"Mm..." He hums, all sing-song as he tilts his head and seems to think on... you know, the state of his body. He has some new ink. He also has some new scars, the knife wound on his stomach now joined by a puncture wound in his shoulder, another in his side, a slash along his collar bone, so close to his throat, like somebody was trying to cut out his voice, but missed.
In his dreams, they all still bleed, not just red, every color, in bright, bold technicolor.
No, not just in his dreams. Sometimes he thinks he sees it in the mirror, or in the shower... And sometimes, he forgets they're there at all, or he thinks they should be elsewhere, and they're migrating, or... Fuck it, does any of that matter?
He supposes Tim will see them, and maybe he'll ask questions, or maybe he'll just say nothing, file it away... Will he believe Jeff's canned answers, or will he only pretend?
Does it matter.
He leans in close, laughs lightly in Tim's ear, and says, "Show, not tell, right?"
no subject
In his dreams, they all still bleed, not just red, every color, in bright, bold technicolor.
No, not just in his dreams. Sometimes he thinks he sees it in the mirror, or in the shower... And sometimes, he forgets they're there at all, or he thinks they should be elsewhere, and they're migrating, or... Fuck it, does any of that matter?
He supposes Tim will see them, and maybe he'll ask questions, or maybe he'll just say nothing, file it away... Will he believe Jeff's canned answers, or will he only pretend?
Does it matter.
He leans in close, laughs lightly in Tim's ear, and says, "Show, not tell, right?"
Then, murmured and honest, "I missed you."