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

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

Nate turns away from him and Sunjata can already feel the clench to his jaw again, the way it’s all coming out wrong, the way he describes Safrin like the best thing in his life, like there hasn’t been any doubt when he’d agreed to father a child from her. But it was all wrong. It was done in love, of course, but not entirely love for Safrin — no.

He had gotten in that situation because of his love for Nate. Because if one day Safrin didn’t love him anymore, he doesn’t think it would destroy him. If Nate were to leave fully? It would kill him. But he can’t voice that either, can’t say what’s on his mind in regards to that because it feels like he’s minimalizing what he’s done to Nate, like he’s shoving his burden onto his husband in a selfish hack of ensuring he comes back.

So he can’t. And he doesn’t, even as Nate repeats the words and can’t look at him, as Sunjata gets back into work and stares at the fibers of the wood as it frays from the pressure of the saw.

His lips part when Nate’s voice cuts across, ready to dash that thought away, until he mentions his father and the saw squeaks to a stop that he’s forced to try and fix, if only to keep himself from letting the tears fall again. I… He pauses, sawing through the final bit of that piece of wood before setting it there for Nate and grabbing another. I know I shouldn’t… Think like that. I’ve just been in a survival mode for so long I don’t know how to stop. He shakes his head abruptly as if he’s realized just how.

And it’s with a croaky, sorrow filled, regretful mental voice that’s sent across the bond quietly. You are how I stop, Nate… He finishes that board and moves onto the next. You are the safest place I’ve ever been. You have never once asked anything of me that had me consider dipping into my survival instincts.

Another pause, a frantic sweep of his cheeks with the back of his hand before he’s sawing again. You made me live. And he had fucked all of it up. And I’m sorry that I’m… Wired to deal with shit wrong. When it comes to you, it’s only ever been because I can’t lose you. Because I love you more than I could ever love myself.

Because to lose Nate, well, that would be a slow, violent death.

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

When had their gears slipped so far out of alignment? How long had they been grinding, pressing against each other in a song of sheared metal and trying? And how much longer until they’re irreparable, until it makes more sense to just replace the whole thing?

All Nate wants to hear, all that he needs to hear, is that he would be chosen when it came to it. That he could hold a candle and Sunjata would flock to it instead of the stars above.

But he doesn’t, doesn’t hear that, just sees the other man get back to work.

So Nate follows his lead, hammering boards together and letting himself grow colder and more distant, slipping away from Sunjata like a receding tide. He thinks about taking the ring off again, thinks about leaving them both alone in their feelings. Thinks about losing it in the mud and never looking for it again.

You... were my safe place too. Nate pauses again, rubs at his face roughly and pretends like it’s the rain that’s plaguing him instead of iridescent tears. He doesn’t know how to explain himself, how to really, truly highlight the betrayal, how to make it understood. All I wanted was a life with you beyond this bullshit. I never brought it home, not if I could help it.

With one last nail hammered in, Nate struggles to his feet, letting his extra arms do the work of lifting the shutter, and leaning it against the wall. You can apologize forever, but you threw our doors open and invited your lunatic goddess into our home. Into my life. After, Nate can’t help but laugh at this, after she cursed me before Longnight. Whatever Sunjata said didn’t hold a candle to what he’d done. The ascended turns towards his husband fully, steps a touch closer, letting the saw horse and a few scant inches of space separate them.

”Sunjata.” The name falls off his lips like a prayer, just before shaking hands wrap around the attuned’s jaw. ”I would kill and die for you, if you asked me to.” Shaking hands hold on for as long as Nate can manage to keep the pain off his face, dropping away and clenching to hide the shiny burnt sheen when it becomes too much. You never asked me. Maybe it was something they were both guilty of, that desperation to claw a place out into the future, into each other, that they stop looking at what they’re digging into, what they’re letting in.

& 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?

