[Tim reads the frenzied response and before he can gather the energy to type a reassurance that he still does have his legs, he's just lazy, he wonders if Jeff's thieved this stranger's phone. Or if he's kept his own. Or if he left both behind.
And then he drifts back to sleep, one arm hugging the cast loosely against his body.
He wakes up with a worse headache and a parched throat, and it takes time for him to figure out where that obnoxious banging comes from.
...right.
...christ, when had anyone come to ever visit him back home? This isn't about that. There's no morose, lonely longing for big, quiet rooms and gilded accents on oakwood.
Tim gets his feet under him. He huffs something like 'yeah yeah I'm coming', even if it's been... some minutes, now. Since Jeff arrived. Fuck.
He opens the door, steps smally off to one side and he doesn't say much of anything. He's got on Malcolm's sport coat, smart slacks. And it's like he's staring down Superboy again. Again-again, that time in Gotham?
cw disassociation?
And then he drifts back to sleep, one arm hugging the cast loosely against his body.
He wakes up with a worse headache and a parched throat, and it takes time for him to figure out where that obnoxious banging comes from.
...right.
...christ, when had anyone come to ever visit him back home? This isn't about that. There's no morose, lonely longing for big, quiet rooms and gilded accents on oakwood.
Tim gets his feet under him. He huffs something like 'yeah yeah I'm coming', even if it's been... some minutes, now. Since Jeff arrived. Fuck.
He opens the door, steps smally off to one side and he doesn't say much of anything. He's got on Malcolm's sport coat, smart slacks. And it's like he's staring down Superboy again. Again-again, that time in Gotham?
This is real, right? Right?]
Hey.