Date: 2024-10-12 11:52 pm (UTC)
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From: [personal profile] forzare
People need physical contact, it's a fact of life. The brush of a kiss against a forehead, the clasp of fingers together, the pressure of a shoulder leaned into another. A quiet embrace, Harry's fingers spread wide over Tim's back — because, he was attacked. ( Harry remembers: blood under his nails and children's lives on the line, a broken jaw aching and his belly sick with desperation; feeling dirty until someone took the time to put him back together. To pay him mind and wipe his injuries and fears away. )

"Not the facts," he says into Tim's hair, scrubbing his palm up and down. Up and down his spine, slow and soft. "Not the stuff you have to say because it's helpful. The stuff you don't want to say, and can't right now 'cause you have to lock in and get moving. The stuff for later. The stuff that catches up to you in the dark, for years and years. Until you forget who you were before what you have to become to handle it."

Maybe for now, it's the closest he's come to saying: me too. But, he doesn't matter right now. Not as his hand slips higher and his fingers card into the back of Tim's hair. Not to tug or pull, just to cradle the back of his head. " — yeah, I bet you do. Just keep to the facts for them out there. You can be scared right here."
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Tim Laughlin

February 2025

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