(SE) a whisper in our ear, or a bottle for our fears

don't you know i'm no good for you?

He’s been sleeping downstairs since it happened, typically spending his nights in his German Shepherd shift, curled up in Haai’s nests of blankets and throws on the couch. She accompanies him most nights, one canine and one canine-like griffin, curled together in a spread of fur and wings. But Sunjata has had to work up to his exhaustion in order to sleep through the night and through the nightmares that plagued him, and so the Flood has spent most of the evenings when everyone has gone to sleep or upstairs for the night, to spend it cleaning the walls of the home from the smoke, preparing sandbags outside to be placed around the front of the home for monsoon season.

This evening, he’s done just that. A few more bags made into the pile just outside the front door, the inside a slight mess of rags and water that constantly ran brown from smoke until he could get it clear. And he tried to clean it up the best he could, leaving the empty bucket turned over in the sink, washed and hung the rags he’d used to clean the walls, and kept the empty bags used for sand alongside the wheelbarrow of sand outside in a neat pile.

Only then does he curl back up against Haai, tucking his canine head under her wing, tail tucked in and long legs tucked in for rest too. He’s been asleep for a few hours now, trying to recoup some of his exhaustion before the nightmares plague him again.

For now, though, the moon is high in the sky, and he’s settled in — stirring occasionally with whines and ears that flinch backward, trying to make it through the night.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

Creeping downstairs in the middle of the night was already a habit Nate indulged in more often than he wanted to admit, but recently, it's been more of a necessity than anything else. Sunjata has been sleeping on the main floor, and some paranoid flame that kept getting fanned higher and higher in Nate's chest insisted on checking on him periodically. Just to make sure he hadn't left, hadn't been stolen by the moon, or some mob, or any other of the troubles that seemed to follow them.

Tonight is no different, though Nate waits until the sounds of movement downstairs have been silent for some time before he pries himself from Hotaru's arms, a soothing kiss pressed to her cheek to quiet any protest. He's dressed enough to hide most of himself in shadows, away from hateful moonlight and the creeping dawn, when it comes.

Passing by Haai as quietly as he can manage, Nate pauses to let his hand brush along her head, a deep sigh slipping from him. It's just a moment's reprieve, where he can pretend things are fine. Where he can pretend like he doesn't feel the weight of the blood ring against his chest instead of on his finger. A single eye glances over the dark bundle of fur under the griffon's wing, and Nate moves on into the kitchen.

Pemota's soothing glow waits for him there, the starwhal floating to hover around his shoulders. While he hasn't been cooking much at all, there's always been coffee ready in the morning, and today is not going to be any different. Nate does what he can to keep quiet, but he is grinding coffee beans, and as bad as he would feel to disturb Sunjata, as much as he doesn't want to talk about anything that's happened, Nate misses him.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

He hasn’t noticed if and when Nate has descended the stairs throughout the night. He hasn’t noticed that it’s to check on him and ensure that he stays. He doesn’t know where he’d go if he didn’t, though, and so with the suffocating tension of the house, Sunjata is almost happy to curl up in the nest that his companion provides, to share her warmth downstairs. It still doesn’t stop the nightmares, though, regardless of how much he works to tire himself out before it, no matter how much he tries to think of other things.

Haai, however, as Nate approaches and scratches her head, leans into the touch — leaving a small lick in response when he goes to pull his hand away, emerald eyes peering up at the demigod with exhaustion. Sunjata doesn’t stir, though, too wrapped up in what occurs in his dreams to fully come to when Haai pulses with affection for Nate. Sunjata’s ears are still pinned, lips in a sleepy version of a snarl, pulled back loosely to show pale teeth.

