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.
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
