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

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