there's a hole in your chest

We're riding 'round this carousel, getting dizzy 'til we're sick

There’s little more than the sound of shuffling papers in the Atheneum at this time of day. An overcast, snowy adventure outside, little to no wind, absolutely no sun in sight – letting the snow pile up and up and up on the windows and the walkways while people do their best to shovel it out of the main trails people take. It’s part of the reason he’s holed himself up here, taking a break from the cold and the snow, a hot cup of cocoa on the little desk he’s sequestered to himself, flipping through the pages of a few books he’d pulled out.

It's partially a mixture of lore, of learning more about Frey and Rae, as well as some little history texts of Caido as a whole – trying to see if it’s even somewhat reasonable the idea he has. Despite the heavy topics, he’s fluid and at ease, comfortable with the jacket around his shoulders and head propped up on his right hand as his left makes notes in a scrap of paper he’d brought with. Nate being back has made it easier for the Flood to focus on other things again, instead of being in a point of constant waiting for the moment his husband opened his eyes.

He knows Nate went to go see the Voice on this day, and though he’s unsure how long the conversation would take, Sunjata’s left a note; Went for a walk, might stop by the Atheneum, home soon. Just in case he wanted to join him.

the flood

Love is like a circle, there's no easy way to end

totally sniped from odd ilu

'cause the bad's been slowly getting worse

and this fast lane living, it's a curse

Sunset comes early in Deepfrost, and with it a more bitter chill than simple frozen stillness can muster during the day. Evening steals a breath of warmth from inside the quiet sanctuary, the door opening and closing again quickly as whoever dared to be out slipped inside.

There is no sound as Nate moves through the shelves, no footfalls, no breath. He’d found his way home, eventually, after nearly stepping out into the Wilds in the direction of Kings End, found a note before the babysitter and set off again without a word past that.

Sunjata is all too easy to find, even with the pains Nate goes to to come up behind him. He doesn’t want to be seen. It’s different because he’s deciding it. Not once does he break his silence, not even once he’s as close behind Sunjata as he can be, hovering over him while snow melts out of his hair.

better tell me what's your life worth

i think it's time for a change, 'cause the drugs don't work

We're riding 'round this carousel, getting dizzy 'til we're sick

He’s at the very least, quite absorbed in his task. Little scribbles made, some scratched out as soon as he’s found contradictory evidence, the information offered in the margins. He reverts between writing from the common tongue to Korofi, back and forth perhaps without realizing it at the time — not like it matters much. It still reads well, scratched and etched in.

He doesn’t notice Nate there either, not initially, not until there’s a drop of water that hits his shoulder — so cold in the contrast of his warm skin that his magic moves automatically, picking up the splattered drop of water and disposing it somewhere else as his head lifts toward the ceiling as if he expects to find some sort of leak amongst the tall arched ceiling.

He doesn’t though, instead finding the Lone Ranger, though something seems a bit off. “Skatjie,” he begins warmly, leaning back to press into his husband. “How long have you been there?”

the flood

Love is like a circle, there's no easy way to end

totally sniped from odd ilu

'cause the bad's been slowly getting worse

and this fast lane living, it's a curse

“Not long.” Nate murmurs through frozen lips, the words coming out more like n’lon. He is only aware of himself in the barest of ways, though the pressure against his chest helps to anchor him, arms finally moving to rest on Sunjata’s shoulders, freezing fingers lifting to cover steel eyes.

Normally, Nate isn’t forthcoming with his emotions. The bond had helped, had given understanding to the wordless, indescribable noise that rushed in his head, but even that wouldn’t help him here. There is a pit in his guts. There is a stone in his throat. He is nine years old, watching his mother watch him mop up his brothers bloody nose.

He is alone.

His fingers tremble, a copy of a memory of a shiver. “She… never showed up.” He’s thawed enough that the words are intelligible this time, no matter how hard his accent and throat compete to choke them out.

better tell me what's your life worth

i think it's time for a change, 'cause the drugs don't work

We're riding 'round this carousel, getting dizzy 'til we're sick

At least there’s some relief in his ability to realize when someone’s nearby. Not enough to not be taken by surprise, but enough that he at least isn’t too embarrassed by it. He does, however, shiver lightly as the hands travel up his shoulders, cover his eyes like little ice packs — like he’s suffering from a migraine or a terrible fever and Nate’s the cold pack he needs to make it through. He doesn’t complain, though, even as he shivers lightly under his layers, long lashes brushing against his husband’s palms as he closes his eyes.

He knew something seemed a little off just now. But he remains silent, leaning back into Nate as if to warm him up, always a willing ear to listen. She never showed up. “What?” It comes out louder than he intends, shock coursing through him with a surprising amount of rage and frustration for his husband.

He knows what it’s like to call and go unanswered. He nearly died because of it.

