there's a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly
No, it’s not okay. But it will be. It’s improving already, honestly, albeit in slow, sporadic fits. The smoke is a welcome distraction, a soothing habit despite the lack of effect it has on him still. ”I wasn’t... as sick.” Nate maintains, even this admission an improvement from staunchly declaring himself the picture of health, as he had at the time. There was precious little he had to add though, his memory less spotty, but filled with nothing useful. ”I don’t remember talking to Loren.” A quieter addendum, meant mostly for his own ears, his brows furrowing as he tries to call something up. There’s the meeting with the Voice, the intention to talk to Loren, but the conversation itself is gone. A soft sigh leaves him and he pulls hard on his gifted smoke, reducing most of the stick to ash with a single too long breath.
The lasso does work, whether Nate sees it for what it is or not. He circles back to them, a bowl of lets-call-it-soup set on the counter beside Ru, the kitten that moves to investigate it (he cannot and will not ever be able to tell Lizzy and Lynyrd apart) lifted up onto his shoulder so it’s out of trouble when he leans in to wrap the abandoned up in a one armed hug, his other arm hanging back to invite Sunjata into the embrace, blindly grasping fingers brushing against his chest.
How Hotaru seems to read his mind he will never know, but Nate tries to not let her words lift her spirits too much. He will not blame her, and if he can’t blame himself, where is this twist supposed to go? What is he supposed to aim it at? ”I don’t blame you. I... don’t think either of us do.” He might now move, but there’s a twitch in his fingers, an invitation for Sunjata to confirm that they are on the same page. Hadn’t they done absolutely insane things while they were ill? Fuck, he’d wandered away, would have been lost completely if not for Mel.
His shoulders drop as Hotaru’s voice breaks into sobs, gone as quickly as they come on, that fact not stopping Nate from pressing his face into golden waves and hide himself away. After a moment, his mouth opens, but he can’t bring himself to actually say anything, can trust his voice to not crack if he tries. The sentiment is pushed silently towards Sunjata instead, trying to press words enough for both of them into the attuned’s mouth.
The lasso does work, whether Nate sees it for what it is or not. He circles back to them, a bowl of lets-call-it-soup set on the counter beside Ru, the kitten that moves to investigate it (he cannot and will not ever be able to tell Lizzy and Lynyrd apart) lifted up onto his shoulder so it’s out of trouble when he leans in to wrap the abandoned up in a one armed hug, his other arm hanging back to invite Sunjata into the embrace, blindly grasping fingers brushing against his chest.
How Hotaru seems to read his mind he will never know, but Nate tries to not let her words lift her spirits too much. He will not blame her, and if he can’t blame himself, where is this twist supposed to go? What is he supposed to aim it at? ”I don’t blame you. I... don’t think either of us do.” He might now move, but there’s a twitch in his fingers, an invitation for Sunjata to confirm that they are on the same page. Hadn’t they done absolutely insane things while they were ill? Fuck, he’d wandered away, would have been lost completely if not for Mel.
His shoulders drop as Hotaru’s voice breaks into sobs, gone as quickly as they come on, that fact not stopping Nate from pressing his face into golden waves and hide himself away. After a moment, his mouth opens, but he can’t bring himself to actually say anything, can trust his voice to not crack if he tries. The sentiment is pushed silently towards Sunjata instead, trying to press words enough for both of them into the attuned’s mouth.
NATE
