[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-o"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-title"]WE WERE PLAYING HOUSE

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-subtitle-small"]
til the rent went up and they said move out, i don't want to do that now

I will keep my shoes on. No matter what, I will not take them off. [break][break]

Luck repeated the reminder to himself as he scaled the apartment complex staircase, the fingertips of one hand trailing along the top of the banister rail with a familiarity he couldn't presently afford to acknowledge. That he was deliberately careful not to. [break][break]

The office had kept him later than he'd planned. He'd wanted to swing by Nate's after a shower and a change of clothes. Wanted to allow himself a chance to decompress and prepare for what was likely going to be hours of sifting through, divvying up, and packing their shared years into boxes that'd then be labeled as one or the other's (as if there'd been any real distinction between their belongings at one time). But he'd left late enough that he'd decided to come straight from the office to the apartment, only pausing on the way to text Nate whether he'd eaten or not and pick up a quick carry-out. [break][break]

He turned off the stairs, bottom lip working its way between his teeth as he started down the corridor. The trepidation he felt with each footfall down the hall wasn't completely alien — a similar sort of weary resignation had burdened his step fairly often in the weeks prior to their split. But somehow, now, it was even weightier. Perhaps it was just that it was no longer an expected, daily trek. Or perhaps it was because, now that it was done, it was more difficult to recall what had made his stride so heavy in the first place.[break][break]

He fingered the keyring in his jacket pocket as he walked, testing the ridges of the old apartment key against the pad of his thumb. It'd been a couple of months and still, Nate hadn't asked for it. Whether it was because he simply hadn't thought to or because he'd figured it might be callous (or start an argument), Luck couldn't be certain. But he'd decided he wouldn't offer it unless it came up. And it didn't matter much now, with the lease about to expire and Nate leaving. The locks would be changed soon enough.[break][break]

He slowed at their — no, Nate's — door and turned to face it, tongue poking into his cheek while he released his lip and steeled himself. Even outside, in the corridor, with the door between him and where he'd lived the last almost seven years, he was aware of a plethora of scents pervading over the smell of food at his side. [break][break]

Home. [break][break]

Only a couple of months prior, the smell wouldn't have even been noticeable. Wouldn't have given him the slightest pause. Because it'd been entirely indistinguishable from himself; etched into his clothes, his skin, his hair, and perceivable only to anyone else around him. But now, it was different. Discernible. Different soaps and different detergents had written new smells into him and washed away the old. [break][break]

The acknowledgment threatened something in him. And, to ward it off, he sucked in a breath and repeated to himself his reminders.[break][break]

He wouldn't get too comfortable. Wouldn't let himself forget for a moment that he didn't live here anymore. If he had to sit, he would choose anywhere but where he'd always sat. Wouldn't prop a socked foot where it had always propped. He wouldn't take off his shoes.[break][break]

He lifted the hand from his jacket, leaving the keyring where it was. He could let himself in. Announce himself in a shout while he emptied his pockets on the hallway table and loosened his tie and collar. But he wouldn't. Instead, he slowly exhaled his held breath, rapped his knuckles on the door, and cautiously let his Gift seep from him — searching for Nate's presence through the walls and ready to accept whatever emotion his arrival might stir.

you said the show's getting bad, all of the tv sets make you sad[break]
i don't want to be, i don't want to be the reason for that

Tag: Nathaniel Collins [break]
Give me a nudge for any changes! Luck could have take-out just for himself or picked up some for the both of them, depending on Nate's answer~

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[Nathaniel Collins]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","NATEpost"]

[attr="class","NATELyrics"]And he smiled like the first time he told me his name[break]

And we cried with each other. We split the blame for the parts that we couldn't [break]
change. Pictures, dishes and socks. It's our whole life down to one box.[break][break]

[attr="class","NATEBody"]

The end of the year was approaching. That meant the end of the lease was also approaching. Even though these last few months felt agonizingly slow, with all the long nights and too much time alone, when he looked back Nate couldn’t believe how long it had actually been already. [break][break]

What it all meant now was that he had to reach out. He had to ask Luck to come back to the place that had been their home together, for much longer than it had been just his place. Even months later, it still didn’t truly feel like it was his place. There were still reminders everywhere, though he’d done his best to pack what he could away, shove it in the back of the closet and not think about it. The pictures, knick knacks from their travels, small things that could easily be boxed and put out of sight. [break][break]

There were other reminders that Nate couldn’t hide away. The furniture they picked out together. The memories that echoed in every inch of the apartment. A broken kitchen sink that sprayed water everywhere, broken for weeks now even though they’d sent building maintenance out a few times to look at it. Nate had thought about asking for Luck’s help fixing it, but would that be asking too much? [break][break]

Where were the boundaries? How were they supposed to act around each other? Could they still be friends now that their romantic relationship had fallen to pieces, been broken in so many ways that it was hard to pinpoint where it started? The end though, that was clear. A mistake that couldn’t be taken back. Nate knew there was no excuse for it, no coming back from it. But could they move forward? Still be something to each other? Everything was so uncertain between them now. [break][break]

It was too much to consider today. Nate felt the anticipation building as his workday went on. He had reached out, had asked Luck over to decide what to do with everything. The material belongings that they had accumulated together over a decade. Nate had even dug the boxes from the closet a couple days ago, the ones he’d avoided since he had Kat help him tuck them away. He still couldn’t bring himself to put everything the way it had been, the way it should be. It felt wrong now, out of place. [break][break]

When he’d just gotten home, his phone buzzed with a text message. A breath hitched as he went to check it, sure that Luck was backing out. But it wasn’t that. Instead it was a question, asking if he’d eaten yet. He sent back a ’No, not yet. Just got in from work.’ He had leftovers in the fridge, or he could order them something in while they sorted through their shared possessions. He wanted to offer to cook something instead, but he was concerned it would be too much, it would certainly take too long. [break][break]

Nate went into the bedroom to change after texting back. He pulled out a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie, determined to look decidedly casual. He couldn’t stop himself from fussing over his hair, picking at a grey that was starting to grow in, right near his temple. The movement of Charlie jumping to his feet and trotting out of the room broke Nate’s attention away from the mirror just as he heard the knocking. [break][break]

Swallowing a lump that had risen in his throat, Nate made his way to the door, socked feet moving quickly across the apartment. He wasn’t going to let himself spiral down the what could haves or should haves. But he couldn’t help that pang of sorrow at how wrong it felt for Luck to have knocked. As far as Nate knew, he still had his key. He hadn't found it left behind, anyway. It felt right for him to still have it, even if he wasn’t using it. [break][break]

Charlie whined and barked at the door as Nate opened it, taking a step back to keep from blocking the entry way. “Hey.” The word sounded hollow, felt hollow, but Nate was at a loss for what else to say. Charlie charged past him to sniff at Luck before beginning to lick his knee, impatiently waiting for attention. “Sorry. Clearly, Charlie misses you.” Nate let a small, nervous smile play on his lips. ‘I miss you’ went unsaid. [break][break]

Nate looked Luck over, still in work clothes, holding onto a bag of take out. He looked every bit the same, but somehow that made it harder. All the feelings he still had bubbled just under the surface, but he did his best to push it all down, to focus on feeling decidedly calm. He knew that he was only lying to himself, that Luck would be able to tell, if he wanted to. [break][break]

“You got stuck at work late? I hope it wasn’t anything too bad.” Out of everything he wanted to say, it seemed like the easiest, safest opening. [break]

[attr="class","NATENotes"]Luck Harris[break]
This got a little longer and rambly than I planned. Let me know for changes, or if you need more interaction since this was a lot of internal angst.

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[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-o"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-title"]WE WERE PLAYING HOUSE

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-subtitle-small"]
til the rent went up and they said move out, i don't want to do that now

At the unmistakable sound of a whine and bark on the other side of the door, Luck's mouth tugged at one corner and he huffed an amused breath through his nose. Charlie. Their poor child of divorce. Though he stayed largely with Nate, still Luck would take him out and keep him overnight when it got too late or when Nate had plans. He could tell the dog wasn't completely content with staying in his new apartment and he'd been unable to let his dramatic sighs and droopy eyes pass without comment when they settled on the couch to sleep. He could never be certain how much of his dejection was owed to the absence of Nate and how much of it was owed to Luck's own dejection. Animals tended to be quite intuitive and empathetic, after all — dogs especially. [break][break]

The door opened and — in a blinding second of panicked (cowardly) impulse — Luck's gaze dropped from where it was prepared to meet Nate's to the excited pup that barreled forward to greet him. "Hey, Charlie boy," he laughed quietly, bending and setting the plastic bag on the hallway carpet so he could give the dog a healthy jostle and thorough pat. He trapped his face between his palms to pepper the top of his head with a couple of quick, enthused kisses, which Charlie responded to with more pitchy whines and a couple of overexcited snorts. Then, all of a sudden, he was far more interested in the bag of food than him, so Luck straightened and plucked up the take-out as he did so. [break][break]

"Go on, inside," he encouraged and the dog gave a huff before hopping eagerly back through the door. Then he paused only a few paces down the hall to look back, ears perked expectantly — likely questioning if Luck was going to follow this time. All the times he had returned the dog before, he'd only lingered in the doorway. Buried his hands in his pockets while they exchanged a few pleasantries. Mostly superficial things that always felt a bit forced or were made awkward by too-long beats of silence. Silences in which Luck fumbled with the desire to ask how Nate was doing, how work had been going, how Kat was — questions that friends asked each other and that should have been easy, but weren't. And with each unsaid thing he swallowed down, he'd always grow more and more restless. Discomforted by the wrongness. Until his hidden hands were in clammy fists and he had to leave with only a nod or quick smile. [break][break]