Sunjata doesn’t have the choice Nate has, to close himself off while the ring is still worn. He can’t close his side off, the whirlwind of emotions wracking through him removed his ability to do so with a wall of fractured glass where it would still leak out. But Nate’s voice comes across, broken just as Sunjata feels internally, and he tries to throw his focus into his work, into finishing up the boards in the hopes it distracts him from the circle it feels like they’re falling into.

That’s all I wanted too. He agrees weakly, quietly. All he’d wanted was a life with Nate, left alone, to run Torchline together and be happy. And he’d fucked it all up with his short sightedness. And all he can offer is a quiet, “I know,” to his husband, aloud and cracking, before his gaze is lifting upon Nate’s approach. Sunjata doesn’t dare tell Nate what Safrin had said about it. He doesn’t dare try to put stock in her words when Nate had been so shaken up.

His name leaves Nate’s lips in a way that has him stilling, has Sunjata settling as Nate’s hand rises, even if he can see the glimmer of pain on his husbands face when the hand reaches his jaw. He doesn’t move forward to touch Nate, not like he wants to, because he knows that it hurts. And so he simply focuses on watching Nate’s face. He doesn’t know what to say. He can only say ‘I’m sorry’ so much before it loses meaning.

Perhaps it already has.

“I didn’t.” He agrees weakly, sadly, sucking down a sharp breath as he scans his husband’s face. I didn’t ask you, and I should have. I was… worried that the deal would be off the table if I didn’t agree to it then. I thought there would be more time. It was… a failed deal to begin with and I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. It doesn’t help, nor does it help to say the words like he’d hoped it would.

No, instead he simply fumbles around with his words, unable to say what he wants to, unable to even figure out what he wants to say.

I understand that it changes nothing and doesn’t make anything better, but... I need you to know that I didn’t want it to happen like this.

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

Of course Sunjata knows. He’s been told how many times now? And yet Nate wanted to keep repeating it, felt like if he somehow said this is all fucked up enough times, it would fix itself. He certainly doesn’t know what else to do at this point. He knows what he wants to do, but drinking himself stupid wasn’t exactly an option, not only because of the ascension. It’s too much like his father, too much like simply resigning himself to a family he doesn’t really want.

Though, that’s where it’s very very different too. He wants Sunjata, wants his family, so much it hurts. So much he’s willing to hurt. Some utterly raw emotion burns in Nate’s gaze as his husbands name falls from his lips. It’s something only the attuned is allowed to see.

The rain lightens, a weak splash of sunlight colouring the day through a break in the clouds. Nate sighs, letting his head drop as he punches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed tightly. I know you didn’t. Sunjata could be many things, but he wasn’t cruel, not like this. Just... thoughtless, sometimes, easily manipulated if you knew a single thing about him.

Pemota’s horn pokes out of a window, hesitating a moment before the rest of her body follows, a lazy trail of electrified starlight wafting from her. She taps the attuned’s side with her horn then brushed up against him, somehow both firm and reluctant. Moving away before he has the chance to touch her, she drifts instead to press against her bonded s back, Nate trying fruitlessly to breathe in the calm she exudes.

It takes a long moment, but Nate finally gets back to work on the shutter, nailing in the last few boards. I don’t know what to do now. The admission quakes and shivers like a beaten dog, with no way of telling how it might react to anything. Setting the hammer down one final time, Nate chances a glance at Sunjata, his gaze distant and shuttered again. ”Help me with this?”

& 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?

It becomes a never ending circle, again and again, as it always did with them, without having the ability to touch behind it to say all the things they truly mean. And he’s stuck in that circle when he sees that raw emotion in Nate’s gaze, how he wants to shrink from it but tries to remain if only to wordlessly say that he gets it, to an extent. He couldn’t, gods knew he never could come close to understanding how Nate felt right now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to try to understand it.

He tried, and he accepts the consequences of his actions to the best of his ability.