Warm hands lift from the book and the notes he’s writing, smudging some of the ink as he covers Nate’s hands, spreading warmth and ink and love. “I’m so sorry liefde.” He breathes, a heavy sigh, curling against the Ascended’s palms. “Ek is so jammer.”

the flood

Love is like a circle, there's no easy way to end

totally sniped from odd ilu

'cause the bad's been slowly getting worse

and this fast lane living, it's a curse

“Shh.” Nate’s fingers clench around his husbands face as the single word leaves the attuneds scarred lips, too loud for the Atheneum. Too loud for the situation. He deserves the deafening silence, wants to be swaddled in it, the weight of nothing on top of nothing on top of nothing.

Apologies reach him next, worse than the sound, worse than anything he’d done to himself on his laborious wander from the shrine to here. It feels like pity. Nate shifts then, straightening up, or at least trying to, though his hands are pinned by Sunjata’s and there’s a slump to his shoulders he just can’t pull himself out of.

His own voice sounds far away when he speaks, no effort made to stop his accent, to not mumble, though there is a lot expended on trying to sound light. Like himself. It rings hollow. “Why are you apologizing?” It wasn’t Sunjata’s fault, not even close. It can only be his. It’s the only thing that makes sense, the only answer that all the pieces slot into nicely.

Though, even that doesn’t make sense, not really. His mind rages agaisnt it. He hadn’t done anything to be ignored, but… he has to have.

It’s a vicious cycle he’s already been ripping through, and all at once Nate simply stops, gives in, collapses down around Sunjata’s shoulders and presses his face into his husbands neck. “ Ek het niks verkeerd gedoen nie.”

better tell me what's your life worth

i think it's time for a change, 'cause the drugs don't work

We're riding 'round this carousel, getting dizzy 'til we're sick

His jaw snaps shut with the shushing, at least for a few seconds while he, too, processes it. But when he speaks next, saying the only thing that comes to mind, he can feel those frozen fingers move slightly, a slumping of Nate’s shoulders when the Ascended speaks again. He works his jaw beneath both of their hands, breathing in a slow, deep breath, before the warmth exhales around cool fingers.

“Because it happened to me too.” He admits, though it isn’t something that’s a secret. Nate knew, he was the one that pulled Sunjata away from the edge that he stood upon, thinking it was his fault when it wasn’t. Thinking he’d been a failure. But something about this doesn’t seem to suggest to the Flood that his husband wanted reasonability. And if nothing else, Sunjata can certainly be there for the emotional waves that come, keeping solutions or explanations to himself until Nate’s ready to hear them.

His hands move when Nate slumps in, when he feels the chill of his husband’s face press against his warm, scarred neck. Fingers thread through wet, snow-melted curls, his head tilting slightly to press against him in a little sideways embrace, leaning back that much more. “You didn’t hartlam.” He agrees, just as he himself had done nothing wrong when Frey didn’t answer.

“Come here,” he hums, moving the chair back slightly to try and manhandle Nate into sitting with him, keeping his eyes closed as he does so, though it’s difficult to do given Nate’s size and strength over him.

the flood

Love is like a circle, there's no easy way to end

totally sniped from odd ilu

'cause the bad's been slowly getting worse

and this fast lane living, it's a curse

Nate doesn’t need to be told twice, a lump of unformed clay ready to be poked and prodded in whatever direction. He all but pours into Sunjata’s lap, his face staying hidden against the warm column of his neck and his arms rising to try and keep steel eyes covered. “Ek moes.” The insistance is wet and miserable, cool fluid tears leaking out Nate’s eyes despite his very best attempts to stop them. It doesn’t matter that he’s disagreeing with himself.

It takes a moment for the emotion to shift, for the scales to tip too far in the other direction. The tears dry up as quickly as they’d come on, Nate’s voice suddenly harsh and venomous. “It doesn’t matter.” He spits, fingers rising to twist in Sunjata’s hair. “I don’t care.” And for the moment, for however long this wave lingers, it’s true. “I just need you, just you and just me and I don’t care!”

“I hate her.” This is a spiteful mumble, quieter than the rest of his declarations, but no less intense. “I hate everything that’s not us.”

better tell me what's your life worth

i think it's time for a change, 'cause the drugs don't work

We're riding 'round this carousel, getting dizzy 'til we're sick

Sunjata keeps his eyes closed, knowing well enough that when Nate was vulnerable like this there was nothing worse he could do other than view his husband. He understands, he’s done much of the same, still does to an extent – only opening himself to the very selected few. So he holds him, his husband’s weight on his lap taking away all thoughts of the notes he’d been making, the research he’s been doing.

Cool hands that slowly begin to warm find their way into his hair, twisting and tugging in little spaces as the anger and venom starts to leak, starts to take away the confusion and sorrow from his other half. His eyes stay closed as he nuzzles his head into Nate’s own, even as the rage turns to mumbles, even as the truth and sentiments (ones Sunjata often had felt as well) are aired into the small enclosed space of the Atheneum.

