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

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

They don’t seem to move, but there’s a connection at least. A heartbeat thunders through Sunjata, the sensation of holding his breath because if he doesn’t he’ll lose his composure, his carefully crafted bottle cap on his emotions. He swallows hard, trying to time his breaths through his nose, tries to calm down, tries to relish in the sound of Nate’s voice, even if it’s accompanied by a flash of rage, a flash of shutting it out.

It cracks the hold he has slightly, his side of the bond leaking with his sorrow and regret and anguish. I don’t know what to say. He offers, his mental voice just as hoarse, just as exhausted. It feels shitty to not say anything. Like… Like I’m ignoring it. Like I’m ignoring you. But as per usual, he’s bad with his words, and now he can’t even try to offer what he means in the touches carefully given to his husband, in the attention there. That much is evident in the shuddering inhale he takes, at the way he presses and rubs his face against his arms, to wipe away the tears that linger therein.

It feels like a slow death, the more Sunjata cracks open, and he tries to keep it on as much of a leash as he can, tries to feel for Nate on the other side. He tries and tries, and yet still feels as though he’s coming up empty.

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 crack and break together. They always do, don't they? Every time this happens, they fall apart. Nate tries to hold himself together. He slips his finger out of the ring, cutting himself off, the sudden silence jarring and horrible. I don't want you to talk about it. Realization comes out of nowhere, a flash of lightning in his chest. I don't want you to say anything about it at all.

Being senseless has its benefits, and one of them is the lack of cold seeping into him. Nate isn't sure if he'd be able to take it, the hollow pulse from within and the numbing drive of rain from without. Sunjata's shirt is pulled away from his face, Nate's eyes the last thing to be revealed. He doesn't look up at his husband. He does push himself up, not caring about the mud smearing under him.

As if sensing she's needed, Pemota makes her way outside, escaping through some unfortunately open window. The starwhal passes over Sunjata, settling around Nate's shoulders. Her glow shimmers through soaked hair, Nate's gaze slipping off his husband, and into the distance. We... We're broken, like this. I don't know what to do. He doesn't know if there's anything they can do. I think... I think I might need, there's a horrible, painful silence, Nate on the precipice of a cliff, figuratively, no matter what he might want, I might need space.

& 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?

To not talk about it has some sort of deep set panic settling back in his stomach. Nate readjusts, Sunjata remains with his head buried against his arms. If they don’t talk about it how would it get better? How could they pretend to go back to normal? But it seems that Nate has an answer for that, too, one that has a cold and void yawning chasm growing in his chest, like his heart has been frozen over, a thump of lead landing within it and dragging it down into ghostlike fingers.

He rubs his eyes on his arms again, wiping away the tears that plague him and puff up his eyes, finally managing to lift his chin to rest it on the very same tattooed arms, keeping himself closed off, taking a sharp shuddering inhale as if that might ground him. It doesn’t, and he finds himself floundering as he tries to get himself put together, tries to get the words to come out.

I understand. He manages, tilting his head so that his cheek rests against that starry tattooed arm, closing his eyes tight as the storm continues to rage on. How… How long? He supposes the answer is ‘however long feels right’ or ‘I don’t know’ which he’d find to be fair answers… But it still hurts. And if Nate wasn't at the house, gone and disappeared somewhere?

What will he do?

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 single bright blue darts back and forth, never settling on Sunjata for more than a breath. As if Nate should be the one walking on eggshells, as if he should be the one to feel guilty, of all things. But he does. Sunjata is his, the feeling the first thing to ring out clearly through the bond, and stepping away feels like... failure. Like a concession. Like letting Safrin win.

Already, Nate doesn’t want to go, wants to stay here in his home, with his husband. Growing angrier, and more paranoid, more bitter. It’s for the best. Those feelings can’t take root, won’t grow in his home. He won’t be his father. Not forever. It’s the only answer he can muster, after a long moment of thought, his misgivings, his fear easy to feel through the bond. Just... long enough to know I want to come back. These words come after even more thought, and somehow manage to be even less soothing.

