the lost get loud

he wakes up feeling groggy and a little dead inside. he pulls at his hair and waits for the light coming from his window to settle comfortably on the scenery of his room. then he gets impatient.

he sits up wearing yesterday's clothes and nearly falls head first out of bed. he doesn't like how he can't go back to bed, shut all his curtains and sink off back into sleep, because he's not exactly alone. and the noises in his kitchen won't let him forget it.

his fingers tug at the buttons on his shirt, but being half asleep renders his concentration moot. he throws on a plain tshirt and eventually trudges over to the racket tara is making in his usually vacuum like apartment. he clutches at his head and his hair shadows his face, looks at her, and already sighs. instantly he feels ten years older.

"my place isn't exactly an exhibition hall." he answers in a murmur. guests are a rarity, but if he tells her that she'll only get big headed. instead, he stares at her for a moment as if trying to recall something, then reaches to a tall cupboard to reach his pill basket. he puts it down on the kitchen cabinet and gestures to it. nathan, however, chooses to rinse a dirty glass in the sink and fills it with tap water.

@tara idek

he puts his glass down back into the sink, now looking like a modern art installation. the apartment is a skeleton, and nathan barely buys the skin. his whole apartment is a cage for the solitary, but if tara doesn't mind, her presence won't bother him.

"does it matter?"

her whole stance is annoying him. the coffee cup is like her shield, and she won't even look at him. he does, however, stand abruptly before her, moving her head to face him directly. nathan's eyes certainly won't weaver.

like taking stolen sweets from a child, he simply lifts the coffee out of her head and places it on the kitchen cabinet with a sharp noise.

he's free to take her head and pull her forward into an embrace. catching her easily. he buries his head onto her shoulder, he has to stop his fingers from clawing at her back. inhale. exhale. his mouth is dry.

@tara blurgh

he runs his hands through her hair, gently tugging out any tangles. he knows he had imagined scenarios, what he'd do if they met again. every intention to loathe her, hate her, be angry at her, dissipates. there is just an overwhelming sense of comfort and relief. he has a home in her arms.

"...'s fine." his breath trembles, so he holds her tighter. (she's warm.) he follows it slowly. (she's so warm.) one two. one two. eventually, it evens out.

@tara short gomen

he wishes she would just shut up. shut up. he doesn't need words, when it will all just get reduced to noise. he holds her tight, but he can't hurt her. he can't even try. it just isn't in him.

he can only shake his head, which still rests on her shoulder. he shakes his head, and he wonders if... if...

@tara ps he's about to cry shut up tara