[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"]


The warmth from Luck’s hand caressing his cheek was everything Nate was craving at the moment. Everything he couldn’t admit to needing, but was desperate to feel again. Even if it hurt, even if he knew he didn’t deserve it and that it wouldn’t last long. His resolve to remain calm, unemotional, was starting to fade. He could feel moisture threatening the corners of his eyes as Luck went on, vulnerable and sincere. [break][break]

It would be all too easy to melt into those words, to take the pass and agree that it wasn’t his fault… But that just wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t exclusively one or the other of them who was at fault for where they found themselves now. [break][break]

Things had been so hard, so tense in the end. Communication had broken down. Somewhere along the line, Nate had felt a loneliness taking over him, even when they were right next to one another. He felt unseen, unimportant, as he attempted to anticipate moods from the smallest of signs. A heavy sigh, a cabinet door closed a bit too hard, or the slight downturn at the corners of his mouth. Indicators that it was going to be a rough night, that trying to talk was going to be met with prickling barbs or, just as bad, silence. [break][break]

So Nate had given up. He went through the motions, convincing himself that they’d make it through this, it was just a rough patch. He started feeling more isolated, more disconnected. He let the rift between them fester and grow larger. Until he finally broke them, completely. [break][break]

Nate had made choices, he'd certainly done things that he regretted. He betrayed his best friend, the man he loved for a decade of his life, still loved. He’d gotten drunk while he was deep in that misery, he’d had a meaningless one night stand with someone who’s name he couldn’t even remember now. He’d originally blamed it on the alcohol, he had tried to convince himself that he wouldn’t have done it otherwise. But the truth was it wasn’t the alcohol. He wallowed in feeling sorry for himself, in feeling angry and hurt at Luck instead of trying harder. He should have just talked to him, told him how he was feeling. Nate had never been one to have a problem expressing himself. Until things started to sour between them. He shut down and stopped trying. What was the point when it didn't make a difference what he said? When he didn't feel like he mattered anymore? [break][break]

All too quickly, Luck withdrew his hand. As he settled down on the floor next to him, Nate longed for the feeling of fingertips on his face again. The care, the connection, the warmth. [break][break]

“No, that's not-” He stopped briefly, tilting his head, wishing more than anything he could rest it on Luck’s shoulder, knowing that was a bad idea. “I let the distance grow. I didn't-” Nate gave a quiet, defeated sigh, not able to form the right words.“I’m sorry I cheated on you. No matter how rough things had gotten, you deserve better.” [break][break]

It came out more blunt than he’d intended, sounded all too basic, even if he felt like he’d ripped a hole in himself saying it out loud. Nate let the pain of it seep in, past the calm facade he’d been clinging to. He’d done something awful, he deserved to feel like a piece of shit. He also knew that sorry didn’t mean much after the fact, but it was all he had. [break][break]

Luck took his own turn to deflect, to set them back on track for the task they’d come together for tonight. Nate had lost any desire he had to get things sorted, and he nearly said as much. But if not tonight, when? Would they have the chance to do this again before the lease was up? His eyes wandered to the stack of movies, following Luck’s gaze. Both movies Luck mentioned were absolute classics. “Rock-paper-scissors and arm wrestling? You’re on.” More than likely he’d lose at arm wrestling, but it didn’t really matter. [break][break]

Nate noticed when Luck moved his head back. He thought about the fact that Luck had worked late, that he was still in his work clothes. Little things that added up, but had been overlooked before with the distraction of how awkward this felt. “Are you okay?” The words were quiet and gentle, and Nate hoped that they would be met with truth, though he'd understand if they weren't, if it was something Luck didn't want to discuss with him now. [break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple_Notes"]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

Luck watched the ceiling — the look of tears in the corners of Nate's eyes lingering like a clear afterimage in the dark of his eyelids with every blink. When he started, clearly not wanting Luck to accept all the blame, but so obviously struggling to make the words come out, he prepared himself to soothe and placate. To let him know it was alright. To assure him it didn't even really matter whose "fault" it was. The sound of him uncertain and defeated — tired even — was too much. And hearing it, acknowledging that it was too much, filled him with a sudden, spreading certainty. [break][break]

Things would be alright, eventually. Even after everything. They were going to get past this. [break][break]

But then Nate addressed the cheating. And, with a snap, the words and comforts piling in Luck's head emptied. [break][break]

Taking its place, he felt an abrupt panic — sharp and wintery — bud in the center of him. A bolt of simple cold. His fingers twitched in the rug beneath his hands and he tipped his face away, brow furrowing quickly before smoothing just as fast. He tried to fight the blinding urge to shake his head, to interject, and to quickly cut Nate off before he could continue, but he simply couldn't. "We really, really don't have to talk about that," he said, far too quick, and followed it up with an (equally too-quick) chuckle — one that couldn't sound anything but discomforted.[break][break]

He wished he was brave enough to talk about it. To ask about it. When Nate had first told him, he'd hardly given him the chance to explain or speak on it. He'd heard what he needed to and refused to listen to anything more. Refused to hear any more. And in the days following that awful, nasty break, he'd let the questions and the imaginings torture him. [break][break]

Who were they? Had Nate known them? Or was it just some stranger? (He couldn't be certain which would be worse.) Where did they go? [break][break]

But he couldn't make himself ask. Mostly because he knew how effortless the answers — no matter what they were, no matter how sensitively or regretfully they were given — would make him slide. He knew how quickly and easily his voice would raise, his insides would twist, and he'd slip and stumble into that resentful belligerence all over again. Until he was yelling instead of asking. How long did it take them to talk him into it? How many chances did he have to stop and think that maybe he shouldn't? Did he think that at all? [break][break]

It was all too easy to imagine — himself shaking, unable to think beyond the heat in his chest and the spit in his mouth. [break][break]

And he didn't want to do that now. They'd already broken. They weren't together. If he were to act that way... if he couldn't be civil and ignore the whole thing... then there was the very real risk that they'd have to question whether or not they could even be friends. Have to consider breaking even further. And as hard as everything was now... Luck just knew it'd be unbearable if he were to lose Nate completely. [break][break]

He couldn't and wouldn't risk it. So he wouldn't ask.[break][break]

Graciously, Nate rose to the deflection. But Luck barely heard him agree to the rock-paper-scissors and arm-wrestling. Barely heard him ask if he was okay. After a long moment, in which he slowly let himself loosen, he rolled his head along the couch and returned his attention from its desperate tip-away. He looked at Nate for only a fleeting second, then sucked in a long inhale and let his eyes flutter closed. Letting one corner of his mouth pull into something that didn't quite make the effort to seem a smile, he nodded. Then he breathed hard, feeling his palms grow clammy.[break][break]

"Um, actually," his brow knit in the center and the cold in his chest clenched. The words left his tongue before he could make himself stop. And he hesitated, grappling again with the panicked urge to simply not know. "Do you think... uh," he licked his lips as the question caught in his mouth. He could feel his heart thud harder and his chest rise and fall a little quicker as everything in him begged him not to continue. To not ask. [break][break]

It was a question that was far more important and worlds more torturing than any other. The only one that really mattered. It didn't have the power to make him angry. But it did have the power to wreck. It was the one question he kept coming back to at the end of every furious imagining — the one that, every single time, would drain the fight from him completely. [break][break]

He sighed and let his eyes slowly blink open; settling them on Nate's face and feeling the skin around them quiver with the effort it took to keep his gaze steady. "On any level. Like... even just a little... that it's possible... you did do it... to end things?" He swallowed, giving himself little space to acknowledge how difficult the tightness in his throat made it. If he faltered for a moment, he wouldn't get the rest out. [break][break]

"I don't know, like... like you knew... as you did it, that it would force my hand? You hoped it would? Maybe you... ah," the words were coming quicker and his heart hammered quicker too, thoughts spinning as a part of him screamed for him to stop. A now-sweaty hand lifted to rub at the shirt over his chest, feeling increasingly constricted and hot. He didn't have to know. It didn't matter now. He didn't have to know. He didn't have to know. "Maybe you wanted to leave me. But you knew... you knew any other way, and I'd try and talk you out of it. I'd make promises or, or beg for this to work and... so this was the easiest way to do it? Like you knew I couldn't... wouldn't... fight you, this way?"

