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Tink, the anomaly of the deep end. The boy cursed to never grow up and never surpass the shackles of childhood. The rest were stuck young but they were still adults. They could drink, fuck, swear and smoked all they liked while Tink was stuck being sheltered by them all. He wanted to grow up, so, so desperately, but his body was betraying him. Oh what a teenage thing.
“You a’right Tink” Strat’s voice startled him from where he had zoned out staring at the fire.
“Yeah I'm good,” Tink now looked around to see the piles of mattresses and bedding that made up the Deep End filled with piles of sleeping bodies. The Deep End didn't sleep, not really, but in these moments of the early hours of the morning, people rested. There were people who were talking quietly to each other, others wrapped around their friends to warm them through the night. They were a family, they were each other's anchors.
“Woah you're doing it again,” Strat said playfully, his arm wrapped around Tink’s shoulders and tugging them to look at him. “Hey, what's on your mind? Y’keep zoning’ out like that and I'm gonna start thinking you're plotting something,' Strat spoke jokingly, no malice in his voice.
Tink chuckled softly and looked up to meet Strat’s eyes only for a moment to find them already bright and boring into him. He quickly moved to look back at the fire, however, his face still warmed slightly.
Strat’s hand fell from around Tink’s shoulders to be on his waist, Strat leaning closer to talk to him quietly. “Hey, it’s okay if you don't want to tell me, but I’ll always listen to you y’know.” Strat's voice was soft, lacking the usual rasp and energy, just quiet and personal. Fuck, it was going to be the death of him. Tink felt lucky in some ways, this was private, a moment many of the Lost couldn’t even fathom. Almost all the lost had had their whirlwind night with Strat, but Tink just had been given soft words and quiet care when things got difficult. When Strat would whisper promises and reassurances, Tink was nothing but a blushing fool, willing to hand over his bloodied heart if it so pleased Strat.
So like a fool he spoke.
“I hate this,”
He instantly felt Strat's hand recoil slightly, his back cold where his hand once was.
“No that sounds bad, I didn't mean it like that,” Tink chuckled slightly but kept his eyes trained on the slowly dying fire. Strat’s hand timidly took its place again on Tink’s back, his thumb rubbing back and forth slightly. “I just hate this, “ Tink vaguely gestured towards himself,
“This?” Strat gently questioned after a second,
“Just.. being frozen,” A slight lump formed in his throat, vision blurring slightly. He quickly blinked away the tears, he would not cry like some petulant child. Not in front of Strat.
“Why?” Strat sounded genuinely confused. Tink looked up to meet his eyes again, only confusion looking back at him.
“It’s probably easier for you. You're eighteen forever, old enough for independence but young enough for recklessness. I'm just a freak within freaks.”
“I don't think I understand,” and Tink chuckled humorlessly
“I’m about the same age as you, give or take a few years. We’ve had similar life experiences before being frozen and we’ve had a similar life since. But you're treated with respect, you can do what you want and nobody cares because it's your decision. You get that, yes?”
Strat nodded silently, eyebrows pulled tight together and mouth pushed in a line.
“But if I do anything remotely dangerous, if I drink or smoke or god forbid I flirt with someone I'm told I'm being irresponsible. You all worry over me although I'm fully capable of making my own choices. If I started acting the way you do, everyone would go crazy.”
“What are you trying to say here Tink?”
“I'm saying you all see me as a kid-”
“-but-”
“I'm not done,” Strat’s jaw audibly clicked shut, slightly shocked at Tinks authoritative tone “you all see me as a kid, I'm not a child Strat, i haven't been for a very long time.”
Strat leaned back uncomfortably and Tink looked down to focus on his battered shoes, shifting away from Strat slightly, Strat’s hand slid to just sit on the small of Tink’s back.
“I know I'm cursed to look forever 15, but I stopped being the child you all see me as almost instantly after coming here.”
“I-i didn't realize-”
“-that I'm not a toddler? That I'm not something to be coddled?” Tink’s hand curled into fists on his lap, clenching his jaw. God why was he always so angry?
