APOCALYPSE HOW: IC INBOX

[cacophonish]

"...is this thing on?" un: freakscene voice | video | text | action | everything

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[ployboy]

"Is it even a part of yourself that you like?"

Or is he getting fed scraps from the dinner table.

[cacophonish]

Now there's a question.

"It's--"

He furrows his brows and thinks, and god, it's probably pathetically obvious that he's thrown, if only because he doesn't know the answer to that question. Can't even lie, because he doesn't know the truth.

Jeff laughs, and it's a totally miserable sound. "I dunno. There's not a lot that I like about me."

Besides his magic, and his music, two things so dearly intertwined with his very being. Two things he'll do anything to safeguard, even sell his soul. He hurt Meredith for this. He caused a citywide blackout for this. He killed for this. He died for this. And always, always, there's that drive to share his magic, and his music, however terrible it's become, with as wide an audience as possible.

"Does it matter? It's important, that's..." He hums thoughtfully. "I... think it's important."

Brace yourself, this is the most vulnerability he's shared with anyone since his grand return. Jeff reaches to stroke his fingers in Tim's hair.

"I like you more than anyone else. Doesn't that count?"