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 tweaks/changes! And please let me know if this is way too dramatic (lmaooo). Or simply not a direction you'd like to go. I'm such a slut for this kinda angst, I apologize TvT[break]I'm not sorry, not really

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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 could only nod when Luck adamantly insisted that they didn’t have to talk about that. He realized he shouldn’t have brought it up, maybe continued to tiptoe around the uncomfortable truth of it. Even if he felt like it needed to be addressed, like he had to explain how sorry he was, acknowledge that he knew it was awful. [break][break]

But maybe it was just too much, too hard to get past for Luck. Nate would respect it. He had to. Though, even as they transitioned to talking about the stack of movies, it was clear that something had shifted. [break][break]

Nate could only watch as Luck worked through whatever he was feeling. As much as he wanted to reach out, to hold and and offer soothing words, he just couldn’t. He was the one responsible for this hurt. How could he fix it? How could he possibly make it better? The only thing he could do was follow Luck’s lead, let him decide what he was comfortable with.[break][break]

At first, Nate thought Luck was talking about the DVD’s when he started speaking again. But it didn’t take long for him to catch on, to realize that it was much more than that. He’d said he didn’t want to talk about it, that they didn’t have to, but he must have changed his mind. [break][break]

What he asked, what he wanted to know, made Nate’s stomach feel like it was tying in a knot. [break][break]

How could he explain what he had been feeling that night? How could he possibly describe what had been going through his head that night? He’d played it over and over in his head in the weeks that had followed. He’d gone out with Kat so they could commiserate with one another about their relationship woes, so they could cheer each other up and offer assurances that ”men suck, it’ll all work out eventually”. They’d decided to have a couple shots, and a couple turned into way more than either of them should have had, neither of them were regular heavy drinkers. [break][break]

Kat had texted Joszef at some point, and he came to get her, concerned about her making it home alright with how drunk she had gotten. Nate had thought about texting Luck, or maybe getting an Uber. He certainly couldn’t drive himself home. [break][break]

It felt like only seconds after Joszef had helped Kat to the door when the stool she’d been sitting in was taken by someone else. The stranger had overheard their conversation, had been there before. They’d said all the right things, listened to Nate’s complaints and understood. For the first time in a while, Nate had felt seen. [break][break]

“No.” Nate shook his head, barely getting the word out. He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to compose his thoughts. “It wasn’t like that.” [break][break]

Nate criss-crossed his legs and placed his palms on his knees. His fingers felt cold and numb, so he stretched them in and out, and he turned his eyes absently to a blank spot on the wall before continuing. “I, um.. I didn’t. I swear, that wasn’t why. I just, I felt broken. I didn’t know how to talk to you anymore, and I wasn’t happy. I don’t think- I know we were both going through a lot.” He paused again, forced his head to turn so he could face Luck, face the consequence of his actions. “I let myself get carried away, and I used the excuse of the alcohol because I was too ashamed of what I’d done. I couldn’t admit it to myself.” [break][break]

It felt so hard, sitting there in the room that held so many memories of them, good and bad (this was going to go in the bad column), and laying it all out like this. He didn’t want to hurt Luck any more than he already had, but he needed to be honest. [break][break]

“When I told you, I knew you’d be angry and hurt. But-” He dropped off, letting his eyes fall again to the carpet beneath them. “Even though I knew I didn’t deserve it, I hoped we could find a way past it.” [break][break]

He had tears stinging the corners of his eyes again, but he was trying his best to hold them back. He was the one who had done this, all the pain he was feeling was his own fault. He’d broken them. He hadn't wanted to, but he should have known. It was a fair question for Luck to ask. [break][break]

Nate smoothed his hand down his face, focusing on taking slow breaths in and out. “I don’t have any excuses anymore. What I did, hurting you, it was wrong.” He dropped his hand back to his knee, picking at a loose thread before he finally turned his face back towards Luck. “I’m so sorry.” [break][break]

It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had. [break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple_Notes"]Luck Harris [break]
If any of this is too much or needs any changes let me know..

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[newclass=.NATEsimple b]color:#3183AD;[/newclass]
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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 wasn't certain what he expected to feel when Nate answered that no, he hadn't acted maliciously or with the want to end them. Hadn't made his decisions, knowing it'd put the hammer in Luck's hand. Relief, perhaps? It certainly loosened the tight, constricting coil in his chest... eased the fist clenched tight in the center of him...[break][break]

But as Nate continued, the only thing he could feel was more of the same. Hearing him explain that he'd felt broken... wasn't happy... the words cut through him, filling that vacancy within him with more vacancy. The cold in him pulsed even colder, threading a slow, spreading ache through his limbs. He let his eyes slip closed and nodded somberly; accepting the truth even as he wanted to close his ears to it. [break][break]

And really, it wasn't a secret. He'd known he was making Nate miserable. As much as the thought now pained him... shamed him... he'd done and said things with the not-so-subtle (but somehow still quiet) intent to cause a flinch. To wound. But hearing it now — watching the struggle in Nate's admittance and seeing the promise of wetness gathered at the corners of his eyes — everything about it was somehow much more clear and sobering. And he still couldn't fathom how the sound and sight of it could fill him with remorse now, when... while it'd been happening... he almost couldn't care. [break][break]

Nate looked at him again, apologizing once more, and Luck turned his face away, unable to hold his stare. For a long moment, he said nothing and didn't move. He only focused on slowing the flutter of his chest, swallowing down the tightness in his throat, and moved his palms across the tops of his thighs in an attempt to dispel the clamminess to them. [break][break]

Finally, with a couple of hard blinks, he slowly responded — every movement done with a deliberate consciousness, as if he were deciding each, individual action with careful thought before he did it. And he was — making a mental list of how he might have reacted weeks ago and doing the opposite. [break][break]

Huff a snide snort, lips twisting. He took a deep breath in and held it in his chest. Angle away. Make yourself unreachable. Drawing up his knees and lifting his head from the couch, he turned his body in Nate's direction. He watched his face, searching, as he tucked his socked toes, just barely, beneath the other man's thigh. Dismiss. Bristle. Go on the defense. Deny any blame. Withdraw. Swallowing, Luck folded one arm in a loose hug about his shins and lifted the other to reach tentatively out. Fingers touching gingerly — as if asking — he laid his hand atop the one Nate held over his knee. [break][break]

And what if he'd done this weeks ago? When Nate just needed something from him — anything? Would they have still ended up here? [break][break]

Luck pushed the long-held breath from his chest, shoulders slacking, and let himself slip into the daunting crash of thoughts piling inside him; before he could think too long on them and decide to leave it all unsaid. [break][break]

"I'm sorry for how I reacted when you told me. I'm glad you told me. And I'm sorry for... since then, too. I think I've been walking around this whole time, looking for, I'm not sure... a name to put to this... this knot... in me." He purposely didn't linger on the inadequacy he felt in the words; the not quite right description of something he was still actively trying to work out. "And you gave me one. An actual reason to act the way I was acting." The admittance pulled his gaze down but he willed himself to keep going; pausing only long enough to breathe and attempt to fold his fingers into the space between Nate's palm and knee. [break][break]

"I think... before that night... I was taking for granted that it'd pass, too. That... no matter how bad I got, how awful I was to you... you'd forgive me and we'd be fine when it did." Speaking it aloud, hearing himself say it, the words threatened another panicked sorrow in his chest. His fingers twitched, wanting to withdraw or ball into fists. "At least until the next time, I guess." He chuckled then, though the sound of it was decidedly not amused; breathy and sharp instead, barbed with a bit of self-loathing and only a small hitch away from being strangled. "I can't tell you how much I want to say I didn't know I was pushing you that hard... making you feel that bad... but... well," he shook his head and smiled thinly, momentarily unable to stand himself, then raised his eyes and shrugged a shoulder. "I'd be lying, wouldn't I?" [break][break]

He breathed hard through his nose. [break][break]