His eye flickered to Nate and his fingers tightened infinitesimally about the plastic handles held in their grasp. It'd been a while, he realized, since he'd seen him last. And, though he'd steeled himself, he couldn't completely prevent the dip in his chest when he looked him over. "Hey," he responded belatedly, making the single word as casual as possible.[break][break]

He looked comfortable — normal — and Luck was struck by the abrupt thought that, somehow, that nervous little smile on his lips had become normal as well. It hadn't been an uncommon sight in the past months, after and even before their split. It was an uncertain expression, perhaps even a concealing one — as if Nate was trying to figure him out. Trying to navigate. Trying to avoid saying the wrong thing. The look of it, and the realization that it'd been there long before now, panged at something within his chest. And he had to briefly wonder how he'd been so dismissive of it before. How it had not hurt him to see it while it had been happening.[break][break]

He could feel Nate's emotions like a flimsy sheet drawn over something turbulent. And, very deliberately, Luck reeled his Gift back into himself; not wanting to look too close now that he was stood before him. "Yeah, long day," he admitted in a breath, stepping past the other man and into the apartment. He didn't pause to take off his shoes. He turned his face to him as he breezed by, scrunching his nose with a careful quirk of his lips. "But it wasn't too bad." He kept his voice light. Neutral. Carefully detached from anything that might be read as weariness at the admittance. [break][break]

Truthfully, it'd been awful. Not in a boring sort of way but in a decidedly more terrible way. A life had been lost, there'd been tons of paperwork and reports he'd had to make or sign off on, and then at the end of it all — and what had kept him after-hours — was a lengthy meeting with his stone-faced, unsympathetic supervisor. A meeting in which he'd been made to discuss where he could have done better and what might have made the outcome different. As if the whole thing had been his fault. As if there were no limits to his influence over a person and he hadn't been faint and bloody-nosed by the time things escalated to their unfortunate end. [break][break]

But that was just the Sector, sometimes. When it came to utilizing their employees' Gifts, they tended to forget that they were people, too. Tawny had complained about it often; lamenting in short curses through a tight, screwed-up frown about the things they asked her to do and to see, all while never concerning themselves with how she carried it around afterward. [break][break]

But Luck couldn't... or perhaps just wouldn't... vent about it. He could no longer seek that comfort in Nate where he once might have. Couldn't dress down and sink into the couch to lay with his head in his lap while they talked through it. All those small things that Nate did, whether asked to or not, that had made leaving a bad day at the door easier — Luck couldn't expect them now. Couldn't let the feel of fingers tracing the hair from his forehead gradually diffuse the tension from his shoulders. Couldn't voice his frustrations until he exhausted them. Couldn't dismiss everything with a breathy sigh, blink up at him, and finally inquire about his own day. [break][break]

The gestures wouldn't be there now. The comforting words, even if Nate knew them — and he always seemed to know them — would likely catch in his teeth; tempered by an uncertainty of what was "appropriate" now. There was an uneasiness there. A question of what belonged and didn't belong within the new definition of "them". And Luck didn't want to force that sort of hesitance. Nor was he certain he could stand to see or hear it. In any case, he was sure it wouldn't be fair of him. [break][break]

And if he was being really fair, maybe he could admit that he hadn't sought that particular brand of comfort from Nate in a while, even before they'd finally broke. He'd kept things to himself. Let them grow heavier. In the many long weeks leading up to their snap, he'd brushed off his attempts at consoling, breezed past (or been angered by) innocently-concerned questions, and shook himself free from any attempt at talking through... well... anything. Perhaps that hesitance and uneasiness he didn't want to face now... would have been there anyway. [break][break]

As he moved further into the apartment, he couldn't help but notice the small things missing. Not only the things Luck had taken with him when he'd left and the few, additional things he'd grabbed the times he'd picked up Charlie, but more. There were a couple of empty spaces on the wall where pictures had once hung. A trinket misplaced here and there. Little things. Things he wouldn't really have noticed being there at all, before. But their absence was much louder than their presence had ever been. It was the absence of him. Stuff Nate had taken down or squirreled away, perhaps because he couldn't stand to look at them anymore. [break][break]

Which was fair. He couldn't let himself feel any certain way about it. And it didn't matter anymore, he thought carefully. Soon everything would come down and be moved out and no one would be able to tell they'd lived there at all. The walls would be painted over, the carpet replaced, and the space would become someone else's entirely. [break][break]

"Sorry if it's too late," Luck started, turning into the dining area, setting the take-out on the table, and working at the knot. "Figured we could still make a start, at least." With what felt like a whole life to go through, he couldn't imagine it was a single day's work in any case. "Have you found a new place already? Or..." his brow knit in the center and he swallowed uncertainly as he prepared the next question on his tongue. It was one that'd been rattling in the back of his mind for weeks, especially with the timing of their split aligning so close to the holidays. "Do you think you'll go back to Harmony?" [break][break]

It wasn't exactly how he wanted to ask it. "You're not going back to Harmony, are you?" would have been more honest. The idea of it filled him with an aching sort of dread. One that he couldn't really explain but knew to be blatantly selfish. But he accepted it was a real possibility. Knew Nate might be there now, had Luck not come around. And he imagined that the idea might have sprung to Nate's own mind while staying with his sister for Thanksgiving. It'd been the first one Luck had spent alone in ten years, uncertain what to do with himself except lay up on the couch with Charlie and feel sorry about the whole thing. Nadia had made it clear, in a string of texts, that she was unhappy about his not being there. Then, in a stern phone call (in which he could hear her emotions, her care, as clear as if she'd been stood before him), she'd been adamant that he make it down for Christmas. But Luck had been careful not to promise anything, unsure how Nate would feel about it. And unsure, too, how he was supposed to ask.

you said the show's getting bad, all of the tv sets make you sad[break]
i don't want to be, i don't want to be the reason for that

Tag: Nathaniel Collins [break]
This got unforgivably long aaaaaah!! Give me a nudge for any changes. I know it's a shit-ton of rambling lmaooo~

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[Nathaniel Collins]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","NATEpost"]

[attr="class","NATELyrics"]And he smiled like the first time he told me his name[break]

And we cried with each other. We split the blame for the parts that we couldn't [break]
change. Pictures, dishes and socks. It's our whole life down to one box.[break][break]

[attr="class","NATEBody"]

It had seemed like Charlie’d had just as hard of a time adjusting to Luck’s absence in the apartment as Nate did. Still, there would be days he’d wait by the door, giving a loud huff as he lowered his head and stared, waiting to hear the unmistakable footsteps on the other side, the jingle of a key in the lock that never came. He’d always seem more depressed when he came back from his visits with Luck, when things weren’t normal again, both of them in one place. Nate watched as Charlie paused, waiting for Luck, then trotting happily when he realized he was following this time. [break][break]

It felt like the air was heavy with what they were both holding back, the words that were left unsaid. A similar hey uttered back. Nate watched as Luck moved further into the apartment. There was a tension there, not quite something Nate could pinpoint the cause of. Was it being back in the apartment? Being in each other’s presence for more than the brief, fleeting moments when they exchanged custody of Charlie? It could be a combination of things, he supposed. He’d learned to try to read the small movements, the small sighs, even the silence, never quite sure of the cause but always aware of the need for care. This felt very much the same. [break][break]

Nate pushed the thought back. This wasn’t the same. This was a whole new level of complication, of hurt. Being this close, knowing he could fall back into old habits but having no right to do so, it was the kind of hurt that ached deeply in his core. He would have rubbed tense shoulders, run his fingers through Luck’s hair, lazily massaging his scalp until he felt him relax, melt into the familiar comfort. Even as he said the day wasn’t that bad, Nate longed to be that comfort for him again. [break][break]

It didn’t go unnoticed as Luck’s eyes skimmed around the room, as he stood in the kitchen, shoes still on, not quite looking comfortable. Nate felt a sense of guilt rise up inside, as he also stared at the spaces that had stopped feeling empty or bare weeks ago, the places where he took down pictures or decorations that were too hard to see every day. The things that carried the memories of them, where the echoes of their life together were just too loud, too blatant to see every day. [break][break]

“I, uh.. I boxed a few things a while ago.” Nate shifted, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from smoothing them over his face nervously. “Kat helped, under slight protest.” [break][break]

In truth, Kat had assumed they’d work through it, in the beginning. When he’d first told her what happened, what he’d done, she tried to tell him that it would be okay, that people make mistakes and to just talk it through. But it hadn't been that easy. Nate knew that it was much more than just his infidelity. They’d been disconnected from each other for some time before. It was hard, coming to terms with that, seeing it in hindsight when he’d missed so much of it when it was happening. [break][break]

“I haven’t been home long myself. There were some issues with a placement, but it all got worked out.” He rushed the words. He hadn't thought about it before he’d spoken, but it seemed somehow wrong to refer to the apartment as home to Luck. He’d meant to be reassuring, but instead now just worried that he was being insensitive. [break][break]

The lump returned to his throat as Luck asked about a new place. Nate had looked, extensively. Finally he did find an apartment he could afford on his own, staying in The Heights and keeping most of his routines from changing too much. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn't considered going back to Harmony. Cutting his losses and going back where he could be useful again, where he wouldn’t be alone every night. He’d just gotten back from Harmony, and the temptation was real. But it didn’t feel the same anymore. It was still home, but it wasn’t his home anymore. It was the home he could go back to visit, not the home where he belonged now. Sure, it would probably be a quick adjustment if that was his only option, but it wasn’t his only option. [break][break]

Nate took in a steadying breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not moving back to Harmony, no. I found an apartment, not too far from here, actually.” It was only a few blocks away, promising to make it an easy move when the time came. Trips between the two places would be quick enough, at least. [break][break]

If Nate was completely honest, even Harmony was marred by a distinct absence of Luck. The whole time he’d been back, Nadia needled at him, upset that Luck hadn't made the trip back for the holiday, that the things that went wrong between them bled over and stained the holiday festivities with a touch of sadness. Though she was supportive of him, she also made it clear how unacceptable it was to her that she was missing someone who had become family, someone who should have been there. [break][break]

Nate agreed with her. It just wasn't the same. “I assume she's already told you this herself, but Nadia was very displeased with both of us over Thanksgiving.” Nadia was never one to shy away from sharing her feelings. [break][break]

He let the silence hang a beat too long while he contemplated delivering the rest of the message that Nadia had demanded he pass on. Was now the right time? He supposed it was as good a time as any, especially since they were already talking about Harmony and Nadia. “She told me to tell you that no matter what, you're still family and she expects you for Christmas. She said she won't take no for an answer.” Nate let his eyes search Luck’s face as he continued. “You and Nadia have always been so close, I would never want to ruin that, too.” [break][break]

[attr="class","NATENotes"]Luck Harris[break]
Let me know for changes.

