I know, I know, it -- I know. I just wanted to -- make sure. Make a point of it.
[Koby's laughing, smiling, hands coming up to curl into Quentin's shirt, letting go the last shuddery exhale of nerves, of fear that maybe, maybe it would all be too much, maybe he'd say or do something wrong and drive away the greatest, brightest warmth he's ever had. Trust wars with fear, and for the first time in his life, trust wins.
Because Quentin talks about every year and Koby's chest goes alight with longing, heart leaping as he looks up, so much raw hope in his eyes, his face that it nearly aches. Quentin talks about a future that Koby's so, so scared he won't be allowed to have, but that he wants so much, enough that it makes him feel brave and strong and terrified all at once. Quentin speaks sweet, lilting words, like he did on the lake out under the sun, and it's freezing cold in the dead of winter, but Koby grins like the sun and rises up on his toes to press his forehead to his boyfriend's, slips into the wonderful ease of being with him.] You can have it -- all my minutes, all my days. All the messy noisy ridiculous stupid parts, all the simple parts. All of it.
[There's a laugh, watery, teary, because -- it's Koby.] We might need to, yes. I'll start planning now. [For Christmas and birthdays and all the holidays Tim's talked about and all the ones Koby's read stories about -- he wants them all, he wants everything, a hundred days, a thousand, more. He wants forever, after a lifetime of living for the next hour, next minute, next heartbeat. It feels like a heart's desire, like a dream. If you could do anything, be anywhere, Koby, where would you be?
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[Koby's laughing, smiling, hands coming up to curl into Quentin's shirt, letting go the last shuddery exhale of nerves, of fear that maybe, maybe it would all be too much, maybe he'd say or do something wrong and drive away the greatest, brightest warmth he's ever had. Trust wars with fear, and for the first time in his life, trust wins.
Because Quentin talks about every year and Koby's chest goes alight with longing, heart leaping as he looks up, so much raw hope in his eyes, his face that it nearly aches. Quentin talks about a future that Koby's so, so scared he won't be allowed to have, but that he wants so much, enough that it makes him feel brave and strong and terrified all at once. Quentin speaks sweet, lilting words, like he did on the lake out under the sun, and it's freezing cold in the dead of winter, but Koby grins like the sun and rises up on his toes to press his forehead to his boyfriend's, slips into the wonderful ease of being with him.] You can have it -- all my minutes, all my days. All the messy noisy ridiculous stupid parts, all the simple parts. All of it.
[There's a laugh, watery, teary, because -- it's Koby.] We might need to, yes. I'll start planning now. [For Christmas and birthdays and all the holidays Tim's talked about and all the ones Koby's read stories about -- he wants them all, he wants everything, a hundred days, a thousand, more. He wants forever, after a lifetime of living for the next hour, next minute, next heartbeat. It feels like a heart's desire, like a dream. If you could do anything, be anywhere, Koby, where would you be?
Here. I'd be here.]