"All our time together and you've never... never held me at my worst." And perhaps Nate should have. There'd been plenty of times when doing so would have been justified; when no one could have possibly blamed him for leaving, Luck most of all. Hell, there'd been times when he'd almost expected that heavy shoe to fall. But it never did. "I don't intend to hold you at yours." His brow pinched and smoothed. It wasn't something he'd decided beforehand but, as the words left his lips, he knew it was true. He'd forgive him. It'd take a while before he could talk about it without heat. A while longer for him to not think about it in every other too-quiet moment. But he would forgive him. He knew the part he played in it. The blame he had to share. [break][break]

"It would be a great... shame?... Disservice? I don't know. It would be wrong... to reduce the past ten years to this one mistake." He nodded. Then swallowed. "But I..." he quieted, the words petering to nothing as he hesitated. His fingers pressed harder into Nate's palm and he blinked rapidly against the wetness he felt want to collect in his eyes. "I also think it would be unfair... mostly to you... to let this go on... just because it's always worked out before. I mean... it wasn't just one bad night, was it?" [break][break]

His gaze flickered upward, eyes watering, and he dropped his chin to his knees; tilting his face to smother and hide the pained tug of his lips there. He breathed in and continued — half-muffling the words against himself. "Maybe this split will be good for us, huh?" He intended it to be a statement. But it lifted at the end into an unexpected question — voice wavering as he abruptly realized he wasn't as confident (or as decided) as he wanted to be or seem. The next words left him quicker than before, as if he were rushing to get them out before his throat closed. "Maybe we need to learn how to do this again. Be apart. Give it some space. See if it's what we really want." If I'm who you really want, he wanted to add, but didn't. It'd be too cheap. Too cornering. "Or if... what we've been doing is just... holding on." [break][break]

Unable to continue, his brow pulled up at the center and he closed his eyes, tipping his face to rest his temple against his knees instead. He consciously slackened his hand in Nate's, realizing suddenly that it'd squeezed tight and was clammy again. "I don't want to take you for granted anymore. To keep putting you through this."

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 tweaks/changes! Lotsa dialogue (I can't help myself). If I need to break it up some, just lemme know!

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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"]


The silence between them felt agonizingly long, though it may have only been seconds. Nate wasn’t sure, he’d lost any sense of time. It didn’t make much difference how long it had been. [break][break]

Even if it took all night, Nate wasn’t going to rush Luck, he wasn’t going to pull or push him into this conversation if he wasn’t ready. He hadn't walked out or seemed to get angry, at least not yet. It was an improvement from the way they’d been communicating for the past several months. [break][break]

When tentative fingers found his own hand, Nate wanted to interlace his fingers between Luck’s own, to hold tightly and never let go, but he refrained. He let Luck take the lead, decide what was or wasn’t too much. He watched as Luck softened, posture slackened, the walls he’d been keeping up seemingly coming down. It felt like the tension had been there so long it was the new norm, it had been too long since he’d seen Luck so vulnerable. [break][break]

Nate’s fingers twitched slightly, and he felt his throat tighten as Luck apologized for his reaction. His knee-jerk reaction was to brush it off, to tell him there was no need for him to be apologizing, that he’d had every right to react how he had. Of course he did. It was a betrayal of the life they’d built together, of everything they’d been through side by side. But instead, he just stayed silent. It felt more important to listen, and it was clear that Luck had more to say. [break][break]

Without hesitation Nate moved his hand just enough to allow Luck’s fingers into the space they sought, giving a gentle squeeze, an attempted reassurance, as Luck continued on. [break][break]

If only they’d had this conversation months ago. Just weeks ago, even… So much hurt could have been spared. Luck was right, Nate would have forgiven him, he would have given him the benefit of the doubt over and over. If only they had talked about it, if only it hadn't felt like they’d become so disconnected from one another. [break][break]

Hearing the admission that he’d known what he’d been doing, that he’d know how bad it had gotten, hurt more than Nate thought it would have. His breath caught, and he had to force himself to push the air out slowly. He could see Luck was also struggling. All he could do was nod, and blink back the tears that felt almost imminent now. [break][break]

What right did Nate have to feel so hurt now? He wasn’t a victim here. They’d both made mistakes, they’d both done things they couldn’t take back. [break][break]

Maybe it was because all this time, he thought Luck hadn't realized. He’d thought that if he’d just spoken up, voiced how he’d been feeling, they could have fixed it. They could have stopped it all from getting out of control. He wouldn’t have felt so bad that he took comfort in a stranger.. But if Luck had already known, perhaps it wouldn’t have made much difference if they’d talked about it after all. [break][break]

Nate swallowed hard, nodded again as Luck went on to promise not to hold it against him. But as he went on, Nate had to turn his face away, trying to keep his breathing steady as something inside him felt like it was unraveling. [break][break]

It hadn't been just that one night. It had been weeks, months in the making. [break][break]

Nate could feel the pressure from Luck’s fingers against his palm. He closed his own fingers around them, desperate to hold on even as Luck mentioned that might have been all they’d been doing, just holding on to what they used to have. He couldn’t keep the tears back any longer. He blinked again and felt a warm line of moisture roll down from the corner of his eye, and he moved his free hand to wipe it away before turning back to face Luck again. [break][break]

He had to stop himself from saying it was okay, to take him for granted, not to give it time or space. He knew that Luck had fair points, that they needed to really think about it and give each other the room to figure out what they wanted for the future, even if the most likely path now seemed to be for them to move on from one another. It hurt like hell, but denying the truth wasn’t going to get them anywhere at this point. [break][break]

“I.. I think, you’re.. right.” The words were quiet and strained. Nate felt another tear stream down his cheek, but made no move to wipe this one away. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We weren’t supposed to hurt each other.” [break][break]

Before he could overthink it or talk himself out of it, Nate shifted, pulled his hand away, but only so he could drape his arm over Luck’s shoulders. He moved to rest his forehead gently against Luck’s before continuing. “I don’t want you to hurt anymore.. I don’t want to hurt anymore.” His words were barely above a whisper. “You’re right. About all of it.. But I still miss you.” [break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple_Notes"]Luck Harris [break]
I know this is so angsty, and mostly internal. If you need more to work with let me know, or if any of it is too much.

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[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

Luck half-expected Nate to disagree. To try and talk him out of it. But it was only when he spoke — saying he was right — that he realized a part of him, previously unacknowledged, was also hoping for it. Banking on it. And Nate's quiet assent... the feel of his hand slipping from his... tightened his chest and stilled the air in his lungs. It cracked at something fragile in him — something he hadn't realized was so fragile — and, as if anticipating this break (or perhaps feeling something akin to it), Nate turned and draped an arm across him, pulling him slightly forward to press his forehead gingerly against his. [break][break]

And whatever strained collection Luck had so far managed to maintain... the repression he was struggling to keep up... the steely preparedness that he wore like armor... it dissolved into nothing. Already once or twice he'd felt it slipping, but... the arm across him... the whispered hurt so close to him he could feel the breath of it... Nate, in only the way Nate could ever do... felled the rest of it completely. Far beyond any hope of snatching it back. [break][break]

In its abrupt absence, there was only enormous indecision. Ache. Wretched and sorrowful regret. [break][break]

The breath stuttered forcefully from him and he lifted a hand to the arm across his shoulders; fingers immediately desperate as they curled and clutched into the sleeve of Nate's hoodie. His knuckles whitened as he twisted them in the fabric, fisting tighter and tighter. He curled forward and inward, letting his knees fall to either side of him as he ducked his head and leaned more forcefully into the touch of their foreheads. His lips thinned, pulled tight, and he could feel a whine want to crop in his throat. But he clenched his teeth tight and bit it back. [break][break]

There was so much he wanted to say, his mind erupting into a jumbled mess of tangled thoughts piling atop one another in a desperate bid to be heard. [break][break]

I miss you, too. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I could be wrong, too, couldn't I? Tell me you think I'm wrong. Please. I love you. Tell me it's not what you want. You could convince me. I'd let you. Please, baby. I'll come back home. You could talk me out of anything. [break][break]