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[googlefont=Karla][googlefont=Caveat][googlefont=Pacifico][googlefont=Hurricane]

[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-o"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-title"]WE WERE PLAYING HOUSE

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-subtitle-small"]
til the rent went up and they said move out, i don't want to do that now

In his periphery, Luck could see Nate glance around; gaze following all the places his own had lingered. Noting the empty spaces, missing trinkets, and misplaced pictures. He moved his hands into his pockets, shifted his stance, and Luck could almost feel his nervousness (without any aid from his Gift), as he explained the absence of everything. [break][break]

Did he really feel he had to explain? Why did it sound to Luck almost like an apology? Luck's brow knit and his lip pursed with the abrupt want to dismiss the whole thing. To let Nate know he didn't need to explain. He got it. Understood. It was cool. It was all coming down anyway. But he only pressed his lips back together with an acknowledging nod, fingers working more earnestly at the tight knot between them. "Okay." [break][break]

Nate explained he hadn't been home for a while; that there'd been trouble at work that'd taken time to even out. "That's good," Luck commented, with the same evenness as before, unable to come up with much else more to say. He was briefly aware that he might sound uninterested. Bored. Uncaring and dismissive. And that really... those sort of short answers on his part had also been commonplace long before now. More aware of this now than he'd been before, he cleared his throat and attempted a quick, clumsy follow-up. "I'm glad everything got worked out." [break][break]

His brow pinched. Did that help at all? [break][break]

The knot was proving too difficult and, feeling a stab of impatience (more than a little owed to his own swirling uncertainty), he tore through the plastic bag instead and lifted the two trays out to set on the table.[break][break]

Before he answered about his prospective living arrangements, and whether or not he was moving back to Harmony, Nate took a long moment to suck in a breath and then breathe it back out. Luck had to stifle the urge to reach for him with his empathy — to find out what that meant. What feelings or struggles the question had stirred within him. Had it been a difficult decision? One he'd lamented over? Then, when he said that he was staying in Los Eurosia — staying in the Heights, even — Luck couldn't discern exactly how that made him feel. [break][break]

It loosened that nameless dread in his chest but, in its place, what was there? Relief? Comfort? Guilt? All three, somehow? [break][break]

He nodded slowly in response, not trusting what he should say about it. Not knowing what he should say about it. "Good"? "I'm glad"? "Very relieved you're not packing up and moving hours away but also I hope I'm not the reason you're staying"? [break][break]

Ugh, fuck — he had to stop thinking so much. What was it that Tawny had said to him? That he got stuck too often in his own head? Worked himself up over nothing? That he needed to live in his body sometimes instead? That he didn't react to things naturally, didn't react without carefully thinking through his reactions, and that that made him more difficult to read and understand? [break][break]

He tried to clear his head. To think about nothing. To be natural. And when Nate followed the mention of Harmony up with Thanksgiving and Nadia, he attempted an airy laugh.[break][break]

"Yeah, she gave me an earful," he tried to shoot Nate an amused glance. Tried to dress the affirmation up in the light-hearted tease that it was meant to be. But his gaze skipped past his own before flitting back to the table and there was a notable disconnect from the joke in his words and the sound of his tone. "Probably not as much as she did you, I imagine." He could just picture Nadia now, supportive but firm, as she inquired whether Nate had asked Luck to Thanksgiving. The look she must have leveled at him when he answered that he hadn't.[break][break]

Which, Luck didn't blame him for. He hadn't expected to be invited. It had been too soon and he understood it wasn't such an easy ask to make with all the uncertainty that currently existed between them. If now was anything to go off of, it was hard to imagine that the typical holiday cheer and togetherness of Thanksgiving wouldn't have risked feeling somewhat tainted by... whatever this was. Even if Nate had asked, Luck wasn't sure he would have accepted. [break][break]

Naturally, Nate brought up Christmas. Luck could have seen that coming. What he hadn't anticipated, were those last words — 'I wouldn't want to ruin that, too'. They echoed in his mind and he didn't like them. Surely, Nate didn't blame himself so much for what happened?[break][break]

He could feel Nate's eyes on his face. Perhaps searching or inviting him to look at him. But Luck only set his mouth more severely and breathed a hard breath through his nose, eyes flitting stubbornly between the trays he set on the table. "Is this you asking me to go?" He asked, hearing himself how the words sounded on the air — vacant and edged by a stiffness that he didn't intend but that just... always seemed to happen. A default, deadpan tone that tended to result from his trying too hard to keep his tone even and level. [break][break]

The sound of it, colder than he wanted, immediately frustrated him. And he angled away with an inward scoff, feeling himself grow actually steely as a consequence of not wanting to sound steely. Stupid man. He turned his back and stepped to the kitchen cabinets so he could pull open a drawer and retrieve a pair of forks. "It doesn't really matter what Nadia wants in the end," he continued, voice sounding now with a sort of genuine gruffness. "I won't go if it'll be uncomfortable for you." [break][break]

Maybe he should be more transparent. Try to be more transparent. More forthcoming. Hadn't Tawny said something to that effect, too? That there was a lot that he didn't say that he should? Even if it wasn't "articulated perfectly" or "thought out completely". Even if it was ugly. Or mean. Even if it didn't make sense or someone laughed at him for it. Sometimes things were better said than not. And sometimes they were more honest — more easily dissected and understandable — when delivered without being thoroughly minced or stripped down by overthinking.[break][break]

Luck returned to the table and plucked up his tray of take-out, breathing deep and letting his eyes press closed. [break][break]

"To be honest..." he hesitated immediately, blinking his eyes back open and dropping his attention briefly to the plate in his hands. The desire was there — to shake his head in a sudden, turn-heel dismissal; to step across the kitchen and remove himself from the situation — but he willed himself to remain still. To, instead, just take a moment... and then continue. He swallowed, then lifted his gaze to Nate's face, finally. He resolved himself to keep it settled there decidedly, even as he felt his eyes steel of their own accord; becoming blank and braced in that hard, emptying way they had. He wouldn't let the acknowledgment overthrow him. Wouldn't get in his head about it.[break][break]

"I would like to go. I can't imagine not going." And that was the truth. What else was he supposed to do? "But. If that will be difficult for us. I will... understand... if it's better that I don't." [break][break]

Fuck's sake. How could saying a simple handful of short, stilted sentences feel like pulling teeth? How could they make his chest tight and his palms clammy? What was so hard about that? It took all he had not to exhale a shuddering breath as he lifted his brow and looked away, setting Nate's fork atop his own tray and making to step past him and toward the living room so they could get started.

you said the show's getting bad, all of the tv sets make you sad[break]
i don't want to be, i don't want to be the reason for that

Tag: Nathaniel Collins [break]
Give me a nudge for any changes. This one's also a mess lmaooo~ Also made some assumptions about Thanksgiving, so lemme know if I need to make any edits specifically about that!!

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[Nathaniel Collins]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","NATEpost"]

[attr="class","NATELyrics"]And he smiled like the first time he told me his name[break]

And we cried with each other. We split the blame for the parts that we couldn't [break]
change. Pictures, dishes and socks. It's our whole life down to one box.[break][break]

[attr="class","NATEBody"]

Okay.. Just one word, and Nate could feel a familiar anxiety gripping hold of him. It was so hard to read him now, nearly impossible really. Was he upset? Mad? Did he even care at all? Even just the thought that he didn’t care was painful, and Nate found himself pushing the feeling down, willing himself to keep a level calm so they could get through this evening without things getting harder than they already would be. [break][break]

There was a distinct lack of reaction when Nate said he planned to stay nearby, just a nod of acknowledgement. What did that mean? Had Luck been hoping he’d be moving away, going back to Harmony so they wouldn’t have the frequent risk of running into one another around town? [break][break]

Nate needed to focus on something else, so he walked to the cabinet and pulled down a couple glasses. “Tea?” He questioned, already pulling the pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge. He registered the thought that Luck was the whole reason he even drank sweet tea. He hadn't been fond of it before, hadn't really been an iced tea drinker at all. But through the years, it became a habit to keep a fresh pitcher brewed in the fridge, and he’d grown to like it. So much so that now, it was still a staple in his fridge. [break][break]

It was not surprising that Nadia had called Luck and given him an earful about not being at Thanksgiving. Luck was also right that she’d also given Nate an earful about it. Several earfuls, if he was being honest. It hadn't helped his case when he told her he had no idea what Luck’s plans entailed, because they had not spoken to each other about the holiday. It had been too soon, everything had still felt too raw to call him up and ask if he was going to be there. What Nate hadn't told his sister was that he’d been just as disappointed, he’d been hoping Luck would be there, even if he was angsting over the possibility for the days leading up to the trip. It was just weird celebrating without him. [break][break]

Luck’s question about Christmas gave Nate pause “Is this you asking me to go”... What was he supposed to say to that? What would be more likely to make either of them feel more comfortable with it? Was there even a right way to answer back? He busied himself with putting the pitcher of iced tea back into the fridge while he tried to decide just how to answer. The awkward silence stretched long enough that Luck continued on, and Nate was grateful for the time to compose his thoughts into something coherent. [break][break]

“She wasn’t the only one who missed you at Thanksgiving. I did, too.” Too honest. That wasn’t what he thought was going to come out, but once the words left lips there was no taking them back. It wasn’t like it would have been some huge secret anyway. After ten years it was hard to face the loneliness that came along with no longer being together. [break][break]

When their eyes finally met again, Nate couldn’t read Luck’s expression. He felt a familiar knot tightening in his stomach, wondering just what Luck was about to reveal for the sake of honesty. He did his best to prepare himself to hear that Luck didn’t want to go back to Harmony or he simply wouldn’t. He’d have to respect it, if that’s what he wanted. [break][break]

Hearing that Luck wanted to go, that he couldn’t picture not going to Christmas brought a slow, small lift to the corners of Nate’s lips as he let it sink in. Of course it would be hard for them both, but this whole break up was hard. “I don’t think it will be too difficult.” Nate shook his head slightly, grabbing the drinks to bring to the living room. “At least, not on my end. I, well.. I think you not being there would be worse.” [break]

[attr="class","NATENotes"]Luck Harris[break]
I've been working on this over a few days during breaks at work so it's a bit messy. Let me know for changes.

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[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-o"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-title"]WE WERE PLAYING HOUSE

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-subtitle-small"]
til the rent went up and they said move out, i don't want to do that now

Luck was hyper-aware of Nate's presence as he moved through the kitchen and filled a pair of glasses, trying somehow to read him without looking or reaching. It was difficult — he'd made it difficult — and he couldn't quite decide if what was happening was normal or tense. But when he admitted to missing him over the holidays, he felt himself still. Felt something loosen in him. It panged, subtle and hollow, and tried to soften at those edges he knew — he knew — had no reason to be there within him. [break][break]

He should apologize. For waiting for Nate to ask at all. For not reaching out himself. For whatever it was — that nameless, prickly thing — he was doing now and had been doing for what felt like so long. He should breathe out whatever this was and, before he had the chance to breathe it back in, just say that he'd missed him, too. He could make it quick. Say it quietly. It didn't even have to matter. Didn't have to make a difference or change anything. All he needed to do was say it. Maybe Nate needed to hear it. [break][break]

The ache only deepened at his answer regarding Christmas plans — at that small, miniscule lift of his lips — but still Luck couldn't make himself act on the impulse. The desire was there, fleetingly desperate, and the words were almost there, too. But he only stared and, after a moment, just nodded again. "Okay. Then I'll go." [break][break]

He took a step back to let Nate move in front of him with the drinks. Then, gaze trailing behind them, he moved back to collect Nate's tray of food beneath his own. "Wouldn't make much sense to take two vehicles. Can we ride together?" They moved into the living room and, after a brief moment of deliberation, Luck decided to lower himself to the floor in front of the coffee table, opposite the couch, rather than seat himself on the edge of the furniture like he might have before. [break][break]

"I just picked up the usual," he commented, as he unstacked the trays between them and flipped his lid open. It was nothing special — just what they tended to favor when it was decided the evening wasn't one for cooking or going out. Which had never been truly frequent for them at any point. [break][break]

They'd liked cooking together. Messaging one another throughout the workday, musing between calls and cases about what sounded good for dinner or what new recipe one of them had seen and wanted to try. Whoever ended up leaving their office first, picking things up from the store. Whoever got home first, getting things started. And the other, simply stepping right into the fray as soon as they walked through the door. [break][break]

Some days, dinner was made to music and (maybe) there was a dance. Other times, they'd just discuss their day. Laugh or bitch (depending on how it'd gone). Sometimes there'd be a hand slipped under a shirt or something sly nipped into a shoulder. Always, they'd been able to trade tasks, so one and then the other could step away to shower, change, take the dog out, or do whatever else they needed to do. Most of the time, everything was orchestrated so that both of them were comfortable and relaxed by the time things were dished up and they could sit down. [break][break]

Things had been so easy. For so long. When had it stopped? [break][break]

Pulling him from what was threatening to become a long (possibly destructive) cycle of thought, Charlie trotted up and plopped a demanding paw on Luck's thigh. "No sir," he said, voice firm and crooning. He lifted his brow with mock severity and raised a hand to 'shoo' him back. "No begging, you know better. Go on, back up. Back, back." The dog took an obedient step backwards, then another, and another, until Luck gave him a nod and took a bite from his food. [break][break]

"Are we starting out here?" He asked, gaze flickering briefly to Nate before he stretched out to pull forward one of the few boxes nudged out of the way, near their entertainment center. A glimpse inside was all it took to realize it was full of some of the "missing" things that Nate and Kat had stowed away previously, and the first item he pulled out was a picture he recognized from the very long time it'd spent on their hallway wall. [break][break]

Taken on one of their very first trips together, it showed the pair of them beaming in the gondola that climbed the steep eight-hundred feet between Telluride and Mountain Village in Colorado. The background was blindingly-bright with both sky and mountain and Luck could almost feel the sunburn/windburn that reddened his cheeks. Even as wrapped up as they were, under their glasses and behind their scarves and caps, he could see how much younger they'd been. Weird, how ten years could feel so short and yet be so long. The changes in them — both physical and otherwise — had happened so gradually that it had been impossible to notice them. [break][break]

"Hmm," Luck hummed, setting the picture back in the box. This was, maybe, going to be even rougher than he'd anticipated. [break][break]

Needing something else to distract, his gaze wandered once more through the living room — eventually lingering in a corner that looked a little sadder than the rest; somewhat bare, despite the fact Nate had maybe adjusted a few things to try and make it appear less so. Luck's brow knitted at its middle, just barely, while his mind turned. It only took a moment and, when he realized just what was missing, he snorted and his mouth tugged askew. Immediately, he lifted a hand; smothering the smile pulling at his lips and swallowing back the laugh that threatened behind them. Still, his shoulders made a telling jump as he turned forward and poked again at his food. [break][break]

There'd been a plant there. A big, beautiful thing. And Luck had taken it the first day he'd packed his truck. [break][break]

Sure, he had bought the plant — and had been ready to make that argument when he was hauling the heavy fucker through the door — but it had been for Nate and it had been Nate that'd taken care of it and grown it for the past two or three years. He must have looked like such a pettish child as he marched the thing down the stairs and into the parking lot. He wondered if any of their neighbors had seen. If they'd cringed. [break][break]

"I'm sorry I took your plant," he said, this time successful in filtering the proper (almost apologetic) amusement into his voice. His gaze flickered from his plate and up to Nate. It was a little easier to hold it there now. He huffed another breath, then wrinkled his nose and lifted his brow. "I was just really mad." And petty — foolishly petty. And being an absolute ass. He chuckled then, unable to hold it back this time, as he pictured himself red-faced and huffing. Stupid. [break][break]

"Sorry," he added quickly, clearing his throat and shaking his head. "It's not really funny — I was being mean. But..." his shoulders quaked again and he dropped his fork so he could pinch abruptly at the bridge of his nose; finger and thumb smoothing at the inner corners of his eyes while he shuttered them and tried not to laugh. "That was just... so ridiculous." Forcing himself to sobriety, he blew out a breath, dropped his hand, and cracked his eyes back open; settling them with a more easy decidedness on Nate across from him. "I really am sorry. I'll — I'll bring it back, if you think there's a spot for it in your new place. It's still alive." He gave a small shrug and took another quick bite. "A little wilted, maybe, but it can bounce back."

you said the show's getting bad, all of the tv sets make you sad[break]
i don't want to be, i don't want to be the reason for that

Tag: Nathaniel Collins [break]
I really do just be making shit up, so don't hesitate to let me know if anything doesn't fly with you! Give me a nudge for any changes! Or if I need to cut this down sdfhsdkjfh ;v; IS THE PLANT A METAPHOR FOR LOVE??? IDK WHY DO YOU ASK WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF

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[Nathaniel Collins]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","NATEpost"]

[attr="class","NATELyrics"]And he smiled like the first time he told me his name[break]

And we cried with each other. We split the blame for the parts that we couldn't [break]
change. Pictures, dishes and socks. It's our whole life down to one box.[break][break]

[attr="class","NATEBody"]

Everything that Luck said felt clipped, short. This was no different. It was so hard to gauge what his words meant, what he was feeling, or even what he actually wanted. At first the knot in Nate’s chest felt like it was tightening, the unease growing, but he noticed a subtle change in body language, the way he turned back to pick up the second take out container that Nate would have otherwise gone back for once his hands were empty. It was just a small thing, but it spoke volumes. This had to be just as hard on Luck, maybe harder, coming back to the apartment they’d shared for so many years, the place that had been their home together for so long. Of course he was going to be hard to read right now. [break][break]

Riding together would make sense. It would be convenient. It was also bound to be awkward. But maybe that could be a good thing. It could force them to air everything out, anything still lingering by then. “That’s a good idea.” Nate set the glasses down on coasters on the coffee table as Luck settled onto the floor opposite the couch. “Do you want to drive, or should I?” He must have his reasons, and Nate wasn’t going to question it. He just settled himself on the floor as well, back against the couch. It would make the sorting while they ate easier anyway. [break][break]

“Thanks for picking up.” Nate watched with mild amusement as Charlie trotted right up to Luck and pawed at him, acting like he didn’t know better than to beg for food, like they hadn't trained him not to do that very thing. He had the look of a scolded child as he backed up. [break][break]

“I don’t even really know where to start, so it’s as good a place as any.” This is the part that he’d been dreading more than anything else. Actually looking through the remnants of the life they built together was going to be hard. Nate watched as Luck pulled out a picture from the box, stared at it a moment, then placed it back down. The picture was from one of their first big trips, it seemed so long ago there but the memories were still fresh and easy to pull to mind. [break][break]

Maybe this was still too soon. It wasn’t like they had much choice though, Nate had to be out by the end of the year. He was glad that the new place was letting him start the lease in the middle of December so he would have time to move things over, so it wouldn’t be such a frantic rush, but with the holidays it was still likely to be a rushed process. Besides, it wasn’t like another couple of days would make it any easier, and they were both there now. [break][break]

Nate took a couple bites of food, buying time before digging into the process of sorting through nearly a third of their lives of belongings and memories. He glanced up when he heard a noise from Luck, worry building until he realized he was stifling a smile and laughter. When he went on to apologize about the plant, it made a little more sense. Nate glanced toward the corner where it used to dwell, nodding when Luck explained he’d just been mad. Of course he was mad, he’d had every right to be mad. He still had a right to be mad. [break][break]

Luck’s laughter, even if he was apologetic for it, was more of a relief than anything he could have said. “Even I can admit it’s a little funny.” Nate felt the smirk pulling at his own lips as he shook his head, imagining how Luck had gotten the large plant down to his truck in the first place. Surely, he’d had to have help. “I don’t know where Fergus would fit in the new place, but if he’s wilting I’m sure I can find a spot for him.” [break][break]

The new apartment he was moving to was going to have less space than he was used to, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’d found a decent little studio that he thought he could easily afford on his own. It wasn’t too small, it had an alcove for the bed, not quite the same as a bedroom but at least there was also space to still have a couch and living area. What really sold him on the place was the kitchen. It still had a good amount of counter space and it would be good for cooking in, unlike some of the places he’d looked at. He was surprised to see how many studios had no counter space, some didn’t even have a full sized stove and fridge. How did anyone live like that? He couldn’t imagine the amount of frustration living with some of those ‘kitchens’. [break][break]

Nate’s gaze slowly fell back upon the boxes on the floor. He let out a slow breath, not wanting to face the reality that they were there to sort and separate the material items that they’d accumulated together. “How should we even go about this?” Piles on the floor? Other boxes? How did you go about untangling the memories that came along with each photograph, each knickknack? [break]

[attr="class","NATENotes"]Luck Harris[break]
I’m here for it all of it. Let me know for changes!

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[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-o"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-title"]WE WERE PLAYING HOUSE

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-subtitle-small"]
til the rent went up and they said move out, i don't want to do that now

"I'll drive," Luck answered before taking another bite of his food, smiling just barely as he chewed. Briefly, he wondered if the ask was an attempt at humor — he always wanted to drive, only switching off when he grew too tired, when Nate was particularly insistent, or when he'd been drinking a little more than typical. "We can take mine, if the back's roomy enough for everything you want to bring." [break][break]

He nodded to himself, feeling inexplicably soothed by the plan-making. The trip was bound to be... a little weird... but he was fairly confident that the hours-long drive would be enough for things to reach a certain level of normalcy between them. A sort of comfortable ease that Luck would need to find before they reached Harmony. So he could pretend nothing was horribly changed as he stepped through the door and into Nadia's waiting embrace. [break][break]

He nodded again when Nate said he'd take back Fergus. There didn't seem to be any particularly sore feelings about the plant-napping but, though Nate admitted it was a little funny, Luck felt somehow disheartened. It hadn't earned a laugh. Everything Nate said felt too careful, something Luck knew to be his fault. Maybe another time, or maybe if it'd only been a story and not something that'd happened between them, they might have had a quick, giggly cut-up about it. But maybe it'd be a long while yet, before the air was that easy between them again. That easily navigable and inconsequential. Or maybe it never would be. [break][break]

But Luck didn't want to believe that. [break][break]

"How should we even go about this?"[break][break]

He searched for an answer. [break][break]

They'd moved before, more than a couple of times. The actual act of it wasn't unpracticed. Another slow look around — perhaps initiated just to allow him another long moment to think — and Luck could see unmade boxes of various sizes tucked along the wall and supplies — tapes, bubble wrap, and the like — arranged nearby. Yeah... it wasn't the moving itself that was difficult. But they'd never had to divvy things up before. They'd always been going to the same place, together; their belongings separated by room, not by possession. [break][break]

Before Nate, before their life, Luck had never stayed in one place long enough to accumulate "things". When he'd left Kansas, he'd taken practically nothing. There'd been very little to take. And then, when he'd been traveling — when his leaving had been often — he'd never had the desire to fill his temporary living arrangement (usually nothing more than a room, rented from someone with a little too much space and a need for money) with anything he didn't need. [break][break]

But now, after ten years of staying in one city, of making an actual home, there was so much... stuff. Before, items had always been just items. He'd bothered with little that wasn't practical. Had no desire to surround himself with things he didn't use. But now, he had tons of useless things. Trinkets, souvenirs, and decorations. Pictures that they'd taken the time to print, frame, and adorn their walls with. Gifts from friends and family. Artwork and art pieces that, years ago, he'd never taken the time to appreciate, let alone want to purchase. And a lot of it, especially the most useless of things, had meaning, stories, and memories attached to them. Reasons they'd wanted them around.[break][break]

Luck cleared his throat, finding that the moment he'd bought himself hadn't helped. "I guess room-by-room. Large stuff first, probably." He sucked in a resigned breath, not liking how clinical and removed the suggestion sounded. "I'm not sure what your apartment looks like, what you can and can't take, but I don't need any of the furniture. Anything big. I suppose we could list things neither of us can take on a marketplace. No doubt there'll be someone who needs it."[break][break]

His eye lifted to the pair of large ornamental mirrors on the wall above the couch — heavy, expensive, and decorative. Identical to one another. Bought on another trip. He hadn't needed them. But when he'd seen them, he'd wanted them. They'd been beautiful — mesmerizing even — in that little store they'd ducked inside. And he'd somehow felt that having them in their home would be like bringing a little piece of that extraordinary city back with them. A forceful reminder, every time he caught a glimpse of himself within the reflections, of the things they'd done and the fun they'd had during their time away. [break][break]

At first, he'd talked himself out of buying them. They'd been far from home and getting them back to Los Eurosia — getting them back to their hostel even — would have been a cumbersome and exasperating task. But then they'd stayed on his mind the rest of the day. And as eventful and exhausting as the evening and night had been, packed with all sorts of activities, he'd still thought of them before he fell asleep. And the next morning, he'd gone back for them. [break][break]

"I want the mirrors," Luck said, pulling himself from remembering and letting his fixed, searching gaze drop to Nate below them. He blinked, mind turning abruptly with the thought that maybe he would want them. And maybe he should have them. They'd been with them since their first apartment and it'd always been Nate who'd figured out the perfect place to mount them every time they moved. Decided where they suited the room best — something Luck himself hadn't an eye for.[break][break]

Craning his head, wishing for a moment he could take the words back — if just to make them sound a little less non-negotiable — Luck lifted a hand to scritch (with a sudden uncertainty) at the stubble on his jaw. "Or at least one of them," he amended slowly, snorting a moment later when the idea of that formed further in his mind. "But maybe that would be too... cliché, huh?" He grinned, just barely, trying to keep the mood light. To make it clear that everything was easy and alright.[break][break]

But the idea finished forming in his head. Maybe the mirrors wouldn't look quite so nice when not paired. Maybe they'd make less sense on their own. Maybe it'd stink a little too much of lingering romance. And maybe neither of them would be able to look in one without being reminded of the other. Luck's smile staled at the corners. He parted his lips, wanting to speak on it, maybe dismiss the idea entirely, but he just shook his head, subtly aggravated, and poked at his food instead; focusing on swallowing down a couple of distracting bites. "Or if you want them, too — that's fine."

you said the show's getting bad, all of the tv sets make you sad[break]
i don't want to be, i don't want to be the reason for that

Tag: Nathaniel Collins [break]
Sorry this took forever lmao. Mostly I was just clueless on how people actually go about packing lmao sdhfjkashfkdjshf. Give me a nudge for any changes! I was going to give you more to work with and have Luck actually make up some boxes and stuff, then I got super distracted with the stupid fucking mirror thing (I'm always a mess) and decided it got too long to keep going OTL

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[Nathaniel Collins]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","NATEpost"]

[attr="class","NATELyrics"]And he smiled like the first time he told me his name[break]

And we cried with each other. We split the blame for the parts that we couldn't [break]
change. Pictures, dishes and socks. It's our whole life down to one box.[break][break]

[attr="class","NATEBody"]

Of course Luck volunteered to drive. Nate hadn't expected anything different when he asked the question, but he also didn’t want to just assume that Luck would drive them both out there. What if he just didn’t feel like it? Or if he didn’t want to put the miles on his truck? Though that seemed like a very outside possibility, it just didn’t feel right making those same assumptions anymore. Hell, even if they’d taken Nate’s vehicle somewhere while they were together, Luck still usually ended up being the one behind the wheel. “That’s perfectly fine with me.” Nate took a bite of his food to keep the growing smirk off his lips. Luck would drive Nate’s suv, but it never went without mention how much he preferred driving his truck. He’d always had a truck, ever since Nate had known him at least, and it suited him. At least the suv was better than the sedan he used to have. Nate had always been pretty sure that Luck had hated driving the sedan. [break][break]

While several hours together in the car was bound to be awkward, maybe even uncomfortable at times, it seemed like the best plan. Besides, it meant they would probably do some of the talking that they’d been needing to do, airing out whatever they needed to before being under Nadia’s meddling watch. Nate was a little worried that she’d try to fix them somehow, but they were both well aware how she was by now. And no matter what she did, it was always from a place of love and caring, at the very least. [break][break]

Figuring out where to start felt so overwhelming. It wasn’t like they hadn't moved before, but it had always been together. Any conversation about specific items generally were about if they should keep it, not who’s box it should go in. Nate watched Luck look around, imagining he had to be thinking something similar. This felt so foreign, so wrong for them to be dividing their belongings. Most of what they owned now, they’d gotten together. Luck had been a wanderer, not having much that he brought along with him. And coming from Harmony, there wasn’t much that Nate had in the beginning of their lives together either. But now they had all these belongings. Probably too many things, to be honest. Knick knacks from their travels, decorations, furniture enough to fill the apartment, clothes, electronics, linens, kitchen appliances and gadgets, dishes… It was a lot to go through. [break][break]

“Room-by-room. Large stuff first.”