The light peaks through the clouds, pulling away the rain, and Sunjata reaches up to run a hand through his dark hair, hearing Nate’s voice through the bond and finding that it sounds weary in a bone tired way that Sunjata only ever thought he felt, but it was nothing like this. He nearly jumps when Pemota taps his side with her horn, having not expected the starwhale’s approach, but already the starry, staticky air gives him a moment to simply just breathe on her way to her bonded, and Sunjata watches her go as he regains some part of his emotions to try and latch them back down behind closed doors.

The hand that ran through his hair trails down to the back of his neck, hearing the honesty of Nate’s voice and sidling closer to help, abandoning his project for the moment to help raise the shutter to the window with his husband. And perhaps it’s Pemota’s calm that has helped him form the words, because he’s close enough now to Nate that he can reach out and touch him, though he doesn’t, he does reach out to tug at the end of a bit of fabric that bunches out from his pants – not close enough to skin, but enough to try and give his husband some semblance of a touch even if he couldn’t.

He moves to lift the shutter into position with Nate, trying to determine where would be best for the nails to go in, before he finally manages to speak. “I will do better, Nate. I promise you that.” He says slowly at first, quietly, as if testing the waters. “I’ll get my shit together and when… When you come back with your decision, I hope you’ll stay.” A quiet conviction covers his words as he stares at what they had created to help keep the windows safe during the monsoon season.

I’ll make it better. I will fix this. I will fix us. Somehow, someway. Sunjata would do anything to make it so Nate felt safe again in their home, in their family. Tot die einde.

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

Pemota is a welcome balm, a soothing cap for the frayed rope of his mental state. She lingers around his shoulders, one hand rising to stroke along her smooth body, as if somehow Nate could feel the lingering brush against Sunjata. He's distracted from his lonely desperation by a tug at his legs, another almost touch, another attempt to reach out that he tries to lean into. It's not the same, and it's not enough, but it's better than nothing. Better than leaving and never coming back.

When, not if. When, not if. Letting the words sink in, Nate finds himself going still, every part of him focused on his husbands words, trying to find some trace of a lie, of a trick hidden in them. There's nothing, nothing but the same desperation he feels, the aching want for things to just be normal again, in some way. I hope so too. It's maybe not the most helpful thing to say, but they're the only words that comes to Nate's mind before he turns to face the wall, pulling a nail from his pocket and hammering it into place.

Even as he nods, Nate finds that he can't quite imagine what fixing it even looks like. What's done is done. There's going to be a child here, there's going to be Safrin's child here, a constant reminder of a line he never thought he'd have to actually draw. Tot die einde. He repeats softly, turning a glance that manages to be deathly serious and somewhat playful all at once on his husband. Of anders.

The shutter slips into place, covering the window completely, and hopefully sturdy enough to not be blown away. "So, uh..." The force of the attempted lightness nearly has Nate's voice cracking. He clears his throat, debates trying out loud again, then shakes his head. It's just one more, right? If you wanna follow tradition. He pauses a moment, knowing Sunjata is going to need it to catch up. Cocking his head, Nate licks his lips, huffing out a breath and waiting for the reaction instead fo continuing.

& 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?

Whether or not Nate thinks it’s a useful sentence, it boosts Sunjata surprisingly well. He focuses on that fact, the one that Nate hopes he decides to stay too. It was worth fighting for. Nate is worth fighting for, as if that wasn’t obvious enough given the deal Sunjata had gotten himself into for the Ascended.

Nate hammers the nails into the siding of the house, and Sunjata steps back once the shutter is secured, surveying it as he offers his quiet boost — part of their wedding vows, still relishing in Pemota’s calming aura for as long as he can. He chews on the inside of his cheek, before his gaze slips over toward Nate with the serious gleam in his single eye, as well as a look of something he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again. “Or else.” He agrees quietly, trying to offer a small smile but finding it hitting a bit closer to a half grimace.