But he could already feel the choke in his throat. And it was probably for the best — very, very distantly, he was aware that all of it was selfish. Terribly selfish. But, in that moment of wrenching desperation, he couldn't care. [break][break]

A difficult moment passed. Then Luck cleared his throat and nodded. His eyes pinched harder and he loosened the fist in Nate's jacket to grip at his arm instead (clasp less bruising, but no less needy). "I know," he managed, the words quiet and congested. He continued to nod, unable to do much else, and could feel wetness clinging to his eyelashes when he cracked his eyes open, just enough to watch the shape of Nate's mouth before him. "I know," he repeated, exhaling a shaky breath and tipping his face only barely — just to feel the graze of his forehead against his and the brush of his nose. [break][break]

Reluctantly, Luck again loosened the clutch of his fingers and coaxed Nate's arm from around him; hand slipping into his to lower them both into the space between them as he pulled back. He kept his eyes lowered, taking a necessary, leveling moment to carefully watch his fingers as he curled them into the clasp of his own. He squeezed hard, then soothed with a brush of his thumb across his knuckles. Finally, with a ragged, leveling breath, he sniffed wetly and lifted his face. His gaze traced the tear track down Nate's cheek and he shook his head, the corners of his lips pulling into a small, remorseful smile. One that was clearly attempting reassurance but lacked the conviction. "But... we'll figure it out. It won't be like this forever, right?" [break][break]

Right? [break][break]

The thought wrenched at him, painful enough to thread a telling knit to his brow. He looked away, jaw clenching tight with the effort to keep his mouth from twisting, and his gaze settled on the box of knick-knacks Nate had packed away. It lingered there, before making a slow flit about the apartment. "One day, we'll be able to look at this stuff and it won't hurt. The sad... the anger... pain... whatever else... all that will go away." His lip pulled again, just one side of his mouth tugging as his face screwed despite his efforts. "But I will still love you." He shrugged, words growing quick again as his gaze returned to Nate's. He nodded assuredly, desperate for him to know. Desperate to get it out while he could manage it. "I love you. Even if... even if it doesn't get better. Even if, after some time, it can only be as friends. Even if..." he sucked in a breath, feeling the next words hollow at him before he spoke them, "Even if you don't want even that, eventually. Even if you decide you can't love me anymore, I will love you. I love you, okay?"

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]
Ah, also max angst here. Sorry, it's a huge mess! I wanted to do more but kept feeling like I was missing the mark lmao. Give me a nudge for any changes/tweaks! Or if you need more![break] ♫ ♪ ♬ ♩ ♫

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[newclass=.post-frosttalon]background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/LUvSYc3.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;width:360px;text-align:justify;padding:180px 50px 25px 50px;background-color:#f5f5f5;color:#666;line-height:1.2!important;[/newclass]
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[newclass=.post-frosttalon-line]height:1px;background-color:#3C584D;width:300px;opacity:.75;[/newclass]

[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’s vision blurred from the moisture that continued to well up in the corners of his eyes. He could feel his throat tightening, and just breathing steadily was difficult. He didn’t want it to be over for real, he didn’t want to lose Luck. But what else could they do? It wasn’t like they could ignore the way things had been lately. As gut wrenching as this moment was, time apart would probably do them some good. It would at least give them time to figure out what they both really wanted, just like Luck said. [break][break]

Besides, Nate needed to learn how to be on his own, how to exist without the constant need to be needed. Without relying on someone else to always do the hard things for him. [break][break]

There was no doubt about what it meant when Luck clutched onto him, holding so desperately close. This was hard. It hurt. It wasn’t supposed to be happening. Not to them. They’d been called couple goals on more than one occasion. They were supposed to be forever… [break][break]

If Luck had suggested they reconcile, if he’d made any indication that he didn’t want this, Nate would have lost the small amount of resolve he had telling him this was the right thing to do. He’d have crumbled and begged to find a way past all they’d done to one another. He would promise to be a better partner, to recognize when something wasn’t right with them faster, to be better at listening and not pushing so hard. But Luck only said “I know”. Nate’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt another wave of emotion threatening to wash over him. [break][break]

With their hands clasped in the space between them, Nate forced himself to take in and release a couple steadying breaths. He could easily fall apart in this moment, say it was too hard to imagine his future untangled from Luck’s and let the hurting take over. It would be the truth, but he didn’t say it, he couldn’t say it. Instead, he was desperately trying to pull himself together. He was starting to feel his emotions settle into a sort of numb acceptance. Until Luck said he’d still love him, if they were just friends, even if Nate didn’t love him. [break][break]

Just like that, he could feel what was left inside shatter again. How many times could a heart break? How many different ways could a person hurt at the same time? [break][break]

“There isn’t.. There’s not a world-” He shook his head, unable to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill over. “There isn’t a world where I wouldn’t love you.” His words were quiet, choked back by the tightening of his throat as he tried to keep himself from completely falling to pieces. [break][break]

After a long stretch of seconds, Nate regained his composure enough to continue. “I don’t care how much time passes or what happens between us. I will always love and care about you.” He slowly let out a breath and glanced around the room. “This, though.. This sucks.” His eyes drew to the hand drawn picture book Quentin made, the one Luck had been looking at before. “You should keep that, by the way. If you want to... Q idolizes you.” [break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple_Notes"]Luck Harris [break]
Omg this is a rambly mess. Let me know for changes.

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[newclass=.NATEsimple b]color:#3183AD;[/newclass]
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[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

Luck had never been a crier. The wetness gathered at the corners of his eyes and clinging to his lashes had been the extreme for him for almost as long as he could remember. [break][break]

When he'd been young, it'd always been his mother wiping the tears from his cheeks — smiling and shushing as she swiped clean his busted lip or clasped his bruised face between her hard palms. And at some point, feeling how perpetually worn she was beyond her soothing and not wanting to ask more of her, he'd learned to still his trembling and keep the tears from falling. Taught himself how to keep it all in his chest and in his throat before it could make it to his eyes. [break][break]

There'd been exceptions through the long years since. Occasions where no amount of resolve could keep him completely together. And — no big surprise — Nate had been the one to draw the most from him. A tear collected at the bridge of his nose as he watched him sleep beside him, sometimes unable to face the gratitude for his place in his life without it pooling in his eyes. A sympathetic tear fallen from a hard blink when he was hurting (because somehow that was worse than any hurting of his own). And it'd been Nate who'd — at some point, without Luck even realizing it — loosened that (sometimes desperate) instinct to turn his face away at the feel of it. To swipe it all away before it could be seen. [break][break]

Who'd untaught him as much as he'd taught him. [break][break]

Seeing the tears break now from Nate's eyes and spill down his cheeks, it was almost enough to bring the blur to his vision. But as he watched him choke on his words and shake his head, Luck forced the familiar action of catching the grief in his throat; holding it there until he could breathe it through his nose. Though he kept his empathy safely — somewhat fearfully — coiled within himself, he could still feel the rawness there, the break, as he assured him that he would always care about and love him, too. [break][break]

And, though the words ripped at him, he didn't want to compound Nate's pain any further with his own. Especially not when he was so heavily to blame for it all. Like his mother had done with him so often, he tried to conceal his own misery as he lifted a hand to palm Nate's cheek; smoothing at the tears there with the side of his thumb. But.. had his mother's hand ever trembled? She'd always been so much stronger than him.[break][break]

"That's all that matters then," Luck whispered wetly, less practiced in keeping the ache from his voice than from his eyes. [break][break]

And God, he hoped it was true. [break][break]

He had no doubt Nate thought it was true. Believed it with as much conviction as Luck believed his own claim. But... how many people said that to each other in these moments? 'We'll keep in touch', 'we can still be friends', 'I'll always be here for you' — promises like that, didn't they just have a way of fading? Through no one's real fault or intention... it was just... life. Time and distance. [break][break]

It was too easy to imagine, as they filled the vacancies of one another in their lives with other things, other people, that there'd be a very natural, very inevitable drift. More time passed between checking in. Nights eventually passed without thinking of one another. The wounds would close. Grow over. The pain would lessen. Until they spoke one day and realized it'd been weeks. And then months. [break][break]

