i don't need you to handle me gently, ok? i appreciate the gesture, but i don't want to jump to conclusions. it'd be hugely hypocritical of me after everything i told you when kyna disappeared.
honestly, it's not that I'm trying to handle you gently, it's that I have no fucking idea what I'm doing so I'm trying to strike that balance between not pushing you too hard and not letting you just completely isolate yourself with the whole thing
I remember what it felt like when Kyna left I remember what you told me, and you were right, and you helped keep me from going totally off the rails but I also remember that really make everything go away I still felt fucked up about it
no, i know. i know you're trying. i'm sorry this crap is your intro to it. i'm sorry i didn't say anything sooner. self-fulfilling prophecy, you know? wanted to wait until it had been at least 7 days before giving kyna something concrete.
it's okay Kyna didn't say anything either, I think internalizing it is a pretty common strategy in terms of processing listen man personally, for me, the long wait before the end can be almost as bad as the end itself you don't have to be totally logical and reasonable about it, it's not a logical and reasonable thing
( His experience with that has nothing to do with the Kyna thing. It's something he went through well before it, except it was for months instead of a week. )
I'm wide open, what are we doing?
( now that he is promptly cancelling his plans, and he knows way better than to mention that )
Hates that he's always carrying some heavy baggage to Ian's door, when Ian deserves so much better than that. He's not a receptacle for emotional weight and he keeps making it hard to not lean on him. Keeps inviting it. ]
i've got a thing at 6 so i thought we could do a late dinner if you're not busy
[ 6 PM comes and goes and so does Nate's appointment. It's the first time since the Aerie that he's decided to dip his toe back into the ring, test the waters, because for a while the fighting itself felt too similar to what they'd left behind, the violence that seeped into every aspect of his curated life.
But the money is easy, the catharsis is easier, and his opponent only gets one good clock in when Nate isn't looking, splitting his lip. Stupid shit. Rookie mistake. Never let them touch your face. The guy went down like a sack of bricks seconds later but the damage was already done, supplemented by the taste of iron.
He cleans up - showers, changes - but it doesn't remove the cut and he doesn't have time to swing by a med center, so he swallows the explanation he knows he'll be forced to make and slides into Ian's place a few minutes before eight.
He's in the kitchen. Something smells like sauce, or broth. ]
( He doesn't notice at first, his eyes are occupied on opening up cartons and prepping plates. A second or two later when he finally does, yeah, he clocks that cut pretty much immediately. It brings forth an almost comical echo, but a tone shifted down into surprise and concern. )
Hey, man.
( The noodles are carelessly abandoned, orphaned on the counter so that he can calmly but promptly head over for a closer look. )
What happened?
( Busted lip on the day Ian talks to him about his missing brother, seems like the two things might be interconnected.
[ The soft and concerned hey, man is about what he was expecting, because the optics of this aren't great. Nate wasn't counting on someone getting a good hit in, but that only proves his internal point with himself about how he can't get rusty or he'll be jumped at a really inopportune time. ]
It's okay, it's okay-
[ There's very little insistence or defiance in his tone when Ian closes the distance and Nate rests one hand on Ian's elbow, letting him conduct his examination. ]
I went back to the rings today, thought it might help me with- I've got a lot going on, so. Guy got a lucky punch in. Dropped him like a rock afterward, but- I'm fine, it's a busted lip. It'll heal.
( It's like the hand on his elbow is the first step to a coordinated move, the initiation to a dance that Ian follows through with fluidly. The hand of the elbow he's holding glides forward, settling gently around where his ribs curve into is side. )
The rings like fight club?
( Yeah obviously, Fowler. What the hell other kind of ring could it be?
It's instinctual, the concern that flares up. Not a testament to what he thinks Nate is capable of, just... )
I feel like there's a guidebook somewhere that says I should support your hobbies, but I'm not sure they considered getting punched in the face when they wrote it.
