing until he sees a swirl of colour in the darkness of his own eyelids, and sighs. Tries to drag comfort from Sunjata, and succeeds in some small way, even if he grumbles at the sigh, the suggestion. ”Its better if I come with it and something to help.” Another sigh rumbles through him, lingering longer than it has any right to if only because he doesn’t actually need to breathe again. ”I think.. I think I have to. We have to be prepared.” He’s surviving the week, no matter what. All there is to worry about is everything everyone else.
This is a lesson that he will have to learn over and over before he truly trusts it. Nate doesn’t have to be a lone pillar, always standing tall and straight and giving away nothing. He can stumble, can falter, can lean on Sunjata in moments like this. It’s nice, relieving in a way that Nate isn’t sure how to voice, except to go along when the attuned shifts, easily and without hesitation. It shows in the way he doesn’t flinch away from the sudden scrap of light shifting across his face, the darkness of wings lifting away and revealing a fragile expression uncertain and afraid and trying to face it, if not for himself then for Sunjata.
Something about the explanation has Nate’s face flickering, not quite a flinch, but not quite not that either. He understands the sentiment, clearly, obviously. He can’t refute the thinking. But it still makes some part of him ache and throb, twisting in his chest. ”I know you didn’t.” The words are sincere. ”It wasn’t your fault.” Apologetic. ”Its all alright.” And a distraction from what actually bubbles in Nate’s throat, yet more honesty and vulnerability that needs to be forced out of him, especially now, when he feels so... visible. ”There’s... always some of you on my plate.” A soft chuckle leaves him, trying to put some distance between him and the words, while his eyes refuse to leave the attuned’s face, no matter how much he may want to look away.
They do close, when Sunjata leans in for a kiss, Nate indulging in the closeness for as long as he possibly can, and then a moment more, a soft chuckle on his lips when they finally part, only for him to lean in again.
This is a lesson that he will have to learn over and over before he truly trusts it. Nate doesn’t have to be a lone pillar, always standing tall and straight and giving away nothing. He can stumble, can falter, can lean on Sunjata in moments like this. It’s nice, relieving in a way that Nate isn’t sure how to voice, except to go along when the attuned shifts, easily and without hesitation. It shows in the way he doesn’t flinch away from the sudden scrap of light shifting across his face, the darkness of wings lifting away and revealing a fragile expression uncertain and afraid and trying to face it, if not for himself then for Sunjata.
Something about the explanation has Nate’s face flickering, not quite a flinch, but not quite not that either. He understands the sentiment, clearly, obviously. He can’t refute the thinking. But it still makes some part of him ache and throb, twisting in his chest. ”I know you didn’t.” The words are sincere. ”It wasn’t your fault.” Apologetic. ”Its all alright.” And a distraction from what actually bubbles in Nate’s throat, yet more honesty and vulnerability that needs to be forced out of him, especially now, when he feels so... visible. ”There’s... always some of you on my plate.” A soft chuckle leaves him, trying to put some distance between him and the words, while his eyes refuse to leave the attuned’s face, no matter how much he may want to look away.
They do close, when Sunjata leans in for a kiss, Nate indulging in the closeness for as long as he possibly can, and then a moment more, a soft chuckle on his lips when they finally part, only for him to lean in again.
NATE