No, actually, it wasn't easy to imagine. It was impossible — almost unbearable — to imagine. But couldn't it still happen? Wasn't it a risk? Could Luck afford it?[break][break]

Nate composed himself with a long breath and glanced about, proclaiming (with what Luck imagined to be an attempt at refreshment), that — this sucked. He huffed a quiet laugh, thankful for the excuse to pull himself from his thoughts. He squeezed the hand still clasped in his and dropped the other from Nate's face, then cast his gaze about in a similar manner, nodding his agreement. "Yeah," he breathed, consciously keeping his eye from lingering too long in any given spot. He now sorely lacked the drive to pick through things. He was too heavy. Exhausted. Hollowed and husked.[break][break]

His brow knit and he pulled his gaze quickly to his lap, speaking before he could stop himself as he plucked at Nate's fingers still folded in his palm. "I should go," the words seemed to echo inside himself, making the empty feel empty. Slowly and gingerly, he pushed himself to his feet and let Nate's hand slip from his own — trying not to acknowledge the reluctance with which his fingers let him go; how his grasp skipped all the way to the man's fingertips before letting them fall from them. [break][break]

Maybe there wouldn't be another chance to do so. Or maybe next time, it would be changed. Different. Not the same. What if he wished he'd held on longer?[break][break]

"Yeah, I should go," Luck repeated, trying (only somewhat successfully) to instill some decision into the words as he wiped at his mouth and turned his attention to the coffeetable. He tossed Quentin's book into his own box. Quickly and haphazardly divided whatever books and DVDS were stacked around into them as well, not taking the time to mull over the titles now. [break][break]

They hadn't gotten a lot done. They'd hardly gotten anything done. And really, it felt like Luck had just gotten there. Had only just slipped out of his shoes. But still, it had been good for them, he figured. It was the longest amount of time they'd spent in each other's company for weeks. The most words exchanged in just as long. And more open honesty than there'd been for a lot longer than that. Next time would be easier. Probably.[break][break]

Luck wondered if it was supposed to feel like a "clearing of the air". It didn't seem appropriate. Somehow he only felt more choked, with less room to breathe than before. [break][break]

"I don't have work for the rest of the week," he continued, moving the boxes onto the floor and out of the way before he picked up his cup and tray of half-eaten food. "I can come back in the morning and pack up some stuff while you're at work. Dishes, linens, those sorts of things." Stuff that'd be just as easy to decide what to do with in boxes than anywhere else. The little things of his that were still tucked around everywhere, overlooked or deemed unimportant in his hasty leaving — jewelry in the catch-tray in the coffetable drawer. Packs of NASCAR playing cards. Jars of change. Probably a shirt or two that hadn't been in the closet when he'd snatched his stuff before. "I'll leave out what you might need to get you through the year, of course. Gather the stuff I think we'll have to... make decisions on... for us to pick through a little easier. Sound alright?" [break][break]

He moved back into the kitchen, feeling a little bit like he was trying to retreat, and paused to down the rest of his tea. He set aside his tray, pulled the fork from where it was poking from beneath the lid, then reached out to rinse his cup. He flipped on the tap and — [break][break]

Everything emptied from his mind as the sink first did absolutely nothing, then... after making an ominous noise... shot an immediately unrelenting torrent of water at him and into the air. His cup and fork clattered into the basin as he hastily shut everything off and then only blinked dumbly at the mess. "Uh, Nate —" he called out, voice incredulous. "I, uh," he laughed, swiping at the water dripping from his face. "The damn sink's broke!" He bent to open the cabinet and squinted into the dark, laughing again with a shake of his head. "Now, just what the fuck did they do to you?"

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 tweaks/changes!

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[newclass=.post-frosttalon]background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/LUvSYc3.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;width:360px;text-align:justify;padding:180px 50px 25px 50px;background-color:#f5f5f5;color:#666;line-height:1.2!important;[/newclass]
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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 couldn’t imagine a world without Luck, he didn’t want to. No matter what had already happened between them, or what was going to happen in weeks and months coming up. A decade together meant something. It had to. Even if they couldn’t be the same, if they weren’t together anymore, that didn’t matter. Of course it would be hard, but they could adjust. [break][break]

It was something that Nate had to believe they would be able to do, even if it took a while. He didn’t think he could get through this if he didn’t believe it. [break][break]

Luck’s hand on his face gave a familiar sense of comfort that chipped away at some of the overwhelming hurt. Even with a shakiness that he hadn't felt there before, a tone of voice that wasn’t quite as assured, Nate let himself cling to hope. [break][break]

The moment passed, and Luck dropped his hand. Nate wondered how long he could hold onto the memory of fingertips tracing along his cheek, how long he’d be able to cling to the echo of warmth they left behind. [break][break]

It was no huge surprise when Luck declared he should go. The packing was hard enough, and this was as honest and vulnerable as they had been with each other in a long time. It still left a hollow, lonely feeling inside of Nate as he watched Luck stand, as he let go of their clasped hands. Nate wanted to argue, to ask him to stay. They didn’t have to pack, they didn’t have to talk, they could just be. Exist in each other’s presence for a while longer… [break][break]

The right words didn’t come to him, and Luck reiterated his intent to leave. Say something. Do something. Ask him to stay. The thoughts raced in Nate’s mind, but the words still weren’t there. [break][break]

He felt like he was reeling again with how quickly things shifted. Was Luck hoping to avoid him, coming back while he worked? And why didn’t Luck have work the rest of the week? That was strange, not normal. Unless.. He had a moment of realization. Luck had been late leaving work, and now he was off the rest of the week. Did something happen today? Was he okay? Could Nate even ask about it without making things worse now? [break][break]

Nate took in a steadying breath. “Whatever works best for you is fine by me.” He gave a small nod as he answered, trying to convince himself that was the best answer. Nate pushed himself off the ground slowly. “You’re off work?” He turned around as he asked, much too late. Luck was already in the kitchen, grabbing the handle at the sink. “Wai-” He rushed to try to warn him, but he could hear the sputtering of the sink trying to work. [break][break]

“Shit.. Yeah, it’s been like that.” Nate quickly moved to the laundry closet to grab a couple towels. “I should have said something earlier. I didn’t think about it, it’s been like that for weeks.” He came over with the towels. “I’ve been doing dishes in the bathroom. Maintenance has been out a couple times, because I’ve been up their ass about it for a while. Obviously, they haven’t fixed it though, and I have no idea what he said the problem was.” [break][break]

He felt guilty for not thinking about it sooner, not telling Luck about it before he got sprayed in the face with water. Honestly, he felt stupid for it not being fixed yet. He didn’t know how to do it. Even looking at videos on Youtube hadn't helped shed any light on how to fix it, and the building maintenance seemed to have him low on the list of priorities. Maybe because they knew he was planning on leaving at the end of his lease, or maybe they just really didn’t care. It didn’t matter, it was still broken either way. [break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple_Notes"]Luck Harris [break]
Let me know for any changes

[newclass=.NATEsimple]text-align: justify; color: #5f5f5f; font-size: 14px; padding: 10px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.NATEsimple b]color:#3183AD;[/newclass]
[newclass=.NATEsimple img]float:left;border-radius: 100px;border:5px double #3183AD;padding:2px;background:#f5f5f5;margin-right:10px;margin-bottom:10px;[/newclass]

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[newclass=".NATEsimple_Notes"] font-size: 10px; text-align: right; padding: 3px [/newclass]
[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

Nate was there in no time, towels in hand. Luck closed the cabinet door and straightened, reaching out and watching him as he explained. "Weeks?" He repeated, brow crinkling incredulously and gaze darting about his face. [break][break]

'You could have called me,' he wanted to say. The words were on his tongue, his lips pressed with the gentle chide he was prepared to drip them with. But he thought better of it. His mouth tightened and he swallowed them down. He could understand why he hadn't. Why it might not have felt right. He couldn't expect him to. Nate had asked him for help with Bridget's car, but perhaps this felt different. Perhaps he didn't want to rely on him in such a capacity anymore and... probably... Luck had relinquished the right to ask him to. Or maybe he just thought Luck would refuse. [break][break]