The suggestion of following tradition stops Sunjata cold in his tracks though, his gaze darting to Nate immediately with drawn brows. “I…” He sighs and moves to run a hand through his still wet hair, the curls falling limply across his forehead. Fuck the traditions, honestly. He says with a mental sigh, looking back at the shutter. Have as many as we want. I’m not… Going to limit it… We can have as many as you want. He offers with a small shrug, lips pursing as he tries to keep his heartbeat from racing. If you wanted to follow tradition, though, it’d be just… One of each. His lips quirk before he shakes his head again. And any duplicates would be taken away. There's a sharp chill that comes across the bond, a recollection of horror for the things he was forced to do in Korofi, before he shuts that off.

“So… Fuck the traditions.” He offers before he’s moving suddenly to pick up the pieces of wood left behind, tossing them into a pile. “You wanted— You wanted a big family, right?” It comes out quietly, as if Sunjata was afraid of the answer, if it had changed since this recent endeavor.

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 breathless chuckle rumbles through Nate, his hands slowing so he can focus on the attuned. The burst of revulsion that follows his suggestion should be less surprising. It was supposed to sting, but not hurt. Nate manages to stay quiet, lets Sunjata have his outburst, not saying a word in the face of it. Not until Nate is sure the other man is finished. I barely want to follow my own traditions. There's a sharp grin on the ascended's face, more of a grimace than anything else. We're doing whatever we want.

Nate hums, jaw working as he chews his words carefully. "Dunno if big is right." He admits, his voice distracted and rough. "Just... more than one." It's hard to know if Sunjata understands, given how he'd grown up, the distance that had been forced between him and Saartjie. But at the same time, that's what he wants to avoid, that isolation, that loneliness. "We need to talk about it first though. I'm not... I can't do this again." A grim seriousness enters his voice, a warning, though honestly he has a hard time believing anything of this magnitude will happen again.

Inside? It's a silent suggestion, this moment of reprieve only able to last so long. He can make some coffee, they can... sit at opposite ends of the sofa, and... talk. Just thinking it sounds like a chore. Nate would rather throw his arms around his husband and pull him close, would rather sit silently in an easy embrace.

& 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 grimace is met with a quiet nod from the Attuned as he’s suddenly moving to pick up the boards and place them in a pile to be dealt with later. He doesn’t have the mental capacity right now to be able to handle putting everything away and it seems like Nate understands that too. But Sunjata clings to the mental words that float over, the ‘we’ most notably standing out at first.

But he asks the question regardless, afraid of the answer, drawing back up to his full height to look back at Nate when he speaks aloud and Sunjata fights the childish urge to wring his hands while he waits. “More than one.” Sunjata agrees quietly, wholeheartedly, especially after this endeavor. Nate could come home with a child conceived and born from wherever and Sunjata wouldn’t question it, not after his events.

So more than one it is.

He nods with a sharpness that seems to suggest that it’s a line in the sand that Sunjata has grown into a canyon, deciding he’d rather plunge into the unknown rather than make this mistake again. “Yes.” He assures Nate, of talking it over, of figuring it out beforehand, it’s truly the least he can do. As for inside, though, Sunjata nods and grabs whatever trinkets he’d left outside – his balled up shirt most notably, before heading inside. Immediately he steps over to the fireplace to place a few more logs on the pile if only to warm up the chill in his bones. And when he’s done, he goes to settle himself at the island, distanced away from his husband, worrying at his lower lip. “Do you want a smoke?” He asks, reaching into the drawer beside him to pull out a pack and the matches, setting it on the island for Nate to grab if only so Sunjata doesn’t have to touch it – unsure just how much his closeness to anything Nate touches would cause harm.

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 hard work, trying to step in sync again, but it’s worth it. At least in times like this, on conversations like this. If only they could have started here, could have talked like this before Safrin stuck her fingers in between them. Maybe things would be better, maybe it would be easier to swallow.

