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They didn’t make it to the bed.
They barely made it through the door.
It had been brewing all day—the tension, the teasing, the promise unspoken between quick glances and tight smirks. And when the clock ticked past midnight, officially ending the cruel reign of April Fools, Lucy had grabbed his collar and pulled him into her kiss like she’d been waiting her whole damn life.
Now, hours later, they were tucked together in Tim’s bed. Her hand rested lightly on his chest, rising and falling with his breath. Their legs tangled. Sheets pushed off from the heat.
Lucy’s fingers traced lazy circles across his ribs, then dipped lower, skimming his hip, trailing across his thigh. The scar tissue beneath her touch made her pause. She knew about the old ones—faint, silvery reminders of a time long before her. But these… these weren’t old.
Tim flinched.
It was barely perceptible. A twitch under her fingertips.
She stilled, her breath catching. Gently, Lucy shifted, rising up on her elbow. In the soft lamp light, she could see them clearly now—thin, redder than they should be. Deeper. Not ancient history.
Her heart stopped.
“Tim?” she asked softly, her hand still resting lightly against his skin.
He didn’t answer.
His eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling. But they weren’t really seeing. His jaw was tight, breathing shallow, his body stiff beneath her.
“Hey.” She pressed a hand to his chest. No response. “Tim, look at me.”
Nothing.
Lucy sat up fully now, curling herself beside him, pressing her palm gently to his cheek. “Babe. Come on. You’re safe. You’re here—with me.”
It took a moment. His eyes flicked to her, unfocused. A blink. Another.
Then: “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t.
Lucy had seen dissociation before—in victims, witnesses, once or twice in herself. And she knew this version of Tim. The one who thought disappearing inside himself was safer than being seen.
She moved closer, brushing her fingers along his arm. “You’re not fine. But that’s okay.” Her voice was low, steady. “You’re not alone.”
Silence.
Her thumb traced one of the scars again—barely a whisper of a touch. Tim shuddered.
“I didn’t see them before,” she murmured. “On Valentine’s Day. You didn’t let me.”
His eyes closed.
“That was around when things were… hard. With Ray. And Blair London. And that whole Mad Dog mess. I know you were reliving Reaper stuff.”
Still nothing.
“But this?” Her hand stayed gentle. “This… this breaks my heart, Tim.”
His voice was barely audible. “You weren’t mine anymore.”
Lucy blinked. “What?”
“You weren’t mine,” he repeated, throat tight. “I didn’t have a right to burden you.”
She felt her chest crack open. “Is that what you think? That being in pain makes you a burden?”
He didn’t answer.
“You promised,” she whispered. “Back when we first talked about… all of this. That if it ever got bad, if the world got too heavy—you’d come to me.”
His lip trembled. “I broke your heart. I didn’t think I deserved to come back.”
Lucy’s hands cupped his face now, her touch firm but tender. “You always deserve to come back. There is nothing you could do that would make me stop wanting to be there for you.”
Tim finally met her gaze. His eyes were glassy, overwhelmed. “I didn’t want to feel it. Everything was spiraling and I didn’t know how to stop it. I thought if I just—” He stopped, voice cracking. “It wasn’t about dying. It was about feeling something. Or not feeling.”
A sob clawed its way up his throat.
Lucy pulled him in instantly, wrapping herself around him as he broke. His body trembled in her arms, face buried in her shoulder, sobs muffled but raw.
She rocked him gently, her own tears falling silently as she whispered soft nothings into his hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re not alone. You’re not a burden.”
Tim clung to her like a lifeline.
When the worst of it passed, when his sobs turned to shuddered breaths, Lucy coaxed him down beside her again. Her fingers ran through his hair, grounding him. She placed soft kisses to his temple, his jaw, his shoulder—anywhere she could reach.
“You okay to sleep?” she asked after a while.
His voice was hoarse. “Only if you stay right here.”
She smiled sadly, brushing his damp hair back. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Kojo padded into the room then, tail wagging slowly. He sat at the side of the bed like he knew something had happened, and after a beat, Lucy gave a soft nod.
“Come on up, big guy.”
Kojo leapt up, curled himself against Tim’s legs.
Tim gave a shaky laugh. “He always knows.”
“So do I,” Lucy whispered, pulling him back against her. “So next time it gets bad… don’t disappear. Just come home.”
Tim nodded, eyes closing as her warmth wrapped around him, grounding him like a lighthouse in a storm.
And this time, when he drifted off, he knew he wasn’t alone.