It’s a good thing Nate isn’t wearing the blood ring, in all honesty. Because when the coffee is being made, the beans ground and the sound distracts Haai from the nest to trot over and inspect anything for dropped snacks, Sunjata’s left alone in the makeshift bed, a low rumble of a growl that slips from his throat as if he doesn’t entirely know that the sound he hears isn’t a part of his nightmare. In an instant, the growling dog whines, sleepily yelps, before he’s shifting back into himself, awake finally, and surging upward with a hand to his throat as he pants for air and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s hardly wearing anything in this moment, a pair of shorts with no shirt or anything else, peeling his hand from his throat, from the scar along his neck to rub at the tattoos to his arm, to applying pressure to his collarbones as if it might rouse him more awake. He hasn’t noticed Nate yet, not as he tries to push aside the nightmare and pull himself out of it. The scent of the coffee brewing when Nate gets there certainly does, though, and his hand drops from his face and chest to look over into the kitchen, to spy his husband working there and he swallows hard through a dry mouth. What does he even say?

Probably the same thing he says every morning since. “Oh... Morning.” It’s said with exhaustion and awkwardness, tearing his head away from the kitchen to try and pull himself together out of sight.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

Nate considers for a moment offering the same familiar touch to Sunjata’s furry head, but pulls himself away before he can be tempted, drifting to the kitchen like a wayward spirit. He’s attracted a procession behind him, though Haai will have to wait for a treat, as will Pemota.

Whining grabs his attention, hands pausing in their motions so the ascended can cock his head, listening for anything else. Sounds like Sunjata might be up. Nate wonders if he should just get coffee brewed and disappear upstairs. He doesn’t, can’t leave the other man now that he knows he’s awake, in distress. The least he can do is stay there, keep going about his business. Be the silent support he’d want.

”Morning.” He replies coolly, pouring himself a mug of coffee and hopping onto the counter. He keeps his back to the living room, reaches out for a pear and a knife. ”Eat something. There’s fruit.” Nate sends the words out into the room without break his focus on his hands, on the single spool of skin he’s letting Haai slurp up as it falls to the ground.

It takes a moment before Nate moves again, because he knows it will take Sunjata a moment to get moving, but by the attuned has himself somewhat presentable, there will be a small bowl of berries on the counter, a somewhat telltale crackle in the air that says Nate himself hasn’t actually moved.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

He takes a slow inhale, hearing Nate’s tone as he responds. He wonders if it should be relieving that he gets an answer at all, but he doesn’t comment on it – instead, putting himself together enough to get a shirt on, to hide away that marking on his skin, the ink in the constellation smack in the center of his chest. He manages to run his fingers through his hair, finger combing it back, casting a glance back to Nate as it sounds like his voice projects on the other side.

And he’s correct in that assumption, spying Nate’s back and he looks back down to himself, trying to push away the nest Haai had created. She’s distracted enough, anyway, given the spiraling pool of pear that she tries to snatch more of – a large paw braced on the cupboard beneath Nate as she chomps down on it. Sunjata, finally rouses himself enough to stand, ignoring the barking pain in his joints, looking back up at Nate to see the faint crackle of static disappearing and a bowl on the counter.

He swallows hard, stepping over toward it, sinking into a barstool at the counter. He makes no move to reach out for Nate – still sure that he’s sitting on uneven ground, and he stares at the bowl. He isn’t hungry, too torn up inside to feel the familiar rumble of hunger when he wakes. But he tries anyway, reaching for a berry to begin to eat, but stopping at one to see how it settles. “Thank you.” He rumbles quietly, reaching for another berry, quite pointedly not looking at Nate or paying attention to Haai and the affection she has for the new demigod.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

The pear is laid bare, a distant smile spread across Nate’s face as he lifts the pear out of Haai’s reach, waiting until she sits politely to start slicing it into thin portions. One for the gryphon, one for himself (and once, Pemota, who nearly spat the slice back out on him in protest), and one silently deposited in Sunjata’s bowl, over and over. ”I know you won’t eat if I don’t remind you.” At least not until he was weak, until he was desperate. That shouldn’t be such casual knowledge, in the same way they shouldn’t be in this awkward, distant dance.