Leaning back into Pemota, Nate hides his face in Sunjata’s shirt once again. I’ll write to you. I won’t disappear. He can’t, he refuses to. I just... Forcing himself to peek out from behind his fabric shield, Nate finally lets his gaze settle squarely on Sunjata, the look taking every ounce of his cracked fortitude. I’m not safe here. I’m not... I’m not happy here, right now.

& 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 remains like that, hidden away, curled up on himself because there’s nothing else he can do. He tries to stifle his emotions on his side of the bond, but it still leaks out of him, the greedy sense of need and the shame in knowing that he’s caused this rift, this tidal wave to come crashing over them to leave them adrift in a stormy sea. But he can’t fit the pieces back together, he can’t even find Nate among the turmoil of the waves, and it yawns like a chasm in him when Nate’s answer is given.

Not forever. Just long enough to know I want to come back.

What if he finds he doesn’t? Then it’s all for naught, yet again, and he takes a shuddering breath, finally rounding his gaze back on Nate. Okay. He croaks through the bond, working his jaw hard enough that his teeth grind together, that his temples flare with the pressure of it all. I get it. He says quietly, gently, biting down on the inside of his cheek suddenly almost hard enough to bleed if only to feel something else than the gaping hole in his chest.

What if… What if you don’t want to come back? Will you tell me? Because much like the dog shift Sunjata has, while he hangs on the hope of Nate’s return, he’d wait at the door forever.

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

As much as he wants to flinch away from the full force of his husbands gaze, Nate doesn’t. He has to hold it, has to push through as much sincerity as he can. As much hope. Fear and pain and worry all try to stifle them, but there’s still a flicker through the bond.

Yes. His mouth opens to echo the word, though Nate’s voice catches in his throat and he has to hide away again, unable to face this. I’ll... I’ll come back to tell you, whatever I decide. If nothing else, he owes Sunjata that much. Though honestly, Nate can’t imagine a scenario where he doesn’t want to come back. He already doesn’t want to leave. If not for the moon soaked stains of Safrin, he wouldn’t.

But this is where the pieces had been cast, and he needs to figure out his game plan. He needs to keep himself safe. So he can protect his family.

Guilt prickles uncomfortably at his throat, in the back of his eyes, driving Nate to his feet and startling Pemota. It’s not... not right now. And, stepping as close to Sunjata as he dares, the ascended shakes the shirt hes been clinging to like a security blanket. It’s still sopping, but it’s mostly straight now. Draping it over the attuned’s sodden curls, Nate follows behind it with his lips, pressing a muted kiss to his husbands head. There’s still an ache, but it’s distant.

It’s worth it.

& 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.” An answer, for whatever’s decided. He should find it relieving, to not be hanging on, but the attuned doesn’t know which would’ve been better. The hope that he could cling to, or the terror of one day receiving a letter that states he doesn’t want to come back, that Sunjata had stepped too far over the line. It’s a strange combination of feelings that flicker over him. But Nate had said he’d come back and tell him, so that had to mean something, right?

It’s conflict brewing within him, worse than before when he’d thought he’d been losing his mind. Those were mental, he had his friends and family beside him, even if he hadn’t treated them the way they’d deserved. This? He’s losing it all. His sanity, his friends, his family, one by one like dominos off the edge of a cliff where he can’t see where they’ve fallen.

Nate stands so suddenly that Sunjata’s gaze drops, still huddled into himself, arms wrapped around his legs, head burying itself back in the comfort of his scaled arms, so that he can hide away because he’s so vulnerable right now. Nate steps closer and Sunjata does bite down hard enough on his cheek to draw blood, letting the iron tinge of it distract him from the expectation of Nate stepping away, gathering his things and leaving.

But the shirt drapes over his head, wet and soaked and Sunjata holds his breath – he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand why, and the confusion is the one thing that isn’t shaky, isn’t flipflopping mentally as it’s shot across the bond like an arrow. And then there’s the press of a kiss to his head, from behind the soaked shirt, and Sunjata can’t help the tangle of emotions that pour from him, the love, the sorrow, the shame, the heartbreak. I love you so much, Nate. Despite his tangle of emotions, this is sent with all the conviction and love he can.

