sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine
The whole point is not facing it. Nate's brows pinch and his lips curl and he tries to summon the anger to yell that back, but he can't quite manage it. Can't summon the energy for it. "If..." His voice falters, grows quieter. "If I face it, then that's it. It's real. It's all real, and I just have to deal with it! Being kidnapped, and Sunjata-" No, he can't finish that sentence, can't finish that thought.
He'll have to, sooner rather than later. But he can be hopeful until then. Or... whatever this is, until then.
The mood shifts again as Aurelia hurts herself, drawing out his worst sides, sides that he tries (too little, too late) to smother. "You can make at least one.” He points out unhelpfully, tripped up by her anger, by his own awkward shame. Aurelia's next broken-up words have him digging his toes into the sand uncomfortably, anything to keep from examining her pain or his too closely. A noncommittal hum is offered in response, words failing him.
It takes a long moment before he drops down again, too close this time, his back pressing against hers in something that he would say is supposed to be a comfort for her, when it's him who needs the connection. "I... don’t really want to feel better yet anyway.” Nate offers heavily, leaning back against her in a pressure that has to be an annoyance. Compared to the rest of the conversation, the rest of his angry, painful outburst though? It's small potatoes.
Even more time passes before he sighs, chin dipping down to brush against his chest. "Do you... want me to help?"
He'll have to, sooner rather than later. But he can be hopeful until then. Or... whatever this is, until then.
The mood shifts again as Aurelia hurts herself, drawing out his worst sides, sides that he tries (too little, too late) to smother. "You can make at least one.” He points out unhelpfully, tripped up by her anger, by his own awkward shame. Aurelia's next broken-up words have him digging his toes into the sand uncomfortably, anything to keep from examining her pain or his too closely. A noncommittal hum is offered in response, words failing him.
It takes a long moment before he drops down again, too close this time, his back pressing against hers in something that he would say is supposed to be a comfort for her, when it's him who needs the connection. "I... don’t really want to feel better yet anyway.” Nate offers heavily, leaning back against her in a pressure that has to be an annoyance. Compared to the rest of the conversation, the rest of his angry, painful outburst though? It's small potatoes.
Even more time passes before he sighs, chin dipping down to brush against his chest. "Do you... want me to help?"
i couldn't get the boy to kill me
but i wore his jacket for the longest time
NATE