He should know how to fix this. He should know how to talk like normal again, how to be close again, but he doesn’t. They’ve gone light years past anything Nate ever thought he could prepare for in a relationship, and now he’s lost. They’re lost. It should be a comfort, of some kind, that Nate still thinks in terms of ‘us’, of ‘they’.

”Up late last night?” He asks, instead of the silent questions he wants to. The silent questions that he could, if he weren’t quite so stubborn. ”What were you doing?”

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

A whine slips from Haai’s throat as Nate pulls the pear away, but eventually the stubborn griffin follows the instruction, sitting and tucking her wings in tight, lifting a paw as if she were to offer a high five should Nate request it. The pear is sliced, a few given to the Attuned as well. Still, he can’t help but to let his gaze drift up along Nate’s back, to the curls of hair around his neck, the wild abandon they take from where they settle – how much he wishes to hug his husband and bury his face in it.

He sighs, as quietly as he can – absolutely more in terms of himself and not in terms of Nate and the admission. That little casual knowledge he brings up is attentive and true, and Sunjata finds himself nodding even if Nate can’t see it. “You’re right.” He admits softly. When he got to that point, he typically shifted into his panther shift, went on a hunt for a ramphire, for something of substance that he couldn’t fuck up in a kitchen.

He eats a few of the slices of pears, a few more of the berries, before he’s finally answering Nate’s question. “A bit.” He actually doesn’t know what time he went to bed last night, but it felt too short, too little. And the exhaustion weighs on him. It’s that thought that has him standing, reaching for a mug and some of the coffee that Nate had poured, pouring himself a cup before he sits again and waits for it to cool. “I went down to the beach and got some sand, picked up some spare bags from the Slagveld. I planned on prepping the house today for the monsoons.” His tone is almost defeated, almost, but there’s enough oomph in it that makes it sound like he truly thought about what he was doing.

“Didn't get too much done yesterday before it got too cold last night, so I started scrubbing the smoke off the walls.” Anything to tire himself out enough to fall asleep alone.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

Sandbags and storm prep. Something about it has Nate shifting, his shoulders rolling in an attempt to throw off the discomfort settling over them. "I didn't notice you left." He offers, turning for the first time to glance back at the attuned, realizing too late that it's the blind eye turning his husband, that he'd have to put more effort into actually catching a glimpse of the other man. Nate pauses, considers it, then settles again, without the glance.

"I thought it looked nicer in here." He says, instead of bringing up the bucket, the weak but present cloyingness of wet smoke that still lingered in the kitchen from the dirty water. "Brighter." The word is punctuated with a slurp of coffee, before the mug is offered to Haai as well, Nate curious to see if she'll take this newest offering, or turn her nose up at it.

The first few weak beams from morning begin to filter through the haze of clouds and into the kitchen, only just barely warming the mood to something halfway bearable. "I was... maybe thinking about getting some shutter put together today. For the windows." The words are more than bland musing though, they're a peace offering, for at least an hour, the morning. A few hours of company, mostly silent, but better than nothing.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

Of course he notices when Nate turns, even just a fraction while he takes a sip from the coffee, letting the warmth of it settle within him, trying to heat up the chill in his bones. But when he goes to glance up, it’s the ruined eye that he catches as Nate readjusts, Sunjata wondering if it were perhaps an accident that had caused it, that Nate hadn’t intentionally meant to glance back at him. So he stares into the coffee, works at his jaw in a quiet grind. “I’ll leave a note next time.” He comments offhandedly.

He understands, really. The beach is beside the lighthouse and the cliffs nearby it had been where Safrin had called out to him. He’d passed by the pale white monument when he’d taken his trek down to the beach, after all. But he pops a few more of the berries into his mouth, mulling over the awkward, tense silence, nodding despite Nate being unable to see it again. “It might need some new paint, but I imagine that’s a project better suited for Longheat.” It’s still idle chatter, bouncing around all the things that could be and should be said, but Sunjata can’t find it in him to bring up. Haai, meanwhile, decides that the coffee itself is incredible, and when the mug is offered, she sticks her nose entirely in, bubbles forming from where she snorts out a bit of smokey air in her surprise at it being wet.

