[ He appreciates Quentin’s attempt to keep the mood light, he really does, but he can’t muster more than a soft hum at the teasing. This Tim is different from the sweet, bright-eyed boy from the baths last night. He looks withered and exhausted, he’s gone without sleep even longer than food, dutifully locked to his lover’s bedside, cycling between tears and prayers, if not mixing them together into holy gibberish. His face is puffy and dull, only finding color now because of Quentin’s bold behavior.
You can’t touch me like that, this is a hospital, he means to say, but the words die in the back of his tongue. It’s completely wrong, completely crazy, to let him do this where anyone could see them, not least of which is Hawk, just a wall away. But he does. His body craves the small sliver of comfort even with his mind screaming at him to reject it. Tim takes a deep breath, accepting the fingers smoothing out his fringe, and in so doing, smells the plate of food. It makes his stomach rumble. ]
I will. [ He plucks piece of sausage off the plate and bites it in half. ] Thank you. This is really sweet, you didn’t have to do any of it.
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You can’t touch me like that, this is a hospital, he means to say, but the words die in the back of his tongue. It’s completely wrong, completely crazy, to let him do this where anyone could see them, not least of which is Hawk, just a wall away. But he does. His body craves the small sliver of comfort even with his mind screaming at him to reject it. Tim takes a deep breath, accepting the fingers smoothing out his fringe, and in so doing, smells the plate of food. It makes his stomach rumble. ]
I will. [ He plucks piece of sausage off the plate and bites it in half. ] Thank you. This is really sweet, you didn’t have to do any of it.