[the shape of tim's thoughts registers as the gentle bump of concern, melancholy, protectiveness -- and normally koby would be honed in razor-sharp, feeling out where the worry comes from, gently ferreting out tim's feelings and talking them through until they're less insurmountable. sometimes it wears on him, being helpful, being useful, but with some people it's effortless, innate. tim is one of those people.
perhaps that's why when the arm settles around his waist, tugs koby's curled-up, miserable, trembling body close, nestles him into the safety of not having to think about the rest of the world, koby's immediate response is to burst into tears. real ones, not the bravely-suppressed, stifled, stoic ones he's had all over his face since he walked into tim's room.
these are deep and racking and helpless, welling up from some deep, devastated part of his soul, muffled against tim's shoulder, crying like a child, like it's all he knows how to do, completely undone, completely hollowed-out with grief.]
[ Tim holds him close, trying not to cry himself. It feels selfish, indulgent, to give in to his grief as he tries to shoulder the weight of Koby’s. He’s lost a close friend, someone he trusted in times where he was most vulnerable, but his friend’s specific sorrow is hard to imagine for himself. Getting close to it is almost like a pre-mourning, if he imagines Harry disappearing in the same way, so he tries so hard not to, but the possibility is shoved into his face today, that a piece of his heart could someday be buried a thousand miles and a century away.
Koby feels it now, real and inescapable, unlike his nightmares. How many long nights have they spent giggling and gossiping and sharing all their butterflies in gross detail? Dozens on dozens, and every one the same – with Koby hopelessly in love with seemingly the perfect match for him, and Tim so happy for him that he could cry. ]
Let it out. I’ve got you.
[ He doesn’t follow his own advice, but he stays as strong for Koby as his condition will let him, a steady wall for him to wail against as he soothes his fingers through his hair. ]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2026-01-03 03:02 am (UTC)perhaps that's why when the arm settles around his waist, tugs koby's curled-up, miserable, trembling body close, nestles him into the safety of not having to think about the rest of the world, koby's immediate response is to burst into tears. real ones, not the bravely-suppressed, stifled, stoic ones he's had all over his face since he walked into tim's room.
these are deep and racking and helpless, welling up from some deep, devastated part of his soul, muffled against tim's shoulder, crying like a child, like it's all he knows how to do, completely undone, completely hollowed-out with grief.]
no subject
Date: 2026-01-14 09:20 pm (UTC)[ Tim holds him close, trying not to cry himself. It feels selfish, indulgent, to give in to his grief as he tries to shoulder the weight of Koby’s. He’s lost a close friend, someone he trusted in times where he was most vulnerable, but his friend’s specific sorrow is hard to imagine for himself. Getting close to it is almost like a pre-mourning, if he imagines Harry disappearing in the same way, so he tries so hard not to, but the possibility is shoved into his face today, that a piece of his heart could someday be buried a thousand miles and a century away.
Koby feels it now, real and inescapable, unlike his nightmares. How many long nights have they spent giggling and gossiping and sharing all their butterflies in gross detail? Dozens on dozens, and every one the same – with Koby hopelessly in love with seemingly the perfect match for him, and Tim so happy for him that he could cry. ]
Let it out. I’ve got you.
[ He doesn’t follow his own advice, but he stays as strong for Koby as his condition will let him, a steady wall for him to wail against as he soothes his fingers through his hair. ]