[Tim says these things, all these aching, terrible things, but he curls his hand into Koby’s and that’s something. That’s a tether, an anchor, a line that’ll keep them both on earth (he hopes, he hopes). The turmoil on Tim’s face is above all familiar, that realization that nothing is simple, nothing is either wholly terrible or wholly pure, no matter how much they try. It’s all a snarled, tangled, painful web that keeps stretching out and out and out. Spider, Aemond had called Koby. Weak, useless, pathetic little coward, someone else had. Are those the only two options?]
I lied to you too. [Softer, reminding Tim, both hands covering the one he’s been given, scarred knuckles and callused palms.] Or – misled you, at least. I sat in your room and listened to you debate and I never mentioned that Usopp had seen anything. I told my crew about Alexei, about his world because I was afraid of him, and it hurt people who were innocent. I – named Louis, who’s been nothing but kind and wonderful to me, and I voted for him to be taken down to a prison where at least one person’s died.
[A long beat, a look downward at their joined hands, an audible swallow.] At home I was – in charge of cleaning up after executions. On the ship. I’d stand there and watch while Alvida beat someone’s head in. I’d listen to them beg and cry for their lives and I’d do nothing. Just – wait until they were just smears of blood on the deck. And then I’d mop it up and wait for the next one. [He inhales, leaning a little closer, pressing his shoulder to Tim’s, like he needs the support.] If you’re a coward, I’m a coward. If there’s blood on your hands, there’s so, so much more on mine.
[It’s out there, raw and aching and bleeding, and Koby’s head is swimming, throbbing from the strain of it, from the urge to bolt, to press the terrible terrible things he’d done back into the box in his head, pretend it’s not there. Pretend that story and all the other things he’d done or had done to him never happened. But he looks up, instead, teary-eyed and stricken and so, so tired.] Or – maybe we’re both just seeing how much we can live with. How much suffering we can cause, indirectly or not, and still keep getting up in the morning and trying to be good people.
cw: gore ig
I lied to you too. [Softer, reminding Tim, both hands covering the one he’s been given, scarred knuckles and callused palms.] Or – misled you, at least. I sat in your room and listened to you debate and I never mentioned that Usopp had seen anything. I told my crew about Alexei, about his world because I was afraid of him, and it hurt people who were innocent. I – named Louis, who’s been nothing but kind and wonderful to me, and I voted for him to be taken down to a prison where at least one person’s died.
[A long beat, a look downward at their joined hands, an audible swallow.] At home I was – in charge of cleaning up after executions. On the ship. I’d stand there and watch while Alvida beat someone’s head in. I’d listen to them beg and cry for their lives and I’d do nothing. Just – wait until they were just smears of blood on the deck. And then I’d mop it up and wait for the next one. [He inhales, leaning a little closer, pressing his shoulder to Tim’s, like he needs the support.] If you’re a coward, I’m a coward. If there’s blood on your hands, there’s so, so much more on mine.
[It’s out there, raw and aching and bleeding, and Koby’s head is swimming, throbbing from the strain of it, from the urge to bolt, to press the terrible terrible things he’d done back into the box in his head, pretend it’s not there. Pretend that story and all the other things he’d done or had done to him never happened. But he looks up, instead, teary-eyed and stricken and so, so tired.] Or – maybe we’re both just seeing how much we can live with. How much suffering we can cause, indirectly or not, and still keep getting up in the morning and trying to be good people.
I don’t know, Tim. I'm sorry.