Chapter Text
He wasn’t okay. He pretended every day, filming and stepping into the roles of other human beings, wanting desperately to be someone else, to feel someone else’s pain and sorrow. This was too much, and he was falling. Tim kept telling himself, she’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone. It didn’t matter. He hoped, he longed for you, he missed you.
You weren’t okay. Every day was years long, the sun taunting you and remaining in the sky longer than you could ever imagine, teasing the relief of nighttime and the passing of another day. Time would heal the wound, time would make it better. Each day you rose without feeling, empty and void of life, of him. As the reality of your life began to sink in, the day grew painful, an ache in your chest, dull and constant. No drugs, no drinks, nothing could feel the hole inside of you. You hoped, you longed for him, you missed him.
Late February, the chill of the air seeping into his bones as he made his way through the streets of New York, head down, praying he wouldn’t be noticed. Not now. He swerved right and left through the passing pedestrians, mind on you and only you. Timmy walked faster, unsure of what he was running from, carrying your heart in his pocket as he moved along. His heart felt hollow without your presence, and he suddenly felt the need to push back tears, unwilling to lose his composure in public. There was a constant ache in his chest too, a dull reminder that you weren’t there in his bed. He’d roll onto his back and stare at the ceiling, soaking in the patterns, wondering if it looked the same as it did when you were there.
It didn’t.
Nights were never ending for you, falling into black depths and counting minutes as they passed, begging time to move faster. You dreamt of rooms full of clocks showing different times, where am I, how did I get here? Your clothing felt heavy, soaked with water that wasn’t there, weight on your back.
He dreamt of you every night, your touch melting into his dreams like wax dripping from a candle. He could taste your skin, feel the way your breathing sped up as he kissed down your stomach. It haunted him, it crept into his days. Everywhere, you were everywhere. On every street corner, behind every door, walking amidst every crowd. He searched for you fruitlessly, feeling a magnetic pull, knowing you were out there somewhere.
You sunk into the mattress, feeling it creak beneath you as it spoke your sorrows. Waves,
the middle of the ocean with no one to hear your cries, pulling you under into nothingness. His shadow replaced your own. His mouth was in every shade of pink, his eyes in the lush world around you, the flush of his cheeks and the red of lust flashing through your vision. Every day was like walking uphill, steeper and steeper until you were out of breath and tumbling backwards to land in rock bottom again.
His career slipped, and people talked. He didn’t take on new roles, his hollow passions driving him to insanity. He wished on every star, every eyelash, every beautiful sight, to get a glimpse of you again, even just a passing glance. He smoked too many joints, the burn in his lungs the only sweet relief to escape the ache. He drank in too many bars until the world tilted and you were behind every pair of eyes. He stumbled and fell, he stood, he wanted to take back all of the words he never meant to say to you.
You cried, you sobbed, the tears causing your body to quake. Every one belonged to him, every one reflected a memory. His laugh, the taste of him after too many drinks, the feel of his hair, the soft skin inside his wrist. They were falling, seeping into your skin where you prayed they were working to heal your wounds. Long, hot baths that soothed your muscles and echoed your isolation. The bathroom was darker, it was huge and empty without him. You rolled onto your stomach and held your breath for a long time, wanting to feel anything but this longing for him that never, ever ceased.
He stood alone in the shower with his head bowed, thinking about the last time that you made love. It had been normal and innocent until the cinnamon sugar soap, a bite to the skin and you were making out against the tiles. Hands through his hair, he cleaned his body three times, feeling dirtier and more exposed than ever. Looking at the ceiling, reminded again that without you it wasn’t the same, he begged out loud for help, asking the Gods to send him anyone, Lord send me anyone. He turned further inward when they wanted to help, you aren’t her, you cannot fix me. He couldn’t stand to be on his own, he couldn’t stand to be alone with himself. He refused to acknowledge his own presence, burying himself in other characters and traveling all over the world. The fountains ignored his wishes.
2:27. Your phone began to ding into the night, the screen lighting up the room. He prayed you wouldn’t answer, wanting only to leave a message, apologize, beg for something, anything. You rolled over and stared at the screen, arguing with yourself before holding the phone up to your ear.
“Hello?”
“Fuck!”
“What?”
He sighed heavily, and you could feel his sadness through the phone. It was dark and heavy, storm clouds threatening rain and destruction.
“I was hoping you were asleep. I’m sorry for waking you.”
His voice. Knives in your heart, you could see him next to you with pale moonlight shining on his skin.
“I was awake.”
“It’s not my business to ask and you can tell me to fuck off but... why?”
Descending further and further into a black hole, you sat up slowly and closed your eyes.
“Same reason as you.”
Silence, pregnant and overflowing. He was breathing heavily, and you allowed the sound to wash over you. Your whole body ached and throbbed.
“Is it unfair of me to call you?”
“Maybe. But I’m not mad.”
“Really?”
“I can’t be mad at you. I feel whole for the first time in months hearing your voice.”
He inhaled sharply, coughing away a sob. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.” You longed to touch him, and you reached out into the empty air, squeezing your fingers shut.
“I’m trying to heal but I don’t know how.”
“Some wounds don’t heal.”
“I want to take your pain away.”
“You can’t.”
More silence, and then you heard him crying softly into the phone. It happened then and there, your heart slowly breaking into pieces. Allowing him the final moments, giving him one last part of you, you listened to him crying. It grew louder for a moment before slowly quieting. He sniffed and cleared his throat, and you waited.
“Tim?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
He sobbed again, cussing loudly, his voice ringing in your ears as you lowered the phone and hung up.