Even when his shoulders shake, even when he ducks into more of himself, even when he breaks.

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

There have been so many thing since the last handful of days that Nate has been unprepared for. So many things that he hasn’t known how to handle. Once again, he finds himself knocked off his ass by the flood that pours from the Flood. Emotions wash away whatever walls he’d had up, leaving him raw, terrified. And for one, beautiful moment, utterly trusting in Sunjata to hold these parts of him, to keep them safe, to understand them.

It’s not fair. None of this is fair. When do they get ease, when do they get a happy ending? Haven’t they fought hard enough for this already? I love you too. His voice shakes, breaking under the combined force of their emotions. Lips slip away from Sunjata’s head, Nate pressing their foreheads together instead, hrd enough that he can really feel it, under the burning flush of pain arching through him. I love you too. I’m coming back. I promise. He doesn’t want to go, no matter how he needs it. No matter how it’ll be good for them.

Nate doesn’t pull away until the burn in his head starts to make his teeth ache, until it starts to seep through the bond. He doesn’t want to share that, doesn’t want to taint the first bit of warmth and comfort he’s had in... well let’s not think about how long it’s been. Kneeling down in the mud and reaching out halfway for his husband, Nate speaks, his words almost unintelligible with how tight his throat is. ”Lookit me. P... please.”

& 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 would. He would always hold them. Whenever he could. But much like a bull in a china shop, he’s broken a few too many things too many times to trust himself in allowing it. So he takes what he’s given, what Nate trusts him with, and he hopes that he never lets him down again. Nate’s voice shakes mentally and Sunjata’s shoulders shake with it. Their foreheads press together, a touch that has him sucking in a sharp breath, as if he’s committing Nate’s scent to memory, as if he’ll break further if he doesn’t get the chance to.

He promises to come back and Sunjata nods, slowly, lightly, still pressed beneath the shirt against Nate in the only touch he’s had in what feels like forever. He tries to commit that to memory too, tries to get it to be enough for him for however long until it’s safe is. And when Nate does pull away, Sunjata stays a bit hidden, trying so desperately hard to hold onto himself, but there’s blood in his mouth and a hole in his heart full of promise and hope that’s drowned with sorrow.

The unintelligible words rouse him, though, a shuddering breath and a twitch of his jaw from where his lips quiver, red ringed eyes lifting to his husband as the attuned reaches up to grab the shirt from his head, to ball it up in his fist, scanning Nate’s face. “I-I’ll be here.” He assures Nate, swallowing down on the blood in his mouth despite his churning stomach. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d be here for when Nate returns. When the demigod returns.

"Can I... Help with anything?" Packing? Sitting in silence? Working to put the damn shutters on the house when it would barely matter when Nate leaves? Some sort of closeness, some sort of attempt to try and pretend that things are normal before they're certainly not anymore?

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’s eye, his face in general, is a mirror, reflecting all the hurt and worry back at Sunjata. He hates they’re separated how they are, hates that the line in the sand between them has grown in an impassible canyon. ”I know you will, I know.” Nate tries to let the comfort of the wards touch him, instead of sinking into the pin of the situation. This will be good, he reminds himself, trying desperately to believe it, so he can sell it to the other man. Someone should come out of this feeling better, and it certainly won’t be Nate, not with how he teeters on a knifes edge, ready to fall into either despair or fury at a moments notice.

”We should... we should finish the windows.” Nate’s lips quirk, the wretched ghost of a smile lingering on them. ”I want to have somewhere to come back to.” And while Nate couldn’t believe Safrin would allow Sunjata’s house to be destroyed, they are out of the range of the monsoon protection. ”And...” And I’ll make lunch, once we’re done.

Nodding, Nate pushes himself up onto his feet again, bending to grab the hammer that he’d dropped. His hand outstretched, then pulls back in one motion, the ascended forgetting and remembering all at once. After a moments uncomfortable hesitation, he grabs a loose bit of the shirt balled in his husbands fist, tugging on it gently. ”Y’ready?”