“Do you want help with the shutters?” He asks gently, staring into the coffee cup he holds, gaze shuddering as he asks it as if he might be expecting a no, that he should go outside and finish up the sandbags and continue to keep his distance.

But gods he misses him, so incredibly much. And he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but the only thing he wants in this moment is to hug the demigod. He knows he’ll never get forgiveness for what he’s done, but paired without his touch, it weighs heavily in his mind.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

A note. Nate considers the thought, considers a different timeline, a note left early enough to find it, to stop a very different midnight sojourn, and pushes himself away from those thoughts quickly. "You're an adult. You don't need to leave a note." Why does everything that leaves his mouth sound so sharp, when he isn't looking for a fight? Is he? Would it help here?

It's difficult, but Nate tries to reign in his tone this time, tries to aim for more neutral, for airy, instead of icy. He does want to be angry, he does want a fight, just for the sake of it, hands tensing into balled fists before he lets out a slow breath. "Maybe we can choose a different colour. Green might be nice." As idle as the words may be, they carry something important in them, a measure of hope. The promise of a Longheat, of a decision made together. Of simplicity.

Haai's voraciousness manages to pull a soft huff of what sounds like laughter from Nate, his shoulders shaking with the sound. The mug is pulled away so he can claim one last sip and push off the counter to set it on the floor, leaving everything else for the griffon. For the first time, he turns towards Sunjata, eyes rimmed with shimmery, bruise-like bags, packed too heavily by exhaustion and emotion both. The intense distance in his gaze belies some silent conversation, though the ring still sits uselessly on a chain around his neck, along with a silver compass rose.

It takes longer than he'd like to admit before Nate manages to actually work his jaw, some part of him freezing now that he's face to face with the other man. The fact that their eyes don't quite meet helps marginally, keeps the ascended from spiralling too much. "Help would be... nice, yea." For now though, they're just words, no attempt made to move, to get to work.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

Yes. He is an adult, but he doesn’t seem to act like it in his poor decision making. He’s glad that Nate’s still facing away from him, though, as the iciness leaves the demigod’s lips. Sunjata swallows hard, lets his words fall silent, doesn’t know where exactly he should begin to try and untangle that or if it’s better off left alone. He chooses the latter, however, not wanting to fight, not wanting to open himself up for one either. So silence it is.

Hope does spur in his chest, tight and sharp as he inhales just as slowly as Nate exhales. The tone is better this time with the prospect of green, one that he can agree with easily. “I like green.” He agrees softly. It’s far from blues, far from purples, far from the night sky that might remind them both too much of what he’d done, what he’d destroyed. So he focuses on his coffee, on something that might not bite back at him when he hears and feel’s Haai’s appreciation with the coffee. It’s set on the floor and she promptly fits the mug in her mouth and carries it over to the corner, putting it between both feet of hers so she can lick up every last dreg.

But Nate’s looking at him now, and Sunjata can’t find it in him to look over just yet. He lifts the mug to his lips, downing the rest of it and grabbing the last bite of the pear Nate had sliced, before he stands and sets the cup in the sink, pulling out the bucket he’d left there to air dry, before he finally turns and faces his husband.

It breaks his heart all over again. It makes it worse, somehow, than what he’d felt with Nate wearing the bloodring, letting his feelings course over of how he’d felt when Sunjata had gone missing for two days. At least that might have been something to be proud of, but here? This? This was hurt, distrust, a brokenness that cracks within him and he desperately craves something to do with his hands. His gaze quickly averts so he can start, stepping to set the bucket aside in its place, unfortunately quite near his husband.