Somehow, that possibility was the worst of them, even if it wasn't the most unlikely. [break][break]

Ultimately, Nate had his reasons for choosing different avenues. For not reaching out even when those avenues weren't working. And Luck felt it better not to press him for those reasons. Maybe he didn't want to hear them. To be forced to acknowledge or accept them. [break][break]

"I can give it a look tomorrow, too," he said instead, taking a towel to pat at his face, dab at the front of his shirt, and then begin sopping up the mess of water along the cabinet tops and backsplash. After soaking up most of it and wringing the towel out over the sink basin, he paused to grip at the counter and half-forced a tug at one corner of his mouth. "Unless you want to leave it for them." It really was maintenance's problem to fix, after all. Part of their job description. The reason they were there. Just because Nate and him had been a landlord's dream for seven years didn't mean they could be ignored when they did have a problem. [break][break]

He glanced sidelong at him, smirk pulling a hair more genuinely when he found his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "But I dunno, maybe that sort of pettiness just isn't worth doing dishes in the bathroom the rest of the month, huh?" He tried a small laugh — wishing it sounded a little fuller and felt a little less hollow in his chest — then pushed from the counter and stepped backward through the kitchen. "I'm gonna borrow a shirt." [break][break]

He turned on his heel and stepped away. It felt a little silly — he was going "home", it didn't really matter if his shirt was soaked. But the night was a little cold and, he supposed, if Nate had offered a shirt and he'd refused, it'd seem equally as silly. [break][break]

It also felt like retreating... again. A game of cat and mouse; Nate following him to one place in the apartment and Luck turning to put himself at the other end. Not completely unlike how it'd been in the struggle before their split. [break][break]

But different, too.[break][break]

There was no anger in it now. No prickly and tense bite to it. No bait or threat of challenge should the chase go on a single moment too long. Now it just felt resigned. Hollowed completely of whatever unnamable thing that'd made everything so unbearable before. Before, each step would have dug a little deeper that seething pit in him. Tightened that dumb fucking tangle in his chest. Now it was a much simpler regret that nipped at his heels and each step further from the kitchen made his chest sink a little more; made the laugh he'd tried echo a little less convincingly in his head. [break][break]

Luck moved through the living room and down the hall, unbuttoning and stripping from his shirt as he went. He stepped into the bathroom just long enough to drape the soaked towel and his shirt over the shower rail and then continued on.[break][break]

His stride slowed as he approached the end of the hall and he couldn't quite place the source of his hesitance until he realized... as he stepped through their bedroom doorway, that he... rather irrationally... half-expected the room to look the way he'd left it. Picked apart and lightly ransacked with lingering symptoms of his leaving. But no — of course, Nate had picked up. The drawers and cabinets that Luck had left flung open were closed. The things he'd tossed about in search of other things had all been picked up. Everything was where it should be. In its place. Like he always did, Nate had made neater the mess Luck left in his occasionally belligerent wake. [break][break]

How stupid. Of both of them. [break][break]

Moving slowly through the room, feeling weird about it in a way he'd never had before, Luck stepped to their closet and flicked on the light. And the sight of it — so obviously half-empty — was a bit of a gut punch. He sucked in a breath and blinked wearily, feeling the lead in him sink a little heavier as he imagined Nate feeling the same thing every time he looked at it, too. It was good he was moving, he decided, as he began thumbing through the shirts. It'd be difficult for him to move on, to decide if he wanted to move on, while surrounded by the constant reminder in his everyday that someone else had once been there.[break][break]

Luck halted on the last shirt, spaced a little apart from the rest. A sweatshirt — his — that, at one time, had been thick and heavy. Now it was thinned and softened with years of use. He slipped his hand down its sleeve, smoothing the worn fabric between a thumb and forefinger.[break][break]

Like most of Luck's clothes, it was old. He didn't tend to upgrade his wardrobe often or even throw anything out until it was falling apart. Most "new" clothes he had were gifts from the holidays or souvenirs from trips. But this sweatshirt, it was old even by those standards. Picked up somewhere through New Mexico or Arizona in his early traveling years. He couldn't remember exactly where or when, nor could he recall if it'd been left in a laundromat basket or simply mistaken for his own when he'd nabbed it from someone else's floor. [break][break]

It wasn't a surprise it hadn't been included in his initial (very hasty) haul of belongings from the apartment. It never did seem to keep its place on a hanger for long before being pulled down by one of them and had likely been in the laundry hamper. Worn and washed so often that it was a miracle it still held together after so long (with only some small, scattered holes at the bottom of it, a couple of frays along the hem, and a faded, almost unrecognizable, design on the front to hint at its age). [break][break]

The just perfect fit on him meant it was a slight bit short on Nate — baring his wrists when he reached for anything and riding up his stomach when he stretched — and it never failed to earn a smirk when he lounged about in it (as if he suspected it wasn't chosen entirely for its comfort, but because it'd get him looking). [break][break]

Luck's lip pulled and his fingers finished skipping down the sweatshirt's sleeve and to its wrist. He considered plucking it from the hanger, but only for a brief moment, before he pulled down the plain long-sleeve next to it instead. Nate could keep it. It was comfy and, being one of the five or so shirts Luck had had when they met, it'd been in rotation through much of their early relationship. It could be a little reminder. [break][break]

Though, perhaps it was a bit presumptuous of him to assume Nate would even want it. It was hung a bit apart from the rest of his clothes, after all — separated, as if he intended to return it to him. Not hidden among the rest of his shirts in some hope it'd be overlooked and forgotten about. Maybe it would be more harmful for him to keep around than anything. An unwanted reminder. Maybe, after some time... eventually... Nate would look back on the years they spent together less kindly than he did now and he'd give the shirt a toss (wondering why they hadn't done so long ago).[break][break]

Luck decided not to linger on the thought — decided to acknowledge (but not truly consider) the fact that it'd be obvious he'd seen the shirt and chosen something else — as he turned from the closet and moved back through the room, pulling Nate's shirt over his head and stepping blindly into the hall as he worked his arms through it. "Hey," he called, smoothing the shirt down his middle and sifting a hand through the hair the neck of it had disheveled. "Think I can W-A-L-K the dog before I go?"

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 one's a mess aaaah, let me know if you need more/less! [break]
Or, otherwise, give me a nudge for any tweaks/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"]


Hearing Luck repeat weeks made Nate feel like he’d been dumb, like he should have just sucked it up and told him about it sooner. Called or texted him, instead of trying to get the apartment complex to do something about it all this time. But he hadn't been sure if that was okay. Would it have been too much, if he’d messaged him when it first broke? Would it have led them to some kind of forced conversation, possibly even ending in them getting irritated with each other or arguing again? Or would they both have been awkwardly silent, unsure of what to say to each other? [break][break]

It had been too much to think about at that time. Too big of a risk. Nate wasn’t ready to reach out for help, or really anything else. But this past week or two, he could have reached out. He could have let him know when they discussed packing the place up. [break][break]

Nate didn’t want to admit that he was embarrassed and felt incompetent, that he felt like he should have been able to handle getting it fixed on his own. He’d relied on Luck for anything that could be considered handy. He should have taken a more active role in learning how to do some of it himself. He shouldn’t have left it all to Luck, even if it seemed like he always knew what to do. He shouldn’t have taken him for granted. [break][break]

He also realized that all of his reasons might sound a bit ridiculous now, since he had reached out and asked Luck for help when Bridget had car trouble. But that was different. It was for someone else, not just him. And he’d also bolted before Luck even got there, which he wasn’t proud of. [break][break]

“If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate that.” Nate still felt stupid now, since he hadn't gotten over it and reached out. Or even just thought to warn him before it became an issue. “At this point, I have no faith in maintenance.” More than likely, he was at the top of their pay-no-mind list, since he was moving. He wasn’t staying and paying them another year’s rent, so why did they care if he wasn’t happy with them? Luck was right about leaving it for them not being worth the inconvenience of doing dishes in the bathroom until he moved as well, even if they should be the ones responsible for fixing it. [break][break]