[ They seem to be picking up on complementary motions more often these days, shifting to accommodate each other with a regularity and ease he doesn't want to look at too hard. It feels simple, and right, and there's nothing more to it. ]
But yeah, it's- there are a few of them. I haven't been to one since before the Aerie.
[ He tongues the cut on his lip without thinking about it, eyes skipping off to the side. ]
( Yeah, real tempting to get distracted by the sight of Nate's tongue working at his lip. Fortunately he's more concerned than he is salacious at the moment (maybe in general), so he manages to pointedly drag his eyes back up again.
The subtle knit in his brow isn't judgmental, there's no anger, just a concern-based skepticism that lingers loud enough to gently break through that constant state of calm. )
And this is like... a totally normal, nothing to do with pent-up emotions you're pretending you don't have, completely safe... thing?
( Uncertain, just kind of uncertain about all that man. It's gonna take a little more convincing to believe it's not some self-destructive coping mechanism or reckless impulsivity liable to get him seriously hurt. )
It's no-holds-barred MMA, I wouldn't say it's "danger free."
[ Admitting that much isn't difficult, seeing as it's unvarnished truth. His ribs ache but they're not busted, and the muted sensation ripples through his skin where his hand cups Ian's elbow. Honesty doesn't hurt but neither does it come easy, particularly when the person asking the questions genuinely cares. ]
I used to go more often just to get all the pent-up- y'know. Energy. Out. I went today 'cause... [ Nate sucks in a deep breath, exhaling a sigh. ] Because I've been a little frustrated, yeah.
( There's an earnest appreciation like a cool wave that passes through him when Nate's up front about it all. It's easier, it's reassuring to know that he doesn't have to find the correct dialogue tree path to unlock answers without risking fucking up. Honestly, he gets genuine relief out of just knowing regardless of subject matter, situation, or context.
But it doesn't entirely sweep away the concern, nor the new faintly uncertain conflict that arises about how he should handle it. Whether he should press harder about the danger or let it go without at least trying. Whether he's making a bigger deal about it in his head than it actually is. Once upon a time he'd have killed for the opportunity to read Nate's mind. That's not the case anymore after the Aerie, but... the feeling that caused the desire still exists.
It's alright, he can identify a route that feels logical and follow it. Settle on a compromise that feels appropriate and safe. )
Do you wanna eat a shitload of noodles and tell me about it?
( Maybe start with the frustration, work backward toward a conversation about the whole fight club thing. Prioritize, because Sam's the bigger issue right now. Ian doesn't need to let himself get hung up on something that makes him personally uncomfortable when Nate's conflict should really be the focus here. )
[ As much as Nate despises laying his problems at Ian's feet and hoping the pile of them doesn't get too big, the memory of having tacit, obvious, given support bubbles up in his throat. It was like this back home with Elena, in the Aerie with Ian, a low-pressure environment explicitly designed to make Nate feel comfortable enough to share, and they shouldn't have to make allowances but do it anyway. For him. The least he can do is not be ungrateful. ]
Not really.
[ He says with an expression torn between "apologetic grimace" and "weak smile." Nate squeezes Ian's elbow with his fingers in a gesture of acquiescence. ]
But I know better now than to pretend I'm on top of my shit, and I really like noodles. [ His free hand shifts, cupping the side of Ian's neck. ] Plus, you put a lot of effort into this.
( He doesn't seem too upset about not really, if anything there's a split mix of amusement and understanding. Yeah, he feels about the same most of the time when Nate's trying to drag a little emotional vulnerability out of him, too. Turnaround's fair play.
Plus, it's nigh impossible to stay too upset when Nate's palm settles against his neck like that. The soft breeze of warmth and fondness blows away a little of the worry despite himself. Still takes concentrated effort not to get itchy when something like that's just on full display to Nate, but it's slow progress. He doesn't pull away. The impulse to retreat is mild and gradually more fleeting every time. )
You're right.
