[There’s that brief pause, wherein every one of Koby’s vicious, anxious thoughts try to sink their teeth in, try to tear apart what he’s trying to do – stupid, pathetic, give a man who’s lost everything a ghost in a set of headphones, try to replace the sea with a recording and a rowboat, what were you thinking, you’ve made it worse, you’ve made him remember everything he’s lost. And he knows, he knows it isn’t the same, that the scent and the feel of the ocean – of their shared home – is gone and can’t be brought to this place.
But: Quentin sucking strawberry jam off his fingers, Quentin pillowing his head on Koby’s lap while he reads, Quentin smiling against Koby’s mouth when he kisses him. Somehow Quentin doesn’t see what’s missing, what’s lacking, all the fragmented holes in their current existence. Just the beautiful things. It makes Koby want to try harder, want to fight against the gilded bars of their beautiful, inescapable cage, want to bring in the sound of the sea and say this is for you, because I care, because I can, because you understand and know it’s enough.
And when Quentin looks at him, wide eyes and parted lips and hand curling tighter in the grasp of his fingers, all those hissing, snarling, hateful thoughts stop. Koby smiles back, absolutely beaming, reaching out to smooth Quentin’s hair back with his free hand. He could launch into an explanation of how the headphones work, but – that’s not important right now. Not when Quentin looks like that, aching and joyous all at once.
Instead he slips easily into Quentin’s lap, settling against him, warm and grounding and tucked under his chin, a physical presence to balance out the lack of sight or sound. This close, he can sort of hear the ocean sounds as well, trickling from the slightly-crooked headphones, undercut by the steady, beating pulse of Quentin’s heart in his chest. Koby tugs up their entangled hands, rests them over that unceasing thumpthumpthump, hair tickling Quentin’s chin.]
no subject
But: Quentin sucking strawberry jam off his fingers, Quentin pillowing his head on Koby’s lap while he reads, Quentin smiling against Koby’s mouth when he kisses him. Somehow Quentin doesn’t see what’s missing, what’s lacking, all the fragmented holes in their current existence. Just the beautiful things. It makes Koby want to try harder, want to fight against the gilded bars of their beautiful, inescapable cage, want to bring in the sound of the sea and say this is for you, because I care, because I can, because you understand and know it’s enough.
And when Quentin looks at him, wide eyes and parted lips and hand curling tighter in the grasp of his fingers, all those hissing, snarling, hateful thoughts stop. Koby smiles back, absolutely beaming, reaching out to smooth Quentin’s hair back with his free hand. He could launch into an explanation of how the headphones work, but – that’s not important right now. Not when Quentin looks like that, aching and joyous all at once.
Instead he slips easily into Quentin’s lap, settling against him, warm and grounding and tucked under his chin, a physical presence to balance out the lack of sight or sound. This close, he can sort of hear the ocean sounds as well, trickling from the slightly-crooked headphones, undercut by the steady, beating pulse of Quentin’s heart in his chest. Koby tugs up their entangled hands, rests them over that unceasing thumpthumpthump, hair tickling Quentin’s chin.]
It is, yeah? It’s almost like being home.