“I love you.” He says instead of anything else, at a loss for words (unsurprising, given how terrible the Flood was with words to begin with, never knowing what to say or how to say it.) “More than anything. Just us, right?”

the flood

Love is like a circle, there's no easy way to end

totally sniped from odd ilu

'cause the bad's been slowly getting worse

and this fast lane living, it's a curse

"I love you too." Another mumble, the weakest so far. Nate's voice breaks on the last word, trembling as he leans in blindly, trying to find Sunjata's mouth to press them together artlessly. It's not enough, not really, and Nate feels a great rage rekindle itself in his chest, just to blow out again the next breath. "I love you." He repeats as he withdraws, shifting to curl more firmly on Sunjata's lap.

Nate doesn't move from where he is at first, leaning back just enough to stare at his husbands closed eyes. Close enough to count his breath for a beat, two, before hands twist in brown hair (that is shorter than Nate likes for this specific reason) and tug Sunjata in to press against his neck. "It's... important." The ascended reasons, one hand slipping down to grab Sunjata's wrist and pull his arms tighter. "It was important."

The train of thought continues with a low hum that rumbles in the Lone Rangers throat. None of the cars seem to ever make it out of the station, but that doesn't deter him. "You want me."

better tell me what's your life worth

i think it's time for a change, 'cause the drugs don't work

We're riding 'round this carousel, getting dizzy 'til we're sick

It’s a messy kiss but one Sunjata dives into with ease, doing his best to alleviate his husband’s whiplash of emotions. It isn’t enough, though, and as Nate withdraws with a repeated I love you, Sunjata’s quick to repeat his own. “I love you too.” He murmurs, keeping those eyes closed for Nate’s comfort at least until he’s tugged in against a cool neck. His lashes brush against pale skin, snagging on rogue curls as he does wrap his arms around tighter given Nate’s help, pressing soft gentle kisses to map out his husband’s neck.

“It is.” Sunjata murmurs gently, nuzzling in a bit more. “And of course I want you.” He reassures the Ascended, nuzzling in more and more and still refraining from letting himself look at the other man until he’s ready. “I have an idea,” he pauses to press another soft kiss, arms tightly wrapped, fingertips applying gentle stroking pressure thats enough for the Ascended’s systems to register.

“What if we take a few days back home? Get Pemota and Ramoth? Take the boys and just enjoy our isolation a bit?” Little does he know it won’t fully be that way, given the events that await them upon reaching the Boondocks right now.

the flood

Love is like a circle, there's no easy way to end

totally sniped from odd ilu

'cause the bad's been slowly getting worse

and this fast lane living, it's a curse

The confirmation that he’s loved, that he’s wanted has a sudden clingy desperation burning through Nate’s limbs, his hands circling around his husbands shoulders again. Sunjata won’t see the tired, sad eyes locked on him, but he might feel the weight of Nate’s  gaze. It’s interest, and hope, and a soft relief. Sunjata’s ideas are generally better when they get a chance to talk about them before, thought Nate can’t resist the urge to interrupt them again, demanding another chaste but needy kiss.

“That sounds good.” The words leave Nate after not early enough consideration, an automatic reaction while his mind starts to actually click and think. Having a suggestion of any kind helps to focus him, to drag him out of the only sea of his own thoughts. “Not… right away?” Comes the murmur after a few moments. “Theres… others people I should talk to. They don’t get a choice.” The last addition comes in a growl, Nate turning his face in against Sunjata’s head until his sensors protest it or the other man complains, he hichever comes first.

better tell me what's your life worth

i think it's time for a change, 'cause the drugs don't work

We're riding 'round this carousel, getting dizzy 'til we're sick

Wide hands spread across his shoulders and Sunjata leans into his husband all that much more, readjusting his legs slightly to better handle his husband’s movements so they don’t go toppling off the chair. He gives into the kiss, arms tightening around the Ascended’s middle, another chaste and sloppy meeting before Nate responds and they pull away and Sunjata’s fingers start to dance up his husband’s spine.

“Whenever you’re ready, liefde.” He murmurs into cool but slowly warming skin, in the face of the quiet murmur and the growl, the press of his husband’s sharp face against his own, pressing in against his cheekbones as much as he can stand before he readjusts his face to relieve some of the pressure. “I won’t leave the Grounds until you’re ready.” A reiteration. A vow. They’re in this together, until the end, as always.

He keeps Nate there pressed against him for some time before he moves again, nuzzling in and pressing soft kisses to his husband’s face and neck and chest, to a hand that he peels away and intertwines with his own. “Let’s go get the boys and get some dinner, okay?” He breathes after enough time feels like it’s passed, before he can work to clean up his mess of notes and close up the books he’d pulled out, before the two of them head back through the snow to the VlamVloed.

- FIN <333

the flood

Love is like a circle, there's no easy way to end

totally sniped from odd ilu