& 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?

Nate tries to sell it, that much Sunjata can tell. But it hurts all the same, that similar edge of a knife being Sunjata’s own state too – except his tends to fall either self-destructive or trying desperately to forget himself and the things he’s done. For now, though, there’s the quiet choked comment as Sunjata scans the mirror that is his husband’s face, the attuned’s lips quivering still as he tries to bite down on his reverberating emotions.

“Okay.” He agrees a bit weakly. They can work on the windows. The idea of somewhere to come back to, however, does spark a brief moment of hope through the dark. So he tries to find it within him to pull himself up, to pull himself out of the dark spiraling emotions that he can’t get out of any other way. He watches without quite seeing his husband stand, watches that hand outstretch before immediately withdrawing and Sunjata hasn’t even moved yet. He isn’t even sure if he’s managed a breath yet. He isn’t even hungry, isn’t sure he will be for a while, but he doesn’t voice that thought. He almost wonders

The tug to the shirt draws him out of it, however little it is, snapping his attention toward the task they’ve chosen at hand. “Yes.” He says quietly, sucking down a deep lungful of breath, wiping at his face one last time, running those fingers through his hair even if the curls were soaking wet, even if water dripped from the earrings in his ears onto his scaled shoulders.

He pushes himself up, he tries desperately to try and give some sort of closeness that he thinks they both need, the ability to maybe just pretend that things were okay even if they weren’t. That mask slides into place, however shaky it is through the bond as he’s sure Nate can tell. He moves back to that sawhorse, grabbing the board that Nate had stumbled over just before they’d both crumpled to the ground. “Do you think this is long enough to fit the windows?” He asks, marking the board with a piece of charcoal to determine the length before he gets to sawing it.

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’re far beyond anything that looks even remotely like okay, but they’ve found a plateau for the moment. A place to rest, to catch their breath. It’s not the end, not better, not by a long shot, but it’s something. Nate helps to pull Sunjata to his feet, and they get back to work, like nothing happened, like they hadn’t just shattered.

He’s back to fitting together bords, and wishing that everything could be put together so easily. A one eyed gaze rises to glance over at the mark Sunjata’s made, then towards the window, before he nods, not letting his gaze move to the attuned. ”I think that should be fine.” Nate hums, hammering a nail into place just to distract himself, just to lose himself in the work. Distraction can only last so long though.

”Can I ask you a question?” He asks, as if Sunjata has a choice, as if the question doesn’t immediately spark in the bond, bright and unavoidable. What does she have that I don’t? Theres no doubt who she is in this case, but Nate shared a fragment of the cold anger on Safrin’s face when he’d gone to see her. She was terrible, and hateful, and nothing he could compete with.

He supposed the real question was how could he complete? Should he even bother? Could he ever win? But there was not a single one among those that he wanted the answer to.

& 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?

The agreement is made, Sunjata offering a short dip of his head before he’s moving to mark the other boards to fit the same length to make it easier to simply start sawing and not have to stop until it’s done. He hears the hammering of the nails Nate drives down, and by the time he’s gotten the board up to start sawing it, he’s only gotten a few movements in before a still puffy gaze lifts to Nate at the question – visibly flinching when it crosses across the bond.

It’s not… It’s not that. He begins, mentally, because he isn’t sure he can say it audibly. The sawing pauses, blade half in as he stumbles over how to go about it. His grip tightens on the end of the saw, and he seems to force himself into it, to focus on something else and not the gaping hole in his heart. She… Attuned me. When I was starting to come down with the blight. I didn’t know where to go and she was there. And she had been ever since. His lips quirk a bit as the piece of the board falls off and he’s quick to set that one aside for Nate to use as he sees fit, as he grabs another one.

He begins to saw it too as he figures out his words. She healed me from the mud monster after we met, that’s why I got better so quickly. And she didn’t… Blame me for the quest in Halo that killed Adam and Peter like everyone else did. And before… Before we got together after the volcano, when I broke up with Maea…” Fuck, this is hard to say for him. The Attuned pauses the sawing, lifts his gaze up to scan his husbands figure, as if it might help him find the answer.