They make it inside just in time, the sky opening up once more in a torrential downpour, rain beating against every surface of the house and filling it with a calming buzz of sound. Whatever latent agression still lingers in Nate’s bones is worked out with the way he kicks his boots off, the way his sodden shirt is ripped off and left hanging by the doors puddle forming beneath it almost immediately.

Pushing rain slicked hair back and out of his face as he steps into the kitchen, Nate is already grinding the coffee when his husband joins him, the smell of smoke clinging to him so obviously the ascended notices it. He hadn’t noticed the house was cold, hadn’t noticed the rain was cold. Hadn’t bothered to think about it. ”Yeah. I’ll have one.” Setting a kettle on the stove first, Nate drifts over and grabs himself a smoke, lighting it with one of the matches instead of searching for the lighter that never seems to be where he remembers it.

Leaning over the island, Nate let’s his gaze move slowly over his husband, taking everything in. Committing it to memory, not for the first time. Not talking, as if that’s surprising. Nate sighs through his nose, and pulls on the smoke until the entire thing burns up in one long breath, the trick feeling less impressive than it had so so long ago, in the VlamVloed. ”I still love you.” He breathes around a mouthful of smoke, like it’s useful. Like it’s productive.

He drops the butt into the ever present ashtray on the counter and steps back, moving to fuss over the stove and the kettle as it begins to sing. It’s not a lengthy endeavour, but it seems to take a lifetime. Eventually though, Nate returns to the island, two steaming mugs of black coffee in his hand, both lightly sweetened, both heavily spiked.

& 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?

It’s warmth Sunjata craves – ever the furnace he is, it’s different not being able to cling to Nate. It’s different to not have it, not with the way he could wrap himself up in Nate’s arms and skin and have the Ascended essentially rebound the heat back to him, even if he hardly had any warmth to him on his own. So he sinks heavily into the chair, eyeing the way Nate strikes the match and lights his cigarette, before Sunjata’s lighting his own and taking a deep drag off of it. He’s incapable of the trick Nate can do, so he tries to relish in the length of it while it lasts.

His gaze lifts, something cracking in it at the confirmation – regardless of how much they argued over it, Sunjata had only ever meant his actions out of love. It would kill him to know he’d destroyed that. So it soothes something within him, those shattered pieces. Like sandpaper taken to the rough edges of wood. It smooths and Sunjata finds himself exhaling a plume of smoke from his nose, as he goes to flick a bit of ash into the ashtray as the kettle sings. “I love you too, Nate.” He says quietly, his voice still hoarse, his hair still dripping a small amount down the scarred side of his face.

But he wants to keep talking, wants to divulge a bit more into his curiosities and further away from his failures as the coffee is given, Sunjata blowing on it to cool it off a fraction before he takes a sip and tastes the spike as well as the sweetness, relishing in it where he can. “Can I ask what it was like? To become a demigod for the Voice?” What Nate had to endure while Sunjata was off making bargains. He’d never gotten to ask, never felt the chance to arrive to ask what Nate had done among the blunder of his own mistakes.

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

Leaning over the island without reaching out, Nate takes a sip of his coffee without waiting and hums. ”You can ask whatever you want, sonskyn.” His accent wraps smoothly around his words, save for the korofi endearment, the hard sounds of it squeezing into something even sharper under the nasally drawl. Taking another sip of coffee, and letting the continuation of I just might not answer go silently, Nate hums, tries to think about how to describe it.

”It... it was like ascending again. It hurt, for a second, and then,” His hand opens in a sudden burst, like a firework, like a flower. Like something better. The motion is enough that he sloshes coffee over the counter, a long suffering sigh leaving him as he turns once again, in search of a cloth this time.

