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.
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