( He muses, the hand on Nate's side going a little firmer, pulling them gently closer together. )
I hand-pulled those noodles. It took three days, blood, sweat, and tears...
( He picked them up from a take-away place around the corner. It doesn't take an empathy bond to figure out he's bullshitting. )
[ He says flatly, but the bright grin on his face communicates a different sentiment. Judging by the way Ian has treated similar circumstances - and his familiarity with loss - Nate knows better than to think he didn't drop whatever plans he had tonight just to buy some noodles from around the corner. Neither is he so myopic as to think that Ian doesn't also feel this loss: he and Sam had become close, and it's worth appreciating.
Nate thumbs the line of his pulse, holding eye contact for a moment before gingerly pulling away. ]
All right, show me what you've got so I can stuff my face and tell you my sob story.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
i'm not going to worry until it's been at least a week, like i said.
no subject
but you know I'm here when you want to, right?
no subject
it'd be hugely hypocritical of me after everything i told you when kyna disappeared.
no subject
I remember what it felt like when Kyna left
I remember what you told me, and you were right, and you helped keep me from going totally off the rails
but I also remember that really make everything go away
I still felt fucked up about it
no subject
i'm sorry i didn't say anything sooner. self-fulfilling prophecy, you know?
wanted to wait until it had been at least 7 days before giving kyna something concrete.
are you free tonight?
no subject
Kyna didn't say anything either, I think internalizing it is a pretty common strategy in terms of processing
listen man
personally, for me, the long wait before the end can be almost as bad as the end itself
you don't have to be totally logical and reasonable about it, it's not a logical and reasonable thing
( His experience with that has nothing to do with the Kyna thing. It's something he went through well before it, except it was for months instead of a week. )
I'm wide open, what are we doing?
( now that he is promptly cancelling his plans, and he knows way better than to mention that )
no subject
Hates that he's always carrying some heavy baggage to Ian's door, when Ian deserves so much better than that. He's not a receptacle for emotional weight and he keeps making it hard to not lean on him. Keeps inviting it. ]
i've got a thing at 6 so i thought we could do a late dinner if you're not busy
no subject
I unequivocally require a late dinner with you
no subject
see you at 8, then? your place?
no subject
( With an abundance of noodles because it feels like maybe it might qualify as a comfort food for Nate. A ridiculous variety of noodle. )
no subject
But the money is easy, the catharsis is easier, and his opponent only gets one good clock in when Nate isn't looking, splitting his lip. Stupid shit. Rookie mistake. Never let them touch your face. The guy went down like a sack of bricks seconds later but the damage was already done, supplemented by the taste of iron.
He cleans up - showers, changes - but it doesn't remove the cut and he doesn't have time to swing by a med center, so he swallows the explanation he knows he'll be forced to make and slides into Ian's place a few minutes before eight.
He's in the kitchen. Something smells like sauce, or broth. ]
Hey.
no subject
( He doesn't notice at first, his eyes are occupied on opening up cartons and prepping plates. A second or two later when he finally does, yeah, he clocks that cut pretty much immediately. It brings forth an almost comical echo, but a tone shifted down into surprise and concern. )
Hey, man.
( The noodles are carelessly abandoned, orphaned on the counter so that he can calmly but promptly head over for a closer look. )
What happened?
( Busted lip on the day Ian talks to him about his missing brother, seems like the two things might be interconnected.
That or Ian's an over-worrier. Probably both. )
no subject
It's okay, it's okay-
[ There's very little insistence or defiance in his tone when Ian closes the distance and Nate rests one hand on Ian's elbow, letting him conduct his examination. ]
I went back to the rings today, thought it might help me with- I've got a lot going on, so. Guy got a lucky punch in. Dropped him like a rock afterward, but- I'm fine, it's a busted lip. It'll heal.
no subject
The rings like fight club?
( Yeah obviously, Fowler. What the hell other kind of ring could it be?