Nate was brought out of his thoughts when Luck answered. Nate offered a small nod. That made the most sense, better than the random way Nate had been thinking about things. [break][break]

“For most of the furniture, if you can’t use it or don’t want it, that’s what we’ll do then. Sell, or donate.” Nate knew that most of their furniture was going to be too big for his new place. It wasn’t like he was going to have that much room in the studio. “I think maybe the couch would fit, but not much else for furniture.” Even the king sized bed was going to be too large. The nook for the bed at his new place would only accommodate up to a queen size, and that barely left enough clearance on one side to open the pocket door to the closet. [break][break]

When Luck said he wanted the mirrors, Nate looked up at them. It made sense. Luck had fallen in love with those mirrors the very first time he’d seen them. Nate remembered their conversations about them. Multiple conversations. He hadn't been sure if he was meant to be talking Luck into getting them or out of getting them. They were beautiful, it was true. But they were large, heavy, and fragile. Not the typical kind of thing they would pick up while they were backpacking through another country. But he’d loved them so much, they made it work. They got those mirrors all the way home, and brought them from apartment to apartment without breaking either one. [break][break]

It would be weird, not seeing them every day. But there wasn’t really a good spot for them in his new place anyway. Where would he have the space for something so large? Above his headboard, or across the room above the television maybe. However, looking at those mirrors would always make him think about Luck anyway. They should be Luck’s, he was the one who saw them, who insisted on getting them. [break][break]

Nate had taken too much time lost in thought. Luck began softening his stance, amending his claim that he wanted them. Nate shook his head slowly, letting a soft smile tug the corners of his lips. “No, they should definitely be yours. I don’t know if I can remember you ever wanting anything as desperately as you wanted these when you first saw them in that little shop.” He gave a quiet chuckle. “Honestly, I’m still surprised that we were able to get them back here without either of them breaking in transit.” [break][break]


Since they were already talking about the mirrors, and sitting there, he supposed the living room was the best place to begin. “So about the only furniture in here I’m thinking of bringing is the couch. I won’t need the coffee table or side tables, and the entertainment counsel is just too large for the space.” It felt strange, listing things off and discussing a space that was going to be just his. This would be the first time in his life that Nate was moving into a place by himself, and it felt wrong. [break][break]

More than just the wrongness, there was guilt. It was just him, but he couldn’t help but realize he was going to miss the space of this apartment he’d shared with Luck for so long. There was no need for so much room for just one person, but he’d grown used to it. He felt guilty for even considering larger places, not that any of them were in his budget anyway. It had been a struggle to finish out the lease at this apartment, but he’d managed to make it work, knowing it wasn’t sustainable forever. [break]

[attr="class","NATENotes"]Luck Harris[break]
Let me know for changes.

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[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-o"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-title"]WE WERE PLAYING HOUSE

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-subtitle-small"]
til the rent went up and they said move out, i don't want to do that now

Nate craned to appraise the mirrors above him and Luck's gaze lifted to watch him. Briefly, he considered reaching for him with his empathy. To get a clue what he was feeling, what he might be thinking, as he looked at them. But then Nate turned back — smiling a painfully-Nate smile — and, a bit hastily, Luck's eye dropped back to his plate. It was better that he didn't, he decided firmly, feeling his chest tighten. [break][break]

Luck should have them, he announced, adding a moment later that he couldn't remember him wanting something so desperately as he'd wanted them back then. [break][break]

Luck's mouth pulled at one corner into a faint, fleeting grin that might have been coy, had he made the effort to sell it as such. He could have joked that he was certain Nate could recall "an instance or two" if he really tried, but... he couldn't guess with any certainty how it'd go over. And he didn't feel like pretending the thought didn't thread a bit of heartache through him, either. There was plenty of things he wanted more desperately than a pair of mirrors. They were just mirrors. It suddenly felt foolish to be discussing them at all. [break][break]

He only dipped his head acknowledgingly and lifted his glass to his lips to swallow down half his tea. [break][break]

He continued to nod as Nate said the only furniture he'd probably take from the living room was the couch. His gaze sifted consideringly between everything else that that left unclaimed. "Mmkay. We'll donate everything else then." He stuck his fork in his food and pulled himself to his feet. Then stepped across the room to pull a couple of boxes from where they were set aside. "I'll take any lamps that you don't want, though. The lighting in my apartment is," he paused to grin half-heartedly again, shaking his head. "It's... so bad." [break][break]

Not the only grief he had about the new place. But he'd been in a hurry when choosing. [break][break]

As he set about making up three boxes, folding the sides in and taping the bottoms, he shrugged. "The app on our phones that we use to pay the rent — we could also take pictures and post them on the community page there. See if anyone in the building needs or wants them. Might make for a lighter load." He nudged two of the boxes close to the table and then stepped around so he could seat himself on the edge of the couch. "Up to you though," he added, trying not to be conscious of the familiar feel of the furniture or to be too aware of Nate's proximity. Because it was silly and stupid that he should have to think of it all. That it could cause discomfort. "You'll be the one here that has to talk to them and what-not." [break][break]

Craning forward, he began pulling the various books from the coffee table's bottom shelf to stack them on top; moving the ones that were more obviously his into the third box he'd set at his feet. He paused when he pulled out one that was more than a bit unlike the rest. [break][break]

A picture book Quentin had made in school more than a couple of years ago and given to them. Messy doodles made in markers and crayons on construction paper, bound together by colorful string tied through holes cut by a star-shaped hole-punch. It'd lived for a little while, stuck to their fridge by a pair of magnets, but then was eventually moved among the rest of their coffee table literature — "where it belonged", they'd claim, when one of the kids got nosy or bored enough to poke around and find it. [break][break]

Luck huffed a single snort as he opened to a random page. [break][break]

Though the drawings were likely too atrocious to be identified as an actual scene by anyone else, the page depicted one of their outings to a local lake. There were a couple of trees. The "classic" child-drawn sun in the corner with its obligatory sunglasses and smirking expression. A big circle for a pond, only half-scribbled in by blue. A few cartoon fish filled the uncolored parts, grinning wide (and weighing at least half-a-ton each if scale was anything to go off of). Stick-figure Quentin and stick-figure Ella hung off stick-figure Luck's curled arms — drawn comically long, with unnatural bends and ovals for biceps. Flattering, but wholly unrealistic. [break][break]

Luck shook his head, smirking, and slipped his phone from his pocket. He supposed it was best Nate kept the book. Or decide himself if he wanted to throw it away. Though divvying up existing friends or friend groups — if such a thing was necessary, Luck really couldn't guess — was far more nuanced than simply voicing a claim or nudging them into a labeled box, Kathleen was undoubtedly someone Luck would lose in their split. And though he'd known both her kids their whole lives, they'd get used to his absence more quickly than anyone else. [break][break]

He snapped a picture, then flipped to another random entry and shucked his shoulders with a quick, silent laugh. Covering the entire page was an angry-faced dog and a couple of birds — though one would hardly be able to recognize the creatures as such. He took another pic, making sure it included the almost-illegible caption ("Charlie barks at ducks"), if only for the very, very unfortunate misspelling of 'ducks'. [break][break]

Charlie — as if sensing his acknowledgement (and jealous that a kindergarten-rendition of him was receiving more attention) — leaped on the couch. Luck set his phone aside to twist around; moving the pillow and blanket folded on the seat next to him. Setting the items on the back of the furniture, his brow twitched as he really noted them for the first time. Was Nate... sleeping on the couch? Did he find it difficult to use their bed, now? [break][break]

The thought threatened something within him — a reactionary flicker of unbidden emotion.[break][break]

First and foremost, there was a stab of guilt. Luck had surely left a bad and lingering last impression in their bedroom. Seething and scoffing as he gathered his things and tossed shit around. Too upset to speak. Almost too upset to see. As hot and angry as he was cold and callous.[break][break]

Not that he'd made it much of a nice, easy-breathing environment the weeks before their final argument, either.[break][break]

But following on guilt's heels was a quick lance of... almost smug... satisfaction. The briefest of blips where his mind churned with the quiet and fleeting thought: "serves you right". It was an ugly feeling. One that he immediately shoved aside and wanted to deny thinking at all. He didn't like it. Had been avoiding it. Would be perfectly fine if he never had to acknowledge it. Because he knew tipping into it would only make him resentful. Make him angry and mean again.[break][break]

And what was the point of that now, when they'd already broken?[break][break]

A muscle clenched barely in Luck's jaw and he blew a measured breath through his nose. He turned his face and let his gaze pull to Nate's profile next to him. And — somehow emerging through everything else — he couldn't clamp down the answering stir of much more familiar concern that cropped within him. It was stronger than the guilt and less-than-savory satisfaction. Survived them.[break][break]

His lips parted and he inhaled a preparing breath — which then caught in his throat as he hesitated. He tried to stop himself, eyes fluttering briefly with the attempt, but then the words left him anyway. And he was nearly surprised himself by the steady directness in them. "How are you, Nate?" [break][break]

Speaking it steeled and strengthened an ache in him. But it was simultaneously relieving. Like releasing a breath he'd been holding since first entering the apartment. Or like finally uncurling his fingers from where they'd been held in a tight fist.[break][break]

The words weren't soft. Luck wanted them to be soft, but they were only level. Flat. Despite the real care behind them... everything else that Luck shoved aside somehow just... wouldn't allow a tender or gently-imploring tone. And that was a part of the ache, too.[break][break]

"Doing okay here by yourself?"

you said the show's getting bad, all of the tv sets make you sad[break]
i don't want to be, i don't want to be the reason for that

Tag: Nathaniel Collins [break]
Give me a nudge for any changes!

