[ quentin leans full body into tim, trying to soak up the warmth of him, take in the familiar shape and strength of him. it feels like a lifetime since he was held at all, no less held like this. there's a hollowness in his chest that makes his bones ache, a fatigue in his limbs still left even though he's had a night's sleep. it's not enough. ]
Better to end it.
[ and yet he can still feel the weight of it, the horrors, on his shoulders. yes, it was the only means to the end, but it doesn't make it hurt less. he turns a little, pressing his face in against tim's neck, trying to slow his own tears but to no avail. ]
He wanted to put me on the throne beside him, like some dog. And then I come here and - whoever we were, Tim. Whoever those people were - my father was alive. I can see his face like I saw him yesterday. He died because of me, so many people died because of me and I don't know how else I can repay that.
[ he sniffles, shaking his head. ]
I don't know what happens to me next. What else is there for me in that world. I don't want to go back.
[ Tim sniffles against Quentin’s hair, trying to hold that in and be strong for him, but his heart breaks with that realization, that the most recent memory he’ll ever have of his father is of that alternate version, instead of the real one that was stolen from him. One hand rubs against his back, palms flattened to cover the most space, impart the most warmth. ]
It’s okay. You’re safe now. Just get it out.
[ Gentle kisses pressed against the side of his head, reassurances. As much as Tim can offer, at least. But what can he do, with the weight of a world on Quentin’s shoulders? An entire war, thousands of lives, if not more, and his dear friend in the middle of it? He feels so helpless in the face of it. ]
It wasn’t your fault. [ That, he can say with conviction. ] It was Alonso’s. He started the war, not you.
[ Tim pulls back, not far, just enough to meet Quentin’s eyes, wet-rimmed and teary, blurring behind his glasses, which he removes and sets aside. ]
It’s natural to feel guilty. But you did what you had to, okay? And we won’t let you go back. Someday, when we figure this out, me and Koby are moving to California. He’ll be mad if you don’t come.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2025-08-07 03:34 am (UTC)Better to end it.
[ and yet he can still feel the weight of it, the horrors, on his shoulders. yes, it was the only means to the end, but it doesn't make it hurt less. he turns a little, pressing his face in against tim's neck, trying to slow his own tears but to no avail. ]
He wanted to put me on the throne beside him, like some dog. And then I come here and - whoever we were, Tim. Whoever those people were - my father was alive. I can see his face like I saw him yesterday. He died because of me, so many people died because of me and I don't know how else I can repay that.
[ he sniffles, shaking his head. ]
I don't know what happens to me next. What else is there for me in that world. I don't want to go back.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-12 08:31 pm (UTC)It’s okay. You’re safe now. Just get it out.
[ Gentle kisses pressed against the side of his head, reassurances. As much as Tim can offer, at least. But what can he do, with the weight of a world on Quentin’s shoulders? An entire war, thousands of lives, if not more, and his dear friend in the middle of it? He feels so helpless in the face of it. ]
It wasn’t your fault. [ That, he can say with conviction. ] It was Alonso’s. He started the war, not you.
[ Tim pulls back, not far, just enough to meet Quentin’s eyes, wet-rimmed and teary, blurring behind his glasses, which he removes and sets aside. ]
It’s natural to feel guilty. But you did what you had to, okay? And we won’t let you go back. Someday, when we figure this out, me and Koby are moving to California. He’ll be mad if you don’t come.