It's instinctual, the concern that flares up. Not a testament to what he thinks Nate is capable of, just... )
I feel like there's a guidebook somewhere that says I should support your hobbies, but I'm not sure they considered getting punched in the face when they wrote it.
no subject
[ They seem to be picking up on complementary motions more often these days, shifting to accommodate each other with a regularity and ease he doesn't want to look at too hard. It feels simple, and right, and there's nothing more to it. ]
But yeah, it's- there are a few of them. I haven't been to one since before the Aerie.
[ He tongues the cut on his lip without thinking about it, eyes skipping off to the side. ]
I don't wanna get rusty.
no subject
The subtle knit in his brow isn't judgmental, there's no anger, just a concern-based skepticism that lingers loud enough to gently break through that constant state of calm. )
And this is like... a totally normal, nothing to do with pent-up emotions you're pretending you don't have, completely safe... thing?
( Uncertain, just kind of uncertain about all that man. It's gonna take a little more convincing to believe it's not some self-destructive coping mechanism or reckless impulsivity liable to get him seriously hurt. )
no subject
[ Admitting that much isn't difficult, seeing as it's unvarnished truth. His ribs ache but they're not busted, and the muted sensation ripples through his skin where his hand cups Ian's elbow. Honesty doesn't hurt but neither does it come easy, particularly when the person asking the questions genuinely cares. ]
I used to go more often just to get all the pent-up- y'know. Energy. Out. I went today 'cause... [ Nate sucks in a deep breath, exhaling a sigh. ] Because I've been a little frustrated, yeah.
no subject
But it doesn't entirely sweep away the concern, nor the new faintly uncertain conflict that arises about how he should handle it. Whether he should press harder about the danger or let it go without at least trying. Whether he's making a bigger deal about it in his head than it actually is. Once upon a time he'd have killed for the opportunity to read Nate's mind. That's not the case anymore after the Aerie, but... the feeling that caused the desire still exists.
It's alright, he can identify a route that feels logical and follow it. Settle on a compromise that feels appropriate and safe. )
Do you wanna eat a shitload of noodles and tell me about it?
( Maybe start with the frustration, work backward toward a conversation about the whole fight club thing. Prioritize, because Sam's the bigger issue right now. Ian doesn't need to let himself get hung up on something that makes him personally uncomfortable when Nate's conflict should really be the focus here. )
no subject
Not really.
[ He says with an expression torn between "apologetic grimace" and "weak smile." Nate squeezes Ian's elbow with his fingers in a gesture of acquiescence. ]
But I know better now than to pretend I'm on top of my shit, and I really like noodles. [ His free hand shifts, cupping the side of Ian's neck. ] Plus, you put a lot of effort into this.
no subject
Plus, it's nigh impossible to stay too upset when Nate's palm settles against his neck like that. The soft breeze of warmth and fondness blows away a little of the worry despite himself. Still takes concentrated effort not to get itchy when something like that's just on full display to Nate, but it's slow progress. He doesn't pull away. The impulse to retreat is mild and gradually more fleeting every time. )
You're right.
( He muses, the hand on Nate's side going a little firmer, pulling them gently closer together. )
I hand-pulled those noodles. It took three days, blood, sweat, and tears...
( He picked them up from a take-away place around the corner. It doesn't take an empathy bond to figure out he's bullshitting. )
no subject
[ He says flatly, but the bright grin on his face communicates a different sentiment. Judging by the way Ian has treated similar circumstances - and his familiarity with loss - Nate knows better than to think he didn't drop whatever plans he had tonight just to buy some noodles from around the corner. Neither is he so myopic as to think that Ian doesn't also feel this loss: he and Sam had become close, and it's worth appreciating.
Nate thumbs the line of his pulse, holding eye contact for a moment before gingerly pulling away. ]
All right, show me what you've got so I can stuff my face and tell you my sob story.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
tw: suicide mention
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)