Sopping up his mess, Nate starts again, quieter this time. ”It... wasn’t exactly my plan. I just... I asked the Voice to fix whatever Safrin had done, and she said she could make me better. She said she could make me whole again.” He drags out the last words, the implication of the starry herald making him somehow less than more than clear. Holding the stained cloth tightly, Nate looks up, staring at a point over Sunjata’s shoulder before finding his steel gaze. ”It seemed... good. Like I would be enough to... to keep us all safe.” Doesn’t that sound stupid 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 could. He could ask whatever he wanted. But he’s terrified of any of the answers of the thoughts that come to mind. So instead, he nods, clutching the coffee cup a bit tighter, keeping it close to his chest as if he might be able to hide away the tattoo a bit longer. He watches Nate, though, the explanation — how ironically similar both their events had been. But he doesn’t voice those thoughts, instead he simply watches as Nate makes a mess, muscles tensing as he moves a fraction to try and clean it up before Nate’s back quickly, and Sunjata settles — not wanting to get too close.

His brows furrow as Nate continues and cleans up the mess, Sunjata’s fingers clutching the mug a bit tighter as he lifts it to his lips to take a long sip, letting the alcohol swell and burn in his stomach. “Did she tell you what Safrin did to you…?” He asks out of morbid curiosity before regretting it as Nate’s next words reach him and he frowns.

“You have been enough.” He says quietly, staring at Nate briefly before his gaze drops to the dark coffee in the mug, as he works his lips that tug at his ruined cheek. “I’m just really bad at getting involved in things I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.” He says quietly, taking a sharp inhale of breath before he lifts the cigarette to his lips next, trying to draw the conversation away from sadness, there’s a small smile that forms on his face in his attempt. “So... Is that how you got those extra arms?” He asks quietly, gaze focusing on his husband’s face again, trying to lighten the conversation.

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

”Some kind of,” he sucks his teeth, trying to remember what the Voice had said specifically, if anything. ”Some kind of corruption? It’s why my upgrades all had to go. They were... tainted.” A shrug rolls over one shoulder, so casual it’s not believable. No loss is felt quite as keenly as his eye though, the ruined ball of silvery scar tissue feeling like a mockery, like a failure. At least there are already pieces in place to fix it.

Nate doesn’t look up from the counter when Sunjata speaks, tries to reassure him. It just feeds back into the loop, into the twist they'd been in earlier. A shout rises on his tongue, his lips curling down at the cloth in his hand. If he’d been enough, none of this would have happened. If he’s been enough, his husband wouldn’t have gone out and made such a life altering deal behind his back.

Though, hadn’t he done the same? Wasn’t he just as guilty? So panicked about being broken, about not being enough, that he drove a wedge in between them wherever there was open space?

Sighing, the ascended finally looks up, the cloth held carefully in his hands. Absently, Nate folds it in half, then in half again, until it fits the length of his hand almost perfectly. The motion is slow, deliberate, but his unblinking gaze doesn’t leave Sunjata. ”It is how I got the arms. And another thing, but... I don’t exactly know how it works yet.” Slipping back into that calm, casual place makes it even more surprising when his hand comes up, the coffee soaked cloth pressed against Sunjata’s mouth.

Leaning in over the island, as close as he can, Nate let’s his voice drop into a low hiss, true, sincere anger dragging out of his throat. ”If you apologize to me one more time I swear I will hit you hard enough that it hurts you more.” He’s tired of it, he knows, and he can’t stand to hear it again. Even now though, the threat isn’t leaving, even now that seems too nuclear for this.

As soon as Sunjata shows he understands; a nod, or even a particularly spirited blink more than enough; Nate leans in, kissing the back of his own hand and pressing hard against his husbands face, like it’s even remotely the same. Then, he leans back, setting the cloth down and taking another sip of his coffee.

”I’m going to be ah, getting my eye back next.” He slips back into this casual place like it’s nothing, like it’s easy, and if he were talking to anyone other than the attuned, the pressure might be impossible to see. But his hand trembles, and his throat is tight around his words.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

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

NATE