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[Nathaniel Collins]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","NATEsimple_lyrics"]And he smiled like the first time he told me his name[break]
And we cried with each other. We split the blame for the parts that we couldn't change. [break]
Pictures, dishes and socks. It's our whole life down to one box.[break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple"]


Donating the furniture felt like the right choice, especially amid the overwhelming sense of wrongness that came from the entire process of divvying up the last ten years of their lives together. At least they’d be able to do some good, help someone who needed the things that neither of them wanted or had space to take with them in their new apartments. [break][break]

“I really only need one lamp, for beside the bed. It’s got those can lights in the ceiling in the kitchen and living room.” He left out that the living room and kitchen were basically the same space, that if he flipped the switch at the entrance to his new place the four lights embedded in the ceiling lit up the majority of the apartment. During the day, he hardly even needed that, with the light coming in from the back wall that had more than enough windows for the size of the place. Even if it was tiny, it did come with some positives. [break][break]

“No, that’s actually a great idea.” Nate agreed with a small nod. “I wouldn’t have thought of it, probably would have just thrown a post up on Facebook or something. That’s better, though. It’ll reach more people in the building.” He would have never even considered using the app, only thinking about it when he needed to pay rent or report something broken. Though the reports seemed to go nowhere, since the sink that he’d reported over and over was still broken.[break][break]

Following Luck’s lead at getting started sorting things, Nate got up and grabbed a couple stacks of DVD’s from the entertainment center, bringing them back to the coffee table to start going through. He started making piles for each of them, and then the questionable pile. Though he did have a brief thought that they were all questionable. After all, when was the last time that they’d used physical media, instead of one of the plethora of streaming services? Almost anything they wanted to watch could be streamed now. [break][break]

A small smile tugged at the corner of Nate’s mouth when Charlie jumped up, demanding attention and affection. If only it was so easy for people to express what they wanted. As Luck’s attention turned to the pup, Nate looked back at the piles of DVDs. Admittedly, the questionable pile was stacking up much more quickly than the other two, but he was placing their copy of Talladega Nights with the movies he thought Luck would want, when Luck asked how he was. [break][break]

There was no easy way to answer the query. The follow up question threatened something inside him though, pulled at the knots in his stomach, nearly unraveled him in some way he hadn't realized was still possible. Even toned as his words were, just by asking it felt like Luck had seen him, was showing more concern than he had in quite some time. In the months before their split, Nate had felt invisible — had tried to make himself invisible some nights. They’d been broken for months before that final night. [break][break]

“It’s been.. an adjustment.” Nate leaned back against the couch, smothered a hand over his face, and looked around the room in an attempt to find some spot to focus on, anything that could calm the wave of emotion he was desperate to hold back. He could feel it trying to bubble up, threatening to spill over. But he didn’t want to acknowledge it, especially not when they were this close to one another. [break][break]

He didn’t want to talk about the hurt, the loneliness, the guilt. Nate didn’t only feel guilt about the way it ended, about his infidelity. He felt guilt for not doing something sooner, not pushing more to get Luck to talk to him, to open up. Maybe they could have tried couples therapy, or perhaps they’d just needed one of the all night heart to hearts they used to have years ago. Sure, in those moments it would have been hard, it would have hurt, but just maybe it wouldn’t have worked. But at least they would have tried. These weren’t thoughts that he could share with Luck right now. Maybe not ever. When it came down to it, they’d both said and done things that couldn’t be taken back. They were broken. There was no use in dwelling on the should have or would haves, the things that could never really happen now. They just had to find a way to navigate their aftermath. [break][break]

“Um, sorry about texting you to help Bridget with her car and then taking off.” He rolled his eyes at his own cowardice. “It’s really dumb, but I just kind of panicked and bolted.” Of all the stupid things he’d done recently, this was definitely one of the safer mistakes to cling to. Something he could apologize for, use as a distraction from the other more uncomfortable topics. [break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple_Notes"]Luck Harris [break]
Let me know for changes. Also, idk exactly where the timeline is for this and the Bridget thread, so if this one should be first let me know and I’ll edit that last bit out.

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[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-o"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon"]

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-title"]WE WERE PLAYING HOUSE

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-subtitle-small"]
til the rent went up and they said move out, i don't want to do that now

It was "an adjustment", Nate admitted.[break][break]

Luck waited for more. An elaboration on what that meant. Was it a nice adjustment? A relief? A breath of fresh air without Luck there, scattering eggshells and making things tense where they'd rarely been before? Or was it a difficult adjustment?[break][break]

He watched Nate pull at his face and dodge his gaze about the room. He knew him well enough to know that he was struggling — was unsettled. But he kept whatever it was under wraps. Held it back. And it almost hurt to see it, because it wasn't right. It wasn't them. It wasn't how they should be. When Nate finally deflected the conversation entirely, shifting the subject to Bridget and her car trouble earlier in the week, Luck felt himself abruptly chill.[break][break]

He sucked his lips tight against his teeth and nodded.[break][break]

The smugness, the residual anger, everything that'd made him clench his jaw and want to be steely, drained entirely. Was swallowed by the cold. In some — surely irrational — way, the short exchange felt like a hint of finality. Another nail in the coffin. And Luck's wild, internal swing between feeling accusing and feeling remorseful... between indecision and decision... between longing for what had been and accepting what was now... wanting to have a laugh and wanting to fight... all at once, it felt like too much to want to deal with. [break][break]

But...[break][break]

If they couldn't talk anymore, that was undoubtedly Luck's doing. And he really couldn't say a damn thing about it. Not when he'd been the one so steadfast and stubborn in maintaining such an inexplicable detachment before. He'd been the one walking around like a tense, edgy cat for months, daring to be prodded. Caustic and cutting with his silences or dismissals when he was. He'd been the angry one. The one that'd chased Nate off and made him feel bad enough to do what he did. The one to leave. He couldn't ask for communication now. Certainly couldn't expect it. Not when he'd habituated them to the very lack of it.[break][break]

He'd made the bed. [break]
Now he'd just have to toss and turn in it.[break][break]

"S'alright," Luck said quietly, voice sounding like a shrug as his gaze pulled finally from Nate's face and to his hands clasped before him. His fingers laced, squeezing one another in an attempt to keep himself soothed, and he smoothed one thumb into the fleshy bed of the other. "Think we both've been doing a bit of that," he added, flitting his gaze from his hands and across the stacks of books and DVDs on the coffeetable, not truly focusing on any singular title.[break][break]

Coming to the wordless decision (of an internal debate he wasn't even fully aware he'd been having), Luck shifted Charlie from where he had settled against his outer leg and stood. He blew a long breath through his nose and stepped across the living room, back into the hall, and to the front door. Moving slowly and deliberately — every movement a measured and painfully instructed one — he toed out of his shoes and nudged them neatly against the wall. Emptied his pockets on the hallway table. Loosened the knot of his tie, slipped it from his collar, and folded it next to his keys, wallet, and cigarettes. [break][break]

It felt a bit like disarming himself. Letting go of those promises he'd made when he'd been readying himself in the hall. He wouldn't take off his shoes, he wouldn't let himself feel comfortable — all attempts, in some subconscious way, to keep himself palpably walled off and stark. To make it clear — to Nate just as much as himself — that he didn't belong in this space anymore. Also to make it as easy as possible to leave, should he feel the desire to suddenly stand up and turn his back.[break][break]

And then there he sat, wanting Nate to be open with him.[break]
He was such a stupid and stubborn man sometimes.[break][break]

"Do you ever apologize?" Tawny's voice rang through his mind. [break][break]

As he ambled slowly back into the living room, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, Luck made the conscious effort to breathe a little easier. To sound less edged. "And anyway, the car trouble wasn't so bad. Bridget wasn't exactly a stranger. She does work for the Sector, too. You know she's from Alabama?" He paused in the center of the room, letting his lips quirk and a brow raise. "Had me considering for a second that you might have a type." [break][break]

((He tried a chuckle. But even he was aware that his attempt at seeming light, unbothered, and refreshed was (perhaps) a little too obvious. And when his mouth fell at the corners, he sucked in a breath and dropped his chin to his chest. Before he could think too much about it — before the slightest prickle of doubt could make him change both his trajectory and his mind — he stepped to where Nate was seated with his back against the couch and lowered himself into a crouch before him (giving a faint groan and a roll of his eyes when his knees popped in protest).[break][break]

Balancing his weight on the balls of his feet, he considered reaching for him. Then thought better of it. Then immediately thought better of thinking better of it. His hand reached, came close to finding a tentative clasp atop Nate's shin, then retreated. He crossed his arms over his knees instead and breathed a long, preparing exhale through his nose.[break][break]

