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.
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
