extent | duplicitynet

( he does wonder, briefly, if it's too soon, if nate is going to remove every trace of stephen and wake up months down the line wishing he still had something to hold onto. but that isn't his decision to make, it's nate's, and he's being very clear about what he wants.

nick shifts closer, until he can guide nate's shoulder into leaning against his chest. there's no need for nick to put his arms around nate to do this, but he does anyway. there's no need for him to press his lips over the precisely scarred bird either, but he does that too.

when the pain starts to sear through the neat lines to tell nate that nick is pulling apart the evidence that there was ever a scar there to begin with, nick just holds him tighter. )

Sorry. ( he murmurs quietly, and he's not sure if it's for the pain, or the fact that he's removing the scar, or the fact that nate ended up here at all. a little of it all, probably. ) This should be quicker.

[ This is unimaginably tender.

If Nate had been able to do this himself, it wouldn't have hurt. It would've been over in seconds and he would've done it alone.

But then he wouldn't have had Nick's arms around him. He wouldn't have had soft lips pressing sweetly against the pain, he wouldn't be leaning back into supportive arms and a solid chest, and--

He's crying. He hasn't cried since he was in jail, since the insanity from the portals had pulled his mind apart. It had felt like that experience dried him out, wrung away any sense of emotion. Then when he'd got out, he'd used drugs to fake it, to make him feel like he was himself again.

But this isn't the product of drugs. This is something real. It's losing Stephen. It's letting go of that connection, of that attachment. It's every way in which he'd failed, it's losing the hope that the idea of creating portals had given him. There's no good reason for it all to come out now, but it does.

It's silent at first, and his only movement is to put his hands around Nick's wrists and squeeze them.

When the pain stops, and he knows that it's done, then he turns in Nick's arms. His eyes, hazy and wet, search Nick's face, and he just reaches to put his arms around him. He leans down against his shoulder and stays there, and cries. He doesn't have words for it, doesn't know what to say. ]

( it's not all that surprising that nate starts to cry, honestly. nick "doesn't do relationships", has never had anything hold onto long enough to lose it this painfully, not before duplicity, but if he had he imagines it would look a little like this.

there is no version of this that plays out without nick holding him close. when nate turns, it just means that nick can pull him closer, hold him tighter. he cups the back of nate's head, cheek pressed against his hair. without nate's magic fuelling it too, the link they share doesn't have the same kick to it, but it's still there. muted, dull, faded, but a grief and loss that doesn't belong to nick still settles somewhere in his chest. )

I've got you.

( it's the only thing he can think to say, because 'it's okay' isn't true, and 'it'll get better' is a cop out. whether tomorrow or next week or next month is easier, that doesn't change how nate feels right now. but nick isn't going anywhere, and he isn't going to let him go any time soon. nate can cry for as long as he needs, he'll just keep holding him tight until he's ready to stop. )

[ He holds him tightly, hands fisting into his shirt while his face finds out that it fits very well in that space between shoulder and neck.

Nate isn't a crier, not really. At least not without a drug pushing him to it. The thing is, he never really cried over Nick Scratch. He never really cried about loss, in general, because he wouldn't less himself accept that what he'd lost was really gone.

Stephen had been his first love, here. Maybe his first real love, in general. He'd definitely been the first person Nate was ever serious with, and Stephen had been the one to hold him when Anna had disappeared before. Now, Nick is holding him because Stephen is gone, and unlike the others, he's not gone to a different world. He's not out of reach. He's gone because he wants to be gone, because he doesn't want Nate. He doesn't want his recklessness, or his pride, or his desire to fight. He'd said, I can't overlook it, as if those parts of him were flaws that he was overlooking, the rest of the time. He doesn't feel like he's been rejected because of what he did, he feels it's because of who he is.

And there's that, contrasted with the open, loving way Nick's holding him now.

Nate stays pressed against him until his breathing regularises, until the tears dry away. Then his head lifts, and he's still sad, but he's lighter somehow. He looks down at that bare patch of his chest, and thinks: he has to let it go. ]

Thank you.

[ His voice is tremulous, like it hasn't quite caught up with the fact that he's not crying anymore. That's when he sees the damp stain on Nick's collar, and he reaches up to smooth it with his fingers. ]

I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from.

[ But he leans in to kiss that spot, and then Nick's neck, above it. ]

Don't be sorry.

( nick shakes his head quickly, moves quicker still to wipe under nate's eyes. there's some part of him that wants to fix this, as easily as he fixed the burn, the scars.

that's not the kind of hurt this is, though, there's no quick fix. at least, there's nothing that will actually solve this for nate. nick is no stranger to coasting through emotions on chemical substances until the worst of it can't touch him, but now that they're actually here he's--relieved, just a little, that they're still sober.

there's plenty of time to change that, of course, but this, he suspects, needed to be felt. )

I'm serious. I don't care if you're...sobbing, or so furious you're screaming. Don't like, hide it, okay? Not from me.

[ Nate looks up at him.

He trusts Nick so much. He can go to him with anything, that's been proven time and again. It doesn't matter what it is. Even if it's something Nick doesn't agree with, he stands by Nate, because what matters is their connection. It's exactly what Nate needs. He thinks it's what he always needed.

So often in his life, love has felt conditional. It doesn't, with Nick. ]

I won't.

[ He rubs his hand across his face, trying vainly to clean it up a bit. ]

I mean, I'm still sorry for being a mess on your bed, but I know I don't have to hide from you.

I'm really glad that you're here, Nick.

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