"I'm sorry, too," he started, voice quieter and emptied entirely of the off-kilter tease from before. His brow knit in the center. "For me, recently. I've been... uh," he hesitated, mouth twisting and brow pinching further. His gaze wanted to drop, but he forced it steady with a couple of hard, slow blinks. "Really unfair to you. For a while." It was an understatement. But it was what he could manage at the moment. "I know it's nothing really... new. And it's a little late. But... for what it's worth... I am sorry."[break][break]

"And... I am talking to someone about it." He didn't think it worth mentioning that that someone was Tawny. While she was a therapist, their conversations weren't exactly professional. But it was a step in the right direction. "About this—" he loosened the hold on his knees and used one hand to motion vaguely toward his chest, fingers curling into a fist. 'Whatever this is', he tried to say as he shook both the fist and his head. "But I... I know I should have done that long before now."))

you said the show's getting bad, all of the tv sets make you sad[break]
i don't want to be, i don't want to be the reason for that

Tag: Nathaniel Collins [break]
Sorry, this reply came quick (and is so scattered tbh)! As always, I'm dramatic and did a lot... so if you'd like me to break it up, I can edit out the second half starting where my ((double parenthesis)) are. Just let me know, or give me a nudge for any other tweaks/changes (as always)! I think... technically... Bridget's thread would come after? Since Luck's work incident was "today" in this thread and Luck was "on leave" in her thread? But I'm not fussed! No changes necessary, we can play it however! I'm flexible. *sunglasses emoji*

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[Nathaniel Collins]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","NATEsimple_lyrics"]And he smiled like the first time he told me his name[break]
And we cried with each other. We split the blame for the parts that we couldn't change. [break]
Pictures, dishes and socks. It's our whole life down to one box.[break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple"]


Nate knew full well that he was being a chicken, that he was deflecting to avoid the harder conversation that was there, waiting to explode from just beneath the surface of superficial pleasantries. The distractions. It was the only way that he knew how to navigate through this incredibly uncomfortable moment though. [break][break]

Tonight was going to be much harder than he’d expected. [break][break]

He didn’t want to go through their belongings, he didn’t want to divide the last decade of their lives together in boxes to be taken to separate apartments or donated. Nate wanted to walk into the kitchen and cook them dinner like he used to. He wanted to ask Luck about his day, get the real answer (for better or worse). He wanted to sit together on the couch, a tangle of legs or arms overlapping while one or both of them fell asleep trying to watch a Grand Tour special — Nate had slept through the India and Africa specials every time they tried to watch them, even though they were his favorites. He wanted to erase the last several months and just go back to when things felt right again. [break][break]

Instead, he just sat there on the floor, staring at the piles and trying to push back the discomfort and pain of their current situation. [break][break]

Luck acknowledged Nate’s apology and admission. Then he was up, walking toward the door. It wasn’t a quick pace, but with each step the panic and anxiety in Nate’s gut tightened. Had he said the wrong thing? He should have just been honest, answered Luck without changing the subject. Now he was leaving, he’d decided to be the one to duck out this time. Nate felt rooted to his spot on the floor, like the air had been sucked from the room suddenly. It was a feeling that had become all too frequent in those last few months. He’d messed up, again. Somehow. [break][break]

But the door never opened. Charlie moved, stretching out on the now empty couch while Nate could hear Luck moving around in the entryway. Distinct sounds of keys and pocket contents being emptied onto the table there. The knots loosened again, Nate’s anxiety eased slightly. He took in a deep breath and pushed it out slowly, deliberately, as Luck made his way back to the living room. [break][break]

“That, well, that actually makes sense.” Nate hadn't known Bridget worked for the Sector, but when Luck stated it he thought of all the times he’d worked with her. All the different languages she translated, fluent in each one and sounding so natural. He’d even commented on that, asking her just how many languages she knew, but she’d dodged answering directly. Not that it made any difference about what he thought about her. She was nice, friendly. “I wasn’t aware that she’s from Alabama, either. I really don’t know her all that well, she usually comes out to translate when we’ve got less common language barriers.” [break][break]

Nate felt his face burn with embarrassment. He hadn't even considered the fact that Luck may think he was involved with Bridget. He shook his head and cleared his throat quietly. “Uh, no. Nothing like that. I wouldn’t, um- no.” He couldn’t imagine seeing anyone so soon, let alone asking Luck to help someone he was seeing. Even just the thought of it felt more wrong than he could put to words. It was clear, by his obvious attempt to laugh it off, that Luck was teasing on some level. But was that something he’d actually thought? [break][break]

It didn’t matter as Luck drew closer, crouched down next to him (to the protest of his knees - they weren’t in their twenties anymore when this sort of position would have been effortless), reached out but then pulled back. Nate’s thoughts quieted, and he searched Luck’s face for a hint to what this was. [break][break]

An apology. All the words that Nate could have hoped to hear months ago. Before it was too late, before Nate added the crack that finally shattered them. Even now, though, Nate wanted to reach out, to pull Luck to him and whisper that it was all okay, that all that mattered was he was getting help now, that he was finally talking to someone.

Instead he swallowed hard while collecting his thoughts. “I’m sorry I didn’t know what to do, how to help.” He let his eyes fall to the small patch of carpet between them. He wanted to apologize for betraying him, for cheating, but he couldn’t get the words to come out. “I’m really glad you’re talking to someone now, though.” He felt like a coward, again. [break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple_Notes"]Luck Harris [break]
Sorry I hecked the timeline! I should have thought about that. Let me know for changes.

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[Luck Harris]

[nospaces]

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[attr="class","post-frosttalon-title"]WE WERE PLAYING HOUSE

[attr="class","post-frosttalon-subtitle-small"]
til the rent went up and they said move out, i don't want to do that now

Nate swallowed, with obvious difficulty, and for a moment said nothing. His gaze fell and Luck felt himself pang as he watched his downcast eyes — slivers of pale blue, barely visible beneath lowered lashes. He tipped his head, wanting nothing more than to reach out and coax that look back up. It didn't belong on the floor. Didn't deserve to be so uncertain.[break][break]

There'd been a time in their lives when Luck would have done anything to make Nate look at him. To keep his stare on him. When he'd watch him from across a room, praying the next time his attention skipped across him or his eyes met his own, that something would make it stay. Always searching for something to say or do that would make it dance a little brighter. A little wilder.[break][break]

And then so many more times, when he'd sought comfort and soothe in his looks. Took solace in the understanding that always seemed to be there... that seemed to be waiting for him sometimes — in a crowded room or among a group of people who made him antsy. As if Nate simply knew that precise moment when Luck began to slip and he watched him, ready to meet the quietly-panicked stare that'd eventually — inevitably — flicker to him as if seeking a beacon.[break][break]

Years and years of countless mornings (at least the rare ones where Luck woke first) that he had spent watching his face, chest full enough that it ached as he brushed fingertips to knuckles and waited for those eyes to slowly blink open. Days spent in the sun, in the mountains, in hotel halls, begging those same eyes to gleam when he pointed a camera at them. [break][break]

So, at what point had hurting him — holding that gaze with cold challenge and feeling the tiniest thrill of triumph when it flickered away — become okay? When had it become so commonplace? How had it ever seemed a win to chase it away and make it drop? To stare it down and dull it?[break][break]

After seeming to collect himself, Nate made an apology of his own. For not knowing what to do or how to help.[break][break]

Luck closed his eyes in a brief, hard press, feeling momentarily empty and miserable. Then he blinked them back open with a slow breath through his nose. "I wasn't really lettin' ya, though, was I?" he asked quietly, though it wasn't so much a question as it was a statement or an admission of guilt. As he spoke, he lifted his hand to Nate's face — stifling the sticky wash of doubt that prickled within him, insisting he shouldn't — and palmed his cheek. [break][break]

The touch was tentative. And Luck wished it was stronger and more confident. But he couldn't be certain how welcome it was. Couldn't anticipate whether it would comfort or discomfort. A part of him longed for the feel of Nate tipping into it. Another part of him anticipated a protest or a dodge. One reaction was no more likely than the other and he knew he'd have to accept the latter as graciously as the first, even if it splintered something in him. [break][break]

"You tried, baby," he continued, voice thinner than before. His lips pulled remorsefully, heart sinking at the name — at the way it rolled off his tongue, laced with apology. "For a lot longer than anyone would or... should have to," he swallowed and nodded, doing his best not to stop. "It's not your fault," the breath caught in his chest and he steadied himself, preparing the next words — trying to make them sound with certainty when he was still struggling to accept them himself. "Any of it."[break][break]

Smoothing a thumb across his cheek, Luck sucked in a long inhale and then dropped his hand. That was enough. He didn't want to overextend. Didn't want Nate to feel like he was being cornered into accepting anything or to keep him trapped there in an uncomfortable moment. He fell back off his feet and scooted to sit next to him with his own back against the end of the couch, letting out another groan as he stretched his legs out before him and tipped his head back. [break][break]

He felt suddenly exhausted. Physically and mentally from the long, taxing day at work and now emotionally spent, too, from being honest and the gymnastics it took to get there. And they'd hardly done anything yet. He glanced about the room and sighed. "When did we get so much stuff, anyway?" He asked, thinking it best to offer an "out". A deflection. A drive back to task, should Nate need it.[break][break]

His fingers pulled at the rug beneath his hands and he chanced a sidelong glance at the stacks on the coffeetable on Nate's other side, eye drawing across some of the titles that he could see. "Might have to rock-paper-scissors for Benny & Joon. And the Fifth Element?" He puffed a breath in his cheeks and, after a moment, rolled his head back to watch the ceiling. "Maybe we'll arm-wrestle for that one."

you said the show's getting bad, all of the tv sets make you sad[break]
i don't want to be, i don't want to be the reason for that

Tag: Nathaniel Collins [break]
All good! I don't mind in the least. And woops, quick/messy reply again. Give me a nudge for any tweaks you might want!

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