[ it's not that nick was unaware of the tears, it's just that it hadn't struck him as anything important until august pointed it out. nick drops a hand briefly from his face, but only to touch it to his own, fingers swiping briefly through the tears streaking at his cheek before he's back to the more important task of cupping august's face like it's something rare and precious. ]
Oh, god, that. [ nick snorts under his breath, not quite a full blown laugh, the air is still too fragile for anything so loud as that, but the suggestion is there. ] I'm good. Great, actually, it's just--a lot.
[ that's probably the understatement of the century. i'd carve my heart out of my chest isn't a lot, it's something massive and entirely unquantifiable actually. there it is again, that thing that nick knows but will not press on, that unacknowledged truth that nick cannot, will not look at. not even now. he already has so much, expecting any more would be foolish. greedy. he doesn't want to think about when it will be too much, not now.
so nick doesn't turn his gaze inward, he keeps himself twisted around august and all of his attention focused there instead. he thinks about the ache in his hips where the weight of august keeps his legs spread apart, and he thinks about the sticky places where their chests meet. nick holds his face and looks at august instead, naked adoration written all over his face. ]
Don't move. Not yet, I just want...
[ however that sentence is supposed to end is as much a mystery to nick as it is anyone else-- what does he 'just want', exactly? to live in this moment forever, probably, but failing that, to hold onto it just a little longer. ]
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Oh, god, that. [ nick snorts under his breath, not quite a full blown laugh, the air is still too fragile for anything so loud as that, but the suggestion is there. ] I'm good. Great, actually, it's just--a lot.
[ that's probably the understatement of the century. i'd carve my heart out of my chest isn't a lot, it's something massive and entirely unquantifiable actually. there it is again, that thing that nick knows but will not press on, that unacknowledged truth that nick cannot, will not look at. not even now. he already has so much, expecting any more would be foolish. greedy. he doesn't want to think about when it will be too much, not now.
so nick doesn't turn his gaze inward, he keeps himself twisted around august and all of his attention focused there instead. he thinks about the ache in his hips where the weight of august keeps his legs spread apart, and he thinks about the sticky places where their chests meet. nick holds his face and looks at august instead, naked adoration written all over his face. ]
Don't move. Not yet, I just want...
[ however that sentence is supposed to end is as much a mystery to nick as it is anyone else-- what does he 'just want', exactly? to live in this moment forever, probably, but failing that, to hold onto it just a little longer. ]