Instinct was for him to follow step when Luck walked through the apartment toward the bedroom, but Nate stopped himself from doing so. He felt awkward, unsure of himself. It felt like he should give space, let Luck find a shirt and change without his anxious hovering, not knowing what to do or say in the moment. So he busied himself finishing cleanup, bringing the utensils and cups into the bathroom to wash up. [break][break]

Luck had already shed his soaked work shirt, which made sense. Why bring wet items into the bedroom if not necessary? He washed the forks and glasses, making quick work of it in the small bathroom sink that was certainly not meant to wash dishes in. He’d been cooking a lot less the past couple weeks, both out of the desire to not dirty dishes too frequently and because he wasn’t great at scaling back recipes for just one person, so when he did cook he had enough leftovers for several days. Or, much to Kat’s delight, he would bring the leftovers for both for lunch some days. [break][break]

Once the cups and silverware were clean and set on the towel he’d laid on the counter to dry dishes, Nate stepped back into the hall. He glanced toward the bedroom door. He felt an intense desire to walk in and beg Luck to stay, not to leave him alone again, not to leave him at all. Instead, he sucked in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, convincing himself that it wasn’t a great idea. He stepped toward the living room instead, tidying up anything that was still out of place in an attempt to keep himself busy until Luck came back out. [break][break]

More or less, Nate knew what was hanging in the closet. If it had been the warmer months of the year, it would have been more likely that Luck would have gone to the dresser for a folded t-shirt, but it was November. A sweater or hoodie was the most likely choice, and those were in the closet. Including the last sweatshirt that Nate had found in the wash that was unmistakably Luck’s. He’d had it longer than Nate had known him, and it was well worn. It was also soft and comfortable, even if it was just a tad too small for Nate to wear anywhere but at home. He knew he’d separated it from the rest of the hanging shirts, wondering if he should tell Luck it was there, if he should return it to him. But somehow, it made him even more sad each time he thought about it. The sweatshirt had survived every closet purge, every move they’d been through. Nate was almost certain it was the shirt Luck was going to come out in, and he was dreading it. He couldn’t explain why, but he just wasn’t ready to stop seeing it hanging in the closet next to his overly organized collection of shirts. [break][break]

When Luck reappeared, he was in one of the more basic plain shirts that had been hanging up. Nate was both surprised and relieved. He didn’t want to admit to it, and he knew he wouldn’t have said anything had Luck come out in his own shirt, but he was glad that he hadn't. [break][break]

Almost like he knew, Charlie perked up, head popping up from where he was plopped down when Luck started talking about him, hopping up from his spot right around the word dog, trotting over and whining between the two of them. “Of course.” Nate nodded, staring at Charle so he could have something to focus on. “I think someone would be upset if you didn’t, at this point.” He halfway forced a smile. He wanted to offer to walk with them, like they’d done countless times before, but that felt like he’d be overstepping, like he’d be putting Luck in a weird position of accepting to avoid conflict even if he really didn’t want Nate’s company on the walk. If he wanted him to go, surely he’d ask, or at least allude to all of them going for a walk. [break][break]

Charlie was their dog. They’d gotten him together, and no matter what happened, they would both have a right to see him and care for him. Nate couldn’t help but imagine how much harder this would all be if they’d had a kid in the mix. It wasn’t like the topic had never come up. They’d had conversations about adoption, or even surrogacy. But, somehow, just like actually getting married, they’d never landed on anything concrete. They’d never committed one way or the other on what they both wanted. Nate always imagined that someday, maybe in the next few years or maybe further in the future, they’d settle and decide to grow their family. Maybe foster or adopt. But right now, he couldn’t help the feeling of relief that they hadn't done any of that yet. How much worse would this be right now? [break][break]

“I can get a load of laundry started while you do that.” He offered, feeling like a blatant attempt to avoid an uncomfortable situation.. It was also an attempt to ignore the ever growing sense of sadness he was trying to keep at bay. “I had some clothes to wash anyway, and I can throw your shirt in with them so it will be clean for you when you come back.” [break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple_Notes"]Luck Harris [break]
Let me know for any changes or if anything doesn’t fly. I be making shit up this time, but I can edit it if needed. Especially the kid bit.

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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 grinned as Charlie jolted to full wakefulness at the mention of walking (predictably catching on despite the attempt to keep him unaware). The dog launched himself from the couch and settled on his haunches to look between them with furious attention. As Nate dropped his own attention to the pup, Luck let his gaze linger on his face for a brief moment — noting (with no real surprise) that his smile still wasn't quite convincing — before he looked down as well. [break][break]

"Okay then, pup, let's go," he mused, considering whether or not he should ask Nate if he wanted to join them. A lot of Charlie's evening walks, they'd done together. As much of a routine to them as it was to the dog. Maybe it would be weirder not to... maybe the fresh air would do them some good... maybe it wouldn't be so bad, really... and...[break][break]

When Nate stated he'd start a load of laundry in the meantime, Luck hesitated — swallowing the half-planned invitation as he released a breath instead. It seemed likely that Nate was attempting to busy himself. Giving himself an excuse to not accompany them. He just couldn't decide what the reason was — whether it was for Luck's comfort (maybe he assumed asking or not asking was a difficult debate) or for his own comfort (maybe refusing would be a similar conundrum). [break][break]

"Okay... thanks," Luck said after a moment, trying a faint quirk of his lips (hoping it didn't look as hollow as it felt). He shrugged. "I'll be around tomorrow, though, if you don't feel up to it tonight. I'll probably bring some laundry to do. If you leave any, I can work on that, too." [break][break]

He moved to the front of the apartment, Charlie on his heels, and grabbed the harness and leash from its spot near the door. He crouched down to slip the harness over Charlie's head, then breathed a long, heavy sigh through his nose as he studied the white grizzled into the fur around the dog's deep brown eyes. "Getting a little more gray by the day, aren'tcha?" He shook his head as he adjusted the strap across his chest. "Spry as ever, though." He quirked a brow, gave the dog a pat, and stood. [break][break]

He could remember when he'd been just a puppy; not even half the length of his forearm the day he'd brought him home. As tiny as he was, though, he'd been a lot of hassle. Spoiled from Day One. [break][break]

After slipping into his shoes, Luck turned to nab one of Nate's jackets off the coat-rack — consciously deciding not to ask. He'd done so too many times tonight already. Announced his borrowing. Asked about dinner. Where to start. What they'd drive to Harmony. If he could walk the dog. All things that might have gone unspoken before. All pointing to the unfamiliarity and hesitance of their current circumstance. To the misplacement. He'd just borrow the damn jacket. He'd never have asked before. Never have had to ask. [break][break]

A moment later, he hesitated — then replaced the jacket on the hook. Nate wore that one a lot. If he was going to smoke while he was out, he'd at least choose one that wasn't so favorited. He pulled down the next heavy flannel and shrugged it on, then swiped his keys, wallet, and cigarettes into its pockets; grabbing everything more out of reflex and habit than anything else. Then he opened the door and stepped into the hall with Charlie shoving past. [break][break]

Closing the door behind him, he tutted when Charlie trotted to the apartment's staircase — reminding him to wait. The dog huffed, but waited with perked ears and a wagging tail until Luck started down the steps beside him. He clipped the leash to his harness as they approached the outside doors and the pair pushed off into the night. [break][break]

Luck paused to light a smoke — grunting when Charlie tugged at him impatiently and made him have to relight. He let the dog lead him down the steps and ran a hand through his hair; glancing around the courtyard as they walked and trying to beat back the overwhelming wistfulness that threatened in him now that he was relatively alone. The evening was still. Quiet. Completely void of the overcharged uncertainty and tension that'd been in the apartment. But still, with the silence... with the freedom to think... he couldn't help but hear the echoes of all that'd been said. And likely what hadn't been said, too.[break][break]