“No, Tink.” Strat’s other hand reached up and touched Tink’s face slightly, turning him to face him “I’m sorry Tink. I never realised how much this hurt you.” Tink scoffed and turned his head away, Strat just leaned his forehead against Tink's shoulder and dropped his hand to rest on Tink’s thigh. “I know nothing I can't say can make this better,” Strat whispered quietly, muffled slightly by Tink’s shirt. “You can talk about it if you want. I know I can't fix this, God I would if I could, but I don't want to be a bad friend to you Tink. I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel that way,”
Tink saw the opportunity and took it, silently grabbing Strat’s hand and intertwining their fingers. Starting to speak again after a moment's pause,
“..I just wish i could do the things you all do,” Strat hummed slightly, head still buried in Tink’s Shoulder and he rubbed his thumb back and forth gently on Tink’s hand “Like some of the others found these beer cans the other day and I joined in because I like forgot y’know, that I'm like this. But Zahara saw and started like telling me off for being irresponsible. Like she seemingly forgot I am just an immortal 40 year old guy,”
Strat chuckled slightly and then mumbled under his breath
“Oh god we’re 40,” That pulled a genuine laugh out of Tink, he buried his face in Strat’s hair to muffle himself so he would not wake the others. However a content sight left his mouth as he closed his eyes and buried his nose in Strat’s hair. In moments like these he could pretend. He could pretend he was frozen older like the rest of them. He could pretend that Strat saw him as anything other than a younger brother. He could pretend things were normal and that they were just to men growing old and having long days.
‘God i wish someone would love me’
“Oh Tink,” Strat lifted his head to look at him and lifted his hand from Tink’s back to cup his cheek. Oh shit that was said out loud.
Tears stung in his eyes and down his face as his cheeks burned from humiliation.
“Fuck,” Tink slightly pulled away from Strat but he just lifted his other hand to hold Tink’s Face and began to gently wipe away tears from his cheeks.
Tink could not look at him, but he felt the need to explain himself,
“I just- i see you all, and you have just so much love to give. It just sucks that it will never be for me.” he sniffled pathetically. Sometimes he wished he knew how to shut up, “ I desperately want the pointless hookups I will regret.” Tink chuckled wetly “I want someone who’s mine, who sees past all this shit. I just want someone to love me,”
The ‘I just want you to love me’ went unsaid.
Strat brought their foreheads together and Tink closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, lifting his hands to grip at Strat’s forearms.
“I know it's not enough-”
Strat would always be enough
“-But I love you Tink,-”
Fuck, if that wasn't heaven’s call, then Tink had never known faith.
“-maybe not in the way that you want or the way that you need but I love you, I love you so much.”
Tink would want anything Strat would give him. He would crave the smallest scraps Strat would throw his direction. Strat’’s presence was a constant battle of needing more and wanting nothing.
Tink couldn't bring himself to speak anymore, so he just nodded pathetically, another choked sob leaving his mouth.
“Hey let's get to bed, it's late, and I have a feeling one of us is about to pass out,”
They both let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob and Strat pulled his hands away from Tink’s face, cheeks cold, craving Strat's touch once more, but Strat's hand just moved to grip Tink’s before he stood and pulled the boy with him. They made their way to an empty mattress in a quiet corner, a mattress that Strat had claimed as his own and they both collapsed into the moth bitten and musty sheets, still hand in hand.
Tink was content to just lie there like that for eternity, the rough calluses of Strat's hands pressing into his skin. However Strat quickly wrapped his arm around Tink and pulled him close, pressing his face into Tink’s hair.
“I love you Tink,” was whispered into the air, a confession for only them and God to hear. A secret to burn on Tink's heart for the rest of his days.
And in a moment of sleepy delusion, Tink tilted his head up and gently kissed Strat's neck.
Part of Tink’s mind prays he didn't imagine Strat's breath hitch, prays he didn't imagine the gentle kiss on his head, prays he didn't imagine the breath of “I love you more than you know.”