(no subject)
It's happened often enough now that Tim knows the signs, the empty ache and loss of hope. It'd been there with Tyra even if he hadn't seen it at first. It'd been there with Coach and Odd and, even more recently, with Hayley. And it's there the moment he wakes up in his hut, alone for the first time in weeks.
He doesn't need to search the hut, but he does anyway. He walks down the beach, down to the place she'd shown him that one afternoon, to her own hut, still bright as ever and entirely devoid of her presence.
And, he knows.
Making his way back from the caves proves difficult, Tim's movements slow and uncoordinated, hands scratched from the cave wall he'd tried using for support. The light in the basement is disorienting, walls and floor dipping and shifting under his feet before he makes it to the stairs and hauls himself up to the main floor.
The room is still spinning when he finds his way to Jason's room -- or, what he hopes is Jason's room -- and drops down immediately onto his friend's unoccupied bed.
And passes out.
He doesn't need to search the hut, but he does anyway. He walks down the beach, down to the place she'd shown him that one afternoon, to her own hut, still bright as ever and entirely devoid of her presence.
And, he knows.
Making his way back from the caves proves difficult, Tim's movements slow and uncoordinated, hands scratched from the cave wall he'd tried using for support. The light in the basement is disorienting, walls and floor dipping and shifting under his feet before he makes it to the stairs and hauls himself up to the main floor.
The room is still spinning when he finds his way to Jason's room -- or, what he hopes is Jason's room -- and drops down immediately onto his friend's unoccupied bed.
And passes out.