“I went to the lighthouse and I asked to become something for her. Something like how Ronin was her star and Amalia was her shield. That’s how I got those daggers. I became her… Blade, that day. Her dagger. Hers.” It doesn’t help his case any, not in this instance. And nor did it compare to just how much he'd agreed to a couple of nights prior, but he tries. “I just feel like I owe her for so much. For making me… Me. It's something I can't ever repay.” It isn’t helping his case any, because all of these things are things that Nate can’t compare with, but it’s also what draws him so close to the demigod. His gaze drops, he peers at the board he’s sawing, and he realizes how childish and stupid the thought is as it passes through his mind, but it’s too late to keep it from passing through the bond as he starts to saw again. And a part of me worries that if I wasn’t like this (a powerful attuned) that maybe, maybe nobody would find anything in me. Maybe I’d just… Be useless again, pointless, a waste of space. It's a thought that sounds bitterly like his father, in his mental accent - a flashback of a memory of a voice Nate would know all too well by now, berating and terrible.

Unfortunately, it had been beaten into his head from a young age, a shadow that always lingers and always sparks.

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

It’s not that. Sunjata says, some part of Nate believing him. Some part of him brightening, relief and hope both spreading out tentatively.

And then Sunjata describes exactly that, and all of Nate goes hollow and cold again. That buzz creeps back into the bond between them, a static distance that feels safe, that cocoons around him as surely as it isolates him. Nate doesn’t stop in his task though, keeps putting together the frame, glowing arms appearing to snatch the newest cut of wood and add them to his shutter.

Nate throws himself into the task at hand, listening to his husband without acknowledging any of it, without looking up. He focuses on the beat of the hammer, tries to not let words leave him, even if the feeling leaks out. So it’s never been enough? So everything I’ve done has had to be changed? From the very beginning, from when they met, he’d been inadequate. Boards run out fast, at the pace hes working, until Nate has to stop, has no choice but to sit still and stare at the ground and listen.

Resolutely refusing to meet the stare he can feel on him, Nate nods, an invitation to continue, to drag the knife down and open a yawning wound. It’s his own fault though, isn’t it? Hadn’t Nate asked?

It’s only when Sunjata’s voice hits his ears again that Nate shifts, standing up and stepping away, his back to the attuned. A hand rises to scrub at his face, brushing away the sodden pressure behind his eyes, the tremble of emotion in his jaw. Maybe if he presses hard enough, he can feel something other than the choke of sorrow that clings in his throat, maybe he can put up something other than trembling paper walls. ”Hers.” Nate echoes with a nod, letting his hand drop away and turning to face his husband. Had that been something else meaningless? Something else Sunjata would have the goddess fix and replace? Was he worth so little?

There’s no energy for anger, even as it twists and blows across his face, Nate clenching his teeth against the exhausted tirade. She did that? Made you you? A sigh heaves through the ascended, his gaze falling away again.

Dropping Throwing the hammer again, he steps away, the pacing more sensible this time, tireless legs wearing Nate into a tight circle, just so he can move, so he doesn’t have to simply be still, listening. Sunjata gets back to work, sawing, and letting one final thing slip, in a voice so familiar now Nate can’t help the way it stutters him to a stop, the way it makes him flinch.

”Without her, you’d still be you.” Nate’s voice is a growl so low and rough it surprises even him, overlapping with his silent mental words. Without him you’d still be you. Casting a fluid filled gaze back towards Sunjata, he opens his mouth again, and chokes on the silence, chokes on the thought of speaking. Nate pulls away, his shoulders falling, finally crumpling into something that looks smaller than he is. Finally cracking fully. Without her, I’d still love, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

But that was the problem wasn’t it? He wasn’t enough. He couldn’t compare. And that’s why he needed to leave, why he needed this break. Nate sucks in a ragged breath he doesn’t need, and then stops, letting himself grow stiller than a corpse, trying to settle the lashing twists of pain he’s inflicted on himself. He grabs the hammer once again and waits for the next board, crouching down over the shutter for their home.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

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

NATE