[ It's commiseration, not advice, and he'd never be so arrogant as to suggest someone just accept that something is supposed to be hard, or ignore the difficulties in favor of pretending it's easy. Everyone is different. ]
It's just- sometimes saying it is- is all you can do, you know? And even that's hard.
[ Pratt once asked him if it got any easier, and Nate didn't have a satisfactory response for him outside of "you get used to it." After a while, you stop seeing it. You look past it. The edges are in the periphery, the burden is always there, but it doesn't become lighter so much as it becomes the norm. Acting the part of Sisyphus is routine, like having coffee in the morning, like making dinner. ]
I was...pretty messed up, after I lost my brother. Blocked it out. Worked. Nearly got myself killed on more occasions than I can count. Didn't wanna make connections, or know people. Opens you up for losing them. So you start...pushing 'em away. [ He stops rubbing his fingers together, bracing his hands on the parapet. ] Self-fulfilling prophecy.
[ Nate's gaze tracks across the cerulean blue glow of a neon light pinning some advertisement to the building next to them, over to Ellie's face. She's so young. ]
[Staring out at the shifting lights of the city, these constant signs of life and movement, gives her a strange sense of peace and detachment. Like watching an ant farm, or even Jackson from one of the lookout points.
It gives her mind enough room to write Nathan's words on her heart. They hit harder than she expects, because it's so obvious that he knows this hurt, even if he didn't go exactly the same way about it.
Ellie's been throwing herself into danger constantly, pushing people away left and right. Saying she didn't plan on dying didn't mean anything when it came to how she acted. She remembers Dina's face, the devastated soft darkness of her eyes in that pre-dawn kitchen, the break in her voice as Ellie had pushed her hands away, thinking it was better, that she'd be safer, that they'd be better off.
No.
Tears come suddenly to her eyes, burning hot, a tightness to her throat and across the bridge of her nose, then lights of the city blurring. She tastes the salt and breathes through it, reaching up to swipe them away.
She mourns the loss, yes- but the tears are for the release. Nathan's words feel like permission. It's okay to want things. To be close to people. And she can, if she'd stop getting in her own damn way.
It's not enough to fix everything, but it's a start.]
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no subject
[ It's commiseration, not advice, and he'd never be so arrogant as to suggest someone just accept that something is supposed to be hard, or ignore the difficulties in favor of pretending it's easy. Everyone is different. ]
It's just- sometimes saying it is- is all you can do, you know? And even that's hard.
[ Pratt once asked him if it got any easier, and Nate didn't have a satisfactory response for him outside of "you get used to it." After a while, you stop seeing it. You look past it. The edges are in the periphery, the burden is always there, but it doesn't become lighter so much as it becomes the norm. Acting the part of Sisyphus is routine, like having coffee in the morning, like making dinner. ]
I was...pretty messed up, after I lost my brother. Blocked it out. Worked. Nearly got myself killed on more occasions than I can count. Didn't wanna make connections, or know people. Opens you up for losing them. So you start...pushing 'em away. [ He stops rubbing his fingers together, bracing his hands on the parapet. ] Self-fulfilling prophecy.
[ Nate's gaze tracks across the cerulean blue glow of a neon light pinning some advertisement to the building next to them, over to Ellie's face. She's so young. ]
It's not worth it.
no subject
It gives her mind enough room to write Nathan's words on her heart. They hit harder than she expects, because it's so obvious that he knows this hurt, even if he didn't go exactly the same way about it.
Ellie's been throwing herself into danger constantly, pushing people away left and right. Saying she didn't plan on dying didn't mean anything when it came to how she acted. She remembers Dina's face, the devastated soft darkness of her eyes in that pre-dawn kitchen, the break in her voice as Ellie had pushed her hands away, thinking it was better, that she'd be safer, that they'd be better off.
No.
Tears come suddenly to her eyes, burning hot, a tightness to her throat and across the bridge of her nose, then lights of the city blurring. She tastes the salt and breathes through it, reaching up to swipe them away.
She mourns the loss, yes- but the tears are for the release. Nathan's words feel like permission. It's okay to want things. To be close to people. And she can, if she'd stop getting in her own damn way.
It's not enough to fix everything, but it's a start.]
Yeah.