His gaze is distant, trying not to add more into what Nate feels, knowing that he deserves whatever it is Nate wishes to give. “Alright. I'll... Go grab what we need.” His voice leaves him in a quiet hum, lips quirking slightly and tugging at the scar as he goes to step past his husband toward where they kept the tools – hammers and nails, a saw for cutting the wood down to size.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

Nate doesn’t say a word as Sunjata moves around him, looking and acting busy, normal. As close as they can brush against it at the moment. His unblinking, distant gaze trails after the attuned though, waiting for something, some gasp of breath, some stumble that will just pop this tension once and for all.

They can’t heal like this. They might have to.

Sunjata steps past him, so close that Nate could reach out and grab him. That he could hold him, just for a moment, selfishly clinging onto comfort that he cannot offer back. He steps back instead, pressing harder against the counter to open more space between them. It becomes a show of grabbing at dirty dishes, at the invisible mess on the counter so there’s something else to think about. Some light noise of affirmation leaves him, a soft ”Meet you outside.”

It’s only when Sunjata disappears down the hall that Nate moves, his fist crashing down on the counter with a dull thud. Something cracks, and it’s irritating how he knows it without feeling it. He really wants to feel it. With a grumble, and a soft apology to Haai and Pemota both, Nate steps outside, squinting up at the clouds, the threat of rain and the far more irritating threat of sun.

There are sandbags out already, a barrier that Nate steps over on his way to windows, stepping carelessly through the trampled mess that had once been a garden.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

There’s perhaps a moment where Sunjata wonders if Nate wants to reach out – if Sunjata should. Ah, but he was the harbinger of the destruction of them, their closeness, their trust. If anything, it needs to be Nate that reaches out. But the tension fills the air and when Nate steps back, Sunjata perhaps picks up his pace, if only so his rabbiting heart has a reason to beat so hard. Not now. Not in this second.

One day, maybe, he hopes.

He slips down the hall, collecting nails, the saw, the hammers, and doesn’t hear the slam of Nate’s fist on the counter. Haai does, however, flinching from where she finishes the cup of coffee, a low  whine leaving her. But she doesn’t send that to Sunjata. No. The griffin is the mediator here, it seems, trying to keep the peace. But what peace was there when it felt like everything sat on the edge of a blade, ready to slip off at any moments notice?

He steps out after Nate’s been out, swallowing hard, approaching his husband in the weak morning light. There’s no stars here at least, none but the ones that flicker along his arms, and he focuses himself on moving to hand Nate a hammer and some nails – careful to not get too close should Nate not want him to.

And he busies himself, stepping away to grab some of the planks to be fitted into shutters, separating the good ones from the bad ones, his back turned toward Nate as the words begin to leave his lips, needing to say something, and as per usual he goes about it the wrong way. “I, uh, I know you said no forgiveness and I – I still understand that, I do.” Words absolutely aren’t his strong suit, as evident with the frustration in himself as a board lands a bit too hard against another with a loud clack. “I just… I don’t know how to start fixing this.” I’m sorry I don’t know how. “I miss you, Nate.” It’s said quieter, one board remaining in hand as he stares down at the pile of it, working his jaw as it grinds together.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

They can work in relative silence, and it’s almost nice, for a little bit. Almost normal. If he ignores the strange emptiness in the back of his head where Sunjata’s presence once was, it practically is normal. But the absence is a pulled tooth, a space Nate can’t help but poke and prod at, until he’s worked himself into a silent flurry, hands pulling at planks and nails in a rush, just to work through this as quickly as possible.

Sunjata’s words stop his silent work, draw Nate’s full attention, though holographic arms appear to pick up the slack. ”I don’t know what to do either. I never thought we’d be here.” Where ever here was, whatever here was. Both hands lift to rub wearily at his face, the right one bruised and swollen already. ”Do you... do you even know why I’m upset?” It’s as good a starting point as anything, and if he’s going to be the adult he’s going to make it as difficult and uncomfortable for the both of them as he possibly can.

Nate very carefully, very obviously ignores the I miss you, knowing that it will break down his walls faster than anything else. Unlike every other emotional weight, longing is one he knows how to solve, one he can solve easily, and one that will burn him to indulge in, in more ways that one.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE