[ Texted from the armchair where Tim is reading, while Koby and Quentin flirt at the desk, or on the bed, or wherever else near enough to distract him from the history of 20th century social movements. ]
[On the bed, reading innocently and normally!! It takes Koby a moment to check his phone, because he's snuggled up to Quentin's side, reading through some book about historical world leaders.
When he does, though, his eyes shoot over to Tim, brow furrowed.]
Who? Abraham Lincoln? I admire him, definitely, but I don't know about LOVE.
[ Tim presses his lips together tight to keep from laughing, because despite the timing of the non-question, he is, in fact, trying to have some discretion about it. Otherwise, he'd just say it.
His eyebrows shoot up, like a knowing parent waiting for a kid to admit they're fibbing, and he angles his book up to make it look like he's reading again, but is actually hiding his face from Quentin. His eyes point over in his direction. Come on, now. ]
[Koby blinks a couple times, following Tim's gaze up to Quentin, who's nodding off, warm and relaxed against his side. It takes a moment to click, but Koby's smart. He's very, very smart.
His breath hitches and he looks back at Tim, eyes wide, face immediately turning the same color as his hair. Swallowing hard, he rapidly texts back:]
[A long, quiet pause -- it's harder like this, when Koby can't hide his facial expressions, his emotions, the way raw, aching fear flickers across his face when he looks up at Tim.]
He's asleep, practically. [But Koby reaches out, smooths Quentin's hair back from his forehead a couple times, like soothing a fretful, restless cat, waiting until he stills completely. So subtle.]
Sure that it won't disappear. Or sure that I That. [He can't even write the word.]
It's not Whatever he feels is fine, it's okay, I'm not going to Demand anything.
But nobody stays. Eventually everything good ends. At least with Luffy I knew he was somewhere in the same world, which helped a little, even if I never saw him again.
I see. [Again, Koby being physically there means that he can't hide the flat, eyebrow-arching skepticism of his expression.]
I promised Quentin that if he ever left here, I'd find a way to go after him. I wouldn't let him be alone. I'm afraid of not being able to keep that promise.
[ Shut those eyebrows up Koby, this isn’t about him! ]
Maybe not immediately. I know you don’t believe the same things I do about what all this is, but I believe you will both end up in the same place, eventually.
[Eyebrows continue, he sees you deflecting, Timothy, but he has a sleepy Quentin on him so he isn't gonna push it.]
I don't, but I wish Sometimes I wish I did. That I didn't lie awake wondering about what might happen if we go back to our own times and worlds and just Forget.
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un: t.laughlin
[ Texted from the armchair where Tim is reading, while Koby and Quentin flirt at the desk, or on the bed, or wherever else near enough to distract him from the history of 20th century social movements. ]
screaming
When he does, though, his eyes shoot over to Tim, brow furrowed.]
Who?
Abraham Lincoln?
I admire him, definitely, but I don't know about LOVE.
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His eyebrows shoot up, like a knowing parent waiting for a kid to admit they're fibbing, and he angles his book up to make it look like he's reading again, but is actually hiding his face from Quentin. His eyes point over in his direction. Come on, now. ]
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His breath hitches and he looks back at Tim, eyes wide, face immediately turning the same color as his hair. Swallowing hard, he rapidly texts back:]
What do you mean?
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I mean what I said.
It's not a bad thing. You're sweet together.
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It's complicated.
I don't
I mean
I hadn't thought about it too hard, I guess.
Maybe because I didn't want it to disappear or something.
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How can you be sure?
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Sure about which part?
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Sure that it won't disappear.
Or sure that I
That. [He can't even write the word.]
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The way you soothe him to sleep like that, first of all, not caring one bit that I'm looking. It's not the first time, or the second, or the third.
The way you look at him.
You can't stay away from each other. There's no other reason to spend so many nights over here.
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[Another pause, and Koby watches Quentin for a long, long moment before looking back at Tim. He looks -- hopeful and terrified at the same time.]
What do I do?
I don't know what to do. I've never
I mean only once and it did disappear.
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Whatever he feels is fine, it's okay, I'm not going to
Demand anything.
But nobody stays.
Eventually everything good ends.
At least with Luffy I knew he was somewhere in the same world, which helped a little, even if I never saw him again.
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You'll go to the same place when you're through here, I know it.
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[Another of those pauses, Koby's expression far away, watching Quentin sleep.]
I know you're right. I don't know what's going to happen next, anything is possible, I can't control it if it does. Usually I'm okay with that.
But [Looking back at Tim, meeting his gaze, speaking soft enough that it won't wake Quentin:] I'm scared.
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[ So easy to talk about it in the past tense when he's barely seen him for a couple weeks. Anyway, ]
Nothing about this place is under our control. That doesn't mean we should ignore its blessings. What are you afraid of?
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I promised Quentin that if he ever left here, I'd find a way to go after him. I wouldn't let him be alone.
I'm afraid of not being able to keep that promise.
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Maybe not immediately. I know you don’t believe the same things I do about what all this is, but I believe you will both end up in the same place, eventually.
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I don't, but I wish
Sometimes I wish I did.
That I didn't lie awake wondering about what might happen if we go back to our own times and worlds and just
Forget.
Don't tell him.
Please.
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I won't. That's not my place. But I could have this exact conversation with him, you know.
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Sometimes, if they go home, rhey forget.
[It takes another moment for the meaning of that statement to hit, but when it does, Koby looks -- comically stunned.]
What?
You mean
He
What??
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[ It isn't an option, and he won't consider it, and if you make him, he'll throw up, and the commotion will wake Quentin. He looks nauseous. ]
I'm nearsighted, not blind.
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You're probably right. I shouldn't get guidance from fairy tales at any rate.
Well, neither am I. What are you talking about?
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