Emotionally, Luck felt wrung. Like they'd run the gamut. Mucked through a dozen different things, felt a little bit of everything, and all in such a little amount of time. He knew it'd take the whole night to process. To pick through. To play back, to rethink, and to probably wish he'd said something else. Or said more. But persisting through it all... an acknowledgment he couldn't push off for later... things... felt a lot more final than before. Even though they hadn't said that exactly... hadn't necessarily committed to an end... hadn't they?[break][break]

Luck sighed, pausing to let Charlie sniff along some bushes, then took another drag as he squinted at the sky. They made a slow amble around the building, he finished his cigarette and slipped the finished butt in a pocket, and then lifted his gaze as he passed under their apartment's window. [break][break]

The curtains were drawn. But still, the soft, warm light of the dining area shone through them.[break][break]

He breathed a soft snort, one corner of his mouth pulling askew as he recalled a different night when he'd taken Charlie out. Nate and him had sat together on the balcony for a long while, feet propped on the railing while they passed a bottle of Kabinett Riesling between them, talked, and watched the sky darken. Flipped a quarter to decide who'd see to the dog when he started his rueful (and dramatic) sighing. It wasn't until Luck lost and finally stood that he'd realized how pleasantly drunk he was.[break][break]

Not the kind of harrowed, almost desperate drunk he'd kept himself half-steeped in for most of his life before Nate. Not the fun and buzzing sort of high they allowed themselves on occasion. And not the kind of belligerent disconnect he'd been seeking out like an old friend in the past couple of weeks. It'd been a forgiving and peaceful drunk. Nurtured slowly; conscience brimming with life-loving ease. It'd made him warm and slow. Kept him grinning and giggling as he (somehow) made it down the complex stairs and outside. [break][break]

When he'd passed under their balcony, Luck had called up to Nate from below and they'd laughed as he unshelled pistachios to toss down at him. He hadn't caught a single one. And finally, Nate told him to pack it in because he wasn't wasting the rest.[break][break]

Luck blinked, mouth twisting as he watched the vacant space above. That hadn't been too long ago, actually. So recent, in fact, he had to wonder again how things could have gone so wrong, so quickly. How it'd been possible for them to stumble so hard that they couldn't right themselves like they normally did. [break][break]

Whoever leased their apartment after them... he hoped they did stuff like that. At least every once in a while. He hoped it was a couple. A love-drunk match with more than a couple years in them. It really was the perfect apartment for it. He wondered if they'd see it, when they checked it out — the easy lighting in the living room... the room-enough-for-two in the kitchen... the way the walls would fill out so nice through the years. Maybe they'd feel it the moment they stepped through the door. Know immediately, for no nameable reason, that it was a good place. [break][break]

They certainly had, hadn't they? [break]
When they'd taken their hopeful tour of the complex, they'd —[break][break]

Luck choked out a sudden, strangled exhale, completely unaware he'd kept it trapped in a tight chest for so long. Somewhere within his absent remembering, his mouth had twitched into a grimace. His jaw had clenched, his brow had pulled up at the middle, and he'd simply forgotten to breathe. Cutting short his train of thought — emptying his head entirely — he dropped his stare and started a brisk walk down the sidewalk. He barely registered Charlie's fleeting hesitance as the dog slowed at the steps, obviously expecting to return inside, then trotted back up to speed when Luck continued right past the door and toward the parking lot.[break][break]

Fuck. Oh, fuck. [break][break]

He could feel his chest rise and fall, increasingly hard and labored with his wild, panicked desperation to keep what was finally rising out of him down. He couldn't stay. Couldn't ignore the starting tremble to his fingers or the sweat that sprung to his palms. He swallowed hard, eyes finding and focusing on his truck in the distance. Someone passed him — a neighbor — and they slowed to look at him; face brightening with recognition. Their mouth opened, likely to begin a surprised greeting. Maybe an inquiry into "where the hell he'd been". But Luck moved past them without acknowledgment. He dug the keys from his pocket... felt and heard his pack of cigarettes fall to the ground... but didn't turn for them. He didn't let his eyes pull from his destination. And when he reached the truck, he scooped Charlie up and deposited him (with very little grace) in the backseat before climbing into the front. [break][break]

When the door shut, he pinched shut his eyes and let the breath stutter from him, audible and strained. He clenched his fingers into and out of quick, hard fists, then pinned them between his knees when they began to quake. Just as quickly, as desperately, he pulled them free to then claw himself out of Nate's jacket — too hot and constricted to bear it a moment longer. He ducked his chin to his chest, shielded his brow with a shaky hand, and panted for the breath he just couldn't seem able to make.[break][break]

Minutes passed. Whether they were short minutes or long minutes, Luck couldn't be sure. But, when Charlie let out a long, plaintive whine from behind him, he lifted his head and blew out a finally relaxed breath. "Sorry," he whispered, clearing his throat when the word came out raspy and stunted. "Sorry, Charlie," he tried again, turning to look at where the dog was peering at him. With one hand, he wiped at the wetness on his face and the other, he reached out to reassure him. "Sorry, boy. I'm sorry."[break][break]

Looking forward through the windshield, Luck let his gaze dart about the apartment complex's courtyard for a moment, not sure what he was searching for. He knew he couldn't go back, not now, so he wiped his sweaty hands over his slacks and found his phone. He typed out a quick message, fingers feeling clumsy and numb:

'Had to go, takng Charlie with me'[break]
'Be abck in the morning'[break]
'Jusxt let me know if uyou need antyhng done specificalluy tomorrow'

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 one got unforgivably lengthy and messy, I'm sorry sdkjfhsdkf

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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"]


It wasn’t but a few minutes after he’d exited the apartment with Charlie when Luck texted. Nate glanced at the phone when it buzzed, and let out a sigh. This whole thing sucked, for both of them. He couldn’t blame Luck for taking an out, for leaving. He’d already decided to come back tomorrow, when Nate wasn’t going to be there, when he could go through their shared belongings without having the added weight of being in the same room, of making small talk while they worked. [break][break]

‘Okay.’ Nate texted back, just one word. It didn’t feel like enough, but he wasn’t sure how else he was supposed to respond to that. Clearly, this had been too much for them, it was too hard. [break][break]

Nate had been halfway through starting the load of laundry, so he finished adding his clothes, then stepped into the bathroom to grab Luck’s shit. He paused, staring at the dishes drying in the bathroom. He should have reached out sooner, should have asked Luck for advice or for help with the sink. Why had he been so hesitant? It would have been easier than trying to divvy up and pack their shared belongings being the first time they’re really spent together since the split. [break][break]

Nate walked back out of the bathroom and crossed the hall, dropping the shirt into the wash and starting the machine. He glanced around the apartment, boxes out and a couple piles started. The apartment felt empty now that he knew Luck and Charlie were not coming back up. He felt empty, lonely, and altogether unmotivated. [break][break]

He needed to make progress on the packing. At least some progress. Even though Luck would be coming back in the morning, it wouldn’t be fair to leave it all for him. So Nate grabbed one of the boxes and started in the kitchen, packing up dishes that he knew he wouldn’t be able to bring with him to the new place, things there wouldn’t be room for. He was going to miss this kitchen. Even with making the kitchen and dining space a priority, he was still going to have much less cabinet and counter space. [break][break]

It didn't take long before Nate was feeling tired, more emotionally than physically. He finished up with the box of dishes and put a sticky note on top to let Luck know they were dishes he definitely wasn't taking, and he hadn't gone through the rest of the cabinets yet. He rotated the laundry into the dryer, then went into the bedroom. He thought about sleeping on the couch again, but he wasn't sure what time Luck was going to get there in the morning and he was embarrassed to admit he'd been sleeping on the couch so often anyway. [break][break]

Nate let out a long breath and shook his head at himself before getting into bed on the same side he always used, the side he'd slept on for the past decade. It felt wrong to sleep on the opposite side, on Luck's side. [break][break]

Once he was settled in, Nate hoped sleep would come quickly. He didn’t want to think or feel anything else tonight. [break][break]

---

[attr="class","NATEsimple_Notes"]Luck Harris [break]
It's kinda short, but the end? Unless you have anything else for this thread?

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