you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling
A breathless whine leaves Nate as hands slip away from his face, down his jaw and to his neck. He wishes for the impossible feeling of his beating heart, if only so he can feel it throb against the weight on his neck, if only so he can feel it that much more. ”Tot die einde.” Whenever it came, however it came. Whether it was gods, or their own hands wrapped around each other’s throats like helpless puppets.
Some part of Nate recoils at the burn of rage that flickers through the bond, like watching police lights through the blinds. Behind panes of glass and circumstance and it makes him want to run all the same. But he doesn’t. Like a nosy child Nate leans in, his head dipping to press against Sunjata’s before he remembers, and twitches up again. Instead, he reaches out through the bond, a wash of emotion too heavy to pick apart into specifics offered up. It’s everything Nate is. All his sorrow and his anger and his pain. All his love and his relief and his happiness. All for the other.
Thumbs sweep over Sunjata’s cheeks, interrupting the path of tears. Nothing will. Nothing can. Not even this. Goes unsaid, though it manages to break through the glaze on Nate’s eye and shine fiercely there, some fire in his chest blown back into life.
Though Nate could stay like this forever (and gods doesn’t that sound tempting) the more sense begins to return to him, the more he realizes how ridiculous it is. Collapsed in the front hall, winter clothes thrown around, holding each other like if they don’t Caido itself will swallow them whole. ”D-Do you,” his voice shakes and cracks, more unsteady than it’s ever been in his life, and Nate spares a moment to clearing his throat quietly, to swallowing and taking a deep breath. ”Do you want to move to the couch?” The second attempt is better, clearer, even if his mind says bed when his mouth says couch. It’s simply closer.
Some part of Nate recoils at the burn of rage that flickers through the bond, like watching police lights through the blinds. Behind panes of glass and circumstance and it makes him want to run all the same. But he doesn’t. Like a nosy child Nate leans in, his head dipping to press against Sunjata’s before he remembers, and twitches up again. Instead, he reaches out through the bond, a wash of emotion too heavy to pick apart into specifics offered up. It’s everything Nate is. All his sorrow and his anger and his pain. All his love and his relief and his happiness. All for the other.
Thumbs sweep over Sunjata’s cheeks, interrupting the path of tears. Nothing will. Nothing can. Not even this. Goes unsaid, though it manages to break through the glaze on Nate’s eye and shine fiercely there, some fire in his chest blown back into life.
Though Nate could stay like this forever (and gods doesn’t that sound tempting) the more sense begins to return to him, the more he realizes how ridiculous it is. Collapsed in the front hall, winter clothes thrown around, holding each other like if they don’t Caido itself will swallow them whole. ”D-Do you,” his voice shakes and cracks, more unsteady than it’s ever been in his life, and Nate spares a moment to clearing his throat quietly, to swallowing and taking a deep breath. ”Do you want to move to the couch?” The second attempt is better, clearer, even if his mind says bed when his mouth says couch. It’s simply closer.
& you're trembling and he reaches over
and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist
NATE
